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BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

EMINENT SCOTSMEN

KDITED BY

EGBERT CHAMBERS,

ONE OF THE EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL."

NEW EDITION.— REVISED AND CONTINUED TO THE PRESENT TIME.

ILLUSTRATED BY EIGHTY AUTHENTIC PORTRAITS, h.

The Biographical Dictionary oe Eminent Scotsmen, a New Edition
of which is now offered to the public, contains authentic Biographies
of all Scotsmen who have attained eminence in the literary, scientific,
rehgious, or political world; warriors, statesmen, historians, philoso-
phers, poets, theologians, and martyrs, from the days of Malcolm
Canmore to the present time ; each treated at a length suited to his
particular merit or fame, and the whole arranged for reference in alpha-
betical order.

Few countries can point to an array of names equally illustrious with
those which are enshrined in the annals of Scotland, and numerically
so great in proportion to her total population. In the arts of war and
of peace, in science, philosophy, history, poetry, and religion, in
asserting civil and religious liberty, and in carrying it into practical
effect, her sons are equally famous; the names of Wallace, Bruce,
Buchanan, Knox, Melville, Guthrie, Smith, Burns, Watt, Scott, and
Chahners, are each representatives of a class who have contributed to
render her name renowned throughout the world. This important
Work, therefore, which conveys, in a succinct and intelligible form, a
good and interesting account of the struggles, principles, attainments,
and actions, of such men, cannot fail to appeal powerfully to the

C ha-r^'Vr-

Fvmpadiies not only of natives of Scotland, who may naturally bo expected
to feel deeply interested in the history of those of their countrymen
whose names have added a fresh lustre to their native land ; but also
of all who love and admire the good and great in whatever clime and
in whatever land they may have been born; and at the same time it can-
not fail to be eminently useful by setting before aspiring minds brilhaivt
examples of what has been already accomplished.

The Biographical Dictionary op Eminent Scotsmen was edited
by Robert Chambers, one of the editors of Chamheris Edinburgh Journal,
kc, whose writings are so w^ell and favourably kno\vn, and was higlily
appreciated on its first publication ; but many years having elapsed since
that time, many eminent persons have been gathered to their fathers in
the interval, rendering the Work now, to a certain extent, incomplete.
In the New Edition now issued, the original Work has been carefully
revised, some Biographies extended, others rendered more succinct
and precise; and, in addition, a SUPPLEMENTARY VOLUME has been
added, including notices of eminent individuals who have died since
the Work was first published, together with such names as had then
been omitted. The Scottish Biographical Dictionary will thus
coiitinue to be what it has ever been, the most complete and interesting
record of the Lives of Eminent Scotsmen that has issued from the
Press.

CONDITIONS.

The revised portion, forming what constituted the original Work, and the
Supplementary Volume, will be completed in Nine Divisions, elegantly
bound in cloth, at 6s. Qd. each. The whole will be illustrated with MgJitij
authentic Portraits, engraved on Steel, in the first style of art ; and Five
Engraved Titles, giving views of the principal Seats of learning in Scotland.

BLACKIE AND SON:

GLASGOW. ED INBUEGH, LONDON, AND NEW YORK,

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BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

■i"

EDITED BV

ROBERT CHAMBERS,

ONE OF THE EDITORS OK " CUAMBKRS'S EDINBUUGU JOUBNAL.'

NEW EDITION REVISED AND .CONTINUED TO THE PRESENT TIME.

WITH NUMEROUS PORTEAITS.

DIVISION I.

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GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND LONDON.
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A

BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OP

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

A.

ABERCROMBY, The Honourable Alexander (Lord Abercromby), a distin-
guished lawyer of the latter part of the 18th century, and an elegant occasional
writer, was the youngest son of George Abercromby of Tullibody, in Clack-
mannanshire, and brother of the celebrated Sir Ralph Abercromby. He was bom
on the 15th of October, 1745. While his elder brothers were destined for the
army, Alexander chose the profession of the law, which was more consistent
with his gentle and studious character. After going through the ordinary
course of classes at the university of Edinburgh, he became, in 176G, a member
of the Faculty of Advocates. He was at this early period of his life the fa-
vourite of all who knew him, not only for the uncommon handsomeness of his
person, but for the extreme sweetness of his disposition. Being given to the
gaieties of fashionable life, he had little relish for laborious employment ; so
that, for some years after his admission into the Faculty of Advocates, his
splendid abilities were well-nigh obscured by indolence or frivolity. Roused at
length to exertion, he engaged with ardour in all the duties of his prpfession,
and soon became eminent for professional skill, and distinguished as a most
eloquent pleader. His reputation and business rapidly increased, and soon
raised him to the first rank at the Scottish bar. In May, 1702, he was
appointed one of the judges of the Court of Session, when, in compliance with
the custom of the Scottish judges, he adopted the title of Lord Abercromby;
and, in December following, he was called to a seat in the Court of Justiciary.
" In his judicial capacity he was distinguished by a profound knowledge of law,
a patient attention, a clearness of discernment, and an unbiassed impartiality which
excited general admiration." His literaiy performances and character are thus
summed up by his friend, Henry Mackenzie, who, after his death, undertook the
task of recording his virtues and merits for the Royal Society : — " The laborious
employments of his profession did not so entirely engross him, as to preclude his
indulging in the elegant amusements of polite literature. He was one of that
society of gentlemen who, in 1779, set on foot the periodical paper, published
at Edinburgh during that and the subsequent year, under tlie title of the

I. A

JOHN ABERCROMBY.— PATRICK ABERCROMBY.

jNIirror ; and wlio afterwards pave to the world another work of a similar kind,
the Lounger, puljlished in 1703 and 1780. To these papers he was a very valu-
able contributor, being the author of ten papers in the Mirror, and nine in the
Loun"-er.- His papers are distinguished by an ease and gentlemanlike turn of
expression, by a delicate and polished irony, by a strain of manly, honourable,
and virtuous sentiment." INIackenzie states that they are also cliaracterized by
an unaffected tenderness, which he had displayed even in his speeches as a
barrister, and adduces the following specimen : — " Tiiere is one circumstance,"
says Mr Abercromby, in debating whether long or short life be most desirable,
" which with me is alone sufficient to decide the question. If there be anything
that can compensate the unavoidable evils with which tliis life is attended, and
the numberless calamities to which mankind are subject, it is the pleasure
arising from the society of those we love and esteem. Friendship is the cordial
of life. Without it, who would wish to exist an hour 1 But every one who
arrives at extreme old age, must make his account with surviving the greater
part, perhaps the whole, of his friends. He must see them fall from him by
degrees, while he is left alone, single and unsupported, like a leafless trunk,
exposed to every storm, and shrinking from every blast." Such was not destined
to be the fate of Lord Abercromby, who, after exemplifying almost every virtue,
and acting for some years in a public situation with the undivided applause of
the world, was cut off by a pulmonary complaint, at Falmouth, whither he
had gone for the sake of his health, on the 17th of November, 1795.

ABERCROMBY, Johx, the author of several esteemed works on gardening,
was the son of a respectable gardener near Edinburgh, where he was born
about the year 1726. Having been bred by his father to his own profession,
he removed to London at the early age of eighteen, and became a work-
man in the gardens attached to the royal palaces. Here he distinguished
himself so much by his taste in laying out grounds, that he was encouraged
to write upon the subject. His first work, however, in order to give it greater
weight, was published under the name of a then more eminent horticulturist,
Mr jMawe, gardener to the Duke of Leeds, under the title of Mawe's
Gardeners' Calendar. It soon rose into notice, and still maintains its place.
The editor of a recent edition of this work says, " The general principles
of gardening seem to be as correctly ascertained and clearly described by this
author, as by any that have succeeded him." And further, " The style of Aber-
cromby, though somewhat inelegant, and in some instances prolix, yet appears,
upon the whole, to be fully as concise, and at least as correct and intelligible, as
that of some of the more modern, and less original, of his successors." Aber-
cromby afterwards published, under his own name, The Universal Dictionary
of Gardening and Botany, in 4to. ; which was followed, in succession, by the
Gardeners' Dictionary, the Gardeners' Daily Assistant, the Gardeners' Vade
Mecum, the Kitchen Gardener and Hot-bed Forcer, the Hot-house Gardener,
and numerous other works, most of which attained to popularity. Aber-
cromby, after a useful and virtuous life, died at London in 1806, aged about
eighty years.

ABERCROMBY, Patrick, historian, was the third son of Alexander Aber-
cromby of Fetterneir, in Aberdeenshire, a branch of the house of Birkenbog in
Banffshire, which again derived its descent from Abercromby of Abercromby

1 Nos. 4, 9, 18, 45, 51, 57, C5, 68, 87, 90, 104. 2 Nos. 3, 10, 14, 23, 30, 47, 74, 81, 91.

PATRICK ABERCROMBY.

in Fife. Francis, the eldest son of Abercroraby of Fetterneir, was created Lord
Glassford in 1685; but as tlie patent, by an extraordinary restriction, was
limited to his own life only, the title did not descend to his children. Patrick
Abercronib}' was born at Forfar in 1050, and was educated at the university of
St. Andrews, where he took the degree of Doctor in Medicine in 1085. His
family being eminently loyal, the young physician is said to have changed his
religion, to please James VII., who consequently made him one of the physicians
of the court. A proceeding so adverse to all propriety, however loyal, and
accordant with the temper of the times, was speedily and severely punished ;
for, at the Revolution, Abercromby was deprived of his appointment. For
some years after he appears to have lived abroad ; but he returned to Scotland
in the reign of Queen Anne, and devoted himself to the study of national anti-
quities. In 1707, he published a translation of M. Beauge's very rare book,
L'Histoire de la Guerre d'Ecosse, 1550, under the title of. The History of the
Campagnes 1548 and 1549; being an exact account of the Martial Expeditions
performed in those days by the Scots and French on the one hand, and the
English and their foreign auxiliaries on the other: done in French by Mons.
Beauge, a French gentleman ; with an introductory preface by the Translator.
In the preface, the ancient alliance between Scotland and France is strenuously
asserted. This curious French work, Avhich gives a complete account of the
war earned on by the Popish government of Cardinal Beatoun, aided by the
French, against the English under Protector Somerset, was reprinted in the
original by Mr Smythe of Methven for the Bannatyne Club, 1829, along witli
a preface, giving an account of Abercromby's translation. The great work of
Dr Abei'cromby is in two volumes, folio, entitled. The Martial Achievements
of the Scots Nation. He tells us in the preface, that, not venturing to write
regular history or biography, he had resolved to relate the deeds of all the
great men of his country, in a less ambitious strain, and with a more minute
attention to small facts, than is compatible with those styles of composition.
He also, with great modesty, apologises for his manner of writing, by saying,
" When my reader is told that 'twas my fate to spend most part of my youth
in foreign countries, to have but viewed, en jjassant, the south part of Britain,
and to have been conversant with Roman and French, rather than with English
authors, he will not expect from me those modish turns of phrase, nor that
exact propriety of words, Scotsmen, by reason of their distance from the foun-
tain of custom, so seldom attain to." The first volume of the Martial Achieve-
ments was published, in 1711, by Mr Robert Freebairn, and shows a respectable
list of subscribers. About one-half of it is occupied by the early fabulous
history of Scotland, in which the author, like almost all men of his time, and
especially the Jacobites, was a devout believer. It closes with the end of the
reign of Robert Bruce. The second volume appeared, with a still more nume-
rous and respectable list of subscribers, in 1715; it was partly printed by
Freebairn, and partly by Thomas Ruddiman, who not only corrected the
manuscript, but superintended its progress through the press. This is said by
Chalmers to have been the first typographical effort of Ruddiman. Aber-
cromby's Martial Achievements is upon the whole a very creditable work for a
Scottish antiquary of that period ; the author is not superior to the credulity
of his age and party, but he is eminently industrious, and his narrative is
written in an entertaining style. The work shows a wide range of authorities,
and is liberally interspersed with controversial discussions of the points most

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

contested by antiquaries. Dr Patrick Abercromby died poor in 1710, or, as
otluT writers say, in 172(5, leaving a widow in distressed circumstances.

ABERCROMBY, Sir RALni, a distinguished general officer, under whom
the British arms met their first success in the French revolutionary war, was
the eldest son of George Abercromby' of Tullibody, in Clackmannanshire, a
gentleman of ancient and respectable family, and of Mary, daughter of Ralph
Dundas of Manor, lie was born at Menstrie, in the parish of Logic, on the
7th October, 1734. His education seems to have been regarded with more care
than was usually manifested by the Scottish country gentlemen of the early
and middle parts of the last century. After passing through the customary
course at Rugliy, he became a student, first in the university of Edinburgh,
and subsequently in that of Gottingen. He entered the army, as cornet in the
3rd dragoon guards, May 23, 1756, and became a lieutenant, in the same regi-
ment, in the year 17C0; which rank he held till April, 1762, when he ob-
tained a company in the 3rd horse. In this regiment he rose, in 1770, to the
rank of major, and, in 1773, to that of lieutenant-colonel. He was included
in the list of brevet colonels in 1780, and, in 1781, was made colonel of the
103rd, or king's Irish infantry, a new regiment, which was broken at the
peace in 1783, when Colonel Abercromby was placed on half-pay. It may
be noticed, in passing, that he represented the shire of Kinross in the British
parliament from 1774 till 1780; but made no attempt to render himself conspi-
cuous, either as a party-man or as a politician. In September, 1787, he was
promoted to the rank of major-general, and next year obtained the command of
the 69th foot. From this corps he was, in 17i)2, removed to the 6th foot ;
from that again to the 5th ; and in November, 1796, to the 2d dragoons, or
Scots Greys.

On the breaking out of the French revolutionary war, Abercromby had the
local rank of lieutenant-general conferred on him, and served with distinguished
honour in the campaigns of 1794 and 1795, under the Duke of York. He
commanded the advanced guard in the affair of Cateau (April 16, 1794), in
which Chapuy, the French general, was taken prisoner, and thirty-five pieces
of cannon fell into the hands of the British. In the reverses that followed, the
British army escaped entire destruction solely by the masterly manoeuvres of
Abercromby, who was second in command. He was wounded at Kimeguen,
in the month of October following ; notwithstanding which, the arduous service
of conducting the retreat through Holland, in the dreadfully severe winter of
1794, was devolved wholly upon him and General Dundas. Than this retreat
nothing could be conceived more calamitous. The troops did all that could be
expected from them in the situation in which they were placed. Oppressed
by numbers, having lost all their stores, they made good their retreat in the
face of the foe, amidst the rigours of a singularly severe winter, resembling
more that of the arctic circle than that of the north of Germany. For the
removal of the sick, nothing could be procured but open waggons, in which
they were exposed to the intense severity of the weather, to drifting snows, and
heavy falls of sleet and rain. The mortality, of course, was very great. The
regiments were so scattered, marching through the snow, that no returns could
be made out, and both men and horses were found in great numbers frozen to

' He was born in 1705, called to the bar in 1728, and died, June 8, 1800, at the advanced
age of ninety-tive, being the eldest member of the college of justice.

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

death. " The march," says an eye-witness, " was marked by scenes of the
most calamitous nature. We could not proceed a hundred yards without seeing
the dead bodies of men, women, children, and horses, in every direction. One
scene," adds the writer, " made an impression on my mind, which time will
never be able to efface. Near a cart, a little further in the common, we per-
ceived a stout-looking man and a beautiful young woman, with an infant about
seven months old at the breast, all three frozen dead. The mother had most
certainly died in the act of suckling her child, as, with one breast exposed, she
lay upon the drifted snow, the milk, to all appearance, in a stream drawn from
the nipple by the babe, and instantly congealed. The infant seemed as if its
lips had just then been disengaged, and it reposed its little head upon the mother's
bosom, with an overflow of milk frozen as it trickled down from its mouth.
Their countenances were perfectly composed and fresh, as if they had only
been in a sound and tranquil slumber." The British army reached De-
venter, after incredible exertion, on the 27th of January, 1795 ; but they
were not able to maintain the position, being closely pursued by a well-
appointed army, upwards of fifty thousand strong. They continued their
progress, alternately fighting and retreating, till the end of March, when the
main body, now reduced one-half, reached Bremen, where they were embarked
for England. Nothing could exceed the vigilance, patience, and perseverance
of General Abercromby during this reti-eat, in which he was ably seconded by
General Dundas and Lord Cathcart ; nor did the troops ever hesitate, when
ordered, to halt, face about, and fight, even in the most disastrous and distress-
ing circumstances.

While the French were making those gigantic efforts at home, which con-
founded all previous calculations in European warfare, they also made unex-
pected struggles abroad. They repossessed themselves in the West Indies of
Guadeloupe and St. Lucia, made good a landing upon several points in the
island of Martinique, and made partial descents on the islands of St. Vincent,
Grenada, and Marie Galante. In these various incursions they plundered, in
the several islands, property to the amount of one thousand eight hundred
millions of livres (about £72,000,000). To put an end to these depredations,
a fleet was fitted out in the autumn of the year 1795, for the purpose of con-
veying a military force to the West Indies ; sufficient for not only protecting
what yet remained, but recovering that which had been lost. The charge of
the land troops was given to Sir Ralph Abercromby, with the appointment of
commander-in-chief of the forces in the West Indies. In consequence of this
appointment, he took the command, and hastened the embarkation ; and,
although the equinox overtook them, and, in the squalls that usually attend it,
several of the transports were lost in the Channel, the fleet made the best of its
way to the West Indies, and by the month of March, 1796, the troops were
landed and in active operation. St. Lucia was speedily captured by a detach-
ment of the army under Sir John Moore, as was St. Vincent and Grenada by
anotlier under General Knox. The Dutch colonies, Demerara, Essequibo, and
Berbice, on the coast of Guiana, likewise fell into the hands of the British
about the same time, almost without stroke of sword. The remainder of 1796
having been thus employed. Sir Ralph made preparations for attacking, early
in 1797, the Spanish island of Trinidad. For this purpose, the fleet sailed
with all the transports, from the island of Curacao on the morning of the 15th
February, 1797, and next day passed through the Barns into the Gulf of Bria,

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

where they found the Spanish admiral, with four sail of the line and one frigate,
8t anchor, under cover of the island of Gaspagrande, which was strongly forti-
fied. The British squadron immediately anchored opposite, and almost within
gun-shot of the Spanish ships. The frigates, with the transports, were sent to
anchor liigher up the bay, at the distance of about five miles from the town of
Port d'Espagne. Dispositions were immediately made for attacking the town
and the siiips of war next morning by break of day. By two o'clock of the
morning, however, the Spanish squadron was ol)served to be on fire. The
ships burned very fast, one only escajiing the conflagration, which was taken
possession of by the British. The Spaniards, at the same time that they had
set their ships of war on fire, evacuated the island. The troops, under Sir
Ralph Abercromby, were of course landed without opposition, and the whole
colony fell into the hands of the British. Sir Ralph next made an attack upon
Porto Rico, in which he was unsuccessful, and shortly after he returned to
Britain, and was received with every mark of respect. He had, in his absence,
been complimented with the colonelcy of the second dragoons or Scots Greys,
and nominated governor of the Isle of Wight. lie was now (1707) advanced
to the dignity of the Bath, raised to the rank of a lieutenant-general, and in-
vested with the lucrative governments of Fort George and Fort Augustus.

The disturbed state of Ireland at this time calling for the utmost vigilance,
Sir Ralph Abercromby was appointed to the command of the forces in that
unhappy country, where he exerted himself most strenuously, though with less
success than could have been wished, to preserve order where any degree of it
yet remained, and to restore it where it had been violated. He was particularly
anxious, by the strictest attention to discipline, to restore the reputation of the
army ; for, according to his own emphatic declaration, it had become more for-
midable to its friends than to its enemies. During this command he did not
require to direct any military operations in person; and the Marquis Corn wallis
having received the double appointment of lord-lieutenant and commander-in-
chief of the forces. Sir Ralph transferred his head-quarters to Edinburgh, and,
on 31st of May, assumed the command of the forces in Scotland, to which he
had been appointed.

In the year 171)9, an expedition having been planned for Holland, for the
purpose of restoring the Prince of Orange to the Stadtholdership, Sir Ralph
was again selected to take the chief command. The troops destined for this
service being assembled on the coast of Kent, sailed on the 13th of August,
under convoy of the fleet which was commanded by Vice- Admiral Mitchell;
and, after encountering heavy gales, came to anchor off the Texel, on the 22d
of the month. On the 27th, the troops were disembarked to the south-west of
the Helder point, without opposition. Scarcely had they begun to move, how-
ever, w^hen they were attacked by General Daendels, and a warm, but irregular,
action was kept up from five o'clock in the morning till five in the afternoon,
after which the enemy retired, leaving the British in possession of a ridge of
eand-hills stretching along the coast from south to north. In this day's evolu-
tions, the enemy lost upwards of one thousand men, and the British about half
that number. Encouraged by this success. Sir Ralph Abercromby detennined
to seize upon the Helder next morning, when he would be in possession of a
seaport, an arsenal, and a fleet. The brigades of Generals Moore and Burrard
were ordered to be in readiness to make the attack early in the morning ; but
the garrison was withdrawn through the night, leaving a considerable train of

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

artillery, a naval magazine, thirteen ships of war, and three Indiamen, which
fell into the hands of the British without opposition. Admiral Mitchell, having
shipped pilots at the Helder, immediately stood down into the Texel, and
offered battle to the Dutch fleet lying there ; the whole of which, consisting of
twelve sail of the line, surrendered to the British admiral, the sailors refusing
to fight, and compelling their officei's to give up the ships for the service of the
Prince of Orange. Taking the surrender of the fleet as the criterion of Dutch
feeling, the most extravagant hopes of the success of the expedition were enter-
tained by the people of England. The sentiments of the people of Holland,
generally, were not as yet in unison with those of her sailors, and every pre-
caution was taken for defence. The British army, in the meantime, left the
sand-hills, and took up a new position, their right extending to Petten, on the
German Ocean, and their left to Oude Sluys on the Zuyder Zee. A fertile
country was thus laid open to the invaders; while the canal of Zuyper, imme-
diately in front, contributed to strengthen their position, enabling them to
remain on the defensive, until the arrival of additional forces. At day-break
of 11th September, the combined Dutch and French army attacked the
centre and right of the British lines, from St. ^lartins to Petten, with a
force of 10,000 men, which advanced in three columns; the right, com-
posed of Dutch troops, commanded by General Daendels, against St. Martins ;
the centre, under De Monceau, upon Zuyper Sluys; and the left, com-
posed entirely of French troops, under General Brune, upon Petten. The
attack, particularly on the left and centre, was made with the most daring
intrepidity, but was repulsed by the British, and the enemy lost upwards of a
thousand men. On this occasion. General Sir John Moore was opposed to
General Brune, and distinguished himself by the most masterly manoeuvres ;
and, had the British been sufficiently numerous to follow up their advantage,
the United Provinces might have shaken off the French yoke even at this early
period. The want of numbers was felt too late ; but, to remedy the evil, the
Russian troops, engaged for the expedition, were hastily embarked at the ports
of Cronstadt and Revel, to the number of seventeen thousand, under the com-
mand of General D'Hermann, and were speedily upon the scene of action. The
Duke of York now arrived as commander-in-chief; and his anny, with the
Russians and some battalions of Dutch troops, formed of deserters from the
Batavian army, and volunteers from the Dutch ships, amounted to upwards of
thirty-six thousand men, a force considerably superior to that under Generals
Daendels and Brune. In consequence of this, the Duke of York, in concert
with D'Hermann, made an immediate attack upon the enemy's position, which
was on the heights of Camperdown, and along the high sand-hills, extending
from the sea, in front of Petten, to the town of Bergen-op-zoom. Any defi-
ciency of numbers on the part of the enemy was far more than counterbalanced
by the advantages of their position ; improved, as it was, by strong entrench-
ments at the intermediate villages, and by the nature of the ground, intersected
by wet ditches and canals, whose bridges had been removed, and the roads ren-
dered impassable, either by being broken up, or by means of felled trees stuck in
the earth, and placed horizontally , so as to present an almost impenetrable barrier.
The attack, however, notwithstanding all disadvantages, was made with the most
determined resolution, early on the morning of the 19th of September, and was
successful at all points. By eight o'clock in the morning, the Russians, under
D'Hermann, had made themselves masters of Bergen-op-zoom ; but they no

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

sooner found the place evacnaterl, than tl\ey flew upon the spoil, and began to
plunder the citizens, wliom tliey had professedly come to relieve. The vigilant
enemy seized the opportunity to rally his broken battalions, and, being rein-
forced from the garrison at Alkmaar, attacked the dispersed Russians with so
much impetuosity, that the latter were driven from Bergen-op-zoom to Schorel,
with the loss of Generals D'llermann and Tcherchckoff, wounded and taken
prisoners. This failure of the Russians compelled the other three columns of
the British army to abandon the positions they had already stormed, and return
to the station they had left in the morning. For this disappointment three
thousand prisoners taken in the engagement was but a poor recompense ; while
the impression made upon the minds of the Dutch, by the conduct of the Rus-
sians, was incalculably injurious to the objects of the expedition. The conflict
was renewed on the 2d of October, by another attack on the whole line of the
enemy, the troops advancing, as before, in four columns, under Generals Aber-
cromby, D'Esson, Dundas, and Pulteney. The centre ascended the sand-hills
at Campe, and carried the heights of Schorel ; and, after a vigorous contest, the
Russians and British obtained possession of the whole range of sand-hills in the
neighbourhood of Bergen-op-zoom ; but the severest conflict, and that which
decided the fate of the day, was sustained by the first column under Sir Ralph
Abercromby. He had marched without opposition to within a mile of Egmont-
op-Zee, where a large body of cavalry and infantry waited to receive him. Here
Sir John Moore led his brigade to the charge in person ; he w^as met by a
counter-charge of the enemy, and the conflict was maintained till evening with
unexampled fury. The Marquis of Huntly, who, with his regiment (the
ninety-second), was eminently distinguished, received a wound by a musket-
ball in the shoulder ; and General Sir John Moore, after receiving two severe
wounds, was reluctantly carried off the field. Sir Ralph Abercromby had two
horses shot under him, but he continued to animate the troops by his example,
and the most desperate efforts of the enemy were unavailing. Their loss in this
day's engagement was upwards of four thousand men. During the night they
abandoned their posts on the Lange Dyke and at Bergen-op-zoom, and next
day the British took up the positions that had been occupied by the French at
Alkmaar and Egmont-op-Zee. Brune having taken up a strong position be-
tween Beverwyck and the Zuyder Zee, it was determined to dislodge him
before the arrival of his daily-expected reinforcements. In the first movements
made for this purpose the British met with little opposition ; but the Russians,
under General D'Esson, attempting to gain a height near Buccum, were sud-
denly charged by an overwhelming body of the enemy. Sir Ralph Abercromby,
observing the critical situation of the Russians, hastened with his column to
support them. The enemy also sent up fresh forces, and the action, undesignedly
by either party, became general along the whole line, from Lemmeu to the sea,
and was contested on both sides with the most determined obstinacy. About
two o'clock in the afternoon, the right and centre of the Anglo-Russian army
began to lose ground, and retire upon Egraont ; where, with the co-operation
of the brigade under Major-General Coote, they succeeded in keeping the enemy
in check during the remainder of the day. Evening closed over the comba-
tants, darkened by deluges of rain; yet the work of mutual destruction knew
no intermission. The fire of musketry, which ran in undulating lines along
the hills, with the thunder-flash of the artillery, and the fiery train of the
death-charged shell, lighted up with momentary and fitful blaze the whole

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY. 9

liorizon. About ten o'clock at night, worn out by such a lengthened perioJ
of exertion, though tlieir mutual hostility was not in the least abated, the con-
tending parties ceased fighting, and the British were left in possession of the
ground upon which tliey had fought, with upwards of two thousand of their
companions lying dead around them. General Brune was, in the course of the
night or next morning, reinforced by an addition of six thousand men, and the
ground he occupied was by nature and art rendered nearly impregnable. The
British lay through the night exposed to the weather, which was terrible, on
the naked sand-hills ; their clothing drenched, and their arms and ammunition
rendered useless by the rain. Nor was the inhospitality of the people less than
that of the elements ; the greater part being violently hostile, and the remainder
sunk in supine inditference. Retreat was therefore a measure of necessity, and
next night, the 7th of October, about ten o'clock, amidst a deluge of rain,
the troops marched back to their former station at Petten and Alkmaar, which
they reached without immediate pursuit or any serious loss. To embark, how-
ever, upon such a shore, and in the face of such an enemy, without great loss,
was impossible; and, to prevent the unnecessary effusion of blood, an armistice
was proposed by the Duke of York, till the troops should be quietly embarked.
The French general was willing to accede to the proposal, provided the Dutch
fleet were restored, and all forts, dykes, &c., &.C., left as they had been taken;
or, if any improvements had been made upon them, in their improved state.
To the first part of the proposal the duke utterly refused for a moment to listen ;
and, being in possession of the principal dykos, he threatened to break them
down and inundate the country. The fleet was not given up ; but in lieu
thereof, eight thousand French and Dutch prisoners, that had been taken pre-
vious to this campaign, were to be restored, with all that had been taken in it.
the Dutch seamen excepted. The troops were instantly embarked, and safely
landed in England, with the exception of the Russians, who were landed in the
inlands of Guernsey and Jersey. Though this expedition totally failed in its
main object — the liberation of Holland — it was not without advantage. The
capture of the Dutch fleet, in the then state of affairs, was of very considerable
importance. Nor was the impression it left upon the enemy of the superior
skill of British officers, particularly of the subject of this memoir, and the
daring valour of British troops, without its use in the succeeding periods of
the war.

Sir Ralph Abercromby, now a universal favourite, and esteemed the most
skilful officer in the British service, was appointed in the month of June,
1800, to command the troops sent out upon a secret expedition to the Medi-
terranean, and which were for the time quartered on the island of Minorca,
where he arrived on the 22d of June. The very next day the troops were
embarked for Leghorn, where they arrived on the 9th of July ; but in conse-
quence of an armistice between the French and the Austrians, they were not
allowed to land. Part of them now proceeded to Malta, and the remainder
sailed back to Minorca. Sir Ralph himself arrived again at that island on the
26th of July, and on the 3d of September the troops were again embarked,
and on the 14th the fleet came to anchor off Europa point in the bay of Gib-
raltar. On the 20th the armament sailed for the bay of Tetuan to procure
water, and on the 23d returned to Gibraltar. In a few days the fleet was again
ordered to rendezvous in the bay of Tetuan ; and, on the 30th of October, the
whole, consisting of upwards of two hundred sail, came to anchor off Cadiz, and

10 SIR RALni ABERCROMBY.

preparations were made for landing the troops without delay. On the 6th the
troops got into the boats, and every tiling was ready for the disenibarkatron. In
consequence of a flag of truce from the sliore, the landing was delayed, and in
I lie afternoon the troops returned to their respective ships. The negotiations
between the commanders having failed, the order was renewed for disembarking
the troops next day. Tliis order was again countermanded about midnight ;
the morning became stormy, and at break of day the signal was made for the
ileet to weigh, and by the afternoon the whole fleet was again under sail. Part
of the forces were now ordered for Portugal under the command of general Sir
James Pulteney, and the remainder for Malta, where they arrived about the
middle of November. Than this sailing backwards and forwards, nothing was
ever exhibited more strongly indicative of extreme folly and absolute imbecility
in the national councils.

It was now resolved by the British government to drive the French out
of Egypt, and the armament, which had uselessly rolled about the Medi-
terranean for so many months, was appointed for that purpose. Sir Ralph
Abercromby, accordingly, embarked at Malta on the 20th of December for
the bay of Marmorice, on the coast of Caramania ; where cavalry horses were
to be procured, and stores collected for the expedition, which, it was cal-
culated, would sail for Alexandria by the 1st of January, 1801. Many things,
however, occurred to retard their preparations. Among others of a like nature,
three hundred horses, purchased by order of Lord Elgin, the British ambassador
at Constantinople, were found, when they arrived at Marmorice, so small and
s(j galled in their backs, as to be of no use, so that it was found necessary to
shoot gome, and to sell others at the low price of a dollar a-piece. It was believed
that Lord Elgin had paid for a very diff^erent description of horses, but the per-
sons to whose care they had been confided had found their account in changing
them by the way. Good horses were procured by parties sent into the country
for that purpose ; but the sailing of the expedition was in consequence delayed
till the end of February, instead of the first of January, as had been originally
intended ; and from the state of the weather, and other casualties, the landing
could not be attempted before the 8th of March, on which day it was accom-
plished in Aboukir Bay, in a manner that reflected the highest honour on the
British troops. During this delay Bonaparte had found means to reinforce his
army in Egypt, and furnish it with all necessary stores ; and the weather, pre-
venting the immediate disembai'kation of the troops, enabled the French to make
every preparation to receive them. The sand-hills which form the coast, they
had lined with numerous bodies of infantry, and every height was bristling with
artillery. A most tremendous discharge of grape-shot and shells from the bat-
teries, and of musketry from the infantry that lined the shore, seemed for a
moment to stay the progress of the boats as they approached. But it was only
for a moment. The rowers swept through the iron tempest to the beach ; the
troops leaped on shore, formed as they advanced, and rushing up the slippery
declivity without firing a shot, drove the enemy from their position at the point
of the bayonet. Successive bodies, as they were disembarked, proceeded to the
help of their precursors, and, in spite of every obstruction, the whole army was
landed before night ; and Sir Ralph Abercromby advancing three miles into the
country, took up a position with his right resting upon lake Madyeh or Aboukir,
and his left stretching to the Mediterranean. On the 12th he moved forward
to attack the French, who were most advantageously posted on a ridge of sand-

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY. H

hills, their right towards the sea, and their left resting upon the canal of Alex-
andria. On the morning of the 13th, the army marched in two lines by the lefr,
to turn the right flank of the enemy. Aware of this, the French, with their
whole cavalry, and a considerable body of infantry, poured down from the
heights and attacked the heads of both lines, but were repulsed by the advanced
guard, consisting of the 90th and 92nd regiments, with incomparable gallantry.
The first line then formed into two, and advanced, while the second line turned
the right of the French army, and drove it from its position. The enemy,
however, made a regular retreat, and contested every inch of ground till they
had reached the heights of Nicopolis, which form the principal defence of Alex-
andria. Anxious to carry these heights, Sir Ralph Abercromby unfortu-
nately ordered forward the reserve under Sir John Moore, and the second line
under general Hutcheson, to attack (the latter the right, and the former the
left) both flanks at once. Advancing into the open plain, they were exposed to
the whole range of the enemy's shot, which they had it not in their power to
return; and, after all, the position was found to be commanded by the guns of
the forts of Alexandria, so that it could not have been kept though they had
stormed it. They were accordingly withdrawn, but with a most serious loss of
men ; and the British army took up the ground from which the enemy had been
driven, occupying a position with its right to the sea and its left to the canal of
Alexandria; a situation of great advantage, as it cut ofi^all communication with
Alexandria, except by the way of the Desert. In this action. Sir Ralph was
nearly enveloped in the charge of the French cavalry, and was only saved by
the intrepidity of the 90th regiment. The garrison of Aboukir surrendered on
the 18th ; but to counterbalance this advantage, the French commander-in-chief,
Menou, arrived at Alexandria from Cairo on the 20th, with a reinforcement of
nine thousand men. Expecting to take the British by surprise, Menou, next
morning, March the 21st, between three and four o'clock, attacked their position
with his whole force, amounting to from eleven to twelve thousand men. The
action was commenced by a false attack on the left, their main strength being
directed against the right, upon which they advanced in great force and with a
prodigious noise, shouting, "Vive la France ! Vive la Republique !" They were
received, however, with perfect coolness by the British troops, who not only
checked the impetuosity of the infantry, but repulsed several charges of cavalry.
Greater courage was perhaps never exhibited than on this occasion : the different
corps of both nations rivalled each other in the most determined bravery, and pre-
sented the extraordinary spectacle of an engagement in front, flanks, and rear,
at the same time ; so much were the contending parties intermingled. Nine
hundred of Bonaparte's best soldiers, and from their tried valour denominated
Invincibles, succeeded in turning the right of the British, between the walls of
a large ruin and a battery. Three times did they storm the battery, and three
times were the successive parties exterminated. Getting at last into the rear
of the reserve, the 42nd and the 28th regiments charged them with the bayonet,
and drove them step by step into the inclosure of the ruin ; where, between six
and seven hundred of them being already stretched lifeless on the ground, the
remainder called out for quarter, and were made prisoners. Not one of them
returned. Equally determined was their attack on the centre, and it was there
repelled with equal success. A heavy column having broken through the line,
the cavalry accompanying it wheeled to their left and charged the rear of the
reserve ; but this charge was broken by the accidental state of the ground, which

12 SIR RALPH ABEHCROMBY.

had been excavated into pit-holes about three feet deep for the men to sleep in,
before the arrival of their camp equipage. Over these holes they liad to make
their charge, and in consequence were completely routed, more than three hun-
dred of them being left dead on tlie spot. Finding all his movements frustrated,
I^Ienou at length ordered a retreat, which he was al>le to effect in good order ;
the British having too few cavalry to pursue. His loss was supposed to ])Q
between tliree and four thousand men, including many officers, among whom
were general Raize, commander of the cavalry, wlio fell in the field, and two
generals who died of their wounds. The loss of the British was also heavy,
upwards of seventy officers being killed, wounded, and missing. Among these
was the lamented commander-in-chief. Having hastened, on the first alarm,
towards the cannonading, Sir Ralph must have ridden straight among the enemy,
wlio had already broken the front line and got into its rear. It was not yet
day, and, being unable to distinguish friend from foe, he must have been embar-
rassed among tlie assailants, but he was extricated by the valour of his troops.
To the first soldier that came up to him, he said, " Soldier, if you know nie, don't
name me." A French dragoon, at the moment, conjecturing the prize he had
lost, rode up to Sir Ralph, and made a cut at him, l)nt not being near enough,
only cut tlirough the clothes, and grazed the skin with the point of his sabre.
The dragoon's horse wheeling about, brought him again to the charge, and he
made a second attempt by a lounge, but the sabre passed between Sir Ralph's
side and his right arm. The di-agoon being at the instant shot dead, the sabre
remained with the general. About the same time it was discovered that he had
been wounded in the thigh, and was entreated to have the wound examined ;
but he treated it as a trifle, and would not for a moment leave the field. No
sooner, however, had the enemy begun to retreat, and the excitement of feeling
under which he had been acting to subside, than he fainted from pain and the
loss of blood. His wound was now examined, and a large incision made in order
to extract the ball, but it could not be found. He was then put upon a litter,
and carried aboard the Foudroyant, where he languished till the 2Sth, when he
died. His body was interred in the burial ground of the commandery of the
Grand Master, under the walls of the castle of St Elan, near the town of Valetta
in Malta.'

Of the character of Sir Ralph Abercromby there can be but one opinion
Bred to arms almost from his infancy, he appeared to be formed for command.
His dispositions were always masterly, and his success certain. He had served
in America, in the West Indies, in Ireland, in the Netherlands, in Holland, and
in Egypt, and had in all of these countries gained himself great distinction. In
the two latter countries, especially, he performed services that were of incalculable
advantage to his country. The battle of the 21st of March, or of Alexandria,
while it decided the fate of Egypt, left an impression of British skill and of British
valour upon the minds of both her friends and her enemies, that materially con-
tributed to the splendid results of a contest longer in continuance, and involving
interests of greater magnitude, than Britain had ever before been engaged in. The
manner in which he repressed the licentiousness of the troops in Ireland, was
at once magnanimous and eff^ective ; and he ended a life of dignified exertion by a
death worthy of a hero. "We have sustained an irreparable loss," says his suc-
cessor, "in the person of our never enough to be lamented commander-in-chief,
Sir Ralph Abercromby ; but it is some consolation to those who tenderly loved
him, that, as his life was honourable, so was his death glorious. His memory

JOHN ABERNETHY. 13

will be recorded in tlie annals of his country, will be sacred to every British
soldier, and embalmed in the recollection of a grateful posterity.'"

Sir Ralph Abercromby was married to Mary Anne, daughter of John Menzies
of Fernton, Perthshire ; by whom he had issue four sons and three daughters,
who survived him. On the official account reaching England of the fate of her
lamented husband, his widow was elevated to the peerage, May 28, 1801, as
Baroness Abercromby of Aboukir and Tullibody, with remainder to the heirs-
male of the deceased general; and, on the recommendation of his majesty, the
House of Commons, without one dissentient voice, granted an annuity of two
thousand pounds to Lady Abercromby, and tlie next two succeeding male heirs
of the body of Sir Ralph Abercromby, to whom the title of Baron Abercromby
should descend. The House of Commons, farther, sensible of the great merits
of this distinguished British commander, voted a monument to his memory, at
the public expense, whtch was subsequently erected in St Paul's cathedral.

ABERNETHY, John, an eminent writer on physiology. The birth and
parentage of this gentleman were so obscure, that it is impossible to say with
certainty whether he was a native of Ireland or of Scotland. It is even affirmed
that he was himself ignorant of the country of his birth. Upon the supposition
that he was born in Scotland, his name is introduced in the present work. The
date of his birth is given loosely as 17G.3-64. 11 is parents having brought him in
his infancy to London, he commenced his education at a day-school in LothI)ury,
where he acquired the elements of classical literature. Having afterwards been
bound apprentice to Mr Charles Blick, surgeon to St Bartholomew's Hospital,
he had the advantage of attending that noble institution, where he eagerly seized
every opportunity of making himself practically acquainted with his profession.
He also had the advantage of attending the lectures of Mr John Hunter, at the
time when that gentleman was commencing the development of those great
discoveries which have made his name so famous. The curiosity which those
discoveries excited in the public at large, was felt in an uncommon degree by
Mr Abernethy, whose assiduity and ardour as a pupil attracted the notice of the
lecturer, and rendered the latter his friend for life.

While as yet a very young practitioner, his reputation procured for Mr
Abernethy the situation of assistant-surgeon at St Bartholomew's, and he soon
after commenced a course of lectures in the hospital, which, though not very
successful at first, became in time the most frequented of any in London, so as
to lay the foundation of a medical school of the highest reputation in connection
with this institution. On the death of Sir Charles Blick, his former master,
Mr Abernethy, now considered as the best teacher of anatomy, physiology, and
eurgery in the metropolis, was elected surgeon to the hospital.

The first publications of Mr Abernethy were a few Physiological Essays, and
one on Liimbar Abscess, which, with some additions, formed his first volume,
published 1793-97, in Bvo, under the title of "Surgical and Physiological

' The following panegyric upon Sir Ealph in another character, was written before his
death: — "As a country gentleman, ever attentive to all within the circle of his movement,
he stands high in the estimation of his neighbours and dependents; and when his military
glory shall have fallen into oblivion, it will be gratefully remembered that he was the friend
of the destitute poor, the patron of useful knowledge, and the promoter of education among
the meanest of his cottagers: as an instance it may be mentioned, that in the village of
Tullibody, on his paternal estate, a reading school, under his immediate inspection, was
established many years back." — CampbelVs Journey through Scotland, 4to, 1802, vol. ii.

14 JOHN ABERNETHY.

Essaj's." These were characterized by the same strong sense, and i)lain and
forcible illustration, wliich marked everything that flowed from liis tongue anil
pen till the end of his life. lu 1004 ap])earcd another volume, entitled, "Sur-
gical Observations, containing a classification of tumours, with cases to illustrate
the history of each species ; an account of Diseases," &c. ; and, in 1806, "Sur-
gical Observations, Part Second, containing an account of Disorders of the
Health in general, and of the digestive organs in particular, which accompany
local diseases, and obstruct their cure." The fame of these treatises soon spread,
not only throughout England, but over the continent of Europe ; and the
French surgeons, especially, did homage to the masterly spirit they evinced.
Bold and successful operations, practical and lucid descriptions, original and
comprehensive views, all combined to enhance the great reputation of the
author, and to elevate the character of the national school of which he was so
bright an ornament.

In 1814, Mr Abernethy received what might be considered as the highest
honour which his profession had to bestow, in being appointed anatomical lec-
turer to the Royal College of Surgeons. An anecdote illustrative of his sound
integrity is told in reference to this era of his life. A fellow of the college
having remarked to him, that now they should have something new, Mr Aber-
nethy seriously asked him what he meant. " Why," said the other, " of course
you will brush up the lectures which you have been so long delivering at St
Bartholomew's Hospital, and let us have them in an improved form." "Do
you take me for a fool or a knave 1" rejoined Mr Abernethy, "I have always
given the students at the Hospital that to which they are entitled — the best
produce of my mind. If I could have made my lectures to them better, I would
instantly have made them so. I will give the College of Surgeons precisely
the same lectures, down to the smallest details." In the year of this honourable
appointment, he published, " An Inquiry into the Probability and Rationality
of Mr Hunter's Theory of Life ; being the subject of the two first lectures
delivered before the Royal College of Surgeons of London." The aim of these
lectures was to elucidate the doctrine previously laid down by Mr Hunter, that
" life, in general, is some principle of activity added by the will of Omnipotence
to organized structure, an immaterial soul being superadded, in man, to the
structure and vitality which he possesses in common with other animals."
Of this work, it is generally allowed that the intentions are better than the
philosophy.

Previously to this period, Mr Abernethy had published other treatises besides
those already named. One of the most remarkable was, " Surgical Observa--
tions on the Constitutional Origin and Treatment of Local Diseases, and on
Aneurism," Bvo, 1809. His memorable cases of tying the iliac artery for
aneurism are detailed in this volume ; cases which msiy almost be said to form
an era in adventurous surgical experiment. Mr Abernethy also wrote works
on " Diseases resembling Syphilis, and on Diseases of the Urethra ;" " On
Injuries of the Head, and Miscellaneous Subjects ;" and another volume of
Physiological Essays. He was likewise the author of the anatomical and
physiological articles in Rees's Cyclopedia, previous to the article " Canal."
Among his various accomplishments, must be ranked a considerable acquaintance
with chemistry ; and one of his numerous honours is the having, in company
with Mr Howard, discovered fulminating mercur3\

Besides his business as a lecturer, Mr Abernethy enjoyed a vast and lucrative

JOHN ABERNETHY. 15

practice as a surgeon. His manner in both capacities was marked by many
eccentricities, but particularly in the latter. He could not endure the tedious
nnd confused narratives which patients are apt to lay before a consulting surgeon,
and, in checking these, was not apt to regard much the rules of good-breeding.
Considerable risks were thus encountered for the sake of his advice ; but this
was generally so excellent, that those who required it were seldom afraid to
hazard the slight offence to their feelings with which it was liable to be accom-
panied. Many anecdotes of Mr Abernethy's rencounters with his patients are
jireserved in the profession. The two following are given in Sir James Eyre's
recent work, " The Stomach and its Difficulties :" — " A very talkative lady,
who had wearied the temper of Mr Abernethy, which was at all times impatient
of gabble, was told by him, the first moment that he could get a chance of
speaking, to be good enough to put out her tongue. ' Now, pray, madam,' said
lie, playfully, ^keep it out.' The hint was taken. He rarely met with his
match, but on one occasion he fairly owned that he had. He was sent for to
an innkeeper, who had had a quarrel with his wife, and who had scored his
face with her nails, so that the poor man was bleeding, and much disfigured.
iMr Abernethy considered tliis an opportunity not to be lost for admonishing
tlie offender, and said, 'Madam, are you not ashamed of j'ourself to treat your
Imsband thus; the husband, who is the head of all, your head, madam, in fact?'
' Well, doctor,' fiercely retorted the virago, ' and may I not scratch my own
head?' Upon this her friendly adviser, after giving directions for the benefit
of the patient, turned upon his heel, and confessed himself beaten for once."
But abruptness and rudeness were not his only eccentricities. He carried prac-
tical benevolence to a pitch as far from the common line as any of his other
peculiarities. Where poverty and disease prevented patients from waiting upon
liim in his own house, he was frequently known, not only to visit them con-
stantly, and at inconvenient distances, without fee or reward, but generously
to supply them from his own purse with what their wants required. Perhaps
tile most striking, out of the numerous anecdotes which have been related of
him, in illustration of his eccentricities, is one descriptive of his courtship, or
rather of his no-courtship. " While attending a lady for several weeks, he
observed those admirable qualifications in her daughter, which he truly esteemed
to be calculated to make the marriage state happy. Accordingly, on a Saturday,
when taking leave of his patient, he addressed her to the following purport : —
* You are now so well that I need not see you after Monday next, when I shall
come and pay you my farewell visit. But, in the meantime, I wish you and
your daughter seriously to consider the proposal I am now about to make. It
is abrupt and unceremonious, I am aware ; but the excessive occupation of my
time, by my professional duties, affords me no leisure to accomplish what I
desire by the more ordinary course of attention and solicitation. My annual

receipts amount to £ , and I can settle £ on my wife ; my character is

generally known to the public, so that you may readily ascertain what it is.
I have seen in your daughter a tender and affectionate child, an assiduous and
careful nurse, and a gentle and ladylike member of a family ; such a person
must be all that a husband could covet, and I offer my hand and fortune for her
acceptance. On Monday, when I call, I shall expect your determination ; for
I really have not time for the routine of courtship.' In this humour the lady
was wooed and won, and the union proved fortunate in every respect. A hap-
pier couple never existed."

16 ALEXANDER ADAM.

After a life of pre:»t activity, and wliicli proved of iniich iinniodiate and
romote service to mankind, the suliject of this memoir exjiired, at lOiifield, on
the 20th of April, 1831.

ADAM, Alexandlu, an eminent f;;rammarian and writer on Roman antiqui-
ties, was born at Coats of Burj^^ie, in the parish of RafFord, and county of Moray,
about the month of June, 1741. His father, John Adam, rented one of those
small farms which were formerly so common in the north of Scotland. In his
earlier years, like many children of his own class, and even of a class higher
removed above poverty, he occasionally tended his father's cattle. Being des-
tined by his parents, poor as they were, for a learned profession, he was kept at
the parish school till he was thought fit to come forward as a bursar, at the
university of Aberdeen. He made this attempt, but failed, and was requested
by the judges to go back and study for another year at school. This incident
only stimulated him to fresh exertions. He was prevented, however, from
renewing his attempt at Aberdeen, by the representations of the Rev. Mr Wat-
son, a minister at Edinburgh, and a relation of his mother, who induced him to
try his fortune in the metropolis, lie removed thither early in the j-ear 1758;
but, it appears, without any assured means of supporting himself during the
progress of his studies. For a considerable time, while attending the classes at
the college, the only means of subsistence he enjoj-ed, consisted of the small sum
of one guinea per quarter, which he derived from Mr Alan JIacconochie, (after-
wards Lord Meadowbank), for assisting him in the capacity of a tutor. The
details of his system of life at this period, as given by his biographer Mr Hen-
derson, are painfully interesting. " He lodged in a small room at Restalrig, iu
the north-eastern suburbs ; and for this accommodation he paid fourpence a- week.
All his meals, except dinner, uniformly consisted of oat-meal made into porridge,
together with small beer, of which he only allowed himself half a bottle at a
time. When he wished to dine, he purchased a penny loaf at the nearest baker's
shop ; and, if the day was fair, he would despatch his meal in a walk to the
Meadows or Hope Park, which is adjoining to the southern part of the city;
but if the weather was foul, he had recourse to some long and lonely stair, which
he would climb, eating his dinner at every step. By this means all expense for
cookery was avoided, and he wasted neither coal nor candles ; for, when he was
chill, he used to run till his blood began to glow^, and his evening studies were
always prosecuted under the roof of some one or other of his companions."
There are many instances, we believe, among Scottish students, of the most
rigid self-denial, crowned at length by splendid success ; but there is certainly
no case known in which the self-denial was so chastened, and the triumph so
grand, as that of Dr Adam. In 17G1, when he was exactly twenty, he stood a
trial for tlie situation of head teacher in George Watson's Hospital, Edinburgh,
and was successful. In this place he is said to have continued about three
years ; during which, he was anxiously engaged in cultivating an intimacy with
the classics — reading, with great care, and in a critical manner, the works of
Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Cicero, and Livy. His views were now
directed towards the church, and he was on the eve of being licensed as a
preacher of the gospel, when suddenly a prospect opened before him of becoming
assistant, with the hope of being eventually the successor, of Mr Matheson,
rector of the High School. This appointment he obtained, and in 1771 the
increased infirmities of Mr Matheson threw the whole of this charge into the
hands of Mr Adam.

ALEXANDER ADAM. 17

The time when he assumed this respectable office was very fortunate. Every
department of knowledge in Scotland was at this period adorned by higher names
than had ever before graced it ; and hence the office of Master in the principal
elementary school of the country presented to a man of superior qualifications
a fair opportunity of distinguishing himself. This opportunity was not lost
upon Mr Adam. He devoted himself with singular assiduity to liis duties ;
and, under his auspices, the school gradually increased in numbers and reputa-
tion. Soon after his appointment, he began to compose a series of works to
facilitate the study of the Latin language. His Rudiments of Latin and English
Grammar were published in 1772, and, though composed in a style which
appeared to the generality of teachers as a dreadful schism and heresy, met with
the approbation of a discerning few, whose praise was sufficient to overbalance
the censure of the multitude. His offence consisted in the novel attempt to
teacli the grammatical rules of Latin in English prose, instead of Latin prose
or verse, which latter had been the time-honoured fashion of the schools both of
England and Scotland, since the days of the Reformation. The daring innovator
was assailed with a storm of abuse by numerous individuals, more especially by
those of his own profession.

Among those who took an active part in condemning hia work, Dr Gilbert
Stuart was very conspicuous. This extraordinary litterateur was a relation of
Ruddiman; and, as an additional incentive to his hostility, conceived that Adam
had gained the rectorship of the High School more by interest than by merit.
He accordingly filled the periodical works of the day with ridicule and abuse
directed against the unfortunate grammar. Amongst other pasquinades, appeared
an account, in Latin, of a Roman funeral, in which that work was personified
as the dead body, while the chief mourner was meant to represent Mr Adam,
sorrowing for the untimely fate of his best-beloved child. The other persons
officiating are introduced under the technical tei-ms in use among the ancient
Romans ; and, to heighten the ridicule, and give it aid from local circumstances,
the ingenious satirist placed in front of the mourners, a poor lunatic of the name
of Duff, well known in Edinburgh at the time for his punctual attendance at
the head of all funeral processions. While his work was still the subject of
I ensure, the ingenious author was partly compensated for all his sufferings by
udegree of LL.D., which was conferred upon him by the College of Edinburgh,
in 1780. Some j-ears after, the grammar began gradually to make its way in
schools, and finally he had the satisfaction of seeing it adopted in his own
seminary. Among the great names which at an early period had sanctioned it
with their approbation, are those of Lord Kames, Bishop Lowth, and Dr Vin-
cent, Master of St Paul's school.

The next work of Dr Adam is entitled, A Summary of Geography and His-
toi-y, but the date of the first edition is not mentioned by his biographer. In
1791, he published his excellent compendium of Roman Antiquities, and in
1800 his Classical Biography ; for the copyright of the former he received
£600, and for that of the latter £300. Dr Adam's last, and perhaps his most
laborious work, was his Latin Dictionary, published in 1805. Towards the
beginning, his illustrations are brief, but, as he proceeds, they gradually become
more copious. It was his intention to add an English-and-Latin part, and to
enlarge the other to a considerable extent. In this favourite plan he had made
some progress at the time of his death.

On the 13th of December, 1809, Dr Adam was seized in the High School with

an alarming indisposition, wliicli liad all the appearance of apojdexy. Having
bi?en conducted home, he was put to bed, and enjoyed a sound sleep, which
appeared to have arrested the progress of the disease, for he was afterwards able
to walk about his room. The apoplectic symptoms, however, returned in a
few days, ami he fell into a state of stupor. His last words marked the gradual
darkening of tlie ray of life and intellect beneatli tliis mortal disorder. He said,
" It grows dark, boys — you may go — " his mind evidently wandering at that
moment to the scene where he had spent the better part of his life. This twi-
light soon settled down into the night of death : he expired early in the morn-
ing of the 18th December, ]809. The death of the amiable and excellent Dr
Adam operated, among his numerous friends and admirers, like a shock of elec-
tricity. Men of all ages and denominations were loud in lamenting an event
which had bereaved them of a common benefactor. The effect of the general
feeling was a resolution to honour him with what is a very rare circumstance
in Scotland, a public funeral.

The life of Dr Adam proves, had any proof been wanting, the possibility o\
rising to distinction in this country from any grade of life, and through what-
soever intervening difficulties. In 1758 and 1759 he was a student living at the
inconceivably humble rate of four guineas a-year ; in ten years thereafter, he had
qualified himself for, and attained, a situation which, in Scotland, is an object
of ambition to men of considerable literary rank. The principal features of his
character were, unshaken independence and integrity, ardour in the cause of
public liberty, the utmost purity of manners and singleness of heart, and a most
indefatigable power of application to the severest studies. " His external appear-
ance was that of a scholar who dressed neatly for his own sake, but who had
never incommoded himself with fashion in the cut of his coat, or in the regula-
tion of his gait. Upon the street he often appeared in a studious attitude, and
in winter always walked with his hands crossed, and thrust into his sleeves.
His features were regular and manly, and he was above the middle size. In his
well-formed proportions, and in his firm regular pace, there appeared the marks
of habitual temperance. He must have been generally attractive in his early
days, and, in his old age, his manners and conversation enhanced the value and
interest of every qualification. When he addressed his scholars, when he com-
mended excellence, or when he was seated at his own fireside with a friend on
whom he could rely, it was delightful to be near him ; and no man could leave
his company without declaring that he loved Dr Adam."

ADAM, Robert, an eminent architect, was born at Edinburgh in the year
1728. His father, William Adam, of Maryburgh, in the county of Fife, also
distinguished himself as an architect ; Hopetoun House, and the Royal Infir-
mary at Edinburgh, are specimens of his abilities. Robert, tlie second son,
inherited his father's taste, and lived in a time more favourable to its develop-
ment. He was educated in the university of Edinburgh, where he enjoyed the
kind attentions of Robertson, Smith, and Ferguson; all of whom were his father's
friends. As he advanced in life, he was on friendly and intimate terms with
Archibald Duke of Argyle, Sir Charles Townshend, and the Earl of Mansfield.
About the year 1754, with a view to improve his knowledge of architecture, he
travelled on the continent, and resided three years in Italy, where he surveyed
the magnificent specimens of Roman architecture : the buildings of the ancients,
in his opinion, being the proper school of the architectural student. But while
he beheld with much pleasure the remains of the public buildings of the Romans,

ROBERT ADAM. 19

lie regretted to perceive that hardly a vestige of their private houses or villas
was anywhere to be found. In tracing the progress of Roman architecture, he
had remarked that it had declined previous to the age of Dioclesian ; but he was
also convinced that the liberality and munificence of that emperor had revived,
durin» his reign, a better taste, and had formed artists who were capable of imi-
tating the more elegant styles of the preceding ages. He had seen this remark-
ably exemplified in the public baths at Rome, which were erected by Dioclesian.
The interest which he felt in this particular branch of Roman remains, and his
anxiety to behold a good specimen of the private buildings of this wonderful
]i€ople, induced him to undertake a voyage to Spalatro in Dalmatia, to visit and
examine the palace of Dioclesian, where, after his resignation of the empire, in
SOS, that emperor spent the last nine years of his life. He sailed from Venice
in 1754, accompanied by two experienced draughtsmen, and M. Clerisseau, a
French antiquary and artist. On their arrival at Spalatro, they found that the
])alace had not suffered less from dilapidations by the inhabitants, to procure
materials for building, than from the injuries of time; and that, in many places,
the very foundations of the ancient structures were covered with modern houses.
When they began their labours, the vigilant jealousy of the government was
alarmed, and they were soon interrupted ; for suspecting their object was to
view and make plans of the fortifications, the governor issued a peremptory
order, commanding them to desist. It was only through the influence and
mediation of General Graeme, the commander-in-chief of the Venetian forces
(probably a Scotsman', that they were at length permitted to resume their
labours; and in five weeks they finished plans and views of the remaining frag-
ments, from which they afterwards executed perfect designs of the whole build-
ing. Mr Adam soon after returned to England, and speedily rose to professional
eminence. In 17G2, he was appointed architect to their majesties, and in the
year following he published, in one volume large folio, " Ruins of the Palace
of the emperor Dioclesian at Spalatro, in Dalmatia." This splendid work con-
tains seventy-one plates, besides letter-press descriptions. He had at this time
been elected a member of the Royal and Antiquarian Societies, and in l7Gii
he was elected to represent Kinross-shire in Parliament ; which was probably
owing to the local influence of his family. A seat in the House of Commons
being incompatible with employment under the crown, he now resigned his
ofiice as architect to their majesties ; but continued to prosecute his professional
career with increasing reputation, being much employed by the English nobility
and gentry in constructing new and embellishing ancient mansions. In the
year 1773, in conjunction with his brother, James Adam, who also rose to
considerable reputation as an architect, he commenced " The Works in Archi-
tecture of R. and J. Adam," which before 1776 had reached a fourth number,
and was a work of equal splendour with the one above referred to. The four
numbers contain, among other productions, Sion House, Caen Wood, Luton
Park House, the Gateway of the Admiralty, and the General Register House
at Edinburgh ; all of which have been admired for elegant design and correct
taste ; though the present age, in its rage for a severe simplicity, might desire the
absence of certain minute ornaments, with which the Adams were accustomed
to fill up vacant spaces. Before this period, the two brothers had reared in
London that splendid monument of their taste, the Adelphi ; which, however,
was too extensive a speculation to be profitable. They were obliged, in 1774,
to obtain an act of parliament to dispose of the houses by way of lottery. The

20 HENRY ADAM SON.

chief Scottish designs of Adam, besides the Register Office, were the new addi-
tions to the University of Edinburgh, and the Infirmary of Glasgow. " We
liave also seen and admired," says a I)iogra[)her, "elegant designs executed by
]\Ir Adam, which were intended for the South Bridge and South Bridge Street
of Edinburgh ; and which, if they had lieen adopted, would have added much
to the decoration of that part of the town. But they were considered unsuit-
able to the taste or economy of the times, and were therefore rejected. Strange
incongruities," continues the same writer, " appear in some buildings which
have been erected from designs by Mr Adam. But of these it must be observed,
that they have been altered or mutilated in execution, according to the conve-
nience or taste of the owner ; and it is well known that a slight deviation changes
the character and mars the effect of the general design. A lady of rank was
furnished by Mr Adam with the design of a house ; but on examining the build-
ing after it was erected, he was astonished to find it out of all proportion. On
inquiring the cause, he was informed that the pediment he had designed was
too small to admit a piece of new sculpture which represented the arms of the
family, and, b}'^ the date which it bore, incontestably pi-oved its antiquity. It
was therefore absolutely necessary to enlarge the dimensions of the pediment
to receive this ancient badge of family honour, and sacrifice the beauty and
pi-oportion of the whole building. We have seen a large public building which
was also designed by Mr Adam ; but when it was erected, the length was cur-
tailed of the space of two windows, while the other parts remained according to
the original plan. It now appears a heavy unsightly pile, instead of exhibiting
that elegance of proportion and correctness of style which the faithful execu-
tion of Mr Adam's design would have probably given it. To the last period of
his life, Mr Adam displayed the same vigour of genius and refinement of taste ;
for in the space of one year immediately preceding his death, he designed eight
great public works, besides twenty-five private buildings, so various in style,
and beautiful in composition, that they have been allowed by the best judges to
be sufficient of themselves to establish his fame as an unrivalled artist." Mr
Adam died on the 3d of March, 1792, b^-- the bursting of a blood-vessel, in the
sixty-fourth year of his age, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. It reniains
only to be said that, while his works commanded the admiration of the public,
his natural suavity of manners, joined to his excellent moral character, had
made a deep impression upon the circle of his own private friends. His brother
ames, who has been referred to as associated with him in many of his works,
died October 20, 1794.

ADAMSON, Henry, a poet of the seventeenth century, and probably a rela-
tive of the subject of the following article, was the son of James Adamson, who
was dean of guild in Perth, anno 1600, when the Gowrie conspiracy took place
in that city. The poet was educated for the pulpit, and appears to have made
considerable progress in classical studies, as he wrote Latin poetry above medio-
crity. He enjoj^ed the friendship and esteem of a large circle of the eminent
men of that age, particularly Drummond of Hawthornden, who induced him,
m 1638, to publish a poem entitled, " Mirthful Musings for the death of Mr
Gall ;" being in fact a versified history of his native town, full of quaint alle-
gorical allusions suitable to the taste of that age. A new edition of this curious
poem, which had become exceedingly rare, was published in 1774, with illus-
trative notes by Mr James Cant. The ingenious author died in 1639, the year
after the publication of his poem.

PATRICK ADAMSON. 21

ADAMSON, Patrick, Arc]i1)ishop of St Andrews. This prelate, whose
name occupies so remarkable a place in the history of the Scottish Reformation,
was born of humble parents, in the town of Perth, in the year 1543. Such is
the date assigned ; but we think it may be safely carried two or three years
farther back, as we find his name in the roll of the first General Assembly held
by the reformed church of Scotland, in 1560, as one of those persons belonging
to St Andrews who were fit for ministering and teaching ; while, only two
years after, we find him minister of Ceres, in Fifeshire, with a commission to
plant churches from Dee to Etiiam. Great as were the emergencies of the
infant kirk at this time from the want of ministers, it is scarcely to be thought
that it would have appointed to such important charges a youth who had not
yet attained the age of twenty. Previous to this period he had studied at the
university of St Andrews, where it is likely he was distinguished by those talents
and literary acquirements that subsequently brought him into such notice, and,
after having gone through the usual course, he graduated as Master of Arts.
His name at this period was Patrick Consteane, or Constance, or Constantine,
for in all these forms it is written indifferently ; but how it afterwards passed
into Adamson we have no means of ascertaining. At the close of his career at
college, he opened a school in Fife, and soon obtained the notice and patronage
of .Tames M'Gill of Rankeillor, one of the judges of the Court of Session,
who possessed considerable political influence. He had not long been minis-
ter of Ceres, when we find him impatient to quit his charge ; and accord-
ingly, in 1564, he applied to the General Assembly for leave "to pass to other
countries for a time, to acquire increase of knowledge," but was inhibited to
leave his charge without the Assembly's license. That license, however, he
seems at length to have obtained, and probably, also, before the meeting of the
Assembly in the following year, when they published such stringent decisions
against those ministers who abandon their spiritual charges. Patrick Con-
stance, or, as we shall henceforth call him, Adamson, now ajipointed tutor of
the son of M'Gill of Rankeillor, passed over with his young charge, who was
destined for the study of the civil law, to Paris, at that time the chief school of
the distinguished jurisconsults of Europe.

Adamson had not been long in Paris when such adventures befel liim as
might well make him sigh for the lowly obscurity of Ceres. In the course of
events that had occurred in Scotland, during his absence, were the marriage of
Queen Mary and Henry Darnley, and the birth of their infant, afterwards
James VI. ; and Adamson, who at this time was more of a courtier than a
politician, and more of a poet than either, immediately composed a triumphant
"carmen" on the event, entitled, Serenissimi et nohilissimi Scotice, Anglice,
Francice, et Hibernice Principis, Henrici Stuarti Illustrissimi Herois, ac Marice
Reginw amplissimce Filii, Genethliacum. The very title was a startling one, both
to France and England, the great political questions of which countries it at once
prejudged, by giving them the Scottish queen for their lawful, indisputable
sovereign. Had this poem, which was published a few days after the event,
I)een produced in England, its author would scarcely have escaped an awkward
examination before the Star Chamber ; but as it was, he was within the reach
of Catherine de Medicis, to the full as jealous of her authority as Elizabeth
herself, and far more merciless in exercising it. Adamson was therefore re-
warded for his Latin poetry by a six months' imprisonment, which perhaps
would have been succeeded by a worse infliction, had it not been for the media-

22 PATiaCK ADAMSON.

tion of Mary herself, hackefl bj-- that of some of her chief nobles. It did not at
that time suit the policy of France to break with Scotland, and the poet waa
set at liberty. Having thus had a sufficient sojourn in Paris, Adanison repaired
with his pupil to Bourges, where both entered themselves as students of law,
a science which the Scottish ministers of the day frequently added to that ol
theology. Even here, however, he was not long allowed to remain in safety.
The massacre of St. Bartholomew — that foul national blot of France, and
anomaly of modern history — burst out with the suddenness of a tornado acrosb
a tranquil sky ; and, amidst the ruin that followed, no Protestant, over the
whole extent of France, could be assured of his life for a single hour. Adamson
had his full share of the danger, and narrowly escaped its worst, by finding
shelter in a lowly hostelry ; the master of which was afterwards flung from the
top of his own house, and killed on the pavement below, for having given
shelter to heretics. While immured in this dreary- confinement, that continued
for seven months, and which he fitly termed his sepulchre, Adamson appears
to have consoled himself with Latin poetry upon themes suited to his gondi-
tion ; one attempt of this nature being the tragedy of Herod, and the other a
version of the book of Job. We may notice here, that he had not been lost
sight of during this protracted residence in France, by his brethren, or the
church at home ; and that, in the year previous to the massacre, the General
Assembly had once and again desired him to return, and resume his ministry.
But to this earnest request he, in the first instance, craved leisure for careful
deliberation, and after, sent a full answer, evidently in the negative, as he did
not see fit to comply. But the perils in which he was afterwards involved, and
the long confinement he endured, had probably brought him to a more submis-
sive, or at least a safer mode of thinking ; for, as soon as he was able to emerge,
one of the first uses which he made of his liberty was to make preparations
for returning home, and resuming those ministerial labours which he had good
cause to regret he ever had abandoned.

On the return of Patrick Adamson to Scotland, he seems to have been favour-
ably received by his brethren, notwithstanding his previous recusancy. His
reception, indeed, could scarcely have been otherwise than cordial, as he had so
lately been all but a martyr for Protestantism in the midst of a terrible perse-
cution. His return was at a critical period; for the archbishopric of St
Andrews was at that time vacant, and, notwithstanding the Presbyterian doc-
trine of parity, which had been laid down as a fundamental principle of the
Scottish church, the chief prelatic offices were still continued, through the
overbearing influence of those nobles who now directed the government of the
country. But it was from no love of Episcopacy in the abstract that these
magnates continued such charges, obnoxious though they were to the church
and the people at large, but that they might derive from them a profitable
revenue, as lay proprietors of the livings. In this way the Earl of Morton had
acquired a claim to the revenues of the archbishopric of St Andrews, and oiily
needed some ecclesiastic who could wear the title, and discharge its duties, for
a small per-centage of the benefice. It was a degrading position for a church-
man, and yet there were too many who were willing to occupy it, either from
a vain-glorious love of the empty name, or an ambitious hope of converting it
into a substantial reality. Among these aspirants for the primacy of Scotland,
Patrick Adamson was suspected to be one ; and it was thought that he expected
to succeed through the influence of his patron, M'Gill of Rankeillor. These

PATRICK ADAMSON. 23

surmises, liis subsequent conduct but too well justified. But Morton had
already made his election in favour of John Douglas, who was inducted into
the office, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of John Knox. The con-
duct of Adamson on this occasion was long after remembered when he would
have wished it to be forsrot. The week after the induction, and when the
greatest concourse of people was expected, he ascended the pulpit and delivered
a vehement and sarcastic sermon against the Episcopal office as then exercised in
Scotland. " There are three sorts of bishops," he said ; " My lord Bishop, ray
lord's Bishop, and the Lord's Bishop. My lord Bishop was in the papistry ;
my lord's Bishop is now, when my lord gets the benefice, and the bishop serves
for nothing but to make his title sure ; and the Lord's Bishop is the true
minister of the gospel." He saw that, for the present at least, he could not be
primate of St Andrews, and therefore he turned his attention to the more humble
offices of the church. And there, indeed, whatever could satisfy the wishes of
a simple presbyter was within his reach ; for he was not only in general esteem
among his brethren, but highly and justly valued for his scholarship, in conse-
quence of his catechism of Calvin in Latin heroic verse, which he had written
in France, and was about to publish in Scotland with the approbation of the
General Assembly. He now announced his willingness to resume the duties of
the ministry ; but his intimation was coupled with a request that had some-
what of a secular and selfish appearance. It was, that a pension which had
been granted to him by the late regent out of the teinds of the parsonage of
Glasgow, should be secured to him ; and that the procurators of the Assembly
should be commissioned to aid him to that effect. His request was granted,
and he once more became a minister. The town of Paisley was his sphere of
duty, according to the appointment of the Assembly. In addition to this, he
was subsequently appointed commissioner of Galloway, an office which resembled
that of a bishop as to its duties, but divested of all its pre-eminence and emolu-
ment. Some of the best men of the kirk had undertaken this thankless office
with alacrity, and discharged its duties with diligence ; but such was not the
case with Patrick Adamson ; and when his remissness as a commissioner was
complained of to the General Assembly, he acknowledged the justice of the
accusation, but pleaded in excuse, that no stipend was attached to the office.

Of the labours of Adamson while minister of Paisley, no record has been pre-
served. His time there, however, was brief, as a new sphere was opened to his
ambition. The great subject of anxiety at this period in the church, was the
construction of the Book of Policy, otherwise called the Second Book of Disci-
pline, and procuring its ratification by the government ; but the chief obstacle
in the way was the Earl of Morton, now regent, whose principal aim, besides
enriching himself with the ecclesiastical revenues, was to bring the two churches
of England and Scotland into as close a conformity as possible, in order to facili-
tate the future union of the two kingdoms under the reign of his young master,
James VI. Here it is that we find Adamson busy. He became an active
negotiator for the Book of Policy, and while he managed to secure the confi-
dence of the leading men in the church, he ingratiated himself into the favour of
the regent ; so that when the latter chose him for his chaplain, the brethren seem
to have hoped that the accomplishment of their purpose would be facilitated by
having such an advocate at court. But never were ecclesiastics more thoroughly
disappointed in their hopes from such a quarter. The archbishopric of St
Andrews had again become vacant, and Morton nominated Adamson to the

24 PATRICK ADAMSON.

see ; who, on receiving the appointment, began even ah-eady to show that he
would hold it independently of the authority of the church, by refusing to
submit to the usual trial and examination of the Assembly. In this he persisted,
and entered office against the acts and ordinances of the Assembly provided for
such occasions. "While chaplain to the regent, he had been wont, while preach-
ing, and giving his glosses upon texts of Scripture, to say, " The proplict would
mean this " — a phrase so usual with him on such occasions, that his hearers
could not help noticing it. At length, when he became primate of Scotland,
Captain Montgomery, one of the regent's officers, exclaimed, with dry humour,
"I never knew what the prophet meant till now!" AsAdamson's entering
into the archbishopric was such an act of contravention to the authority of
the church, the Assembly, at one of its meetings in 1577, resolved to institute
proceedings against the offender. But even this formidable danger he was able
to avert for the time with his wonted craft. He professed the utmost humility,
and offered to la}' down his office at the feet of the Assembly, and be ordered
at their pleasure, but represented how desirable it would be to postpone all such
proceedings until the Book of Policy had been finished, and ratified by the
regent. The matter was thus reduced to a mere question of time, and hia
suggestion prevailed.

The great subject now at issue was the Book of Ecclesiastical Policy, the
Magna Charta of the Church of Scotland, upon the passing of which its rights
and liberties as a national church were at stake. It was, as might have been
expected, completely Presb^'terian in its discipline, and subversive of that epis-
copal rule which the court was labouring to establish. Among these enact-
ments, it was decreed, that no bishop should be designated by his title, but his
own name, as a brother, seeing he belonged to a church that has but one Lord,
even Christ — that no bisliops should thenceforth be appointed in it ; and that
no minister should accept the office on pain of deprivation. Against such con-
clusions it is not wonderful that Adamson demurred. But as himself and the
bishop of Aberdeen constituted the entire minority in the Assembly, his oppo-
sition went no farther than to procrastinate any final conclusion. But the
Policy was at length concluded, and ready to be pi-esented to the government,
and for this, Adamson had reserved his master stroke. The book was to be
subscribed by every member individually, but this form the archbishop opposed.
" Nay," he said, " we have an honest man, our clerk, to subscribe for all, and
it would derogate from his faithfulness and estimation if we should all severally
subscribe." The difference appeared so trivial, that the brethren assented to
the proposal, although some of them seem to have entertained a lurking sus-
picion that all was not right ; so that Mr Andrew Hay, minister of Renfrew,
could not help exclaiming, " Well, if any man comes against this, or denies it
hereafter, he is not honest." He soon showed at whom his suspicions pointed,
by stepping up to Adamson, and saying to him in the presence of three or four
by-standers, "There is my hand, Mr Patrick ; if you come against this here-
after, consenting now so thoroughly to it, I will call you a knave, were it never
so publicly." The other accepted the challenge, and thus the matter ended
for the present. The Book of Policy was to be presented to the Lords of
Articles for ratification on the part of the government ; and strangely enough,
Adamson was commissioned to present it. ]\Iorton and the lords asked him if
he had given his assent to these enactments ; to which he answered that he had
not, and that he had refused to subscribe to them. Here was a loop-hole of

PATRICK ADAMSON.

25

escape for the council : the Archhishop of St. Andrews had vvithhehi his assent,
and they could do no less than follow tlie example. The Book was rejected,
and the ministers were left to divine the cause of the refusal. But Andrew
Hay, on inquiring of several members of council, who told him the particulars,
and laid the whole blame of the refusal on Adamson, soon saw that he had a
pledge to redeem ; and on the archbishop passing by at that instant, he griped
him by the hand, looked him angrily in the face, and exclaimed, in presence of
the others, " O knave, knave, I will crown thee the knave of all knaves I" It is
enough to add here, that the Book of Policy, after having been delayed three
years longer, was in 1581 thoroughly ratified and ordained in every point, and
ordered to be registered in the books of the Assembly. As for Adamson, we
find him employed during this interval in preaching in St Andrews, lecturing
in the college, and attending the meetings of the General Assembly, but with
no greater authority than that of the ordinary brethren. But symptoms even
already had occurred to show, that the court favour upon which he was willing
to build, was but a sandy foundation, for his powerful patron, the earl of Mor-
ton, had been brought to the block. He forthwith prepared himself, therefore,
to recognize the authority of the kirk in the doctrine of bishops, to which he
had hitherto been opposed, and even gave his subscription to the articles of the
Book of Policy, which he had hitherto withheld. This was in St Andrews,
before the celebrated Andrew Melville, and a party of his friends, who were
assembled with him. But all this was insufficient : he must also secure the
countenance of the party in power, whatever for the time it might be ; and for
this purpose he passed over to Edinburgh, and took his seat in the Convention
of Estates. Here, hoAvever, his reception was so little to his liking, that he
found he must side wholly with the kirk. He therefore addressed himself to
the ministers of Edinburgh, with professions which his subsequent conduct
showed to be downright hypocrisy. He told them that he had come over to
the court in the spirit of Balaam, on purpose to curse the kirk, and do evil ;
but that God had so wrought with him, that his heart was wholly changed, so
that he had advocated and voted in the church's behalf — and that henceforth
he would show further and further fruits of his conversion and good meaning.
This self-abasing comparison of himself to Balaam must have staggered the
unfavourable suspicions of the most sceptical ; at all events, it did so with the
apostolic John Durie, who rejoiced over the primate's conversion, and wrote a
flattering account of it to James Melville. The latter, in consequence, visited
Adamson upon his return, and told him the tidings he had received, for wliich
he heartily thanked-God, and offered the archbishop the right hand of Christian
fellowship. The other, still continuing his penitent grimace, described the
change that had passed upon him at great length, which he attributed to the
working of the Spirit within him. Perhaps he overacted his part, for Melville
only observed in reply, " Well, that Spirit is an upright, holy, and constant
Spirit, and will more and more manifest itself in effects ; but it is a fearful thing
to lie against him I"

It was indeed full time for the Archbishop of St Andrews not onlj' to recover
his lost credit with the kirk, but the community at large. He was generally
accused of the vices of intemperance and gluttony; he was noted as an unfaith-
ful paymaster, so that he stood upon the score of most of the shopkeepers in the
town ; and what was still w-orse, he was accused of consorting with witches,
and availing himself of their unlawful power ! We of the nineteenth century
1. D

26 PATRICK APAMSON.

can laugh at such a ch,irn;c\ and imau;ine it sufficient not only to disprove itself,
but weaken all the other charges bionght against him. But in the sixteenth
century it was no such laughing matter ; for there were not only silly women
in abundance to proclaim themselves witches, but wise men to believe them
Even the pulpits of England as well as Scotland resounded with sermons against
witchcraft ; and a learned prelate, while preaching before Elizabeth, assured her
Majesty, that the many people who were dying daily, in spite of all the aid of
leechcraft, were thus brought to their end by spells and incantations.' While
this was the prevalent belief, a person having recourse to such agency was
wilfully and deliberately seeking help from the devil, and seeking it where he
thought it could best be found. Now, Adamson, among his other offences, had
fallen into this most odious and criminal predicament. lie was afflicted with
a painful disease, which he called a " fcedity ;" and being unable to obtain relief
from the regular practitioners, he had recourse to the witches of Fife, and
among others, to a notable woman, who pretended to have learned the ai't of
healing from a physician who had appeared to her after he was dead and buried !
This wretched creature, on being apprehended and convicted of sorcery, or what
she meant to be such, was sentenced to suffer death, as she would have been in
any other country of Europe, and was given in charge to the Archbishop for
execution. But the woman made her escape, and this, it was supposed she did,
through Adamson's connivance. After this statement, it needs scarcely be won-
dered at, that foremost in the accusations both from the pulpit and in church
courts, the crime of seeking aid from Satan should have been specially urged
against him. The man who will presumptuously attempt " to call spirits from
the vasty deep," incurs the guilt of sorcery whether they come or not.

While such was the evil plight to which the archbishop was reduced, and
out of which he was trying to struggle as he best could, the condition of public
affairs was scarcely more promising for his interests. In the Assembly held in
April, 1582, he had seen Robert Montgomery, Archbishop of Glasgow, who
was his constant ally in every Episcopal movement, arraigned at their bar,
reduced to the most humbling confessions, and dismissed with the fear of depo-
sition hanging over him. In the same year, the Raid of Ruthven had occurred,
by which the royal power was coerced, and presbytery established in greater
authority than ever. Dismayed by these ominous symptoms, Adamson with-
drew from public notice to his castle of St Andrews, where he kept himself
" like a tod in his hole," giving out that his painful " fcedity" was the cause of
his retirement. But at length the sky began to brighten, and the primate to
venture forth after a whole year of concealment. The king emancipated him-
self from his nobles of the Raid, and came to St Andrews, upon which the
archbishop, flinging off his sickness like a worn- out cloak, resumed his abandoned
pulpit with royalty for an auditor, and preached such sermons as were well

' The preacher was no other than the learned Bishop Jewel. " Witches and sorcerers
within these last few years," he said, "are marvellously increased within your Grace'*
realm. These eyes have seen most evident and manifest marks of their wickedness. Your
Grace's subjects pine away even unto the death : their colour fadeth, their flesh rottetl^,
their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft. Wherefore your poor subjects' most
humble petition to your Highness is, that the laws touching such malefactors may be put
in due execution. For the shoal of them is great, their doing horrible, their malice into-
lerable, their examples most miserable : and I pray God they never practise further than
Qpon the subject."

PATRICK ADAMSON. 27

litted to ingratiate himself into the favour of the young sovereign. They were
iurious declamations against the lords of the Raid, against the ministers of the
Ivirk by whom they had been countenanced, and against all their proceedings
by which the headlong will of James had been reduced within wholesome
limits; and thesj, too, were delivered in such fashion, as, we are informed by
James Melvill, "that he who often professed from the pulpit before that lie
had not the spirit of application, got the gift of application by inspiration of
such a spirit as never spoke in the scriptures of God." Among the other effects
of the Raid of Ruthven, was the banishment of the king's unworthy favourites,
the Earl of Arran, and the Duke of Lennox, the former from tlie royal presence,
and the latter from the country ; and Lennox took his exile so much to heart,
that he died soon after Vie had arrived in France, while James continued to
bewail his loss. Here then was a favourable theme for the archbishop. The
chief offence alleged against Lennox was, that though outwardly a Protestant,
he had not only lived, but even died a Papist ; and from this stigma it was
Adamson's main effort to clear the memory of the departed. He therefore
boldly asserted, in his sermon, that Lennox had died a good Protestant, and in
proof of this he exhibited in the pulpit a scroll, which he called the Duke's
testament. It happened unluckily for the preacher, however, that an honest
merchant womHn, who sat near the pulpit, looked narrowly at this important
document, and saw with astonishment that it was an account of her own, which
she had sent to the archbishop for a debt of some four or five years' standing,
but which, like other reckonings of the kind, he had left unpaid !

Adamson s loyalty was soon rewarded, and in a way that best accorded with
his wishes. He was to be employed as ambassador or envoy from the king to
the court of London. What was the ostensible object of his mission does not
appear ; but its real purport was, the suppression of Presbyterianism in Scot-
land, and the establishment of such a form of Episcopacy in its stead, as might
make the union of the two countries more complete, when James should become
king of both. But in such an office the messenger behoved to go wisely and
warily to work, as Elizabeth was apt to take fire at every movement that pointed
to a succession in her throne. Another serious difficulty interposed in the very
threshold of the archbishop's departure. He had already been charged before
the presbytery of St Andrews, as corrupt both in life and docti-ine : the trial
was removed to the synod, and was finally remitted to the General Assembly,
at whose bar he must justify himself, or be deposed for non-appearance ; and
he thus felt himself between the horns of a dilemma in which his compearance
or absence might be equally fatal. If, however, he could only get the trial
delayed until he had accomplished his mission, he might then brave it, or quash
it with impunity. He therefore called sickness to his aid, and pretended that
he was going to the wells of Spa, in Germany, for the recovery of his health ;
and this was nothing more than reasonable, even though he should take London
by the way. Forth therefore he went, unhindered and unsuspected ; and, if there
is any truth in " The Legend of the Lymraar's Life," a satirical poem, written
by Robert Semple, the archbishop's conduct during this embassy was anything
but creditable to his employers. His chief aim, indeed, seems to have been to
replenish his extenuated purse ; and, provided this was accomplished, he was
by no means scrupulous about the means. Even horses, books, and gowns
came into his permanent possession under the name of loans. His approach to
the palace for his first, and, as it turned out, his last audience, was equally

28 PATRICK ADAMSON.

Tinseeiiily, for he advanced to the hallowed walls of the vir^nn Queen with as
little iastidiousness, as it" he had heen about to enter the ding-y liabitation <J
some Scottish baron in one of the closes of the Canoii^Mte, so that a porter,
who espied him from the gate, rushed out and re])uked his indecorum with u
cudgel. But, amidst all his Scapin-like tricks in the English metropolis, from
which he seems to have derived for the time a comfortable revenue, Adamson
was not unmindful of the real object of his journey, which he pursued with u
diligence worthy of a better cause. He endeavoured to enlist the prejudices of
the Queen against the ministers of Scotland, and such of the nobility as favoured
them ; he consulted with the bishops upon the best means of conforming the
Scottish to the English church ; and, aware of the purpose of his own court to
Ijanish or silence the best of the clergy, he wished them to send learned and
able ministers to supply the pulpits of those who were to be displaced. But,
not content with this, he endeavoured to bring the kirk of Scotland into dis-
credit with the foreign Reformed churches of France, Geneva, and Zurich, by
sending to them a list of garbled or distorted passages, as propositions extracted
from the Scottish confession, and craving their opinion as to their soundness.
It was a crafty device, and might have been attended with much mischief, had
it not been that an antidote to the bane was at this time in England, in the
person of Mr Andrew Melville, a more accomplished scholar, as well as a more
able and eloquent writer, than Adamson himself. He drew up a true statement
of the subjects propounded, and sent them to the foreign churches, by which
the archbishop's design was speedily frustrated. But the work of mere eccle-
siastical diplomacy does not seem to have been sufficient for the restless and
scheming mind of Adamson, so that he was suspected of intriguing with the
French and Spanish ambassadors, and connecting himself with the plot of
Throckmorton, the object of which was the liberation of Mary, and the restora-
tion of Popery. It was a strange period of plots and conspiracies, Avhere Pro-
testant, Papist, and Puritan, priest and layman, foreigner and Englishman, were
often mingled together as in a seething and bubbling cauldron, for the concoction
of a charm by which a cure for every public evil was to be eff'ected. It was
immediately on the detection of this Throckmorton conspiracj"-, and the appre-
hension of its author, that the archbishop secretly withdi'ew from England and
returned home, after having been employed fully six months in these, and other
such devices, in London.

While Adamson had thus been occupied in England, in the establishment of
Episcopacy, the government at home had not been idle ; and the worthless Earl
of Arran, who, since the suppression of the Raid of Ruthven, had returned to
court, and acquired a greater ascendancy over the weak mind of James than
ever, proceeded to put his plan in execution of silencing, imprisoning, and
banishing the best and most distinguished of the Scottish clergy. It was thus
that the flocks were to be brought to helplessness, and a new order of shepherds
introduced. The list of the persecuted was a large one ; but among the most
illustrious of these were some of the most distinguished lights of the Scottish
Reformation, such as Andrew Melville, John Davidson, "Walter Balcanquhal,
and James Lawson. Of these we can only particularize the last, as his closing
scene Avas but too intimately connected with the history of Patrick Adamson.
Lawson had been the friend and fellow-labourer of Knox, whom he succeeded
as minister of Edinburgh ; and in this important charge, while he was closely
connected with all the principal ecclesiastical movements of the period, he was

PATRICK ADAMSON. 29

distinguished by his gentleness, self-denial, and piety. But these were the very
qualities that now marked him out as a victim ; and the imperious Arran did
not hesitate to tlireaten that, tliough his head wei-e as big as a hay-stack, he
would make it fly from his shoulders, Lawson knew that his life was aimed
at, and, like several of his brethren thus circumstanced, he fled to EngUind, and
took up his residence at London, in one of the lanes leading from Cheapside.
But the uncongenial climate, and, above all, the defection of many of his flock
during his absence, so heavily afflicted him, that he fell into a disease, of whicli
he died in little more than a month. Upon his death-bed, the English who
visited him were edified with his pious remarks, which they carefully treasured
Tip for their families and acquaintances ; and his last prayers were for mercy to
those who would neither enter the kingdom of God themselves, nor sufi^er others
to enter therein. And will it be believed that Patrick Adamson, the man for
whom in especial he had so prayed, conceived the idea of perverting such a
death-bed to his own political purposes? But so it was. He sat down with
the pen of a ready writer, and composed an elaborate testament in Lawson's
name, in which the dying man was made to abjure all his Presbyterian princi-
ples, to grieve over them as deadly sins, to recommend the government of the
church by bishops, and enjoin implicit obedience to the king's authority. It
was indeed a bold exploit in literary forgery ; but, at this period and afterwards,
when the pen outran the activity of the press, and communities were so separ-
ated, it was easy to make a fraud of this kind, where the locality was transferred
to London, to pass current in the streets of Edinburgh. There is no doubt that
thus the archbishop had calculated; but, like many very cunning people, he,
in this instance, betrayed himself by his ovei'-scrupulous dexterity, and wovo
the web so finely, that in many places it was quite transparent. Thus, not
content w-ith making Lawson recant all the principles of his well-spent life
with a hurry tliat w^as inconceivable, and laud Episcopal rule with an unction
and earnestness which the Archbishop of Canterbury himself could not have
surpassed, he also made him, in exhorting his old co-presbyters, to vent a
malignity of sentiment, and drolling bitterness o^ satire, such as, whether living
or dying, Lawson could not and would not have used. But it fortunately hap-
pened that proof still stronger than inferential evidence was at hand, to convict
this impudent forgery; for Lawson himself had written his last testament,
which was witnessed with the honoured names of Andrew J^Ielville, Jamea
Carmichael, John Davidson, and Walter Balcanquhal.

After his return from England, Adamson did not lie idle ; he zealously joined
the king and Arran in their persecution of the best adherents of the kirk,
under which, not only the principal ministers, but also the chief of the nobility,
were fugitives in England. His pen also was soon in requisition for a more
dignified work, at least, than that of blackening the memory of a departed
brother; it was to advocate, defend, and justify certain obnoxious measures of
James and his favourite, that had passed through the parliament in 1584, and
were generally unpopular, both on account of their anti-presbyterian spirit iu
religion, and their despotic tendencies in civil rule. This task Adamson accom-
plished, and with such plausibility and ingenuitj'-, that his apology was not
only in high favour with the king, but widely popular in England, so that it
was inserted in the appendix of Holinshed's History as a true picture of the
religious state of Scotland. But this was not his only reward. Although he
was still a suspended presbyter, with his trial by the General Assembly hanging

30 PATlllCK ADAMSON.

over him, and accounted a very Julian the Apostate hy his former brethren,
yet he was now to be conlirined in liis })riinacy, witli all the high rights and
immunities that could be comprised within tlie office. This was announced by
a royal letter, under the great seal, and, as such, was indignantly termed by the
ministers the King's Bull, "giving and granting to his well-beloved clerk and
orator, Patrick, archbishoj) of St Andrews, power, authority, and jurisdiction
to exercise the same archbishopric by himself, his commissioners, and deputies,
in all mutters ecclesiastical, within the diocese of St Andrews, and sheriffdoms
which have been heretofore annexed thereto." In this way lie would be ablo
to sit as presiding moderator in that Assembly where he should have stood as
a culprit, and silence the charges whicli he could not have answered. But this,
Ills culminating point, was also that of his downfall. The banished lords, who
iiad withdrawn themselves to England, now took counsel upon the oppressed
state of their country, and resolved to redress it after the old Scottish fashion.
They therefoi'e approached the border, where they could communicate with
their allies, and appoint musters of their retainers ; and at length, all being in
readiness, Angus, Mar, Glammis, and the Hamiltons entered Scotland, and
rapidly marched to Stirling, at the head of eight thousand armed men, to reason
with their misguided sovereign. He soon found himself, like many of his
ancestors, the pupil of Force and Necessity, and was compelled to yield to their
stern remonstrances ; while Arran was again, and for the last time, banisked
into that obscurity from which he should never have been summoned.

The return of the exiled lords, and the lianishment of Arran from court,
produced a breathing interval to the kirk ; and the ministers who had been
dispersed, warded, or silenced, were enabled to resume their charges unqueS-
tioned. It was now time, therefore, to redress the evils that had been inflicted
upon the church, and these too by members of its own bod}^ during the last
two years of trial, if its polity and discipline were to be something more than
an empty name. It was a stern duty, as Adamson was soon to feel. He had
laboured for the eversion of the kirk, and the persecution of its ministers, under
an unconstitutional authority against which he had protested and subscribed ;
and for all this he must answer before the court to which the assize of such
delinquencies pertained. The synod of St Andrews, which had been closed
during the persecution, was to be re-opened, and their first work was to be the
trial of their own archbishop, whom their laws recognized as a simple presbyter,
and nothing more. This solemn meeting was therefore convoked in April, 1586,
to which a great concourse assembled ; and thither also came the archbishop,
" with a great pontificality and big countenance," for he boasted that he was in
his own city, and possessed of the king's favour, and therefore needed to fear
no one. He also placed himself close by the preacher, who was Mr James
Melville, as if determined to outbrave the whole assembly. The discourse was
a vindication of the polity of the church, and a rehearsal of tlie wrongs it had
suffered ; and then, " coming in particular," says Melville himself, " to our own
kirk of Scotland, I turned to the bishop, sitting at my elbow, and directing my
speech to him personally, I recounted to him, shortly, his life, actions, and pro-
ceedings against the kirk, taking the assembly there to witness, and his own con-
science before God, if he was not an evident proof and example of that doctrine ;
whom, being a minister of the kirk, the Dragon had so stung with the poison
and venom of avarice and ambition, that, swelling exorbitantly out of measure,
threatened the wreck and destruction of the whole bod}', unless he were time-

PATRICE ADAMSON. 31

ously and with courage cut off." To tliis formidable appeal, the archbishop
t-ndeavoured to answer, but it was only with frivolous objections, and threats
of the king's displeasure, while his courage was so utterly gone that he could
scarcely sit, far less stand on his feet. But the business commenced, the pro-
cess was entered into, and Adamson left the meeting. He was invited to return,
but he sent for answer that the synod was no judge to him, but he to it. He
not only persisted in refusing to appear, but sent such answers to the charge3
against him as only aggravated the offence. Nothing remained but to inflict
upon him the final sentence of the church, which was done accordingly. After
enumerating his offences, it thus concluded : — " Therefore, and for divers other
notorious slanders whereof he was to be accused, and refused to underly any
lawful trial, the assembly, in the fear of God, and in the name of Christ Jesus,
moved by zeal to the glory of God, and purging of His kirk, ordains the said
sentence of excommunication instantly to be put into execution in the face of
the assembly ; and, by the mouth of Mr Andrew Hunter, minister at Carnobie,
at command and appointment of the assembly, declares him to be one of those
whom Christ commandeth to be holden by all and every one of the faithful as
an ethnic or publican."

The doom so long suspended had thus fallen at last ; but still the primate would
not yield. He rallied himself for a desperate counter-movement, and penned,
by his own sole authority, a sentence of excommunication against the two
IMelvilles, and some of his principal accusers in the synod, which he sent by a
boy, accompanied by two of his jackmen ; but when this strange and most
informal missive was read in the church, the audience were as little moved by
it, as if he had excommunicated the stones of the building. He also sent a
complaint against these proceedings to the king, with an appeal from the
authority of the synod to his majesty, the estates, and the privy council. On
the arrival of Sabbath, he prepared for a decisive effort, by preaching in the
church in spite of the sentence. But just when he was about to ascend the
pulpit, a mischievous rumour reached his ear, that several gentlemen and
citizens had assembled in the New College, to take him out of the pulpit, and
hang him; and terrified with the tidings, he not only called his friends and
jackmen to the rescue, but fled from the church, and took refuge in the steeple.
And yet, the whole cause of the stir was nothing more than the assembling of
a few gentlemen and citizens in the New College, to attend the preaching of
Andrew Melville, instead of that of an excommunicated man ! The archbishop's
friends followed him to the steeple, to assure him of his safety ; but so desperate
was his fear, that they could scarcely drag him out by force. While he was
half-led, half-carried down the High Street, and through the north gate towards
his castle, an unlucky stray hare, terrified at the coming din, suddenly started
up, and fled before them. Even this incident could impart some gi-avity to the
scene. It was a popular belief at that time in Scotland that a witch, when
pursued, usually assumed the form of a hare, more effectually to ensure her
escape ; and the appearance of the poor animal at such a time and place, made
the people declare that it was no other than the prelate's witch, abandoning her
master, to make good her own safety.

We have already stated that Adamson appealed against the sentence of
excommunication, to the authority of the king. In this singular appeal, he
declaimed with great learning and marvellous plausibility about the right of
royalty' to interpose against ecclesiastical, as well as civil tyranny ; and as he had

52 PATRICK ADAMSON.

already made out, as he tlioiiglit, his own case to l)e one of undue ecclesiastical
oppression on the part of iiis enemies, the conclusion was plain, tiiat tlie kini^
could lawfully release him from the spiritual sentence, lie wound up hiii
reasoning with the followinc; supposition, to which, he well knew, James would
not be insensible : "Beseeching your majesty to consider and weigh with your
Highness' self, nohility, and council, how dangerous a thing it is to put such a
eword in such men's hands, or to suffer them to usurp further than their duty ;
whereby it may come to pass, that as rashly and unoiderly they have pretendedly
excommunicated the first man of your majesty's parliament (albeit unworthy), so
there rests nothing of their next attempt to do the same to your majesty's self."
The king's pride was roused at such a thought, as well as his kingcraft for the
restoration of Episcopacy, now at a stand through the jeopardy of his archbishop ;
and therefore he arrogantly required the ministers to rescind their sentence,
threatening them with the deprivation of their rights and stipends in the event
of a refusal. The General Assembly met in May the same year, when these
conditions were proposed, and the members were in sore strait how to act in
such a dilemma; for most of tiie restored lords, after being replaced in their
possessions, had left the church to shift for itself. At length, a medium course
was adopted by the Assembly, and that, too, only by a small majority. It was,
that the archbishop " should be holden and repute in the same case and con-
dition that he was in before the holding of the Synod of St Andrews, without
prejudice, decerning, or judging anything of the proceedings, process, or sentence
of the said synod," It was a strange decision, by which Adamson was allowed
to teach, preach, and exercise his clerical functions, excommunicated though
he still was ; while the pulpits, by royal decree, were not only to be patent to
his entrance, but the students of St Andrews were commanded to attend his
lectures in the Old College as heretofore. This violence, as might be expected,
produced counter-violence, so that libels were thrown not only into the arch-
bishop's chainber, but the pulpits in which he officiated, threatening him witli
death for his intrusion. And as if all this had not been enough, he added to
his further disqualifications, by inability to pay his debts, in consequence of which
he was, according to the practice of the' Scottish law, denounced a rebel, and
put to the horn. This case was brought before the Assembly of June, 1587,
because many people had demurred to attend his ministrations, while he laboured
under such degrading disabilities.' The Assembly, however, decided that these
were of a civil, rather than an ecclesiastical character, and referred them to the
i:ing for adjustment. •

In the ver^'^ same year and month, while Adamson was in this miserable
plight — an excommunicated minister and an outlawed prelate — the first man
in the parliament, and yet a denounced rebel because he could not pay his
debts — a gleam of royal sunshine fell upon him, which was destined to be the
last. The celebrated Du Bartes visited Scotland ; and James, delighted with the
arrival of so distinguished a scholar and poet, received him with princely dis-
tinction, and entertained him as his guest. While they were in Fife, the king
was desirous that Du Bartes should see the two most accomplished scholars in
Scotland — and these were incontestibly to be found at St Andrews, in Andrew
Melville and Patrick Adamson. Thither accordingly the royal cortege repaired ;
and the first notice which Melville had of the vibit was from the king himself,
who bluntly told him that he had come with the illustrious foreigner, to have
a lesson from him in his class-room. Startled bv such a brief warning, Melville

PATRICK ADAMSON, 33

would have excused himself, on the plea that he had already delivered his ordi-
nary lecture in the forenoon. " That is all one," said the king ; " I must have
a lesson, and be you here within an hour for that eflect." In less than an hour,
the professor was in readiness ; the distinguished visitors and the students were
assembled; and Melville commenced such a lecture, as made the king wish him-
self once more among the deer in Falkland. It was an eloquent extemporane-
ous oration, in which he vindicated Christ's right of sovereignty over his own
church, and refuted and exposed the acts of parliament that had been lately
enacted subversive of the kirk's authority. James went home in no very
pleasant mood, and remained in a fume the whole evening. On the next morn-
ing it was Adamson's turn, who was not likely to trespass in the same fashion.
During the interval, he had prepared a " tightened-up abridgment" of his
previous year's lectures, in which he attempted to vindicate the royal supremacy
in ecclesiastical affairs, and justify the steps that had been taken for that pur-
pose. Andrew Melville, who attended as an auditor, took notes of the arch-
1/ishop's arguments; ^nd without further study, caused the college bell to be
rung after a short interval, to announce a new lecture. The king, who had not
yet digested the lesson of yesterday, sent a warning to Melville to be moderate,
otherwise he would discharge him ; to which the other replied, that his majesty's
oar had already been abused by Adamson's errors and untruths, which he could
not allow to pass unquestioned, unless his breath were stopped by death itself
— but that still, he should be careful to behave himself most moderately and
reverendly to his majesty in all respects. The king was satisfied with this
assurance, and repaired to the class-room, where Adamson was also in attend-
ance ; and he craved and obtained the royal permission to reply, should any
thing be alleged against his doctrine. The two strong champions were now
standing front to front in the lists — and never had king of Scotland so delighted
in the hurtling together of man and horse, and the shivering of spears, as did
James in the prospect of an intellectual tournament, where dexterous syllo-
gisms and home-thrust arguments were the only blows in circulation. But
here, Melville changed his tactics, in a way that would have puzzled the
most experienced master of fence. He had no longer a controversy with Epis-
copacy, but with Popery, the great common enemy of Protestantism at large ;
and thus secure of the sj^mpathy of his audience, he extracted from the works
of the Popish authors the strongest arguments they had adduced in defence of
their system, for the purpose of refuting them. But these arguments were the
very same which Adamson had used in the forenoon, in favour of the spiritual
government of kings and bishops ! There, however, they stood among the
ranks of the uncircumcised ; and as such, they were attacked with an amount
of scripture and learning, and a force and fervour of eloquence, as completely
swept them off the field. It was now the archbishop's turn to bestir himself,
but he was dumb— dumb as the bench he sat upon. At last, the king advanced
to the rescue ; and after making several logical distinguos, upon which he
harangued for some time, he ended by commanding the students to reverence
and obey his archbishop. When James departed, Du Bartes stayed behind a
whole hour, conversing with Andrew Melville, after which, he mounted his
horse, and rejoined his majesty. The king wislied to know the opinion of the
foreigner upon the two men they had heard ; to which Du Bartes replied, That
they were both learned men, but that the prelate's lectures were conned and
prepared, while Melville had a great and ready store of all kinds of learning

E

34 PATRICK ADAMSON.

within him ; and tliat his spirit and courage were far above the other. In thia
correct estimate James completely agreed.

From this period, the lite of Adamson was but a brief and mournful record.
After his late discomfiture, he became weary of teaching in the college, and
seems to have remitted it in a great measure to his successful rival. The minis-
trations of the pulpit could not console him, as the audiences either avoided him
as an excommunicated man, or tarried and listened as to the voice of an intruder.
Fresh complaints were made against him in the church courts, of having col-
lated unworthy persons to benefices within his diocese. And, to crown all, he
finally lost the favour and protei'tion of the king, whom he had served only too
well, but who was now weary of an archl)ishop buried under debt and disgrace,
and whose season of working seemed well nigh over. Broken in health as well
as in spirit, it might have been thought that James would at least have suffered
such a faithful servant to dej^art in peace; but as if his own ungrateful hand,
and no other, ought to deal the final blow, he alienated from him whatever of
the revenues of his diocese he was still permitted to enjoy, and bestowed them
upon the young Duke of Lennox, the son of his early favourite. In 1591,
Adamson was dying a heart-broken man, and unable to procure for himself and
his family even the common necessaries of life. But besides hollow friends, he
had generous enemies, and these last came forward in the hour of his extremity.
Such especially were the two Melvilles, whom he had persecuted in the season
of his ascendancy, but who now supported him for several months, at their own
expense. At last, he was reduced to such miserable shifts, that he entreated a
charitable collection to be made for hiin among the brethren in the town of St
Andrews ; and as an inducement, he offered to repair to the pulpit, and there
make open confession of his offences. This, indeed, his sickness prevented him
from accomplishing ; but he rendered an equivalent, in a distinct " Recanta-
tion," which he subsci'ibed, and sent to the synod of St Andrews. Besides thus
showing how little he had cared for Episcopacy, and how much he had used it
for his own aggrandizement, he evinced the force of his early and long-concealed
convictions in favour of Presbytei'ianism, by the remorse which he now felt at
the thought of his excommunication, and his earnestness to be absolved from
the sentence ; and to this effect he sent a supplication to the presbytery of St
Andrews. They deputed two of the brethren, one of whom was James Mel-
ville, to examine him, and, if they judged fit, to release him. As soon as the
dying man saw Melville, he rose up in bed, plucked the night-cap from his
head, and exclaimed, " Forgive, forgive me, for God's sake, good IMr James, for
I have offended and done wrong to you many ways ! " Melville spoke to him
of his sin against Christ and his church, exhorted him to repentance, w-ith the
assurance of mercy from God if he repented, and forgave him with all his heart.
His excommunication was then spoken of, and he was asked if he acknowledged
its lawfulness. To this, his emphatic reply, which he repeated again and again,
was, " Loose me, for Christ's sake !" His state and petition were fully reported
to the presbytery, and he was forthwith absolved. Even j^et, as appears from
his " Recantation," he had hoped to struggle through this his last illness ; and
he professed in it his earnest desire and purpose to commence a better life, and
repair the evils he had inflicted upon religion and the church. But his new-
born sincerity was not to be thus tried, and he died in the lowest depths of his
humiliation and repentance. His character is thus strongly and briefly summed
up by James Melville, who knew him well, and witnessed his career from its

SAINT AIDAN. 35

height to its mournful termination : — " This man had many great gifts, but espe-
cially excelled in the tongue and pen ; and yet, for abusing of the same against
Christ, all use of both the one and the other was taken from him, when he was
in greatest misery, and had most need of them. In the latter end of his life, his
nearest friends were no comfort to him, and his supposed greatest enemies, to
whom indeed he offered greatest occasion of enmity, were his only friends, and
recompenced good for evil, especially my uncle Andrew, but found small tokens
of any spiritual comfort in him, which chiefly he would have wished to have
seen at his end. Thus God delivered his kirk of a most dangerous enemy, who,
if he had been endowed with a common civil piece of honesty in his dealing and
conversation, he had more means to have wrought mischief in a kirk or coun-
try, than any I have known or heard of in our island."

As will be surmised from the foregoing account, Patrick Adamson was both
an able and a voluminous writer ; but most of his productions were merely
written for the day, and have passed away with the occasions in which they
originated. Some of them he never purposed to acknowledge, while others
remained unpublished in manuscript. Most of these he confessed and regretted
in his "Recantation," declaring, that if it should please God to restore his health,
he would change his style, " as Cajetanus did at the Council of Trent." His
principal writings were collected and published, in one quarto volume, by Thomas
Volusenus (Wilson) in 1619 ; but notwithstanding their undoubted excellence,
it may be questioned if they are now at all known beyond the library of the
antiquary. It appears, that on becoming minister of Paisley, Adamson married
the daughter of a lawyer, who survived him, and by whom he had a family ;
Iiut all record of them has passed away, so that he may be said to have been the
last, as he was the first of his race. The precise date of his death has not been
mentioned ; but it was in the latter part of the year 1591. Such was the career
and end of the great antagonist and rival of Andrew Melville.

AIDAN, Saixt, Bishop of Lindisfarne in the seventh century, was originally
a monk in the island of lona, and afterwards became a missionary in England.
To understand aright the history and labours of this self-devoted Christian
missionar}^, it is necessary to glance at the condition of England, and especially
of Northumbria, at the commencement of his ministry. England had been but
lately converted to Christianity, through the labours of Augustin and forty
monks, who had been sent to Britain, for that purpose, by Pope Gregory the
Great. The conversion of the seven kingdoms of the heptarchy, into which
England was divided by the Saxon conquerors, had been effected with unex-
ampled rapidity, but through the simplest agency. The monks, in the first
instance, addressed themselves to the sovereign of the state ; and when he
renounced his heathen errors, and submitted to baptism, his people implicitly
followed the example. But such sudden and wholesale conversions were
extremely precarious ; and it sometimes happened that, when the king apos-
tatized or died, the people returned to their former worship of Thor and Odin
as promptly as they had forsaken it. Such was especially the case in North*
lunbria, the largest kingdom of the heptarchy, and the scene of Aidan's labours.
Edwin, the best and most illustrious sovereign of his day, after a life of strange
peril and adventure, had won his hereditary Northumbrian crown, and been
converted to Christianity by the Italian missionary Paulinus ; and, on becoming
a Christian, the happiest change was soon perceptible among his hitherto un-
tamable subjects. They received their sovereign's creed without murmur or

36 SAINT ATDAN.

debate; "and in this time," says the old chronicler Fabyan, "was so great
peace in the kingdom of Edwin, that a woman might have gone from one town
to another witliout grief or noyaunce; and, for the refreshing of way-goers,
this Edwin ordained, at clear wells, cups, or dishes of brass or iron, to be fas-
tened to posts standing by the said wells' sides ; and no man was so hardy as
to take away those cups, he kept so good justice." In short, he seems to have
been the Alfred of an earlier and ruder period. But, in the heiglit of his power
and usefulness, the terrible Penda, king of Mercia, and great champion of the
ancient paganism, came against him in arms, and Edwin was defeated and slain
in a great battle, fought at Hatfield or Heathfield, near the river Trent. The
consequence was, that the Northumbrians relapsed into their former barbarism
so rapidly, that ever^' trace of Christianity would soon have been effaced from
among them, had it not been that Oswald, the nephew of Edwin, came forward
to vindicate the liberties of his falling country. This brave young prince, who
lieaded the Christian cause against the Pagan, advanced to give battle to Cad-
wallader, king of North Wales, in whom his people had found the most relent-
less of their enemies. The Christian army which Oswald headed was veiy
Bmall, while that of Cadwallader was numerous, and its king was an able
leader and successful conqueror. Aware of the disparity, and conscious of their
own weakness, Oswald and his soldiers knelt in prayer, and humbly committed
themselves to the God of the Christians, after which they assailed the enemy
with full confidence, near Hexham. The Welsh were completely routed, their
king was slain, and the victorious prince was received as king by the two united
states of Deira and Bernicia.

The piety of Oswald attributed this signal success to the aid of the true God,
whom he had invoked; and the first movement of his reign was to arrest the
growing heathenism of his people, and recal them to the Christian faith. For
this purpose he applied, however, not to the Italian monks, as his uncle had
done, but to the Culdees of lona ; among whom he had been sheltered in his
early youth, during the disasters of his family, and by whom he had been care-
fully educated. The message was gladly received by the Culdee brethren, and
Corraan, a learned monk of their order, was forthwith sent to Northumbria.
But the savage manners of the people appalled him, their inability to compre-
hend his instructions disgusted him, so that, despairing of their conversion, he
speedily returned home. While he was giving an account of his mission, and
describing the Northumbrians as a race of impracticable savages, a voice of
rebuke was suddenly heard in the assembly: "Brother, it seems tome that
your want of success was owing to a want of condescension to your hearers.
You should first have fed them with milk, according to the apostolic rule, until
they were fitted to receive stronger food." All eyes were turned upon the
speaker, who was Aidan. It was unanimously agi'eed by the assembly that he
was the fittest person to attempt the conversion of the Northumbrians, and, on
the charge being proposed to him, he cordially agreed. He arrived in England
A.D. 6S4, and repaired to the court of king Oswald. And now a missionary
work commenced in the Northumbrian kingdom such as missionary annals can
seldom parallel, for both king and monk went hand in hand in the duty. Aidan,
being a Celt, was either wholly ignorant of the Saxon language of his hearers
or imperfectly acquainted with it ; but, when he preached, Oswald was ready
to interpret his addresses. The happiest results attended these joint labours.
The ancient idolatry was utterly thrown aside, and Christianity established

SAINT ATDAN. 37

over Deira and Bernicia. Still further to confirm this change, AiJan prevailed
upon the king to transfer the episcopal see from York to Lindisfarne, or Holy
Island, a bleak peninsula upon the coast of Northuml)erland, which probably
the Culdee preferred from its resemblance to his own beloved lona; and here,
accordingly, a monastery was erected, which Aidan supplied with monks from
his own country. It is to be observed, also, that the form of Christianity thus
established in Northumbria was different from that which the Italian priests
had established over the rest of England. It was according to the primitive
institutes of Saint Columba, and therefore essentially presbyterian in its form
and discipline. Aidan, although he succeeded to the metropolitan rule of the
extensive avchl)ishopric of York, was contented to continue a simple presbyter,
and nothing more. He held no intercourse with the Roman pontiff, and ac-
knowledged no superiority of episcopal authority. He repudiated those showy
ceremonies and artificial forms which were so congenial to the Italian character,
and which the foreign priests had been so cai-eful to introduce into England.
And, above all, instead of paying homage to tradition, as an authority indepen-
dent of the Word, he would receive nothing as a religious rule save that whicli
was contained in the sacred writings. Such was the religion of the Culdees ;
vnd in this form it was introduced into Northumbria by Aidan and Oswald,
fvho were both of them Culdees. But even if these important peculiarities had
been left undisturbed by the Western church, that aimed at universal conformity
and universal rule, there were certain trivialities belonging to the Culdeeism of
Northumberland that, sooner or later, was sure to provoke the hostility of the
rest of England. The priests of the order of Columba shaved their foreheads
in the form of a half-moon, after the Eastern fashion, instead of having the
Western tonsure, that w^as meant to represent a crown of thorns. Their season
also of keeping Easter was according to the Asiatic calculation, and not that of
the West. These were peculiarities which every e3''e could detect at once, and
were therefore sufficient matters for controversy among a simple people, whose
views could penetrate no further; and, accordingly, the Easter and tonsure
controversy became, in a few years after, the great subject of religious debate in
England, by which the Culdees were expelled from the country. These dis-
turbances, however, did not occur until both king and monk had entered into
their rest.

After the death of Oswald, who was slain in battle, the kingdom of North-
umbria was once more parted into two sovereignties, those of Doira and Ber-
nicia; in the former of which Oswin was appointed king, and, in the latter,
Oswio. It was, however a peaceful conjunction ; and Aidan still continued, a^
before, to preside over the church of Northumberland. The character of Oswin
appears to have fully resembled that of his amiable predecessor, and the bishop
of Lindisfarne seems to have loved him w-ith a still higher affection than even
that which he bore for Oswald. Amidst the obscurity of that remote period,
and the shadowy character of its actors, Bede tells us a touching story, in which
the simple manners of the times, as well as the intercourse between the king
and the bishop, are brought out in strong relief. Oswin had once presented to
Aidan a fine horse. It happened that one day, as the Culdee was riding forth,
he met a poor man, Avho asked of him an alms, and Aidan, having no money,
bestowed on him the horse and its rich trappings. The king, on hearing of
this, was displeased, and could not refrain from expressing his resentment when
Aidan next dined with him. " Why were j-ou so lavish of my favour," he

33 \TILLIAM AIKMAN.

said, "as to give away my pad to a beggar? If you must needs mount him on
horseback, could you not liave given liiin one of less value? Or, if he wanted
any other relief, you might have supplied him otherwise, and not have parted
60 easily with my gift." " You have not carefully considered this maiter,"
replied Aidan, "for otherwise you could not set a greater value on the son of a
mare, than on a son of God." In this way the affair ended for the present.
Not long after, when the king returned from hunting, he saw the bishop, and,
remembering what had lately occurred, he laid aside his sword, threw himself
at the good man's feet, and asked his forgiveness for the rude words he had
uttered. Aidan, grieved to see the king in this posture, immediately raised
liim, and declared that the whole matter was forgot. After this interview,
however, Aidan was observed to be very sad; and, on being asked the cause by
some of his monks, he burst into tears, and replied, "How can I be otherwise
than afflicted ? I foresee that Oswin's life will be short, for never have I beheld
a prince so humble. His temper is too heavenly to dwell long among us, and,
truly, the nation does not deserve the blessing of such a ruler." This mournful
prediction was soon after accomi)lished by the death of Oswin, who was assas-
sinated in August, Gol ; and Aidan took the matter so deeply to heart, that he
died a fortnight after.

Such is the little that we know of Saint Aidan, the apostle of Northumber-
land, and bishop of Lindisfarne. That he was great and good, and that he
accomplished much, is evident from the old chronicles, and especially from the
history of venerable Bede, from whom the foregoing account has been chiefly
gathered. The Venerable has also added to his account three miracles per-
lormed by Aidan, one of which occurred after his death; but with these it is
unnecessary to trouble the modern reader. It is more agreeable to turn to his
character, as drawn by Bede himself, who lived during the close of the same
century, and knew Aidan well, not only from the testimony of his apostolic
labours, but the reports of the old men, who had heard his words, and witnessed
his doings : — " These things I have written," he says, " touching the person and
actions of the man aforesaid, praising in his actions what is praiseworthy, and
committing it to posterity for the behoof of those who read ; to wit, his concern
for peace and charity, for abstinence and humility ; his utter freedom from
wrath and avarice, from pride and vain-glory; his readiness alike to obey and
teach the Divine commands ; his diligence in reading and watching; his true
sacerdotal authority in checking the proud and powerful, and, at the same
time, his tenderness in comforting the afflicted, and relieving or defending the
poor. To say all in few words, as far as we have been informed by those who
personally knew him, he took care to omit no part of his dut}"^, but, to the
utmost of his power, performed everything commanded in the writings of the
evangelists, apostles, and prophets."

AIKMAN, William, a painter, of considerable merit, of the last century,
was born, in Aberdeenshire, October 24, 1682. His father was William Aikman
of Cairney, a man of eminence at the Scottish bar, who educated his son to follow
his own profession. But a predilection for the fine arts, and a love of poetry,
which gained him the friendship of Ramsay and Thomson, induced the j-outh to
f^ive up studj-ing for the law, and turn his attention to painting. Having pro-
secuted his studies in painting for a time at home under Sir John Medina, and
also in England, he resolved to visit Italy, that he might complete his education
as an artist, and form his taste, by an examination of the classic models of anti-

WILLIAM AIKMAN, 39

quity ; and accordingly, in 1707, having sold his paternal estate near Arbroath,
tliat he might leave home untrammelled, he went to Rome, where, during a
period of three years, he put himself under the tuition of the best masters. He
afterwards visited Constantinople and Smyrna, where the gentlemen of the Eng-
lish factory wished him to engage in the Turkey trade ; an overture which ho
declined ; and returning to Rome, he there renewed his studies for a time. In
1712, he revisited his native country, and commenced practising his profession ;
but, though his works were admired by the discerning few, he did not meet with
adequate encouragement, the public being too poor at that time to purchase ela-
borate works of art, and the taste for such works being then too imperfectly
formed. At this period he formed an intimacy with Allan Ramsay, whose por-
trait he afterwards painted. John, Duke of.Argyle, who equally admired the
artist and esteemed the man, regretting that such talents should be lost, at length
prevailed upon Aikman, in 1723, to move with all his family to London. There,
under the auspices of his distinguished friend, he associated with the most emi-
nent British painters of the age, particularly Sir Godfrey Kneller, whose studies
and dispositions of mind were congenial with his own. The duke also recom-
mended him to many people of the first rank, particularly the Earl of Bur-
lington, so well known for his taste in architecture ; and he was thus able
to be of much service to Thomson, who came to- London soon after himself, as a
literary adventurer. He introduced the poet of " The Seasons" to the brilliant
literary circle of the day — Pope, Swift, Gay, Arbuthnot, &c.— and, what was
perhaps of more immediate service, to Sir Robert Walpole, who aimed at being
thought a friend to men of genius. Among the more intimate friends of Aik-
man, was William Somerville, author of " The Chase," from whom he received
an elegant tribute of the muse, on his painting a full-length portrait of the poet
in the decline of life, carrying him back, by the assistance of another portrait,
to his youthful days. This poem was never published in any edition of Somer-
ville's works. Aikman painted, for the Earl of Burlington, a large picture of
the royal family of England ; all the younger branches being in the middle
compartment, on a very large canvas, and on one hand a full-length portrait of
Queen CaroUne; the picture of the king (George II.) — that king who never
could endure " boetry or bainting," as he styled the two arts in his broken Eng-
lish — intended for the opposite side, was never finished, owing to the death of
the artist. This was perhaps the last picture brought towards a close by Aikman,
and it is allowed to have been in his best style ; it came into the possession of the
Duke of Devonshire by a marriage alliance with the Burlington family. Some of
his earlier works are in the possession of the Argyle and Hamilton families in
Scotland ; his more mature and mellow productions are chiefly to be found in
England, and a large portion at Blickling, in Norfolk, the seat of the Earl of
Buckinghamshire ; these are chiefly portraits of noblemen, ladies, and gentlemen,
friends of the earl. He died June 4, 1731, at his house, in Leicester Fields, and,
by his own desire, his body was taken to Scotland for interment ; his only son,
John (by his wife Marion Lawson, daughter of Mr Lawson, of Cairnmuir, in
Peeblesshire), whose death immediately preceded his own, was buried in the same
grave with him, in the Greyfriars' churchyard, Edinburgh. A monument was
erected over the remains of Mr Aikman, with the following epitaph by Mallet,
which has been long since obliterated : —

Dear to the gnod and wise, dispraised by none,
Here sleep in peace the father and the son.

40 WILLIAM ATKMAN.

By virtue as by nature close allied

'i"ho painter's genius, l)ut wiitiout the pride.

Worth unanibiLious, wit afraid to shine,

Honour's clear light, and friendshijj's warmth divine.

The son, fair-rising, knew too short .i date;

But O how more severe the parent's fate!

lie saw him torn untimely from his side.

Felt all a lather's anguish — wept, and died.

The following verses, in which Tliomson bewails liirn with all the warmth of
f lateiul frienilship, are only partially printed in that poet's works : —

O could I draw, my friend, thy genuine mini.
Just as the living forms by thee designed!
Of Raphael's figures none should fairer shine,
Is'or Titian's colours longer last than thine.
A mind in wisdom old, in lenience young,
From fervid truth, whence every virtue sprung;
Where all was real, modest, plain, sincere ;
Worth above show, and goodness unsevere.
Viewed round and round, as lucid diamonds show,
Still, as you turn them, a revolving glow :
So did his mind reflect with secret ray,
In Tarious virtues, Heaven's eternal day.
W^hether in high discourse it soared sublime
And sprung impatient o'er the bounds of time.
Or wandering nature o'er with raptured eye,
Adored the hand that turned yon azure sky :
W^hether to social joy he bent his thought,
And the right poise that mingling passions sought,
Gay converse blest, or, in the thoughtful grove,
Bid the heart open every source of love:
In varying lights, still set before our eyes
The just, the good, the social, and the wise.
For such a death who can, who would refuse,
The friend a tear, a verse the mournful muse?
Yet pay we must acknowledgment to Heaven,
Though snatch'd so soon, that Aikiian e'er was given.
Grateful from nature's banquet let us rise,
Nor leave the banquet with reluctant eyes :
A friend, when dead, is but removed from sight.
Sunk in the lustre of eternal light;
And, when the parting storms of lifo are o'er,
May yet rejoin us on a happier shore.
As those we love decay, we die in part ; ■
String after string is severed from the heart ;
Till loosened life at last — but breathing clay-
Without one pang is glad to fall away.
Unhappy he who latest feels the blow.
Whose eyes have wept o'er every friend laid low ;
Dragged lingering on from partial death to death.
And, dying, all he can resign is breath.

In his style of painting, Aikman seems to have aimed at imitating nature in
her most simple forms ; his lights are soft, his shades mellow^ and his colouring
mild and harmonious. His touch has neither the force nor the harshness of
Rubens ; nor does he, like Reynolds, adorn his portraits with the elegance of
adventitious graces. His compositions are distinguished by a placid tranquillity,

WILLIAM AITON.— ALEXANDER ALES oe ALESSE. 41

rather than a striking brilliancy of effect ; and his portraits may be more readily
mistaken for those of Kneller than for the works of any other eminent artist.

AITON, William, an eminent horticulturist and botanist, was born, in 1731,
at a village in the neighbourhood of Hamilton. Having been regularly bred to
the profession of a gardener, as it was and still is practised by numbers of his
countrymen, with a union of manual skill and scientific knowledge, he removed
to England in 1754, and, in the year following, obtained the notice of the cele-
brated Philip Miller, then superintendent of the physic garden at Chelsea, who
employed him for some time as an assistant. The instructions which he received
from that eminent gardener laid the foundation, it is said, of his future fortune.
His industry and abilities were so conspicuous, that, in 1759, he was pointed
out to the Princess-Dowager of Wales as a fit person to manage the botanical
garden at Kew. His professional talents also procured him the notice of Sir
Joseph Banks, and a friendship commenced which subsisted between them for
life. Dr Solander and Dr Dryander were also among the number of his friends.
The encouragement of botanical studies was a distinguished feature of the reign
of George III., who, soon after his accession, determined to render Kew a
repository of all the vegetable riches of the world. Specimens were accordingly
procured from every quarter of the globe, and placed under the care of JMr
Alton, who showed a surprising degree of skill in their arrangement. Under
his superintendence, a variety of improvements took place in the plan and edi-
fices of Kew gardens, till they attained an undoubted eminence over every other
botanical institution. In 1783, on a vacancy occurring in the superintendence
of the pleasure gardens at Kew, Mr Alton received the appointment from
George III., but was, at the same time, permitted to retain his more important
ofiice. His labours proved that the king's favours were not ill bestowed ; for, in
1789, he published an elaborate description of the plants at Kew, under the
title, " Hortus Kewensis," 3 vols. 8vo, with a number of plates. In this pro-
duction, Mr Alton gave an account of no fewer than 6G00 foreign plants, whicli
had been introduced from time to time into the English gai'dens ; and so highly
was the work esteemed, that the whole impression was sold within two years.
A second and improved edition was published by his son, William Townsend
Alton, in 1810. After a life of singular activity and usefulness, distinguished,
moreover, by all the domestic virtues, Mr Alton died on the 1st of February,
1793, of a schirrus in the liver, in the GSd year of his age. He lies buried in
the churchyard at Kew, near the graves of his distinguished friends, Zofhxny,
Meyer, and Gainsborough. He was succeeded by his son, Mr William Town-
send Alton, who was no less esteemed by George III. than his father had been,
and who, for fift}^ years, ably superintended the botanical department at Kew,
besides taking charge of the extensive pleasure-grounds, and being employed in
the improvement of the other royal gardens. In 1841, he retired from office,
when Sir William Jackson Hooker was appointed director of the botanic gardens
Mr Alton died at Kew, in 1849, aged 84.

ALES or ALESSE, Alexander, a celebrated theologian of the sixteenth
century, was born at Edinburgh, April 23d, 1500. He is first found in the
situation of a canon in the cathedral of St Andrews, where he distinguished
himself b}^ entering into the fashionable controversy of the day against Luther.
His zeal for the Roman Catholic religion was staggered by the martyrdom of
Patrick Hamilton ; but it is not probable that his doubts would have been car-
ried further, if he had not suffered persecution for the slight degree of scepticism
I. F

42 WILLIAM ALEXANDER.

filieady manifested. Beinp obliged to fly from St Andrews, he retired to Ger-
many, where lie l)ecame a tlioroiii,'!! convert to the Trotestant doctrines. The
llei'ormation in ICngland induced Ales to go to London, in 16M.5, where he was
highly esteemed hy Crannier, Latimer, and Cromwell, who were at that time
in favour with the king. Henry regarded him also with favour, and used to
call him "his scholar." Upon the fall of Cromwell, he was obliged to return
to Germany, where the Elector of Braiidenburg appointed him professor of
divinity at Frankfort-upon-the-Oder, in 1540. As a reformer. Ales did not
always maintain the most orthodox doctrines; hence he was obliged, in 1542
to fly from his chair at Frankfort, and betake himself to Leipsic. lie spent the
remainder of his life in that city, as i)rofessor of divinity, and died in 1505.
His works are: — 1, "De necessitate et merito Bonorum Operum, disputatio
proposita in celebri academia Leipsica, ad 21) Nov. 15G0." 2, " Commentarii in
evangelium Joannis, et in utramijue epistolam ad Timotheum." 3, " Expositio
in Psahnos Davidis." 4, " De Justificatione, contra Oscandrum." 6, " De
Sancta Trinitate, cum confutatione erroris Valentini." 6, " Rospousio ad triginta
et duos articulos theologorum Lovaniensium." The fifth in this list is the most
favourable specimen of his abilities.

ALEXANDER, William, an eminent nobleman, statesman, and poet of the
reign of James VI. and Charles I. The original rank of this personage was that
of a small landed proprietor or laird ; but he was elevated, by dint of his various
accomplishments, and through the favour of the two sovereigns above-mentioned,
to the rank of an earl. His family, which possessed the small estate of Menstrie,
near Stirling, is said to have derived the name Alexander from the prenomen of
their ancestor, Alexander Macdonald, a highlander, who had been settled in this
property by the Earl of Argyle, whose residence of Castle Campbell is in the
neighbourhood. William Alexander is supposed to have first seen the light in
1580. Nature having obviously marked him for a higher destiny than that to
which he was born, he received from his friends the best education which the
time and place could afford, and, at a very early age, he accompanied the young
Earl of Argyle upon his foreign travels, in the capacity of tutor. Previous to
this period, when only fifteen years of age, he had been smit with the charms of
some country beauty, " the cynosure of neighbouring eyes ;" on his return from
the continent, his passion was found to have suffered no abatement. He spent
some time in rural retirement, and wrote no fewer than a hundred sonnets, as a
ventilation to the fervours of his breast ; but all his poetry was in vain, so far as
the lady was concerned. She thought of matrimony, while he thought of love ;
and accordingly, on being solicited by a more aged suitor, in other respects eli-
gible, did not scruple to accept his hand. The poet took a more sensible way
of consoling himself for this disappointment than might have been expected ;
he married another lady, the daughter and heiress of Sir William Erskine. His
centur}^ of sonnets was published in London in 1604, under the title of " Aurora,
containing the First Fancies of the Author's Youth, by W. Alexander, of Men-
strie." From the situation of Alexander's estate, near the residence of the king
at Stirling, and in a vale which his majesty frequented for the pleasure of hawk-
ing, he had early been introduced to royal notice ; and, accordingly, it appears
that, when James removed to London, in 1603, the poet did not remain long
behind, but soon became a dependent upon the English court. It is honourable
to Alexander that in this situation he did not, like most court poets of that age,
employ his peh in the adulation of majesty ; his works breathe a very different

WILLIAM ALEXANDER. 43

strain. Having- studied deeply the ancient philosophers and poets, he descanted
on the vanity of gTandeui", the value of truth, the abuse of power, and the burthen
of riches. His moralizings assumed the strange shape of tragedies — compositions
not at all designed for the stage, but intended simply to embody the sentiments
which arose in his mind upon such subjects as those we have mentioned. His
first tragedy was grounded upon the stoiy of Darius, and appeared at Edinburgh
in 1603. He afterwards republished it at London, in 1607, along with similar
compositions upon the stories of Alexander, Croesus, and Caesar, under the title
of " Monarchick Tragedies, by William Alexander, gentleman of the Princes'
Privy Chamber." It would thus appear that he had now obtained a place in the
household of Prince Henry ; to whom he had previously addressed a poem or
parsenesis, designed to show how the happiness of a sovereign depends upon
his choosing such councillors as can throw off" private grudges, regard public con-
iiems, and wiU not, to betray their seats, become pensioners. This poem, of
which no copy of the original edition is known to exist, except one in the Uni-
versity library at Edinburgh, was, after the death of Henry, adtU-essed to Prince
Charles, who then became heir-apparent ; an economy in poetical, not to speak
of court business, which cannot be sufficiently admired. He was, in 1613, ap-
pointed one of the gentlemen ushers of the presence to this unfortunate prince.

King James is said to have been a warati admirer of the poems of Alexander, to
Iiave honoured him with his conversation, and called him " my philosophical poet."
He was now aspiring to the still more honourable character of a divine poet, for
in 1614, appeared at Edinburgh, his largest and perhaps his most meritorious
production, entitled, " Doomsday, or the Great Day of Judgment," which has been
several times reprinted.

Hitherto the career of Alexander had been chiefly that of a poet : it was
henceforth entirely that of a coui'tier. Advanced to tlie age of thirty-five, the
pure and amiable temperament of the poet gave way before the calculating and
mercenary views of the politician ; and the future years of his life are therefore
less agreeable in recital than those Avhich are past. In 1614, he was knighted
by king James, and appointed to the situation of master of requests. In 1621,
the king gave him a grant by his royal deed of the province of Nova Scotia,
which as yet had not been colonized. Alexander designed at first to establish
settlers upon this new country, and, as an inducement to the piu-chase of land, it
was proposed that the king should confer, upon all who paid a hundred and fifty
pounds for six thousand acres, the honour of a knight baronetcy. Owing to the
perplexed politics of the last years of king James, he did not get this scheme car-
ried into effect, but Charles had no sooner acceded than he resolved upon giving it
his support. Alexander, in 1625, published a pamphlet, entitled, " An Encour-
agement to Colonies," the object of which was to state the progress already made,
to recommend the scheme to the nation, and to invite adventurers. It is also
supposed that he had a hand in " A Brief Relation of the Discovei-y and Planta-
tion of New England, and of simdry accidents therein occurring fi-om the year
1607 to this present 1622: together with the state thereof as it now standeth,
the general form of government intended, and the division of the whole temtory
into counties, baronies, &c." King Charles, who probably considered the scheme
in a two-fold light, as a means of establishing a ne^v colony, and of remunerating
an old servant at the expense of others, confen-ed upon Sir William Alexander
the rank of Lieutenant of New Scotland, and founded the necessaiy order
of knights baronets of the same territoi-y. The number of these baronets was
not to exceed a hundred and fifty, and it was ordained that the title should
be hereditary — that they should take precedence of all ordinary knights and
lairds, and of all other gentlemen, except Sir William Alexander, and that thej

44 WILLIAM ALEXANDER.

stiotild have place in all his iu.ij.'si\'.s and his siuco&soi-s' annies, nciu- and ubuiii
the royal standard lor the deleiue thereof, «ith other honoiirahlc distinctions of
precedency, to them, their wives, ind hcii-s. The ceremony of infeflnienl or sej*-
Binc was decreetl to Uike jilaw on the (JasUe-hill of lulinbur-;!!, the earth and
stone of which were lichl, by a liction, to represent the component particle*
of certain baronies and lordships on the other side of the Atlantic Tor the
amusement of the reader, we shall j^ive an account of the e<piivocil mode of pro-
cedure adopted in this scheme, and of its shameful conclusion, from the fantastic
pen of Sir Thomas Urquhart. " It did not satisfy him," says Sir Thomas, in re-
ference to Alexander, (Discovery of a most Exquisite Jewel, &c., bvo, 105^,)
" to have a lamel from the Pluses, and be esteemed a king among poets, but he
must also be king of some new-found land; and, like another Alexander, in-
deed, searching afier new worlds, have the sovereignty of Nova Scotia ! He wae
born a poet, and aimed to be a Iting ; therefore he would have his royal title
Irom king James, who was born a king, and aimed to be a poet. Had he
stopped there, it had been well ; but the flame of his honour must have some oil
ivlierewith to nourish it; like another Arthur he must have his knights, though
nothing limited to so small a number; for how many soever, who could have
looked but for one day like gentlemen, and given him but one bundled and
tifty pounds sterling (without any need of a key for opening the gate to enter
tiirough the temple of virtue, which, in former times, was the only way to hon-
OtU-,) they had a scale from him whereby to ascend unto the platforms of virtue ;
which they treading under their feet, did slight the ordinary passages, and to
take the more sudden possession of the temple of honour, went upon obscm-e by-
paths of their own, to\vards some secret angi ports and dark postern doors, which were
BO narrow that few of them could get in, until they had left all their gallantry behind
them: \et such being their resolution, that in they woidd and be worshipful upon
any terms ; they misregarded all formerly used steps of promotion, accounting
tliem but unnecessary ; and most rudely pushing into the very sanctuary, they
immediately hung out the orange colours," the colour of the ribbon by which the
order was siispended, " to testify their conquest of the honour of knight baronet.
Their king nevertheless, not to stain his royal dignity, or to seem to merit the impu-
tation of selling honour to his subjects, did, for their money, give them land, and
that in so ample a measure, that every one of his knight baronets had, far his hun-
dred and fifty pounds sterling, heritably disposed to him six thousand good and suffi-
cient acres of Nova Scotia ground; which being at the rate of but sixpence an
acre, and not to be thought very dear ; considering how prettily, in the respec-
tive parchments of disposition, they were bounded and designed ; fruitful corn-
fields, watered with pleasant rivers, running along most excellent and spacious
meadows ; nor did there want abundance of oaken gi-oves, in the midst of very
fertile plains, or if it wanted anything it was the scrivener's or writer's fault, for
he " [Alexander] " gave ordei-s, as soon as he received the three thousand Scots
marks, that there should be no defect of quantity, or quahty, in measure or good-
ness of land, and here and there most delicious gardens and orchards ; witli
whatever else could, in matter of delightful ground, best content their fancies ; as
if they had made purchase among them of the Elysian fields or iVIahomet's para-
dise ; and although there should have happened a thousand acres more to be put into
the charter, or writing of disposition, than was agreed upon at fir^t, he cared not ;
Half a piece to tiie clerk was able to make him dispense with that But at lait
when he had enrolled three hundred knights, who for their hundred and fifty
pieces each had purchased among them several millions of New Caledonian acres,
confirmed to them and theirs for ever, under the great seal, the affixing whereof
was to cost each of them but thirty pieces more ; finding that the society was not

"WILLIAM ALEXANDER. 45

likely to become any more numerous, and thai the ancient genti"y of Sc<)tland
esteemed such a whimsical dignity to be a disparagement, rather than any addi-
tion to their former honour ; he bethought himself of a coui'se more profitable to
iiimself and the future estabhshment of his own state ; in prosecuting whereoi
without the advice of his knights, who represented both houses of parliament,
clergy and all, like an absolute king indeed, he disposed heritably to the French
for a matter of five or six thousand pounds English money, both the dominion
and property of the v.hole counti-y of that Idngdom of Nova Scotia ; leaving the
new baronets to search for land amongst the Seleites in the moon, or turn
knights of the sun ; so dearly have they bought their orange ribband, whicli, all
things considered, is, and \nll be, more honourable to them, or their posterity,
than it is or liath been profitable to eithei\" It thus appears that Alexan-
der's Nova Scotian scheme, whatever might have been originally contemplated,
degenerated at last into a mere means of raising money by the sale of titles ; a
system too much practised in the English reign of James VI., and which gained,
as it deserved, the contempt of all honom-able minds. Tlie teiTitoi-y of Nova
Scotia afterwards fell into the hands of the French, who afiected to believe
that they had acquired a I'ight to it by a treaty entered into with the king of
Groat Britain, in 1632, in which the country of Acadia was ceded to them. In
the treaty of peace transacted between the two countries, in 1763, it was success-
fully asserted by the British government that Nova Scotia was totally distinct
from Acadia, and accordingly the territory reverted to Britain, along with Can-
ada. The country, however, having become the property of other individuals
during the usia-pation of the French, it appeal's that the Nova Scotia baronets
have veiy slight pi-ospects of ever regaining the lands to which their titles were
originally attaclied.

In 1626, Sir William Alexander, was, by the favour of Charles I., made secre-
tary of state for Scotland; an office to which the salary of £100 a-year, being
that of a good mercantile clerk in the present day, was then attached. In 1630,
by the further favour of his sovereign, he was raised to the peerage under the
title of viscount Stirling; and in 1633, at the coronation of king Charles in
Holyrood chapel, he was promoted to the rank of an earl under the same title. He
held the office of secretary during fifteen yeai-s, and gained the credit of being a
moderate statesman in the midst of many violent political scenes. It does not ap-
pear, however, that he was a popular character. Such esteem as he might have
gained by his poeti-y, seems to have been lost in consequence of the arts by which
his sovereign endeavoured to give him I'iches. A pemiission which he acquu-ed,
probably in his character of lieutenant of Nova Scotia, to coin base money, be-
came a grievance to the community, and prcciu'ed him much obloquy. He had
erected a splendid mansion at Stirling out of his ill-acquired gains, and affixed
upon its front his annorial ber.ings, with the motto " Per Mai'e, per Terras."
This was parodied, as we are informed by the sai-castic Scott of Scotstarvet, into
" Per metre, per turners," in allusion to the soui-ces of his wealth, the people be-
lieving that the royal favour had a reference to his lordship's poetiy, while tur-
ners, or black farthings, as they were otherwise called, had been one of the
shapes in which this favour- was expressed. The house still remains, a monument
of the taste of the poet.

The earl of Stirling, in 1637, published a complete edition of his poetical
^vorks, under the general tiiie of " Recreations mth the Muses." The work con-
tained his four "Monarchick Tragedies," his "Doomsday," the " Paraenesis to
Prince Henry," and "Jonathan, an Heroick Poem Intended, the first book,"
the whole revised and very much improved by the author. He died in 1640, leav-
ing three sons and two daughters, whose posterity was supposed to have been com-

4G ALEXANDER" I.

plett'Iy extinct, till a daiinaiit ajtix-arod in 1 H'.iO, as «lt'8ccn(lf<l from one of the
yoimjjer branchrs of tiie family, and wlio has assumed the titles of Stilling an<l
Devon. Considered ;us a poet, Alexander is intitled to consid<;raiile praise. " Hi»
Style is certainly neither pure nor correttt, which may perhaps be attributed to
his lony; familiarity \\\ih the Scottish languai^e ; but his vei-sific^ition is in gene-
ral much superior to that of liis contemporaries, and apjtroaches nearer to the
elegance of modern times than could have been expected Irom one who \vrote so
much. Tliere are inimmerable beauties scattered over the whole of his works,
but particularly in his songs and sonnets; the former are a species of iiregular
odes, in which the sentiment, occasionally partaking of the quaintness of his age,
IS more frequently new and forcibly exj)ressed. The powers of mind displayed
in his Doomsday and Par.-enesis are very considerable, although we are frequently
able to trace the allusions and imagery to the language of holy writ; and he ap-
pears to have been less inspired by the sublimity than by the awful importance of
his subject to rational beings. A habit of moralizing pervades all his writings ;
but in the 'Doomsday' he appears deeply impressed with his subject, and more
anxious to persuade the heart than to delight the imagination." — Johnson and
Chnlmersi' Rncflifsh Poets, edit. 1810, vol. v.

The Earl of Stirling was employed in his latter years in the task of revising
the version of the Psalms prepared by Idng James, which duty was imposed upon
him by the royal paraphrast himself. In a letter to his friend, Drunimond of
Hawthornden, '28th of April, 1020, Alexander says, "Brother, 1 received your
bist letter, with the psabn you sent, which 1 think very well done ; I had done
the same long before it came ; but he [king .lames] prefers his own to all else ;
though, perchance when you see it, you will think it the worst of the tJiree. No
man must meddle with that subject, and therefore 1 advise you to take no more
pains therein." In consideration of the pains which the Earl had bestowed upon
this subject, Charles I., on the 28th of December, 1627, granted a license to his
lordship, to print the late king's version of the Psalms exclusively for thiily-one
years. Tlie fii-st edition appeared at Oxford, in 1631. The Iving endejivoured
to enforce the use of his father's version alone throughout his dominions ; and,
if he had been successful, the privilege would have been a soiu-ce of immense
profit to the Eai-l of Stirling. But the royal wishes Avei-e resisted by the Scot-
tish chui-ch, and were not very respectfully obeyed any where else; and the
breaking out of the civil war soon after rendered the privilege entirely useless,'

ALEXANDER I., sm-named Acer, or the Fierce, king of Scots from 1106 to
1124, was the fifth son of Malcolm III. by his wife Margaret of England.
Lord Hailes conjectui-es that his name was bestowed in honour of Pope Alexan-
der II. ; a circumstance worthy of attention, as it was the means of introducing
the most conunon and familiar christian name in Scotland. The date of Alex-
ander's birth is not known ; but as his foiu* elder brothers were all mider age in
1093, at the death of their father, he must have been in the bloom of life at his
accession to the throne. He succeeded his brother Edgar, January 8, 1106-7,
and immediately after mamed Sybilla, the natm-al daughter of Henry I. of
England, who had man-ied his sister Matltdis, or Maud. Such an alliance was
not then considered dishonoui'able. Alexander was active in enforcing obedi-
ence to his dominion, and in suppressing the bands of rebels or robbers with
which the northern parts of the kingdom were infested ; but the chief events of
his reign relate to the efforts made by the English church to assert a supremacy
over that of Scotland. These efforts were resisted by the king of Scots, with

' Tlie corpse of the Earl of Stirling was deposited in a leaden coffin in the family -aisle
in the church of Stirling, above ground, and remained entire for upwards of a hundred
vears. — Farngmph from an old newspaper.

ALEXANDER II.— ALEXANDER III. 47

steady perseverance, and idtimate success, notwithstanding that the Pope counte-
nanced the claims of the English prelates. It is to be presumed that this spirit
would have incited the Scottish monarch to maintain the independency of his
kingdom, had it ever been called in question during his reign. Alexander died
April 27, 1124, after a reign of seventeen years and three months. As he left
no issue, he was succeeded by his next and last-surviving brother David, so memo-
rable for his bounty to the church. Alexander was also a pious monarch. Al-
dred, in liis genealogy of the English kings, says of him, that " he was humble
and courteous to the clergy, but, to the rest of liis subjects, terrible beyond mea-
sure ; high-spirited, always endeavouring to compass things beyond his power ;
not ignorant of letters ; zealous in establishing churches, collecting relics, and
providing vestments and books for the clergy ; liberal even to profusion, and
taking delight in the offices of charity to the poor." His donations to the
church were very considerable. He made a large gTant of lands to the church
of St Andrews, increased the revenue of the monastery of Dunfermline, which
his parents had founded, established a colony of canons regular at home, and
built a monastery on Inch-colm in the Fii-th of J'orth, in gratitude for having
been preserved from a tempest on that island.

ALEXANDER II., the only legitimate son of king William, surnamed the
Lion, was born in 1198. He succeeded his father, December 4, 1214, in his
seventeenth yeai', and was crowned next day at Scone. Alexander II. is cha-
racterised by Fordun as a pious, just, and brave king — as the shield of the
church, the safe-guard of the people, and the friend of the miserable. He es-
poused the cause of the English barons against king John, which led to mutual
depredations between the two sovereigns ; but on the accession of Henry III. to
the crown of England, peace was restored; and in 1221, the friendly inter-
course of the two nations was established by the marriage of the king of Scot-
land to Joan, eldest sister of the king of England. This princess died in 1238,
without issue ; and in the following year Alexander man-ied Mary de Couci, the
scion of a French house, which, in its motto, disclaimed royalty, and rested for
distinction on its own merits :

Je suis ni roi, ni prince aussl —
Je suis le seigntur de Couci.

During the life of Joan, the British monarchs came to no open ruptui'e, their
friendly intimacy being only occasionally inteiTupted by Henry discovering a
disposition to revive the claim of homage from the king of Scotland, which had
been given up by Richai-d I., and by Alexander insisting on his claim to the
tliree northern counties of England ; but shortly after the death of Joan, na-
tional jealousies broke out, and in 1244, both princes raised armies and prepared
for war. By the mediation, however, of several English barons, hostilities were
prevented, and a peace concluded. Much of Alexander's reign was occupied in
suppressing insurrections of the Celtic inhabitants of Scotland. He died A.D.
1249, in one of the islands of the Hebrides, while engaged in subjecting Angus,
the Lord of Argyle, ^vho refused his homage to the Scottish sovex-eign. He left
by his second wife one son, who is the subject of the following article.

ALEXANDER III., born at Roxburgh, September 4, 1241, succeeded his
father in the eighth year of his age. He was knighted and crowned only five
days after his father's death — a precipitation adopted to prevent the interference
of the king of England. When only a year old, Alexander had been betrothed
to Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry IIJ., a princess of his own age ; and in
1251, their nuptials were celebrated at York with great pomp. On the ground

48 ALEXANDER III.

of this union, Henry interestetl himself in the affairs of Scotland, and lhey*unj»
priiii'o was a frequent visitor at the court of his father-in-law. 'I'ho English
monarch, taking advantage of Alexander's youtli and other circumstances, endea-
voured to prevail upon him to do homage for his crown and kingdom of Scot-
land ; but tlie young king, wilii a fortitude and pnidcnco beyond his years,
and which gave promise of liis future tlecision, resisted the requisition, saying
that he couhl not treat of alfaii-s of f-tate without the advice of his parliament.
During Alexander's minority, tlie country was divided into factions, and various
struggles for ascendancy took place ; but the administration was latterly com-
mitted to fifteen of the leading chiefs or barons. ^\lexander had reached the
twenty-second year of Iiis age, when his kingdom was invaded by one of the
most formidable armaments that had ever sailed from Norway. Haco, king oi
that country, with a fleet of one hiuidivd and sixty ships, freighted with many
thousand northern ^varriors, who carried terror to almost all the shores of Em-ope.
sailed towards Scotland in the sunuuer of 1-2G3, and after making himself maslei
of the islands of Arran and Bute, arrived in the bay of Largs, near the mouth of
the Clyde, and endeavom-ed to etl'ect a landing. Here a Scottish army, under
Alexander, assembled to resist the invasion ; and here, on the 2d of October,
after a fierce and bloody contest, the Norwegians Avere repulsed with great loss,
A stonn arising, completed the dissipation or destruction of their fleet. Haco
escaped with difficulty through the strait between Sky and the mainland, since
called Kyle Hackcn, and i-eaching the Orkneys, died there, as is said, of a broken
heart. By this defeat, all the islands of the western sea, including that of Man,
but excepting those of Orkney and Shetkind, submitted to Alexander.

From this period to the death of Alexander, Scotland enjoyed tranquillity,
only disturbed by the pretensions of the pope and the encroachments of the
clergy, both of \vhich Alexander was successful in resisting. Religious crusades
were at this time the rage over Eui-ope, and Scotland did not escape the infec-
tion, as many of her bravest barons perished in Palestine. In 1274, Alexander
attended the coronation of his brother-in-law, Edward I., at Westminster, and
after the custom of the times did homage for the lands which he held of him in
England. Six months after this, IMargaret queen of Scotland died, leaving one
daughter and two sons — 3Iargaret, Alexander, and David. David died unmar-
ried in 1281. Margaret was man-ied in 1282, to Eric king of Norway, and
died in the following year, after giving birth to an infant daughter, who re-
ceived her own name. Alexander was mamed in 1283 to the daughter of Guy
earl of Flanders, and died in the following year without issue. Thus, in the
course of a few years, was the unhappy king of Scotland deprived of his wife
and all his childi-en — the only remaining descendant of his body being the
Maiden of Norway, as she is called in Scottish history, an infant grandchild re-
siding in a foreign land- In 1285, Alexander, to provide against the evils of
a disputed succession, at the request of his nobility, married Joletta, daughter of
the Count de Di-eux ; but shortly after his mirriage, in riding along a precipi-
tous road between Bruntisland and Kinghorn, his horse fell over a rock, and the
unfortunate monarch was killed. This event took place on the 1 6th of March,
1286, in the 45th year of his age and 37th of his reign.

With Alexander III. terminated a race of kings, who, from the accession of
Malcolm Cean-3Iohr, had distinguished themselves by their activity in the ad-
ministration of justice, and their courage in maintaining the rights and indepet -
dence of their country against a powerful and too often an insidious foe. hew
annals of a rude people, indeed, can present a more remarkable series of patrioii.:
monarchs than those with whom Scotland was blessed from the middle of the ele-
venth to the close of the thirteenth century, whether we consider their wisdom

DAVID ALLAN. 49

and impartiality as Iegislatoi*s, their prudence as politicians, or their bravei-y as
warriors, I'or Malcolm the Maiden and the terms upon which William the Lion
etTected his release from captivity must only be considered as exceptions to the
general excellence of their conduct. But with the death of Alexander III., the
peace and prosperity of the counti-y was broken up ; and much as he was la-
mented by the people, and gloomy as were their forebodings on his decease, no
anticipation could exceed the real calamities in which the countiy was involved
by his unhappy and untimely end.

ALLAN, David, a painter of great merit, was born at Alloa, February 13th,
1744. He was the son of Mr David Allan, shore-master at that small port. The
mother of Allan, whose maiden name was GuUan, brought him prematurely into
the world, and died a few days after his birth. The young painter had so small
n mouth that no nui-se could be found in the place fitted to give him suck : at
length, one being heard of, who lived at the distance of some miles, he was
packed up in a basket amidst cotton, and sent off under the chai-ge of a man
who can-ied him on horseback, the joui-ney being rendered additionally danger-
ous by a deep snow. The horse happened to stumble, the man fell ofi^ and the
tiny wretch was ejected from the basket into the snow, receiving as he fell a
severe cut upon his head. Such were the circumstances under which BIr David
Allan commenced the business of existence.

Even after having experienced the tender cares of his nurse, misfortune con-
tinued to hai-ass him. In the autumn of 1745, when he must have been about
eighteen months old, a battery was erected at AUoa, to defend the passage of
the Forth against the attempts of Prince Charles's army. While the men were
tiring the cannon for experiment, the maid entrusted with the charge of youn*
Allan ran across the open space in front, at the moment when they were dis-
charged, and he only escaped death by a hair-breadth.

His genius for designing was first developed by accident. Being con-
fined at home with a burnt foot, his father one day said to him, " You idle little
rogue, you are kept from school doing nothing ! come, here is a bit of chalk, draw
something with it upon the floor." He took the chalk, and began to delineate
figm-es of houses, animals, and other familiar objects ; in all of which he succeed-
ed so ivell that the chalk was seldom afterwai'ds out of his hand. Wlien he was
about ten years of age, his pedagogue happened to exercise his authority over
some of the boys in a rather ludicrous manner : AUan immediately drew a cari-
cature of the transaction upon a slate, and handed it about for the amusement of
his companions. The master of the ferule, an old vain conceited pei-son, who used
to strut about the school dressed in a tartan night-cap and long tartan gown, got
hold of the picture, and right soon detected that he himself was the most con-
spicuous and the most ridiculous figure. The satire was so keen, and the laugh
which it excited sunk so deep, that the object of it was not satisfied till he had
made a complaint to old Allan, and had the boy taken from his school. When
(juestioned by his father how he had the efirontery to insidt his master, by repre-
senting him so ridiculously on his slate, his answer was, " I only made it like
him, and it was all for fun !"

The father observed the decided genius of his son, and had the good sense to
offer it no resistance. At this time, the establishment of the Messrs Foulis' aca-
demy of Arts at Glasgow was making some noise in the country, Allan, there-
fore, resolved to apprentice his son to those gentlemen upon the terms given out
in their prospectus of the institution. On the 25th of February, 1755, when
exactly eleven years of age, the young di-aughtsman was bound apprentice to the
Messrs Foulis for seven years, to attend their painting academy in the univer-
sity of Glasgow. In Newhall house there is a sketch in oil, done by him, repre*

^- G

50 DAVID ALLAN.

sentinq^ the insiilc of the academy, with an exact portrait of Jlohert Foulis in the
act of a'iticisinj; a large pictin-e, and giving instructions to liis principal painter
about it.

In the year 17G4., some of his performances attracted the notice of lord Cath-
cart, whoso scat, Shaw Park, was situated in Clackmannanshire near Alloa.
Lady Cathcart introduced him to the notice of lady Frances I'rskine, daughter
of the insurgent carl of Mar, and mother of the gentleman to whom the peerage
was restored in 1821; as also to lady Charlotte Erskine, to Mrs Abercromby ot
Tullibody, mother of Sir Ralph, and to some other personages of distinction in
the neiglibourhood of his birth-place. By the associated purses of these kind pa-
trons, Allan was enabled to go to Italy, where he studied with unremitting appli-
cation for eleven years. During his residence there, lady Cathcart used to write
to him with all the care and alTection of a mother. In 1773, while living at
Home, he gained the prize medal given by the academy of St Luke for the best
specimen of historical composition ; being the only Scotchman who had ever
reached that honom', besides Mr Gavin Hamilton.

After his return in 1777, Allan resided for about two years in London; but,
falling into a bad state of health, he was ordered home to Scotland for a change of
air. Soon after his aiTival in Edinbiu-gh, he was appointed successor to Runci-
man (deceased), as master and director of the academy established by the Board of
Trustees for Blanufactures and Improvements, for the purpose of diffusing a
knowledge of the principles of the fine arts and elegance of design, in the vari-
ous manufactures and worlis which required to be figured and ornamented ; a
charge for which he was peculiarly well qualified, by the extensive knowledge
he possessed of every branch of the art. He retained the situation till his death.

Allan was much acbnired for his talents in composition, the truth with which
he delineated nature, and the characteristic humoui* which distinguished his pic^
tares, drawings, and etchings. There are several engravings from his pictures,
as, " The Origin of Painting, or the Corinthian maid drawing the shadoAv of her
lover," and four in aqua-tinta by Paul Sandby, from drawings made by Allan
when at Rome, representing the sports during the carnival. Several of the
figures were portraits of persons well known to the English who visited Rome be-
tween 1770 and 17 80. There is one caricature by Allan, Avhich is well known
to Scottish collectoi-s: it represents the interior of a church or meeting-house at
Dunfermline, at the moment when an imprudent couple are rebuked by the cler-
gyman. There is a drollery about the Avhole of this performance that never fails
to amuse. The alliance of his genius to that of our national poets, led Allan, in
1788, to publish an edition of the Gentle Shepherd, with characteristic drawings.
He also published a collection of the most humorous of the old Scottish songs,
each illustrated by a characteristic etching. At his death, which happened on
the 6th of August, 179G, he left a series of drawings designed for the poems of
Burns, in an equally graphic and humorous style. There is one property which
runs through all the designs of Allan, and by which his productions may be distin-
guished at the most casual glance : this is a peculiar elegance of form which he
always gives to the limbs of his figures — elegance to such a degree, that, in many
cases, it may be pronounced out of nature.

Allan, by his wife, whom he mamed in 1788, left one son, bearing his own
name, and who was sent out as a cadet to India, and one daughter named Barbara.
In person, our Scottish Hogarth, as he was called, had nothing attractive. The
misfortunes attending his entrance into the world were such as nothing in after
life could repair. " His figure was a bad resemblance of his humorous precursor
of the English metropolis. He was under the middle size ; of a slender, feeble
make ; with a long, sharp, lean, white, coarse face, much pitted by the smaU-pox,

CHARLES ALSTON. M.D. 51

and fair hair. His large prominent eyes, of a light colour, Avere wealv, near-
Eiglited, and not very animated. His nose was long and high, his mouth wide,
and both ill-shapetL His whole exterior to strangers appeared unengaging, tri-
fling, and mean ; and his deportment was timid and obsequious. The pre-
judices naturally excited by these disadvantages at introduction, were, hoA\-
ever, dispelled on acquaintance ; and, as he became easy and pleased, gra-
dually yielded to agreeable sensations ; till they insensibly vanished, and at last,
^\ere not only overlooked, but, from the effect of contrast, even heightened the at-
tractions by which they were so unexpectedly followed. When in company he
esteemed, and which suited his taste, as restraint wore ofl^ his eye imperceptibly
became active, bright, and penetrating; his manner and addi-ess quick, lively, and
interesting — always kind, polite, and respectful ; his conversation open and gay,
humorous without satire, and playfully replete with benevolence, observation, and
anecdote." — Brown's edition of the Gentle Shepherd, 1808.

The author who thus forcibly delineates his external appearance, gives the fol-
lowing character of his genius. " As a painter, at least in his own country, he
neither excelled in drawing, composition, colouring, nor effect. Like Hogarth,
too, beauty, grace, and gi-andeur, of individual outline and form, or of style, con-
stitute no part of his merit. He was no Corregio, Raphael, or Michael Angelo.
He painted portraits as well as Hogarth, below the middle size ; but they are void
of all charms of elegance, and of the claro-obscuro, and are recommended by no-
thing but a strong homely resemblance. As an artist and a man of genius, his
characteristic talent lay in expression, in the imitation of natui-e with truth
and humour, especially in the representation of ludicrous scenes in low life. His
eye was ever on the watch for every eccentric figm-e, every motley group, or ridi-
culous incident, out of which his pencil or his needle could draw innocent enter-
tainment and mirth."

ALSTON, Charles, M.D. an eminent botanist, was born in 16 83, in Lanarksliire,
and spent his early years at Hamilton palace, under the pati-onage of the duchess
of Hamilton. Her gTace wished him to study the law, but he preferred botany
and medicine, and accordingly, in 1716, set out for Leyden, where those sciences
Avere at that time taught by the illustrious Boerhaave. Here he fomid a great
niunber of young Scotsmen engaged in the same pui-suit, and aU inspired with an
uncommon degree of enthusiam in their studies, which they had caught from
their master. Alston, after taking his degree as doctor of physic, returned to his
native country, and began to practise in Edinburgh. He obtained the sinecure
office of king's botanist, through the influence of the duke of Hamilton, heritable
keeper of Holyrood-house, to which the garden was attached. This garden he
enriched by large collections \vhich he had made in Holland, where botanical
science was then more highly cultivated than in any other country in Europe.
In 1720, notwithstanding that a botanical class was taught in the college by a
professor of eminence named Preston, he began a course of lectures in the king's
garden. Preston, at length waxing old, Alston was, in 1738, chosen to succeed
him, as professor of botany and materia medica united. He was exceedingly
laborious in his duties as a professor, giving a coui'se on botany every simmier,
and one on materia medica every winter ; and never sparing any pains whicJ'.
he thought could be conducive to the progress of liis pupils. The celebrated
Dr Fothei-gill, in his character of Dr Russell, bears ample testimony to the assi-
duity of Dr Alston, who had been his master ; and describes in glowing language
the benefit which those who attended him had the means of reaping, his caution
in speculation, and how laborious he was in experiment For the assistance of
his pupils, he published, about 1740, a list of the officinal plants cultivated in the
Edinburgh medical garden. Of Liiinseus's system, which was first promulgated in

52 ROBERT ALVES— ADAM ANDERSON.

1730, Dr Alston, like many other philosophers of his day, wiis a steady opponent.
He published a paper against it, on the sexes of plants, in tiie liist volume of " Physi-
cal and Literary Essays," a miscellany which was commenced at Edinburgh, in
1751. The controversy which took place at that period amongst naturalists has
now lost all its interest, seeing that the method of LiniKcus, after serving a useful
purpose, has been superseded by the natural system, to the foundation of which
Linnaeus in no small degree contributed, but wiiich it was left to Jussieu and De
CandoUe to mature. Dr Alston also contributed some articles to an Edinburgh
miscellany entitled "Medical Essays;" the most important is one on opium. In
1753, he published an introduction to Dr Patrick Blair's Index Materia; McdiccB,
a work which resembled his own index in a considerable degree. This in-
troduction was a separate work, and was entitled, Tyrocinium Botanicum
Edinbiirgcnse. Dr Alston, as the contemporary of the first Monro, and professor
of a kindred branch of science, was by no means unworthy of either his time
or his place. He must be considered as one of those who have contributed
to the exaltation of the college of Edinburgh, as a school of medical science.
He died on the '22nd of November, 17G0, in the seventy-seventh year of his age.

ALVES, Robert, a poet and miscellaneous writer, born at Elgin, in 1745, took
his degrees in philosophy at Aberdeen, where he enjoyed the friendship of Dr Beattie,
and afterwards, though designed for the church, settled as parish schoolmaster of
Deskford. From this place he removed, in 1773, to Banff, whence he migrated in
1779, to Edinburgh, on account of a disappointment in love. In Edinburgh he
subsisted by teaching such private persons as chose to employ him, in the Greek,
Roman, French, and Italian classics ; like a true poet, he was not greatly solicitous
about the means of subsistence. Mr Creech, in 1782, published a volume of mis-
cellaneous poems by Alves; in 1789, appeared another, under the title of "Edin-
burgh, a Poem, in two parts, and the Weeping Bard, in sixteen cantos." In 1784,
Alves commenced a laborious work entitled, "Sketches of a History of Literature,"
which was in the press when he died, January 1st, 1794, and was afterwards
published by Dr Alexander Chapman, at whose press it was printed for the
intended benefit of the author. This work contains lives and characters of the most
eminent writers in different languages, ancient and modern, with critical remarks on
their works, together with several literary essays; though miserably inaccurate in every
particular, it shows an extensive acquaintance with ancient and modern learning.
After his death was published, in 1801, " the Banks of Esk," and other poems, a small
12mo. vol. In a vigorously written preface he repels the aspersions and ridicule
cast upon Scotland and Scotsmen, by many English literary men of the period,
especially Churchill, Wilks, Junius, and Johnson ; and in the introductory canto to
" the Banks of Esk," he retaliates on them with great cleverness and vivacity.

ANDERSON, Adam, author of the largest British compilation upon commercial
history, was a native of Scotland, born about the year 1692. Having removed to
London, he was for forty years a clerk in the South Sea house, and at length
was appointed chief clerk of the Stock and New Annuities in that establishment,
in which situation he continued till his death. He was appointed one of the
trustees for establishing the colony of Georgia, by charter dated June 9th, 5 Geo.
II. He was also one of the court of assistants of the Scots Corporation in Lon-
don. In 1762, he published his work, entitled, " A Historical and Chronologi-
cal Deduction of the Origin of Commerce, from the earliest accounts to the pre-
sent time; containing a history of the large commercial interests of the British
Empire," &c. Lond. 2 vols, folio. The elaborate character of this work, says
much for the industry of the author. It was subsequently improved in a new edi-
tion by David Maepherson, 4 vols, quarto ; and a manual abridgement of the

ALEXANDER ANDERSON. 53

work may still be considered a want in our literature. Mr Anderson died soon
after he had given it to the world, January 10th, lYGS, at the aqe of seventy-three.

ANDERSON, Alexander, a very eminent mathematician, born at Aberdeen,
near the close of the sixteenth century. Ho\v or where he acquired his mathe-
matical education is not known; he probably studied belles lettres and philoso-
phy in his native university. He comes into notice at Paris, early in the seven-
teenth centui*y, as a private teacher or professor of mathematics. In that city,
between the years 1612 and KJIQ, he published or edited various geometrical
and algebraical tracts, which are conspicuous for their ingenuity and elegance.
It is doubtful whether he was ever acquainted with the famous Vieta, Master of
Requests at Paris, who died in 1603; but his pure taste and skill in mathemati-
cal investigation pointed him out to the executors of that illustrious man, who
had found leisui'e, in the intervals of a laborious profession, to cultivate and
extend the ancient geometry, and by adopting a system of general symbols, to lay
the foundation, and begin the superstructiu-e, of algebraical science, as the person
most proper for revising and publishing his valuable manuscripts. Anderson, how-
ever, did not confine himself to the duty of a mere editor; he enriched the text ivith
learned comments, and gave neat demonstrations of those propositions which ha«l
been left imperfect. He afterwards produced a specimen of the application of
geometrical analysis, which is distinguished by its clearness and classic elegance.

The works of this eminent person amount to six thin quarto volumes, now very
scarce. These are, — 1. Supplementum Apollonii Redivivi: sive analysis pro-
blematis hactenus desiderati ad Apollonii Pergaei doctrinam -tts^/ vsvaeau a
Marino Ghetaldo Patritio Regusino hujusque non ita pridem institutam, &c.
Paris, 1612, 4to. This tract refers to the problem of inclinations, by which, in
certain cases, the application of the cui've called the conchoid is superseded. — •
2. Aino'Aoyici : Pro Zetetico Apolloniani problematis a se jam pridem edito in
supplemento Apollonii Redivivi. Being an addition to the former worlc Paris,
1615, 4to. — 3. The edition of the worlis of Vieta, Paris, 1615, 4to. —
4. Ad Angularum Sectionem Analytica Theoremata x.ocdo'Ktx.uTipix,, &c. Paris,
1615, 4to. — 5. Vindiciae Archimedis, &c Paris, 1616, 4to. — 6. Alexandx-i An-
dersoni Scoti Exercitationum Mathematicarura Decas Pi-ima, &c. Paris, 1619, 4to.
AU these pieces, of this excellent geometrician, are replete with the finest spe-
cimens of pure geometrical exercises that have ever perhaps been produced by
any authors, ancient or modern. Besides these, literary history is not aware c?
any other publications by Anderson, though probably tliere may have been others.
Indeed, from the last piece it fully appeal's that he had at least ^vi-itten, if not
published, another, viz. A Treatise on the Mensuration of Solitls, perhaps with a
reference to gauging; as in several problems, where he critically examines the
treatise of Kepler on cask-gauging, he often refers to his own work on stereo-
metry.

This eminent person was cousin-genuan to Mr David Anderson of Finshaugh,
a gentleman wlio also possessed a singular turn for mathematical knowledge, and
who could apply his acquirements to so many useful purposes that he was popu-
larly known at Aberdeen by the name of Davie Do-a'-things. He acquired pro-
digious local fame by removing a large rock, which had formerly obstructed the
entrance to the harbom' of Aberdeen. Mathematical genius seems to have been
in some degi-ee inherent in the whole family ; for, through a daughter of Mr Da-
vid Anderson, it reached the celebrated James Gregory, inventor of the reflecting
telescope, who was the son of that lady, and is said to have received, from her,
the elements of mathematical knowledge. From the same lady was descended
the late Dr Reid of Glasgow, who was not less eminent for his acquaintance with
the mathematics, than for his metaphysical vmtings.

54 JAMES ANDERSON.

ANDERSON, Jamks, an eminent antunwry, was the son of the Rev. Patrick
Anderson, who had boon ejecled Tor non-<;(»nroniiily at tlie Restoration, and aftor-
wai-ds sulfered imprisonment in tlie IJass, lor preaching in a conventicle at J'.din-
biirgh. Tlie subject of tliis memoir, Avhose brotlier, Adam, has aheady been
commemorated, w;is born, AiigiLst 5th, l(it)-2, and in l(i77, is found studying
pliilosophy in the univereity of Edinburgh, uhere, ;ii'(er fniishing a scholastic edu-
c<ition, lie obtained tlie degree of .Master of Arts, on the "iTth of ."May, 1080.
He chose the law for liis profession, and, after serving an apprenticeship under
Sir llu<>li Pater.ion of Bannockburn, was admitted a member of the society of
writers to the signet in Kii)!. In this brancli of the legal profession, the study of
written antiquities in some measui-e forces itself upon the practitioner; and it
appears that Anderson, though a diligent and able man of b'jsiness, became in
time too fond of the accessory employment to care much for the principal A
circumstance which occurred in 1701, decided his fate by tempting him into the
field of antiquarian controversy. The question of the union of the two countries
was then very keenly agitated — on the one side with much jealous assertion of
the national independency — and on the other, with not only a contempt for the
boasts of the Scots, but a revival of the old claims of England for a superiority
or paramouncy over their country. A lawyer named Attwood, in 17(J4, pub-
lished a pamphlet in wliich all the exploded pretensions of Edward I. were
brought prominently into view, and a dii-ect dominion in the crown of England
asserted over that of Scotland For this work, ■Mr Anderson, though altogether
unknown to 3Ir Att\vood, was cited as an evidence and eye-witness, to vouch some
of the most important original chartei-s and gi-ants by the kings of Scotland,
which Attwood maintained were in favoiu- of the point he laboured to establish.
3Ir Anderson, in consequence of such an appeal, thought himself bound in duty
to his country, to publish what he knew of the matter, and to vindicate some of
the best of the Scottish kings, who were accused by Att^vood of a base and vo-
luntary smrender of their sovereignty. Ac<;ordingly, in 1705, he published "An
Essay, showing that the crown of Scotland is imperial and independent," Edin-
burgh, 8vo. which was so acceptable to his country, that, besides a reward, thanks
were voted to him by parliament, to be delivered by the lord Chancellor, in pre-
sence of her Majesty's high Commissioner and the Estates; at the same time that
Attwood's book, like othei-s of the same natux-e, Avas ordered to be bm-nt at the
cross of Edinbm-gh by the hands of tlie common hangman. Mr Anderson's pub-
lication is now of little value, except for the chartei-s attached to it in the shape
of an appendix.

This affair was the crisis of Anderson's fate in life. He had, in the coui-se of
his researches for the essay, collected a large mass of national papers; the study
of charters was just then beginning to be appreciated by antiquaries; the enthu-
siam of the nation was favourable, for the moment, to any undertaking whicli
would show the ancient respectability of its separate system of government. Un-
der all these circmnstances, Anderson found it easy to secure the patronage of the
Scottish estates towards a design for engraving and publishing a series of fac-
similes of the royal charters, previous to the reign of James I., and of seals, me-
dals, and coins, from the earliest to the pi'esent time. In November, 1706, he
had a parliamentary grant of three hundred pounds towards this object He then
proceeded vigorously with the work, and in 3Iarch, 1707, had not only expend-
ed the tlu'ee hundred pounds granted by parliament, but five hundi-ed and ninety
pounds besides, which he had drawn from liis own funds. A committee reported
the facts; and the estates, while they approved of his conduct, recommended tft
the Queen to bestow upon him an additional contribution of one thousand and
fifty pounds sterhng. Another parliamentary act of grace — and one of the very

JAMES ANDERSON, D.D. 55

last proceedings of the Scottish estates — was to recommend him to the Queen
" as a person meriting her gracious favour, in conferring any office or trust upon
In'm, as her Majesty in her royal wisdom, shall think fit."

Quite intoxicated Avith this success, Anderson now gave up his profession, and,
resolving to devote himself entirely to the national service as an antiquai-y, re-
moved to London, in order to superintend the progress of his work. Ihe event
only added another pi'oof to what is akeady abundantly clear — that scarcely any
prospects in the precai'ious fields of literatui-e, ought to tempt a man altogether to
resign a professional means of subsistence, llie money voted by the expiring
parliament is said to have never been paid; — the British senate perhaps consider-
ing itself not the proper heir of the Scottish estates. Apparently in lieu of
money, he was favoured, in 1715, with the appointment of post-master general
for Scotland ; but of this he Avas deprived in little more than two years. What
progress he now made with his gxeat work is not veiy cle^a-ly known. He is
found, in 1718, advertising that those who might wish to encoiu-age it " could see
specimens at his house, above the post-office in Edinbui-gh." As the expense of
engraving must have borne hard upon his diminished resoiu'ces, he would appear
to have digressed for some years into an emplojuient of a kindi-ed nature, at-
tended with gi-eater facilities of publication. In 1727, he published the two first
volumes of liis well kno\vn " Collections relating to the History of 3Iai-y, Queen
of Scotland,'''' Edinbui-gh, 4to, which was speedily completed by the addition of
two other volumes. Tliis work contains a large mass of valuable original docu-
ments connected Avith the 3Iarian controversy; but George Chalmers, who went
over the same ground, insinuates that there is too much reason to suspect his ho-
nesty as a transcriber. If the prejudices of the two men are fairly balanced
against the reputations which they respectively bear as antiquaries, we must ac-
knowledge that the charge may not be altogether groundless.

Anderson died in 1728 of a stroke of apoplexy, leaving his great work unfin-
ished. The plates were sold, in 1729, by auction, at j£530, and it Avas not till
1737 that the Avork appeared, under the title of " Selectus Diplomatum et Nu-
mismatum Scotise Thesaui-us," the Avhole being mider the cai-e of the celebrated
Thomas Ruddiman, Avho added a most elaborate preface.

ANDERSON, James, D.D. author of a large and useful Avork, entitled, " Royal
Genealogies," Avas the brother of Adam Anderson, author of the Coimnercial
History. He was for many years minister of the Scots presbyterian church in
SwalloAV-street, Piccadilly, and Avas Avell knoAvn among the people of that persua-
sion in London, by the nick-name of Bishop Anderson. He Avas a learned but
imprudent man, and lost a considerable part of his property from too deep dab-
bling in the South-Sea scheme. His great work as an author A\as, " Royal
Genealogies, or the Genealogical Tables of Emperoi-s, Kings, and Princes, fi-om
Adam(!) to these Times," London, folio, 1732. The compilation of this huge
Avork, in Avhich he Avas aided by many eminent personages, Avhose families enter-
ed into its plan, cost him, according to his OAvn account, the kibotu- of seven
years. It is certainly the completest Avork of the kind in existence, though Avith
no pretensions to discrimination. The author says very frankly in his preface,
that, " He has avoided aU terms and expressions that may give offence to any nation
or family, to any person or party ; having nothing to do A\ith the national con-
troversies of historians, nor Avith the ecclesiastical and religious debates of theolo-
gians, nor AAdth the politics of statesmen, nor A\ith the private jangles of the cri-
tics in a AVork of this kind, but only Avith facts and plain truth : so that he has
let evei-y nation enjoy its oxn faith; and if any find fault, he hopes they Avill
readily excuse huu, not having designed to offend them, and is AAiUing to make
satisfaction, if lie liA'es to publish a second edition." Di- Anderson also A\Tote

JAMES ANDERSON.

"The Conslitiitioiis of the Free Masons," beiiifj the chaplain of that body in
Ix)ndon. The dates of this worthy man's Itirtii an<l dcatli are not ascertained.
He lived in a lioiise opposite to St James's chiireh, I*i(,<;adilly.

ANDEHSON, Jamks, an a':^ri<niitnrai and miscellaneoits writer of great
merit, was t lie son of a farmer at Ilermiston, in tlie comity <»f Midlothian, where
he w.TS born in the year 17.3!). His ("alher <lyin:^ wiien lie was very young, he
was echicated liy iiis u^ii.irdian to occii|>y tlie farm, whicli accordiiiijly lie be^an to
nianaa^e at the early aufe of fiileeii. It may be supposed tliat he could not liave
been intnisted with so important a char;re, if lie liad not already manifested
symptoms of superior character and intellect; much less, without such qualifica-
tions, could he have discharged it, as he is said to have done, with the approba-
tion of all who had occasion to observe his operations. In rcadintr some agri-
•ndtin-al works, to qualify himself for his duties, he had observed that it would be
of advantage to study chemistry, he accordingly attended the lectures given in
the university of Edinburgh by Dr Cidlen, who, although surprised that one so
young should have formed this resolution, liad soon reason to admire liis pupil's
laudable curiosity and good sense, and liberally aflbrded him every encourage-
ment in his power. To chemistry he added the study of certain collateral
branches of science ; so that, when he entered upon his farm, he w;is not only
able to keep up with his more aged and experienced neighbours, but adopted a
number of improvements, suggested by sc;ientific knowledge and native good
sense, which were speedily found to be of a most profitable nature. Among hia
improvements was the introduction of the small two-horse plough, which, since
then, has so completely banished the limibering engine formerly drawn by a
string of cattle. Nor did the necessary business of his farm preclude aU advance-
ment in knowledge. He still prosecuted his studies with great eagerness, and
soon contrived to amass an immense stock of information upon almost all sub-
jects.

His first attempts in literature appeared in the shape of Essays on Planting,
in Ruddiman's Weekly Magazine for 1771. In 1777, having previously removed
to a large farm in Aberdeenshire, he published these essays in a separate volume.
In 1776, appeared his Essay on Chimneys, in which the principle afterwards
acted on in the patent Bath stove was fii-st explained. In the same year with his
volume on Planting, appeared various pamphlets connected Avith rural economy,
till of which were more or less calculated to gi'atify the increasing desire of his
countrymen for scientific knowledge upon such familiar subjects. The fame of
these works procured him a very extensive acquaintance with pei*sons of emi-
nence, who wished to profit by the remai'ks of so able a practical faiTuer ; and
in 1780, the University of Aberdeen acknowledged his merit by conferring upon
him the degree of LL.D.

Anderson had been married in 17G8; and a desire of educating a very nu-
merous fiimily, together \vith certain considerations as to the enjoyment of literary
society, induced him, in 1783, to remove to Edinburgh, leaving the management
of his farm to persons properly qualified. A tract which he had wTitten on the
subject of the Fisheries, though not printed, attracted the attention of the go-
vernment, and he was requested in 1784 to undertake a tour of the western coast
of Scotland, for the purpose of obtaining information on this important subject
He readily acquiesced, and performed the l;isk to the high satisfaction of his
employers, who, however, never offered him any remuneration. The result o(
his labours appeared in 1785, as " An Account of the present state of the He-
brides and Western Coasts of Scotland ; being the substance of a report to the
Lords of th3 Treasury."

I'assing over some minor worlcs of I)r Anderson, we must make honouiable

JAMES ANDERSON. 57

mention cf a liter;u7 and scientific miscellany wliii'Ji lie commenced in 1791,
under the title of the Bee. 'I'liis \vork was published in weekly numbers at six-
pence, and, by its delightful intermixture of useful information with lighter
inattei*s of the belles left res, was eminently calculated for the improvement of the
young. It was occasionally embellished with portraits, views, and di-aughts oi
scientific objects — in, it is true, a very homely style, but still not much inferior
to the taste of the age, and certainly fitted to give the work an increased merit
in the eyes of its juvenile purchasers. The work ran from the 2-2nd of December,
1790, to the 21st of January, 1794, when it was at length reluctantly abandoned,
as the ingenious editor informs us, not on account of any failui-e in its circula-
tion, for that was considerable enough to yield a large apparent profit, but be-
cause such a large proportion of the subscribers were remiss in their payments as
to induce an absolute loss to the conductor. The cessation of such a meritorious
little publication was the more to be regi-etted, as Anderson had only been able,
towards its close, to bring the assistance of his numerous and distant coiTCSpon-
dents into full play. The numbei-s published form eighteen volumes duodecimo,
and throughout the whole of that space, mb believe there does not occui- one line
which can be considered reprehensible for its moial ert'ect.

Among other papei-s in the Bee was a series of Essays on the Political Progress
of Britain. Though only wTitten in ^vhat Avould no\v be considered a liberal
strain, they appeared in the ejes of the sherifi'as calculated to have an injurious
tendency at that inflamed period ; and the leai-ned Doctor was accordingly sum-
moned to give up the name of the author. This Andei-son refused, from peculiar
notions as to literaiy secrecy ; he desired to be himself considered as the author.
After a second and a third application, he still refused; and when the printeis
were sent for, and similarly interrogated, he charged them in the face of the
magistrates, to preserve his sec'ret. All this ^vas the more singular, as his own
principles were known to be eminently loyaL Respect for his talents and character
induced the magistrates to let the matter drop. The real author, a worthless
person named Callender, being afterwai'ds about to quit his country for America,
\vaited upon the authorities, and insinuated that the papers were ^vl•itten by lord
Gardenstone, a man to whom he owed many obligations. Immediately on heai'-
ing of this infamous conduct, Andei-son came forward, and refuted the charge by
avowing Callander himself to be the real authoi-. The whole of this afiair reflects
great credit upon the character of Dr Anderson.

About the year 1797, this ingenious person removed with his family to Lon-
don, Avhere he undertook various works connected with his favourite study of
agriculture. For several years he wrote the articles on this subject in the Monthly
Review; and frota 1799 to 1802, he conducted a separate miscellany under the
title of " Recreations in Agricultui-e," which was only discontinued on account oi
some obstructions incident to such a mode of publication. From the last men-
tioned date, he devoted himself almost entirely to the relaxation which advanced
years and severe studies had rendered necessai-y, and particularly to the cultiva-
tion of his garden, which became a miniatiu-e of all his past labours. In 1801,
he maiTied a second wife, who sui-vived him. He died on the 15th of October,
1808, at the age of sixty-nine.

In his younger days, Dr Anderson was remai-kably handsome in his person, <f
middle stature, and robust make. Exti-emely moderate in his living, the country
exercise animated his cheek with the glow of health ; but the overstrained exer-
tion of his mental powers afterwards shook his constitution, and hurried him into
old ao-e. He was a man of independent mind ; and in the relative duties of
husband and father, exhibited a prudential care, mixed with affection, Avhich
i-oimnanded the admiration of his friends. Of Dr Anderson's abilities, his works

58 JOHN ANDERSON, M.A.

exliibit 80 many proofs that (lioy may be appealed to with perlect confidence.
AJtlioii^li a voliiiiiinoiis writer, tliere is iit> subject connected with bis favourite
pursuit, on wbicb be bas not tin-own new ligbL Ibit bis knowledge was not con-
lined to one science. He exbibited, to give only one instance, very «x)nsiderable
powei-s of research, when in 1773, he published, in the lii-st edition of the Kncy-
cJopedia IJrilaniiic.i, an article under the bead Monsoon. In this he clearly
predicted the residt of c^iptain Cook's fii-st voyage; namely, that there did not
exist, nor ever would be found, any continent or large island in the southern
hemisi»bere except New Holland alone ; and this was completely verified on
captain Cook's return seven months afterwards. Upon the whole, though the
name of Dr Anderson is associated with no scientific or literai-y triumphs of great
splendour, his exertions, by their eminent and uniform use fidn ess, have given him
very considerable claims to respect A nunute specification of bis works is to be
found in the Scots Magazine for 1809.

ANDERSON, .Iorn, IM.A. an eminent Presbyterian clergyman of last century,
grandfather of Professor Anderson, the subject of the next article. Of his early
history very little is known, except that be received a university education, and took
his degree in arts. He was afterwards preceptor to the gi-eat John Duke of j\rgyle,
and he mentions in bis letters upon the Overtures concerning Kirk Sessions and
Presbyteries, that he bad resided in Edinburgh for twenty-five years in early life.
He seems also to have taught a school, and he is upbraided by " Curat Calder."
with having been " an old pedantic dominie, teaching hcBc dat a." It was not, how-
ever, till after his settlement as minister of Dumbarton, that he became known as
author, llie earliest of his productions that h;is been discovered is entitled, "A
Dialogue between a Curat and a Countreyman concerning the English Senice,
or Conuuon-Pi-ayer Book of England," which was printed in quarto at Glasgow,
about 1710. The question relative to the fomi of prayer used in Scotland, im-
mediately after the Refonnation, was at this time keenly canvassed by the Scottish
Episcopalians and Presbyterians, and the clergy of the former pei*suasion bad very
shortly before introduced the liturgy into their church service. (Carstares' State
Papei-s.) IMi', afterwards Bishop, Sage endeavoured in his "Fundamental Charter
of Presbytery Exanxined,"to show that the English liturgj' had been used in Scot-
land for at least seven years after the establishment of the Protestant religion. In
this he was opposed by iMr Anderson, who adduced many arguments to prove that
it was not the English litui-gy that is spoken of by the Scottish historians, but that
used by the English church at Geneva, Soon afterwards Andei-son pubbshed a
"Second Dialogue," (dated 1711) in which, says he, "there is hardly any thing
of importance Avhich is not said in the vei-y words of the writers of the other
side," and in which South, Beveridge, Hammond, and Buinet ai"e the Curates
whose sentiments are opposed. " A Letter from a Countrejniian to a Cui-at,"
followed the dialogues, and received several answers, of which we shall only
mention one, ^mtten by Piobert Calder, an Episcopalian clergyman, the friend
of Dr Archibald Pitcairn, and printed in bis " Miscellany Numbers relat-
ing to the controversies about the Book of Common Prayer," &c. fobo, 171.3. .
To this attack Anderson replied in a pamphlet entitled " Curat Calder Whipt."
He soon after published " A Sermon preached in the church of Ayr at the open-
ing of the Synod, on Tuesday the first of April, 1712," printed at the desire oi
the Synod of Glasgow and Ayr, (quarto, price sixpence,) and in 1714, the work
by which he is best knowTi appeared- It bas for its title, " A Defence of the
Church Government, Faith, Worship, and Spirit of the Presbyterians, in answer
to a book entitled an Apology for 3Ir Thomas Rhind," &c 4to, and is dedicated
to Archibald Earl of Islay. About the beginning of the year 1717, Anderson
informs us, " the people of Glasgow were pleased to move that 1 should be called
to be one of the ministers of that place," (Letter to Stewart of Pai'dovan, p. 1.)

JOHN ANDERSON, M.A. 59

but the proceedings relative to this transaction strikingly illustrate the truth of
Wodrow's remark in a letter to Dr Cotton Mather.^ " We are biting and de-
vouring one another," says the venerable historian, " and like to be consumed one
of another. In our neiglibouring city of Glasgow, where since the Revolution,
unity and harmony, and consequently vital religion flourished, now heat, and
strife, and every evil ^vork abound. The university is split and broken. The
magistrates and ministers are at present in no good temis." The same author
oives us some adtlitional infonnation relative to Mr Anderson's case in a letter
to the Rev. James Hart, one of the ministers of Edinburgh in 1 7 1 8.- " Our Synod
last week," says he, "had the Presbyteiy of Glasgow's reference of Mr Anderson's
call before them ; the ministers' reasons of dissent and the town's answers were
read, and the ministers' answers to them read, viva voce. The advice given at
the close of the last Synod when the house ivas thin (to fall fi'om Mr Anderson)
\vas disliked by the Synod now when full, and it was agi-eed not to be recorded.
The vote came to be stated, — concur ^vith the call, and transmit it to the Presby-
tery of Dumbarton, or refer to the Assembly-; and it cari'ied, — concur 63, refer
■il ; whereon the ministers and four or five of the Presbytery appealed to the
Assembly, and gave in a complaint verbally against JMr Anderson, which the
Synod obliged them to bring in in write, signed, to-moiTOw." Mr Anderson was,
however, at length settled in Glasgow in 1720, altliough it appears from
M'Ure's History that the North-West Church to which he was appointed Avas not
founded till 1721, nor finished for "a year or two thereafter." It would be
difficult to explain Anderson's motives in coming to Glasgow, — his colleagues
were disgusted at a letter addressed by him to Walter Stewart of Pardovan, which
was published in 1717, and contained some severe remarks upon them, and he
says, in a strain of bitter irony, " I confess I was under a great temptation of
being eager for a settlement in Glasgow, for what minister ^vould not be fond of
a lesser stipend and a double charge !"' Nor was he more fortunate in his first
appearance in his new parish, for he had, according to M'Ure, a kind of conse-
cration sermon, which disgusted " the stricter, or more bigotted sort of the peo-
ple." In the same year in wliich he was appointed one of tlie ministers of
Glasgow, " Mr Anderson's Letters upon the Overtures concerning Kirk Sessions
and Presbji;eries " appeared in 12mo. Of this topic he says, " I must needs con-
fess that it is the most melancholy subject I ever wrote upon. There was plea-
sure as well as duty in contending ^vith our prelatic advei-saries ; but alas .'

In csvil war, to lose or gain 's the same,

To gain 's no glory, and to lose a sliame."

Tliese letters extend to six, and although now little known, as they refer merely

to an ephemeral subject, contain some curious historical information, and not a

little satire. Mr Anderson did not long sm-vive his call to Glasgow, — the date

of his death has not been ascertained, but his successor was appointed in 1723,

His controversial writings are full of valuable historical infonnation, and show

him to have been thoroughly versed in theological literatiu-e, but it cannot be too

• much regretted that he so far indulged in intemperate language. ^Ve have not

alluded to some of his smaller pamphlets, which refer merely to subjects of a

temporary or local natui-e.

Upon the family tomb-stone, erected by the will of Professor Anderson, over the

grave of his grandfather, upon the front of the North-West Church, Glasgow,

was inscribed the following memorial of Mr Anderson : — " Near this place ly

the remains of the Rev. John Anderson, who was preceptor to the famous John

Duke of Ai'gyle and Greenwich, and minister of the gospel in Dumbarton in the

J Wodrow's History, new edition, vol. 1. p. xxv.
2 History, vol. 1. p. xxii. 3 Letters on the Overtures. P. 67.

go JOHN ANDERSON, F.R.S.

beginning of the eighteentli century, anil in tins cluircli in the year 1720. He whb
tlie author of '1 ho Defence of tlie ( hurcii-govcrnnitMit, I'ailh, Wm-ship, and Spirit
of the Presbyterians,' and ofseveral other ecclesiastical and political tracts. As a pious
minister and an eloquent preacher, a defender of civil and reliifious liberty, and a
inan of wit and leaniina", he w;is much esteemed ; he lived in the reign of diaries
II., James 11., William HI., Anne, and (jieorgc 1. Such times, and such a man,
forget not, reader, while thy country, liberty, and religion are dear to thee."

AM)l^RSt)N, .loHN, F. K. S. professor of natural philosophy in the university
of (ilaso-ow, and founder of the eminently useful institution, bearing his name, in
that city, was born in the parish of Uoseneath in Dumbartonshire, in the year
172(i, He was the eldest son of the reverend James Anderson, minister of
Roseneath, who was, in his turn, the eldest son of the reverend John Anderson,
preceptor to John Duke of. Ai-gyle, afterwards minister of the gospel at Dum-
barton, and whose memoir is given in the preceding article. The subject
of this memoir, having the misfortune to lose his father in early life, was
educated by his aunt Mrs Turner, widow of one of the ministers of the High
church of Stirling. While residing at this town, where he received the rudi-
ments of learning, he appeared as an oflicer in the biu-gher corps raised in
February, 1746, to defend it against the forces of the young Chevalier. His
conduct on this occasion was worthy of his distingiushed ancestor, from whose
example he appears to have derived that attachment to the j)rinciples of civil
and relifious liberty, which marked his character through life. The carabine and
other arms which he carried ou the walls of Stirlinj^ are preserved in the niuseunj
connected with his institution at Glasgow. lie received the more advanced part of
his education at the college of Glasgow, where, in 1756, he was appointed to be
professor of oi-iental languages, being then in the thirtieth year of his age.

It was not in this sphere that IVIr Andei-son ^vas destined to shine with great-
est lustre. His mind had a decided bent towards the exact sciences, and to the
illustration of the ails Avith which they are connected. His translation, there-
fore, to the chair of natural philosophy, which took place in 17G0, was an even;
higlily agreeable to him, and also most fortunate for the world. While he took
an early opportunity after this event, to fulfil an important private duty, by re-
paying his aunt for the expenses of his education, he entered upon the business
of his class with an enthusiastic ardour of application, which we may safely pro-
nounce to have been without example in any Scottish university. Not contented
with the ordinary duty of delivering a com-se of lectures — though he performed
that duly in a manner alone sufficient to obtain distinction — he was indefatig-
able in studying and exemplifying the application of science to mechanical
practice ; visiting, for this purpose, the workshops of artizans in the town, and
receiving, in return for the scientific doctrine which he had to conmiunicate, a full
equivalent of experimental knoAvledge. The most estimable characteristic of profes-
sor Anderson, was a liberal and diffusive benevolence in regard to the instruction
of his race. Under the inspiration of this feeling, which was in that age more
rare, and therefore more meritorious than it is at present, he instituted, in ad- ^
dition to his usual class, which was strictly mathematical, one for the working
classes, and others whose pui-suits did not enable them to conform to the pre-
scribed routine of academical study, illustrating his precepts by experiments, so
as to render it in the highest degree attractive. He continued to teach this
anti-toga cla.sx, as he called it, twice every week, during the session, to the end
of his life ; and it would not be easy to estimate the aggregate of good which he
tlius rendered to his fellow-creatuj-es. As an instance of the liberal good sense
by which he was governed in his eminently useful scheme, it is related that, a
mechanic having complained to his assistant, that he had scarcely time, after leavaig

JOHN ANDERSON, F.II.S. 61

his work, to change his di-ess befoi'e coming to the class, and having suggested
the propriety of the operatives being allowed to attend without such change,
Mr Anderson, being apprized of the wish so expressed, at once acceded to it.
His was a mind too strongly bent on mere usefulness, to regard empty form.
Vet, as a lecturer, he is allowed to have himself exhibited a surpassing elegance
of manner. His style was easy and gTaceful, his command of language unlimit-
ed, and the skill and success with which his manifold experiments were perform-
ed, could not be surpassed. He excited the interest, and attracted the attention
of his pupils, by the numerous and appropriate anecdotes with which he illustrat-
ed and enlivened his lectui-es. Enthusiastic in his profession, his whole ambi-
tion and happiness consisted in making himself useful to mankind, by the dis-
semination of useful knowledge ; and nothing afllbrded him purer pleasure than
hearing that any of his pupils had distinguished themselves in the world. The
only distinct Avork which he published in connection with his favourite science,
•^vas a valuable one, entitled, "Institutes of Physics," which appeared in 1786,
and went through five editions during the next ten years.

At the commencement of those political changes in France, which ended in
such unhappy results, Mr Andei'son, as might have been predicated from his ar-
dently liberal and enlightened character, was among those who sympathized
most warmly with the proceedings of the emancipated people. Previous to that
period, he had prosecuted a taste for the military art, and invented a species of
gun, the recoil of which was stopped by the condensation of common air, within
the body of the carriage. Having in vain endeavoured to attract the attention
of the British government to this invention, he went to Paris, in 1791, carrying
with liim a model, which he presented to the national Convention. The govern-
ing party in France at once perceived the benefit which would be derived ti'om
this invention, and ordered Mr Anderson's model to be hung up in their hall,
with the following inscription over it — " The gift of Sciksce to Liberty."
Whilst he was in France, he got a six-pounder made from his model, with which
he made numerous experiments in the neighbourhood of Paris, at which the
famous Paul Jones, amongst others, was present; and who gave his decided
approbation of the gun, as likely to prove highly useful in landing troops from
boats, or firing from the round tops or poops of ships of war. Mr Anderson, at
this period, took a keen interest in the transactions which passed before his
eyes. He was present when Louis XVL was brought back from Varennes ;
and on the 14th of July, on tlie top of the altar of liberty, and in the presence
of half a million of Frenchmen, he sang Te Deum with the bishop of Paris,
when the king took the oath to the Constitution, amen being said to the cere-
mony by the discharge of five hundred pieces of artillery. As the Emperor of
Germany had drawn a military cordon around the frontiers of France, to prevent
the introduction of French newspapers into Gei-many, he suggested the expe-
dient of making small balloons of paper, varnished with boiled oil, and filled
with inflammable air, to which newspapers and manifestoes might be tied. This
was accordingly practised, and when the wind was favourable for Gei-many, they
were sent off, and descending in that country, were, with their appendages, pick-
ed up by the people. They carried a small flag or streamer, of which the fol-
lowing is a translation : —

O'er hills and dales, and lines of hostile troops, I float majcslic,
Bearing the laws of God and Nature to oppressed men,
And bidding them with arms tfieir rights maintain."

Mr. Anderson died, January 13tb, 1706, in the 70th year of his age, and the ilst
year of his professorship, directing, by his will, dated May 7tb, 1795, that the whole

62 ROBERT ANDERSON. M.D.

of his effects, of every kind, should be devoted to tlie estHblishmeiit of an educational
institution in Glasgow, to be denominated Anderson's Univcrsiln, for the use of the
unacadeinical classes; so that, even while he was consigned to the silent dust, be
might still, by means of his honourably acquired wealth, prove of service to those
whom be had benefited so much, during bis own life, by personal exertion. Ilia
will was carried into effect on the 9th of June following, by the magistrates granting
a charter of incorporation to the proposed institution. According to the design ol
the founder, there were to be four colleges — for arts, medicine, law, and theology
— besides an initiatory school. Each college was to consist of nine professors, the
senior professor being the president or dean. As the funds, however, were inadequate
to the plan, it was at first commenced with only a single course of lectures on
natural philosophy and chemistry, by Dr Thomas Garnett, well known for hia
luiinerous scientific and medical works, and also for his " Tour through the Highlands
and part of the Western Isles of Scotland." This course was attended for the first
year by nearly a thousand persons of both sexes. In 1793, a professor of mathe-
matics and geography was appointed. The splendid apparatus and library of the
founder, which were valued at L.3000, added greatly to the advantages of the infant
institution. In 1*799, Dr Garnett, being appointed professor in the Royal Institution
at London, was succeeded by the eininent Dr Birbeck, who, in addition to the
branches taught by his predecessor, introduced a familiar system of philosophical and
mechanical information to five hundred operative mechanics, free of all expense, thus
giving rise to Mechanics' Institutions. The Andersonian institution was placed, by
the will of the founder, under the inspection and control of the Lord Provost, and
many other honourable persons, as ordinary visitors, and under the more immediate
superintendence of eighty-one trustees, who are elected by ballot, and remain in
oflice for life. Since the first establishment of the University, as it may very pro-
perly be called, it has gradually been extended, nearer and nearer to the original
design of the founder. There are now [1852] fifteen professors, who deliver lec-
tures on surgery, institutes of medicine, chemistry, practical chemistry, midwifery,
practice of medicine, anatomy, materia medica, pharmacy, and dietetics, medical
jurisprudence and police, mathematics, natural philosophy, botany, logic, geography,
modern languages, English literature, drawing, and painting, <tc. The institution
now possesses handsome and commodious buildings, which belong to the corporation,
and, among other additions to its means of cultivating and illustrating science, is an
extensive museum of natural history and antiquities. Andersons University must
be considered a wonderful example of the amount of good which one man, of no very
great material resources, may do for his kind. The private fortune of one professor
in the original college of Glasgow has here been found sufficient to produce a new
fount of learning, not unworthy to rank with the old, and of very great practical
utility to the public.

A posthunsous woik of professor Anderson, entitled, "Observations on Roman
Antiquities between the Forth and Clyde," appeared in 1804.

ANDERSON, Robert, M.D. the biographer of Smollett and Johnson, was born
on 7th of January, 1750, the son of a feuar in the rural village of Carnwath in
Lanarkshire. He received the earlier part of his education in his native place, and
in the adjacent village of Libberton ; was subsequently placed under the tuition of
Mr Robert Thomson, master of the grammar-school of Lanark ; and finally studied
in the university of Edinburgh, where he commenced attendance upon the divinity
class, with the view of becoming a clergyman. He took the degree of M.D. at St.
Andrews in 1778. In his early years, when pursuing his studies at Carnwath, he
could find but one congenial mind in the whole of that rural district ; this was an
unfortunate youth, named James Grame, the son of a neighbour, who, after exhibit-

ROBERT ANDERSON, M.D. 63

jiig considerable powers as a poet, died in his twenty-second year, and whose
leliques were afterwards included by Dr Anderson, more perhaps through the influ-
ence of friendship, than deliberate taste, in his edition of the British poets. Dr
Anderson first entered into practice, as surgeon to the Dispensary of Bamborough
Castle in Northumberland ; he afterwards removed to Alnwick, where he married
Miss Gray, daughter of Mr John Gray, a relation of the noble family of that name.
The declining state of bis wife's health, which rendered a change of air necessary,
induced him, in 17S4, to remove to Edinburgh, where he ever afterwards resided,
lie had here the misfortune to lose his amiable partner, who sank under a consump-
tion, leaving him with three infant daughters. Dr Anderson having secured a small
independence, practised no more after this period, but engaged in such literary
avocations as he felt to be agreeable to his taste, and became the centre of an agree-
able coterie, in which the talents of many a youth of genius were for the first time
brought into notice. About the year 1793, he began to prepare his edition of the
British Poets, which forms thirteen volumes, large octavo, and appeared between
the years 1'795 and 1807. To the works of each poet is prefixed a biographical
memoir by Dr Anderson. In 17D3, he married for his second wife, Miss Dale,
daughter of Mr David Dale, schoolmaster in East Lothian. A collection of the
works of Smollett, by Dr Anderson, with a memoir prefixed, has gone through eight
editions. To the last edition is affixed a highly characteristic likeness of the editor.
The memoir has been published repeatedly in a distinct shape, and is a very respect-
able production. Dr Anderson also published a " Life of Dr Samuel Johnson, with
critical observations on his works," which has passed through several editions. For
several years before the end of the eighteenth century, Dr Anderson was editor of
the Edinburgh Magazine, a rival of the Scots Magazine, more varied and lively in
its details, and which afforded him an opportunity of bringing forward the produc-
tions of his young friends. This work commenced in the year 1784, and at the end
of 1803, was incorporated with the Scots Magazine : it was much indebted to its
proprietor, James Sibbald, editor of the Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, to Lord Ilailes,
and other eminent literary characters. Among the publications which Dr Anderson
gave to the world, must be included his edition of " The Works of John Moore,
M.D., with Memoirs of his Life and Writings;" Edinburgh, 1820, 7 vols. 8vo; and
an edition of the poems of Robert Blair; Edinburgh, 1826, 12mo. The great inci-
dent of Dr Anderson's literary life was his connection with the commencement
of the career of Thomas Campbell. When Campbell first visited Edinburgh in
1797, being then in his twentieth year, he gained the friendship of Dr Anderson,
who, on being shown a copy of elegiac verses, written by him two years before,
when an obscure tutor in Mull, predicted his great success as a poet. It was
through Dr Anderson, in 1793, that Campbell was introduced to the circle of his
distinguished literary associates in Edinburgh ; and he it was who encouraged him
by his friendly advice, and assisted him by his critical acumen, in the publication of
his celebrated poem, "the Pleasures of Dope," for the high character of which he
had, previously to its appearance, pledged his word to the public. In acknow-
ledgment of his friendship, the grateful poet dedicated his work to Dr Anderson.
During the later years of his life, this venerable author, though he indulged as
much as ever in literary society, gave no work to the public.

As a literary critic, Dr Anderson was distinguished by a warm sensibility to the
beauties of poetry, and by extreme candour. His character as a man was marked
by perfect probity in all his dealings, and unshaken constancy in friendship. His
manner was lively and bustling; and from his long-continued acquaintance with the
literary world, he possessed an unrivalled fund of that species of gossip and anecdote
which gives so much pleasure in Boswell's Life of Johnson.

«4 WA.LTER ANDERSON, D.D,

-^

l)r Anderson died ot dropsy in the cliest, February 20, 1830, in his c\hty-first
year.

ANDICRSON, AVai.tuu, D.L). 'J'lie era of tliis irenllenian's biilli is unknown;
he died at an advanced ai;e, July, IHOO, atior havinjr been minister of tiie \y.\v\:h
of Cliirnside for lifty years. He is a remarkable specimen of that class of au-
thors, Avho, without llie least power of enUntaininir or instrnctinir their fellow-
ci-eatiu'es, yet persist in writin;;- and publishing- books, wliich nobody ever reads,
and still, like the man cr;ued by the lottery, expect that the next, and the next,
and the next will be attended witii success. I'erhaps Anderson's cacoel/ies scri-
hendi received its first impulse irom the following ludicrous circumstance. His
parish comprehending the house of Mne>vells, he was often entertained there,
in company with the brother of the proprietor — the celebrated David Hume
The convei-sation having turned one day on the successes of Mr Hume as an au-
tlior, Anderson said, " I\Ir David, I dare say other people might write books
too; but you clever fellows have taken up all the good subjects. \Vhen I look
about me, I cannot Jind one unoccupied." Hume, who liked a joke upon an uu-
suspecting clergyman, said, " what would you think, Mr Anderson, of a history
of Cropsus, king of Lydia ? — that has never yet been written." Mr Anderson
was delighted with the idea, and, in short, " upon that hint he wrote.'''' In 1755
was published, " The Histoiy of Croesus, lung of Lydia, in four pai-ts ; contain-
ing obsei-vations on the ancient notion of destiny, or dreams, on the origin and
credit of the oracles, and the principles upon which their oracles were defended
against any attack." What is perhaps the best part of the jest, the work was
honoured with the following serio-bui-lesque notice in the Edinburgh Review,
then just started by llume, Smith, Carlyle, and other wits — the article being
written, we have no doubt, by the very man who incited the unhappy author to
his task : —

" Crupsus king of Lydia is a prince whom we never expected to have met
with, as the hero of a serious histoi-y. Mankind seem at last to feel the neces-
sity of conti'acting rather than enlarging that period of history, which ought to
be the object of their study and attention. If this sentiment be just, how unfor-
tunate and ill-timed is our author's attempt to recall from oblivion the name and
adventures of a monarch of such tlistant and dubious fame. He himself seems
aware of this objection to his work ; and it is but just to hear what he can plead
in his own defence. ' The enthusiastic principles of ages long past, and the
artificial devices then used to work upon the passions of men, may appear to
some a subject of history not enough interesting in these times. But if the
most essential part of knowledge, derived from history^, be that of manldnd, it
surely cannot well be learned, \vithout thoroughly considering the various senti-
ments and opinions embraced by them in diflerent ages of the world. Our views
of human nature must be partial and confined, if they be only directed to some
of its late and present appearances. By can-ying our thoughts back into ancient
times, v,e may see reason for abating much of the amazement or dislike which
is apt to arise in our minds, when we read the religious or political violences
marked out in modern history.'

" If the reader shall sustain this apology for the subject, (which we by no
means require him to do,) we can assure him that he \vill find our author neithei
destitute of skill in composition, nor a stranger to propriety and neatness of lan-
guage. He has treated his subjects with abundance of erudition, and by his man-
ner of relating it, renders an old tale somewhat tolerable.

"We cannot, however, imagine our readers to be so much interested in the
Lydian monai'ch, as to make it necessaiy for us to enter into any detail of his
actions. lYe fipprove of our nutlior's choice of Herodotus rather than Xeno-

phon ; * * but at the same time, our author's histoi'y has derived, from He-
rodotus, an air and character A\hicli will appear uncouth to a modern reader ;
oracles, dreams, prodigies, miraculous interpositions of the gods, and no less
miraculous instances of credulity and foUy among men, are the objects perpetu-
ally before him. The rage of reading novels, Mhich has spread so wonderfully
over Britain, may perhaps have accustomed the public ear to such improbabili-
ties. To all true lovers of the marvellous, we therefore recommend our author's
hero. His adventures, though related in a better style, are as fai- removed from
truth, and very near as much connected with instruction, as most of those which
of late years have been so diligently studied by a great part of the nation.

" AVe conclude this article with an admonition to the author. In any future
performance, we advise him either to venture into the region of pure fiction, or
to contine himself within the precincts of real histoi-y. In the former, by his
talents for composition, he may become an agreeable writer ; in the latter his
industry may render him an instructive one."

It happens that the work thus noticed in the second number of the Edinburgh
Review, was also the subject of a critique in the second number of the Critical
Review, which had then been just started in London by Smollett. The article
in the latter work bears such evident marks of the pen of the distinguished
editor, and refers to such an extraordinary work, that we shall make no apology
for the following extracts.

After remarking that the volume has been chiefly compiled from the episodes
of Herodotus, that it exhibits a miserable flatness of style, and that .all the facts
scattered throughout its two hundred and thirty-five pages might have been
related in three or four, the critic proceeds to say — " we are apt to believe that
this is the first essay of some young historian, who has been more intent upon
forming his style and displaying his learning, than careful in digesting his plan,
and combining his jnaterials ; the subject is too meagre to afibrd nourishment to
the fancy or understanding ; and one might as well attempt to build a first-rate
man of Avar from the Avreck of a fishing-boat, as to compose a regidar history
from such a scanty parcel of detached observations. I'he compiler has been
aware of this deficiency, and has filled up his blank paper with unnecessary ar-
gument, and a legion of eternal truths, by way of illustration. What could be
more uiuiecessai-y, for example, than a detail of reasons for doubting the divinity
or daemoniacism of the ancient oracles ? who believes, at this time of day, that
they were either inspired by the deity, or influenced by the devil? What can
be more superfluous than a minute commentary and investigation of the absurdi-
ties in the plea of the priestess, when she was taxed with falsehood and equivo-
<;ation ? But we beg the author's pardon ; he A\Tote for readers that dwell
beyond the Tweed, who have not yet renounced all commerce with those familiar
spirits, which are so totally fliscarded from this part of the island. There is
still a race of soothsayers in the Highlands, derived, if Ave may believe some
curious antiquaries, from the Druids and Bards, that were set apart for the Avor-
ship of Apollo. The author of the iiistory now before us, may, for ought Ave
knoAV, be one of tliese venerable seers ; though Ave rather take him to be a
Presbyterian teachex-, Avho has been used to expound apothegms that need no
explanation."

The history of Croesus king of Lydia, one of the most ciu'ious productions
recognised in the history of literary -mania, is noAv extremely i-ai'e — not by any
means from the absorbing appreciation of the public, but rather, apparently, from
the vei-y limited extent of its first circulation.

The Avorthy author, though perhaps daunted a little by the reception of his
first attempt, in time recovered the full tone of his literary ambition ; and he

G6 WALTER ANDEKSON, D.D.

next alloniptcd a «<»rk of imirli larafor « oiiijkiss, vliicli nppenred in 1769,
in two (jiuuto volumes, under tlio title of "'llie Histoi-y of J Vance during
the reifrns of Francis II. and ( liarles IX., to which is prefixed a lieview
of the (general Uistoi-y of ihc Monarcliy from its oritjin to tliat period."
Tlie success «>f this Avork was much like that of its predecessor ; yet in 1776
(he author ])ul>lislied a continuaticin in one roluine, under the title, "The
History of Irancx^, from the commencement of the reifjn of Henry III.,
and tlie rise of the Catholic Leaj-ue, to the pea<e of Wonns and the estab-
lislmient of the famous edict of Nantes in the reiifii of Henry l\." In 1783,
appeared two further volumes, embra(;ing the history from the commence-
ment of tlie reign of Louis Xlll. to the general peace of Munster, 13ut these
continuous eflbrts were not di-awn forth by the encouragement of the public ;
they were solely owing to the desj)erate cacoeilies of the worthy Avriter, which
would take no hint from the world — no refusal from fame. It is said that he
Mas solely enabled to support the expense of his unrequited labour by a set of
houses belonging to himself in Dunse, (too appropriate locality !) one of which
was sold for every successive quarto, till at last something like a street of good
habitable tenements in that thriving town was converted into a row of unreadable
volumes in his libraiy. "Dr Anderson," says the Gentleman's Magazine, " displays
none of the essential qualities of historic writing, no research into the secret
springs of action, no discrimination of character, and no industi-y in accumulating
and examining authorities. Even as a compiler he is guided only by one set
of materials whicli lie found in the French writers, and may therefore be con-
sulted by the English reader, as a collection of their opinions, while he is highly
censurable in not having recourse to original papers and documents respecting
(he affairs of his own countiy. His style is uniformly tame, and defaced by col-
loquial barbarisms."

In a literary history of this deplorable character, it is gratifying to find that
one eflbrt ^vas at length judged Avorthy of some praise. This was a work subse-
quent to the above, entitled, " The Philosophy of Ancient Greece investigated, in
its origin and progress, to the eras of its greatest celebrity, in the Ionian, Italic,
and Athenian schools, with remarks on the delineated system of their founders."
His principle in this work, according to the authority just quoted, appears to
have been to supply the deficiencies in Mr Stanley's work, and to give place to
remarks upon the meaning employed by the most eminent Grecian philosophers,
in support of their physical, theological, and moral systems ; and to give a fuller
and more connected display of their theories and arguments, and to relieve the
frigidity of their bare details by interspersing observations." In this work he
displays much learning, and is in genei-al both accui-ate and perspicuous, although
he is still deficient in the giaces of style. ^Perhaps it would have been more
successful had it not appeared at the same time with Dr Enfield's excellent abridg-
ment of Erucker's Histoiy of Philosophy.

One of the last attempts of Br Anderson was a pamphlet against the principles
of the French Revolution. This being not only written in his usual heavy style,
but adverse to the popular sentiments, met with so little sale, that it could scarcely
be said to have been ever published. However, the doctor was not discouraged ;
adopting rather the maxim, " contra audentior ito,'''' he wrote a ponderous addi-
tion or appendix to the work, which he brought with him to Edinburgh, in order
to put it to the press. Calling first upon his friend Principal Eobertson, he re-
lated the whole design, which, as might be expected, elicited the mirthful surprise
of the venerable historian. " Ideally," said Dr Eobertson, " this is the maddest
of all your schemes — Avhat ! a small pamphlet is found heaA^y, and you propose
to lighten it by making it ten times heavier! Never was such madness heard

WILLTAM ANNAND.— ALEXANDER ARBUTHNOT. 67

of!" " Why, why," answered Dr Anderson, " did you never see a kite raised by
boys?" " I have," answered the principal. "Then, you must have remarked
that, when you try to raise the kite by itself, there is no getting it up : but only
add a long string of papers to its tail, and up it goes like a laverock ! " The
reverend principal was completely overcome by this argument, which scarcely
left him breath to reply, so heartily did he laugh at the ingenuity of the resolute
author. However, we believe, he eventually dissuaded Dr Anderson from his
design.

ANNAND, William, an episcopal divine of the reign of Charles II., was the son
of William Annand, minister of A;jt, where he was born in 1633. His father,
having read the service-book at Glasgow in 1G37, was attacked by the women of
that place on the streets, and with some difficulty escaped a tragical fate. He
\vas obliged soon after to fly from Scotland, on account of his adherence to the
royal cause. Young Annand became, in 1651, a student at University College,
Oxford, and soon gave token of his being inspired witii the same predilections
as his father. Though placed under a presbyterian tutor, lie took eveiy oppor-
tunity of hearing the episcopal divines, who pi-eached clandestinely in and around
Oxford. In 1656, being then bachelor of arts, he received holy ordei-s from the
hands of Dr Thomas Fulwar, bishop of Ai-dfort or Ken-y in Ireland, and was
appointed preacher at Weston on the Green, near Becister in Oxfordshire. In
this situation, and another to which he was prefen-ed in Bedfordshire, he distin-
guished himself by his preaching. Immediately after the Restoration, lie pub-
lished two treatises in favour of the episcopal style of worship, which seem to
have procured him high patronage, as he was now appointed chaplain to the
e^irl of Middleton, the king's commissioner to the Scottish Estates. Returning
to Scotland with this noljleraan, he became minister successively of the Tolbooth
and of the Tron Chiuxhes. As an episcopal clergyman, he must have no doubt
been exceedingly unpopular in his own country ; but there can be no doubt that
both his ministrations and his writings were liighly creditable to him, the latter
displaying much learning. In 1676, the king appointed him to be dean of
Edinburgh, and in 1685 he began to act as professor of divinity at St Anth-ews.
On the 30th of June, 1685, he attended the Earl of Arg^le, by order of the
government, at his execution, and in his prayer on the scaffold, had the liberality
to lament the fall of that nobleman " as one of the piUars of the church,"
an expression which is said to have given great offence to his superioi-s.
After a life of piety and goodness, he died in 16 89, lamenting with his latest
breath, and with tears in his eyes, the overthro^v of that church Avhich he had
exerted himself so much to defend and establish. He said, he never had thought
to outlive the chui-ch of Scotland, but he hoped that others w ould live to see it
i-estored.

ARBUTHNOT, Alexander, an eminent divine of the reign of James VI., son
of the laird of Arbuthnot, was born in the year 1538. Having studied languages
and philosophy in the University of Aberdeen, and civil law under the famous
Cujacius at Bourges in France, he took ecclesiastical orders, and became in his
own country a zealous supporter of the Reformation. The period of his entrance
into life was 1563, when queen Mary was in possession of the kingdom. His
eminent abilities and acquirements pointed him out, young as he was, as a lead-
ing man in the church, and accordingly he took a prominent part in several
general assemblies. In that of 1568, he was appointed by his brethren to ex-
amine a work entitled " The Fall of the Roman Church," which was objected to
because it styled the king the head of the church. The result of his delibera-
tions was an order to Bassandyne, the printer, not to print any more books tiU
he had expunged tliis passage, and also taken away a lewd song ^vhich he had

68 JOHN ARBDTHNOT, M.D.

jtiiblislied at the eml of an editiim ol" llie I'saliiis. The asspiiiMy also ordered
that tioiiceforth no book should be p'iblisliol till licensed by tlicir coniniissioiu
"Thus," it has been remarked, " ibe relornied cleriry, ulio owed their emancipa-
tion to the right of private jiidgiiient, \\ilh strange inconsistency obstructed the
progress of free intjiiiry by taking upon themselves the regulation of the press."

Arbuthnot \vas soon after appointe«l minister of the parishes of /Vrbuthnot and
Logie-Buchan, and in 15()'J he bec;ime Principal of tlie University of Aberdeen.
He Mas a member of the General Assembly held at St Andrews in 1572, in
which strenuous opposition was made to a scheme of chuich-governmcnt, called
the '• Book of Policy," which Avas invented by certain statesmen, at the head o{
whom was the licgent ]Morton, to restore the old titles of the cluu-ch, and by
nieans of titular incumbents, retain all the temporalities among themselves. In
t!ie General Assemblies held at Edinbiu-gh in 1573 and 1577, Arbuthnot was
chosen 3Ioderator ; and he appears to have been constantly employed, on the
part of the church, in the conmiission for conducting the troublesome and tedious
contest with the Regency concerning the plan of ecclesiastical government to be
adopted in Scotland. This commission, under the name of the Congregation, at
length absorbed so much poAver, that the Assembly was left little to do but to
approve its resolutions. The part which Ai-buthnot took in these aftaii-s gave
olfence to James VI., and the offence was increased by the publication of Buch-
anan's Historj', of which Arbuthnot was the editor. It ^vas therefore resolved to
restrain him by an oppressive act of arbitrai-y power; and a royal order Mas
issued, forbidding him to absent himself from his college at Aberdeen. The
clergy, who saw that the design of this order was to deprive them of the benefit
of Arbuthnot's senices, remonstrated : the king, however, remained inflexible,
and the clergy submitted. This pei-secution probably affected Arbuthnot's health
and spirits; for, the next year, 15S3, he fell into a gradual decline and died.
Ai-buthnot appeai-s to have possessed much good sense and moderation, and to
have been well (jualified for public business. His knowledge was various and
extensive ; he was a patron of learning ; and at the same time that he was active
in promoting the interests of the Kefonued church, he contributed to the revival
of a taste for literature in Scotland. The only prose production ^vhich he haa
left, is a learned and elegant Latin work, entitled " Orationes de Ori"-ine et
Dignitate Juris," — [Orations on the Origin and Dignity of the Law,] which was
printed in 4to at Edinburgh in 1572. For some specimens of vernacular
poetiy, supposed to be his composition, Ave may refer to Ii-ving's Lives of the
Scottish Poets, and M'Crie's Life of Andi-ew 3Ielville. His character has received
a lasting eulogy, in the shape of an epitaph, from the pen of his friend Melville.
See Lelitids Foetarum Scotorum, ii. p. 120.

ARBUTHNOT, Joiix. M. D. one of the constellation of wits in the reign of
queen Anne, and the most learned man of the whole body, was the son of a
Scottish clei-gynian, who bore a near relationship to the noble family of this
name and title. He was born at Arbuthnot in Kincardineshire, soon after the
Restoration, and received his education at the University of Aberdeen, where he
took the degree of 3I.D. The father of Ai-bulhnot was one of those members of
the chui-ch of Scotland, who, not being able to comply with the presbjterian sys-
tem introduced at the Revolution, were obliged to resign their charo^es. He
retired to a small estate, which he possessed by inheritance ; while his sons, find-
ing their prospects blighted in their own countrj^ were under the necessity of
going abroad to seek their fortune. John cai-ried his jacobitism, his talents, and
His knowledge of physic, to London, where he at first subsisted as a teacher of
mathematics. His fii-st literary effort bore a reference to this science : it was an
" Examination of Dr Woodward's Account of the Deluoe," a work which had

JOHN AKBUTHNOT, M.D. 69

been published in lfi95, and which, in Dr Arbuthnot's estimation, was irrecon-
cilable with just pliilosophical reasoning- upon mathematical principles. Tliis
publication, which appeared in 1097, laid the foundation of the author's literary
reputation, which not long- after received a large and desened increase by Ida
" Essay on the usefulness of Mathematical Leai'ning-." The favoui* Avhich he ac-
quired by these publications, as well as by his agTeeable manners and learned
conversation, by degrees introduced him into practice as a physician. Being at
Epsom, when Prince George of Denmax'k ^vas suddenly taken ill, he was called
in, and had the good fortune to effect a cui-e. Ihe Prince immediately became
his patron, and, in 1709, he was appointed fom'th physician in ortlinary to the
queen, (prince Geoi'ge's royal consort,) in which situation he continued till her
majesty's death in 1714. In 1704, Dr Arbuthnot had been elected a member
of the Royal Society, in consequence of liis conununicating to that body a most
ingenious paper on the equality of the nmnbers of the sexes ; a fact which he
proved by tables of births trom 1629, and li-om which he deduced the reasonable
inference that polygamy is a violation of the laws of natui-e. In 171 0, he was
elected a member of the Koyal College of Physicians.

This was the happy period of Dr Arbuthnot's life. Toiy principles and tory
ministers were now triumphant ; he was in enjoyment of a high reputation, of a
lucrative practice, and a most honom-able prefennent. He also lived in constant
intcrcoui'se with a set of literary men, almost the greatest who had ever flourished
in England, and all of whom were of his own way of thinking- in regard to poli-
tics. This cu-cle included Pope, Swift, Gray, and Prior. In 1714, he engaged
Avith Pope and Swift, in a design to write a satire on the abuse of luunan learn-
ing in eveiy branch, which Avas to have been executed in the humorous manner
of Cei-vantes, the original inventor of this species of satire, under the history or
feigned adventures. But the prosecution of this design was prevented by the
queen's death, which lost Ai-buthnot his situation, and proved a death-blow to all
tlie political friends of the associated wits. In the dejection which befell them,
tliey never went farther than an essay, chiefly written by Arbuthnot, under the
title of the First Book of the Memoii-s of Martinus Saiblerus. " PoUte letters,"
says Warbuiton in his edition of Pope's Avorks, " never lost more than in the de-
feat of this scheme ; in the execution of which, each of this illustrious trimnvirate
would have found exercise for liis own pai-ticular talents ; besides constant em-
ployment for those which they all had in common. Dr Ai-buthnot was skilled
in eveiy thing which related to science; Mr Pope was a master in the fine arts;
and Di- Swift excelled in a knowledge of the world. AVit they had in equal
measuie ; and this so large, that no age perhaps ever produced three men to
whom Nature had more bountifully bestowed it, or Art had brought it to higher
perfection." We are told by the same writer that the Travels of Gulliver and
the Memoirs of a Parish Clerk were at fii-st intended as a branch of tlie Memoirs
of Scriblerus. In opposition to what Warbmton says of the design, we may pre-
sent what Johnson says of the execution. " These memoii-s," says the doctor, in
his life of Pope, " extend only to the first part of a work projected in concert
by Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot. Their purpose was to censure the abuses of
learning by a fictitious life of an infatuated scholar. They Avere dispersed : the
desig-n never Avas completed ; and Warbiulon laments its nuscarriage, as an event
very disastrous to polite lettei-s. If the Avhole may be estimated by this specimen,
which seems to be the production of Arbuthnot, Avith a fcAV touches by Pope, the
Avant of more will not be much lamented ; for the follies Avhich the A\riter ridi-
cules are so little practised, that they are not knOAvn ; nor can the satire be un-
derstood but by the learned. He raises phantoms of absurdity, and then drives
them away. He cm-es diseases that Avere never felt. For this reason, this joint

70 JOHN ARBUTHNOT, M.D.

production of three jjTeat writera has never attained any notice from mankind."
With the opinion of Ih- .loliiisim we entirely coincide, so far ;is llio Scrihlerus is
concerned ; but we think tliat Arlmtlinot was unfortunate in tin; part of tiie de
sign which ho selected, and tliat, in satirising more jialpable follies, lie might
have been more successful. The success of Swift, in ridiculing mankind in gene-
ral in his (iidliver is surely a sulhcient reason, if no other existed, for the lamen*
tiition of Warburton.

At the death of the Queen, when it pleased the new government to change aU
the attendants of the court, the immortal sulVored with the mortal ; Arbuthnot,
displaced from his apartments at St James's, took a liouse in Dover-street, remark-
ing philosophically to Swift, that he " hoped still to be able to keep a little habita-
tion warm in town." His circumstances were never so prosperous or agreeable
after this period. With the world at large, success makes merit — and the want
of it the reverse — and it is perhaps impossible for human natm-e to think so high-
ly of a man who has been improperly deprived of some external mark of distinc-
tion and honour, as of him who wears it without so mucli desert. The wit, left
to his own resources, and with a rising family to support, seems to have now lived
in some little embarrassment.

In 1717, Arbuthnot, along with Pope, gave assistance to Gay, in a farce enti-
tled, " Three Hours after Marriage," which, strange to say, was condemned the first
night. A rival wit wrote upon this subject : —

'' Such were the wags who boldly did adventure
To club a farce by tripartite adventure ;
But let them share their dividend of praise,
And wear their o\vn fool's cap instead of bays."

The failure is easily explained, and the explanation partly involves Arbuth-
not's character as a literary wit. The satire of the principal character was too
confined, too extravagant, and too uninteUigible to a general auditory to meet
•,vith success on the stage. It would thus appear that Arbuthnot, like many other
similar men, had too refined a style of wit in his writings — not that broad, open,
palpable humour which flashes at once upon the conceptions of all men, but
something too rich and rare to be generally appreciated. His learning led his
mind to objects not generally midei*stood or known ; and, therefore, when he
wrote, he was apt to excite the sympathies of only a very limited class.

In 17-2-2, Dr Ai-buthnot found it necessary for his health to indulge in a visit
to Bath. He was accompanied on this occasion by a brother, who Avas a banker
at Paris, and Avhose extraordinai*y character called forth the following striking
description from Pope: " The spirit of philanthropy, so long dead to our world,
seems revived in him : he is a philosopher all fii-e ; so warmly, nay so wildly,
in the right, that he forces all othei-s about him to be so too, and draws them
into his own vortex. He is a star that looks as if it were all on fire, but is all
benignity, all gentle and beneficial influence. If there be other men in the
world that would serve a friend, yet he is the only one, I believe, that could make
even an enemy serve a fi-iend." About this time, the Doctor thus described him-
self in a letter to Swift : " As for your hmnble servant, Avith a great stone in his
right Iddney, and a family of men and women to provide for, he is as cheerful
in public afiliirs as ever."

Arbuthnot, in 1723, was chosen second censor of the Royal College of Physi-
cians; in 1727, he was made an Elect, and had the honour to pronounce the Har-
veian oration for the year. In 1727, also appeared his great and learned work
entitled, " Tables of Ancient Coins, AVeights, and Measm-es, explained and exem-
plified in several Dissertations." He continued to practice physic with good re-
putation, and diverted his leisure hours by writing papers of wit and humour.

JOHN ARBUTHNOT, M.D. 71

Among these may be mentioned one, Mliich appeared in 1731, in the shape of
an epitaph upon the infamous colonel Charteris, and uhich ue shall present in
this place as perhaps the most favourable specimen of Dr Arbuthnot's peculiar
vein of talent : —

" Here continuetli to rot the body of Francis Charteris, who, witli an inflexi
ble constancy, and inimitable uniformity of life, persisted, in spite of age and in-
Hnnities, in the practice of every human vice; excepting prodigality and hypo-
crisy ; liis insatiable avarice exempted him from the first, his matchless impudence
from the second. Nor \vas he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his
manners, than successful in accumulating ^vealth ; for, Avithout trade or profession,
without trust of public money, and Avithout bribe-worthy service, he acquired, or
more properly created, a ministerial estate. He was the only person of his time,
who could cheat Avith the mask of honesty, retain his primeval meanness when
possessed often thousand a year, and, having daily deserved the gibbet for what
lie did, Avas at last condemned to it for what he coidd not do. — Oh! indignant
reader! Think not his life useless to mankind! Providence connived at his exe-
crable designs, to give to after ages a conspicuous proof and example of how small
estimation is exorbitant wealtli in the sight of God, by his bestowing it on the
most unworthy of all mortals."'

Arbuthnot, about this time, wrote a vei-y entertaining paper on the " Alterca-
tions or Scolding of the Ancients." In 1732, he contributed towards detecting
and punisliing the scandalous frauds and abuses that had been earned on under
the specious name of " The Charitable Corporation." In the same year, he pub-
lished his " Treatise on the Nature and Choice of Aliments," Avhich was followed,
in 1733, by his " Essay on the Efiects of Air on Hmnan Bodies." He is thought
to have been led to these subjects by the consideration of his own case ; an asth-
ma, which, gi-adually increasing with his years, became at length desperate and
incurable. A little before his last publication, he had met A\ith a severe domestic
affliction in the loss of his son, Charles, " whose life," he says in a letter to
Swift, " if it had so pleased God, he would willingly have redeemed with his
own." He now retired, in a state of great debility to Hampstead; from whence,
in a letter to Pope, July 1 7th, 1734, he gives the following philosophic, and we
may add, touching, account of his condition :

" I have little doubt of your concern for me, nor of that of the lady you men-
tion. I have nothing to repay my friends with at present, but prayers and good
wishes. I have the satisfaction to find that I am as officiously served by my
friends, as he that has thousands to leave in legades ; besides the assurance of
their sincerity. God Almighty had made my distress as easyas a thingof that
nature can be. I have fomid some relief, at least sometimes, from tiie air of this
place. My nights are bad, but many poor creatures have worse.

I This paragon of wickedness, who was a native of Scotland, is thus described by Pope,
hut, we believe, as in the epitaph itself, with much exaggeration. " Francis Charteris, a
man infamous for all vices. When he was an ensign in the army, he was drummed out
of the regiment for a cheat: he was banished Brussels, and turned out of Ghent on the
same account. After a hundred tricks at the gaming-tables, he took to lending of mont)-,
at exorbitant interest, and on great penalties, accumulating premium, interest, and capital
hito a new capital, and seizing to a minute when the payment became due; in a word, by
a constant attention to the vices, wants, and follies of mankind, he acquired an immense
fortune. * » » * * fjg ^.^^ twice condemned for rapes and par-

doned, but the last time not without imprisonment in Newgate, and large confiscations. He
died in Scotland, in 1731, aged 62. The populace, at his funeral, raised a great riot, almost
tore the body out of the coffin, and cast dead dogs, &c. in*o the grave along with it." We
may add, that the mourners had to defend themselves from the mob with their swords. See
Traditions of Edinburgh. One remarkable feature of Charteris' character is not generally
known: though a bully and a coward, he had his fighting days; he would suffer himself to
be kicked for refusing a challenge one day, and the next would accept another and kill his
man.

J

72 JOHN ARBUTHNOT, M.D.

"As Tor you, my jjood iViciul, I tliiiiU, siiico our (ii-sl a((|uaiiil;nir('. Uiere liave
not been any of those litlle suspicions or jonlousit's lliat oIltMi adect (he sin(;erest
friendships; I am sure not on my sich-. 1 must he so sincere as to own, that,
lliouyh I could not help vaiuiiiii>- you for lliose tah-nts which the worhl prizes,
yet they were not tlie foun.lation of my friendship ; tliey were <juite of another
sort; nor shall I at present olfcnd you l)y enwmeratinsj them; and! make it my
last request, that you will continue that nohle disdain and ahhonence of vice,
which you seem naturally endowed with, hut still with a due res»ard (o your own
safety ; and study more to relbrm than to chastise, though the one <-aniu)t be
eftccted without the other.

"Lord Ualhurst I have always honoured, for every good quality that a pci-son
of liis rank ought to have : pray, give my respects and kindest wislies to the fami-
ly. IMy venison stomach is gone, but 1 have those about me, and often with me,
who will be very glad of his present. If it is left at any liouse, it will be trans-
mitted safe to me.

" A recoveiy in my case, and at my age, is impossible ; the kindest wish of my
friends is entlianasia. Living ov dying, I shall always be, — Youi-s, &<%"

In .1 letter about the same time to Swift, he says he came to Ilampstead, not for
life, but for ease. That he had gained in a slight degree from riding ; but he was
" not in circumstances to live an idle country life ;" and he expected a return of
the disorder in full force on liis return in winter to London. He adds, " I am
at present in the case of a man that was almost in harbour, but was again blown
back to sea ; who has a reasonable hope of going to a good place, and an
absolute certainty of leaving a very bad one. Not that I have any particular
disgust at the world, for I have as gieat comfort in my own family, and from
the kindness of my friends, as any man ; but the world in the main displeaseth
me ; and I have too true a presentiment of calamities (hat are Hke to befall my
country. However, if I should have the happiness to see you before I die, you
will find that I enjoy the comforts of life with my usual cheerfulness. * * *
My family give you their love and sei-vice. The great loss I sustained in one of
them gave me my fii-st shock ; and the trouble I have with the rest, to bring them
to a good temper, to bear the loss of a father Avho loves them, and whom they
love, is really a most sensible affliction to me. I am afraid, my dear friend, we
shall never see one another more in this world. I shall, to tlie last moment, pre-
sei-ve my love and esteem for you, being well assured that you will never leave
the paths of virtue and honour for all that is in the world. This world is not
worth the least deviation from that way," &c. In such a strain did this truly
good man discourse of his own certain and immediate death, which accoi-dingly
took place, February, 1735, in his house, Cork-street, Burlington Gardens, to
Avhich he had returned from Hampstead at the approach of winter.

Ai-buthnot's character was given by his friend Swift in one dash : " He has
more wit than we all have, and more humanity than wit." " Arbuthnot," says
Dr Johnson in his life of Pope, " was a man of great comprehension, skil-
ful in his profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with ancient literature,
and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a bright and active imagination ;
a scholar with great brilliancy of wit; a wit, who, in the crowd of life, retained
and discovered a noble ardour of religious zeal." Lord Oireiy has thus entered
more minutely into his chai-acter. " Although he was justly celebrated for wit
and learning, there was an excellence in his character more amiable than all his
other qualifications, I mean the excellence of his heart, lie has shown himself
equal to any of his contemporaries in wit and vivacity, and he was superior to
most men in acts of humanity and benevolence. His very sarcasms are the sa-
tirical strokes of good nature : they are like slaps in the face, given in jest, the

JOHN AKBUTHNOT, M.D. 73

effects of Mhich may raise blushes, but no blackness will appear after the blow,
lie laughs as jovially as an attendant upon Bacchus, but continues as sober and
considerate as a disciple of Socrates. He is seldom serious except in his attacks
upon vice ; and then his spirit rises with a manly strength, and a noble indig-
nation. His epitaph upon Charteris (alloAving one small alteration, the word
permitted, instead of connived at,) is a complete and a masterly composition in
its Icind. No man exceeded him in the moral duties of life ; a merit stiU more
to his honour, as the ambitious powers of wit and genius are seldom submissive
enough to confine themselves within the limitations of morality. In his letter
to Mr Pope, written as it were upon his death-bed, he discovers such a noble
fortitude of mind at the approach of his dissolution, as could be inspii-ed only by
a clear conscience, and the calm retrospect of an uninterrupted series of virtue.
The Dean [Swift] laments the loss of him with a pathetic sincerity. ' The deaths
of Mr Gay and Doctor,' says he to Mr Pope, ' have been teiTible wounds near-
my heart. Tlieir living >vould have been a great comfort to me, although I
should never have seen them : like a sum of money in a bank, from which I
should i-eceive at least annual interest, as I do from you, and have done from
Lord Bolingbroke.' "

The wit, to which S^vift's was only allowed the second place, was accompanied
by a guileless heart, and the most perfect simplicity of character. It is related
of its possessor, that he used to Amte a humorous account of almost evex-y remarka-
ble event which fell under his obseiTation, in a folio book, which lay in his par-
lour ; but so careless was he about his writings after he was done with them, that,
while he was ^vxiting towards one end of this work, he would pei-mit his childi-en
to tear out the leaves from the other, for their paper kites. This carelessness
has prevented many of the works of Dr Arbuthnot from being preserved, and no
con-ect list has ever been given. A publication in two volumes, 8vo, at Glasgow,
in 1751, professing to be his " Miscellaneous Works," was said by his son to con-
sist chiefly of the compositions of other people. He was so much in the habit of
writing occasional pieces anonymously, that many fugitive articles were erro-
neously attributed to him : he was at first supposed to be the author of Robinson
Crusoe. He scai'cely ever spoke of his ^vritings, or seemed to take the least in-
terest in them. He was also somewhat indolent. Swift said of him, that he
seemed at first sight to have no fault, but that he could not walk. In addition
to this, he had too much simplicity and worth to profit by the expedients of life :
in Swift's words,

" He knew his art, but not his trade."
Swift also must be considered as insinuating a certain levity of feeling, with all
his goodness, when he says, in anticipation of his own death,

" Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay

A week, and Arbuthnot a day!''

though the habitual cheerfulness of his disposition may have been all that the poet
iiad in his eye. Tlie only other work ascertained as Arbuthnot's, besides those
mentioned, is the celebrated History of John Bidl, a political allegory, which has
had many imitations, but no ecjuaL He also attempted poetry, though without
any particular effort. A philosophical poem of his composition, entitled,
" FNnei 2EATT0N," [Know Yourself] is printed in Dodsley's Miscellanies.
He left a son, George, who was an executor in Pope's will, and who died in the
enjoyment of a lucrative situation in the Exchequer ofiice towards the end of
the last centui-y ; and a daughter, Anne, who was honoured with a legacy by
Pope. His second son, Charles, who died before himself, had been educated in
Christ church college, Oxford, and entered into holy orders.
I. K.

74 JOHN AimSTllOiNG, M.D.

A113ISTR0NG, John, M.l). author of the well-known poem, entitled, '• The
Art of I'reseiTiiijf Moallh," was born, about 170!), in tlio parish of Cjistleton,
Iloxburirlisliire, uhcre his fitli'M- and brother were siu-cessively ministers, lie
iniglit almost be styled a pout by ri-^ht of birtii-pl.u;e, for tlio parish of Castleton
is simply the rc<rion of Liddcsdalo, so renowned for its lioroic lays, the
records of deeds perfonui'd by the biirder rievers, among whom the family
of the poet bore a distinguished ranlt. The rude and predatoi-y character
of this district had, however, passed away before the cominencement of the
eighteenth centin-y; and young Armstrong, though his lullabies were no doubt
those fuie old balLids which have since been published by Sir Walter Scf)tt,
seems to have drawn from them but little of his inspiration. It was as yet
the f. Lshion to look upon legentLiry verses as only fit for nurses and children ;
and nothing was tliought worthy of the term poetry, unless it were presented in
trim artificial language, after the manner of some distinguished classic writer.
It is therefore by no means surprising, that Amistrong, though born and cradled
in a land full of beautiful traditionary poetiy, looked upon it all, after he had
become an educated man, as only Doric trash, and found his Tempo in the bower.,
of Twickenham instead of the lonely heaths of Liddesdale.

The only allusion to his native scene is to be found in the following pasoage
of "Tlie Art of Preserving Health;" a wanii and elegant apostrophe, and no
doubt testifying his affectionate recollection of

■ the school -boy spot,

We ne'er forget, though there wo are forgot, —
but still deficient in characteristic painting, and unpardonably so in its total si-
lence as to the romantic history of the country, and its spii-itr^tirring ballatls.

But if the breathless chase o'er hill and dale

Exceed your strength, a sport of less fatigue.

Not less delightful, the prolific stream

Affords. The chrystal riviUet that o'er

A stony channel rolls its rapid surge,

Swarms with the silver frj'. Such, through the bounds

Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent ;

Such Eden, sprung from Cumbrian mountains, such

The Esk o'erhung with woods : and such the stream,

On whose Arcadian banks I first drew air,

Liddal, till now, except in Doric lays

Tuned to her murmurs by her love-sick swains,

Unknown in song: though not a purer stream,

Through woods more flowerj-, more romantic groves,

Rolls toward the western main. Hail, sacred llood !

May still thy hospitable swaius be blest

In rund innocence; thy mountains still

Teem with the fleecy race ; th)' tuneful woods

For ever flourish ; and thy vales look gay

With painted meadows, and the golden grain !

Oft with thy blooming sons, when life was new,

Sportive and petulant, and charmed with toys,

In thy transparent eddies have 1 laved :

Oft traced \vith patient steps thy fairy bai^ks,

With the well-imitated fly to hook

The eager trout, and with the slender line

And yielding rod solicit to the shore

The struggling panting prey ; while vernal cloudi —

And tepid gales obscured the ruffled pool.

And from the deeps called forth the waaton swarms.

JOHN ARMSTRONG, M.B. 75

How different would have been the allusions of a Leyden or a Scott to tlo
land of Jocic o' the Side and Hobbie Noble !

Annstrong was educated for the medical profession at the university of Edin-
burgh, under the elder fiiouro. In 1732, he took his degrees as M. D. with
much reputation, the subject of his treatise being Tabes Purulenta. He had
ere this pei'iod addicted Iiiniself to the composition of verses. We are inform-
ed, tliat, to relieve the tedium of a Avinter spent in " a wild romantic country "
— probably Liddesdale — he wrote what he intended for an inutation of Shak-
speare, but «hich turned out to resemble rather tlie poem of " Winter," then
just published by Thomson. The bard of the Seasons, hearing of this composi-
tion, which so strangely and so accidentally resembled his own, procured a sight
of it by means of a mutual friend, and, being much pleased with it, brought it
under the notice of Mr David Mallet, Mr Aaron Hill, and Dr Young, all ol
whom joined with him in thinking it a \vork of genius. Mallet even requested
the consent of the author to its publication, and undertook that duty, though
he afterwards gave up the design.

Ai-mstrong- was probably led by this flattering circumstance to try his fortune
in London, where his countrymen Thomson and Mallet had already gained
literary distinction. In 1735, he is found publishing, in that capital, a humoi*-
ous attack upon empirics, in tlie manner of Lucian, entitled, " An Essay for
abridging the study of physic, to which is added, A Dialogue betuixt Hygeia,
Mercury, and Pluto, relating to the Practice of Physic, as it is managed by a
certain illustrious Society ; and an Epistle from Usbeck the Persian to Joshua
Ward, Esq." The essay, besides its sarcastic remarks on quacks and quackeiy,
contains many allusions to the neglect of medical education among the practis-
ing apothecaries ; but the author had exhausted his Avit in it, and the dialogue
and epistle are consequently flat and insipid. In 1737, lie published a serious
l>rofessional piece, styled, " A Synopsis of the History and Cure of the Venereal
Disease," Svo., inscribed in an ingenious dedication to Dr Alexander Stuart, as
to " a person who had an indisputable right to judge sevei-ely of the perform-
ance presented to him." He probably designed the work as an introduction to
practice in this branch of the medical profession ; but it was unfortunately followed
by his poem, entitled, "The Qiconomy of Love," which, though said to have been
designed as merely a burlesque upon certain didactic wxitei's, was justly condemn-
ed for its warm and alluring pictures, and its tendency to inflame the passions
of youth. It appears by one of the " Cases of Literai-y Property," that Andi-ew
Millar, the bookseller, paid fifty pounds for the copy-right of this poem ; a sum
ill-gained, for the work greatly diminished the reputation of the author. After
at had passed through many editions, he published one, in 1768, in which
tiie youthful luxuriances that had given offence to better minds were carefully
^>runed.

In 1744, Dr Armstrong made some amends for this indiscretion, by publish-
ing " The Art of Preserving Health," a didactic poem in blank verse, extending
through four boolvs, each of which contains a pailicular branch of the subject
This very meritorious work raised his reputation to a height which his subsequen'
efforts scarcely sustained. It is AVi-itten in a taste which Avould not now be con
sidered very pure, or elegant ; but yet, when the subject and the age are con-
sidered, there is amazingly little to be condemned. Dr Warton has justly
remarked the refined tenns in which the poet, at the end of his third book, has
described an English plague of the fifteenth centuiy, entitled, " The Sweating
Sickness." " There is a classical coirectness and closeness of style in this poem,"
says Dr Warton, " that are truly admirable, and the subject is raised and adorned
by numberless poetical images." Dr Mackenzie, in his History of Health, be-

70 JOHN ARMSTRONG, M.D.

slouTil similar jmiises on tliis jMXiiii, uliicli w.is iiulettl evci^j where read .ami
niliiiircd.

In 1711, Annstronu sdlicilod tli<! jcrtionacfe of l)r liirch, to he appointed
physician to ilie Ih-et, tlion about to Kiil for the West Indies; but he does not
seem to liave olitaiiie<l (he object of his desire. In 174(), wlien established in
reputiition by his Ail of l'roservin<( Health, he was appointed one of the physi-
cians to tlie liospiLil for lame and sick soldiers behind Huckingliaiii house. In
1751, he piiblislied his poem on "Benevolence," in folio, a production wliich
seems to liave come from the heart, and contains sentiments which could have
been expressed with eipiiJ ardour only by one who felt them. His " 'I'jiste, an
epistle to a youn<j cxitic," 1753, 4to, is a lively and s])irited imitation of I'ope,
and the tii-st production in which iVi-mstrong began to view men and manners
with a splenetic eye.

His next work was less meritorious. It was entitled " Sketches or Essays on
various subjects," and appeared under the fictitious name of Lancelot Temple,
Esq, The critical examinators of Dr Anustrong's merits allow to this work the
credit of exhibiting much humour and knowledge of the world, but find it de-
formed by a perpetual How of afl'ectation, a struggle to say smart things, and,
above all, a disgiisting repetition of vulgar oaths and exclamations — fonns of ex-
pression to which the poet, it seems, was also much addicted in convei-sation. In
some of these sketches, Armstrong is said to have had assistance from the noto-
rious John Wilkes, with whom he lived in habits of intimacy ; but it is certain
that the contributions of this gentleman cannot have been gx'eat, as the work is
much inferior to the literai-y style of tlie demagogue of Aylesbury, who, what-
ever might be his moral failings, is allowed to have had a chaste classical tasto,
and a pure vein of humoui'.

Ai-mstrong had sutlicient professional interest in 1760, to obtain the ap-
pointment of physician to the army in Gennany. PVom that country he wrote
"Day, a poem," addi-essed as an Epistle to John Wilkes, Esq. This lively
piece, \vhich professes to embody an account of all the proper indulgences, moral
and physical, of twenty-four hours, was, it is said, published in an imperfect
shape, by some clandestine editor. It was never added to the collected works of
Dr Armstrong, till Dr Anderson admitted it into his edition of the British Poets.
After the peace of 17G3, Dr iVi-mstrong retui-ned to London, and resumed his
practice, but with no eager desire of increasing the moderate competency he now
enjoyed. He continued after this period rather to amuse than to exert himself
in literary productions, chiefly spending his time in the society of men of wit
and taste like himself. In 1771, he made a tour into Erance and Italy, in
company with the C/clebiated Fuseli, who survived liim for nearly fifty years, and
always spoke highly of Dr Armstrong's amiable character. In Italy he took a
tender farewell of his friend Smollett, to whom he was much attached, and who
died soon after. On returning home, he published an account of his travels,
under the name of Lancelot Temple.

The latter yeoi-s of Dr Aniistrong's life were embittered by one of those quar-
rels which, arising between pei-sons fonnerly much attached, are at once the most
envenomed, and the most productive of uneasiness to the parties. In his poem
of Dai/, he had asked, among other things,

" What crazy scribbler reigns the present wit ?"

which the poet Churchill very properly took to himself, and resented in the fol-
lowing passage in his poem of " The Journey :"

Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of sense,
Read mustj' lectures on Benevolence ;

JOHN ARMSTRONG, M.D.

77

Or con the pages of his gaping Day,i

Where all his former fame was thrown away.

Where all but barren labour was forgot,

And the vain stiffness of a lettered Scot;

Let them with Armstrong pass the term of light,

But not one hour of darkness ; when the night

Suspends this mortal coil, when memory wakes.

When for our past misdoings conscience takes

A deep revenge, when by reflection led

She draws his curtains, and looks comfort dead.

Let every muse be gone ; in vain he turns.

And tries to pray for sleep ; an iEtna burns,

A more than ^tna in his coward breast.

And guilt, with vengeance armed, forbids to rest ;

Though soft as plumage from young Zephyr's wing

His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring-,

Ingratitude hath planted daggers there,

No good man can deserve, no brave man bear.

We have no hesitation in saying that this severe satii'e was not justified either by
the olTeuce which called it forth, or by the circumstances on which it was found-
ed. Wilkes, the associate of Churcliill, had lent money to Armstrong on some
occasion of peculiar distress. When the attacks of Wilkes upon Scotland led to
animosities between the two friends, it was not to be expected that the I'ecollec-
tion of a former obligation was necessarily to tie up the natuival feelings of Dr
Ax'mstrong, and induce him to submit rather to the certain charge of meanness of
spirit, than the possible imputation of ingi-atitude. Neither could Wilkes have fairly
expected that the natural course of the quarrel was to be stayed by such a sub-
mission on the part of his former friend. It would have been equally mean for
the obliged party to have tendered, and for the obliging party to have accepted such
a submission. There can be no doubt, therefore, that Dr Armstrong, in giving
(vay to resentment against Wilkes, was chargeable, properly, with no blame ex-
cept that of giving way to resentment ; and if it is to be supposed, from the
character of the poet in respect of irritability, that the resentment would have
talten place whether there had been a debt of kindness standing undischarged
between the parties or not, we cannot really see ho^v this contingent circumstance
can enhance his offence.

There is unfortunately too great reason to suppose, that, if the obligation tend-
ed to increase the blame of either party, it was that of Willces, who, from almost
incontestable evidence, appears to have made a most ungenerous use of the ad-
vantage he had acquired over his former friend. Not only must he bear a por-
tion of the guilt of Churchill's satire, which could have only been ^vritten as a
transcript of his feelings, and mth his sanction, but he stands almost certainly
guilty of a still more direct and scurrilous attack upon Dr Armstrong, which ap-
peai'ed in a much more insidious fonn. This was a series of articles in the well
known Public Advertiser, commencing with a letter signed Dies, which appeared
to proceed from an enemy of the patriot, but, in the opinion of Dr Armstrong,
was written by the patriot himself :

" He [Willces]," says this writer, " always took more delight in exposing his
friends than in hurting his enemies. I am assured that a very worthy and in-
genious friend of tliis impostor trusted liim with a jeu d'esprit of a poem, incor-
rect indeed, but which bore every mark of a true, though ungoverned genius.
This poem, rough as it was, he can-ied to A. Millar, late bookseller in the Strand.

1 This poem was full of large hiatus supplied by asterisks.

78 JOHN ARMSTRONG, M.D.

and published it in his friend's name, without ]iis knowledge. Tliis is a faa,
I\L' rrinter; therefore, I think, 3Ir W. should let alone Scotch ^Titers."

Occasion was taken in the next day's publication to give a refutation of this
pretended attack, in the follo\vin<:>' tenus :

" Your correspondent. Sir, is j)leased to appeal to a dead bookseller, I appeal
to the living- author, no*v in London, lie desired the poem niiglit be published:
it was written for the jtublic eye : ho directed the bookseller to call on I\lr W.
tor the copy. The bookseller produced his credentials, under the author's own
hand, upon which Mr W. gave him the manuscript of the poem. It was after-
wards published in the kindest way for the author's reputation, as a Frayment.
I believe he will not choose to restore the passages, which were omitted in the
first edition of 17G0. When he docs, the kindness, and perhaps the judgment
of the editor will appear, I am told, in a veiy strong and favourable light '1 he
])oem was not published till tlie bookseller had received a second positive order
for that pui-pose, from tlie author, after several objections to the publication had
been transmitted to him in Germany, and amendments made by himself. It was
a favourite child not Avithout merit, although scarcely so much as the fond father
imagined. Mr Chui-chill wTOte the four following lines on that poem, which
were never forgiven. They are in the Journey.

' Or con the pages of !iis gaping Dat/,

Where all his former fame was thrown away,

Where all but barren labour was forgot,

And the vain stiffness of a letter d Scot.' Truth."

A week after, a letter signed '-Nox," in the same tone with that signed
" Truth," appeared in the Public Advertiser. It is impossible to doubt that Mr
Wilkes was at the bottom of the Avhole plot, and either Avrote the letters himsell
or employed his triend Churchill to do so."

2 This more particularly appears from the report of a conversation which took place on
the 7th of April, between Dr Armstrong and Mr Wilkes, which appears to have been
noted down on the same day by the latter, and was published in the Gentleman's Maga-
zine, for 1792, thirteen years after the o'eath of Dr Armstrong.

The incensed poet entered his former friend's lodgings, in Prince's Court, and, without
the least ceremonial or compliment, commenced the following dialogue — which, as a curious
piece of literary history, we have given entire:—

Dr Armstrong. Uid you, Sir, write the letters in the Public Advertiser?

Mr Wilkes. What letters do you mean. Doctor? There are many letters almost every
day in the Public Advertiser.

Dr A. Sir, I mean the three letters about me, and Daiy, Daj', Sir.

Mr W. You may ask the printer, Mr Woodfall. He has my orders to name ino
whenever he thinks it proper, as the author of every thing 1 write in his paper.

Dr. A. 1 believe you wrote all those letters.

Mr. W. What all three, Doctor ? I am very roughly treated in one of them, in the first
signed Dies.

Dr. A. I believe you wrote that to bring on the controversy. I am almost sure of it.

Mr. IV. 1 hope you are truly informal in other things. I know better than to abuse
myself in that manner, and I pity the author of such wretched stuff.

Dr A. Did you write the other letters, Sir?

Mr W. The proper person to inquire of, is Mr Woodfall. I will not arutver inferrnga-
lories. My time would pass in a strange manner, if I waste answer every question wJiich
any gentleman chose to put to me about anonymous letters.

Dr A. Whoever has abused me. Sir, is a villain ; and your endeavours, Sir, to set Scot-
land and England together are very bad.

Mr W. The Scots have done that thoroughly, Doctor, by theirconduct here, particularly
by their own nationality and the outrages of Lord Bute to so many English families.
Whenever you think propei* to call upon me in particular as a gentleman, you will find me
most ready to answer the call.

Dr A. D n Lord Bute! It had been better for Scotland he had never been bom.

He has done iis infinite mischief.

Mr W. And us too; but 1 suppose we are not met for a dish of politics?

Dr A. No ; but I wish tliere had been no union. 1 am sure England is the gainer b)^ it

Mr W. 1 will not make an essay on the advantages and disadvantages of tae union.

JOHN ARMSTRONG, M.D, 70

Annsti'ong died at his house in Russel Street, Covent Garden, September 7,
1779, in consequence of an accidental contusion in his thigh, received while
getting into a carriage. He was found, to the surprise of the world, to have
saved the sum of £ 2000 out of his moderate income, which for many years had
consisted of nothing more than his half-pay.

Dr Ai'mstrong was nmch beloved and respected by his friends for his gentle
and amiable dispositions, as well as his extensive knowledge and abilities ; but
a kind of morbid sensibility preyed upon his temper, and a languid listlessness
too frequently interrupted his intellectual eflbrts. With Tliomson's Castle of

Dr A. I liate politics ; but I have been ill used by you, Dr Wilkes, on the occasion.

Mr W . On the contrar}-, Doctor, I was the injured friend.

Dr A. I thought you lor many years the most amiable friend in the world, and loved
your company the most; but you distinguished yourself by grossly abusing wi^ country
men in ilie North Biilon — although I never read much of that paper.

Mr W. You passed your time, 1 am satisfied, mudi better, \^■ho told you, Doctor, what
particular numbers I wrote? It is droll, but the bitterest of these papers, which was attri-
buted to me, was a description of Scotland, first printed in the last century, on Charles I.'s
return from thence in 1633. Were you ever. Doctor, personally attacked by me ? Were
you not, alfhouith a Scotsman, at the very time of the North Briton, complimented by me,
in cimjunction with Churchill, in the best thing I wrote, the mock ' Dedication to Moni-
mer ?

Dr A. To be praised along with such a writer, I think an abuse.

Mr W. The world thinks far otherwise of that wonderful genius Churchill; but you,
Doctor, have sacrificed private friendship at the altar of politics. After many years of mu-
tual intercourse of good offices, you broke every tie of friendship with me on no pretence
hut a suspicion, for you did not ask for proof, of my having abused your country, that coun-
tiy I have for ) ears together heard you inveigh against, in the bitterest terms, for nasliness
anil iioiionnlili/.

Dr A. 1 only did it in joke, Sir ; you did it with bitterness ; but it was my country.

Mr W. No man has abused England so much as Shakspeare, or France so mudi as
Voltaire; yet they remain the favourites of two great nations, conscious of their own supe-
riority. \Vere you, Doctor, attacked by me in any one instance? Was not the most
friendly correspondence carried on with you the whole time, till you broke it off by a letter,
in 1763, in which you declared to me, that you could not with honour associate with one
who had distinguished himself by abusing your country, and that you remained with all due
sincenty ? I remember that was the stiange phrase.

Dr A. You never answered that letter. Sir.
■ Mr W, What answer could I give you. Doctor? You had put a period to the inter-
course between us. I still continued to our common friends to speak of you in terms of
respect, while you weie grossly abusing me. You said to Boswell, Millar, and others, " I
hope there is a hell, that Wilkes may lie in it."

Dr A. In a pasl^ion I might say so. People do not often speak their minds in a passion.

Mr W. I thousht they generally did, Doctor !

Dr A. 1 was thoroughlj' provoked, although I still acknowledge my great pecuniary
obligations to -(ou— although, 1 dare say, 1 would have got the money elsewhere.

Mr W. I was always happy to render a ou every sen ice in my power; and 1 bttle ima-
gined a liberal mind, like yours, could have been worked up by designing men to write me
such a letter in answer to an alfeetionate one 1 sent you, in the prospect of jour return.

Dr A. I was happier with you than any man in the world for a great many years, and
complimented you not a little in the Day, and you did not write to me for a year and a half
after that.

Mr W. Your memoiy does not serve you faithfullj', Doctor. In three or four months
at farthest, you had two or three letters from me togetlier,on your return to the head-quar-
ters of the army. I am abused in Dies for that publication, and the manner, both of which
you approA ed.

Dr A. I did so.

Mr W. I was abused at first, I am told, in the manuscript o£ Dies, for having sold the
copy, and put the mone. in my pocket ; but that charge was suppressed in the printed letter.

Dr A. I know nothing of that, and will do you justice.

Mr W. Will you call upon Mr D , our common friend, your countryman, and ask

him what he thinks of your conduct io me, if it has not been wholly unjustifiable?

Dr A. Have I your leave to ask I\Ir Woodfall in your name about ihe letters ?

Mr W. I have already told you. Doctor, what directions he has from me. Take four-
and-twenty hours to consider what you have to do, and let me know the. n sua.

Dr A. 1 am sorry to have taken up so much of your time. Sir.

M^- V/. It stands in no need of an apology, Doctor. 1 am glad to see you. Good mor-
row

N.B. These minutes were taken down the same afternooi;, and sent to a friend.

80 HUGO ARNOT.

Indolence lie is appropriately connected, both as a fiji^iire in tlie piec^e and as a
contributor to tlie verse. The following is liis portraiture : —

With liini was sometimes joined in silent walk,

(Pripfciunclly silent — for tliey never spoke)
One shyer si ill, who quite detested t;ilk;

Oft slung by spleen, at once away lie broke,
'I'o ffroves of i)lne, and broad o'ershadowing (jak,

'I'liere, inly thrilled, he wandered all alone,
And on himself his pensive fury wroke :

He never uttered word, save, when first shone
The glittering star of eve — " Thank heaven ! the day is done ! "'

His contributions consist of four stanzas descriptive of the diseases to \\hi<;h liio
votaries of indolence finally become martyrs.

The rank of Dr Armstrong as a poet is fixed by his Art of Presei-ving Heallli,
which is allowed to be among the best didactic poems in the language. It is
true, this species of poetry w.ts never considered among the highest, nor has it
been able to retain its place among the tasti's of a modern and more refined age.
Armstrong, however, in having improved upon a mode of composition fashionable
in his own time, must still be allowed considerable praise. " His style," acconl-
ing to the judgment of Dr Aikin, " is distinguished by its simplicity — by a free
use of words which owe their strength to their plainness — by the rejection of
ambitious ornaments, and a near approach to common phraseology. His sen-
tences are generally short and easy ; his sense clear and obvious. The full
extent of his conceptions is taken in at the fii-st glance ; and there are no lofty
mysteries to be unravelled by a repeated perusaL What keeps his language
from being prosaic, is the vigour of his sentiments. He thinks boldly, feels
strongly, and therefore expresses himself poetically. When the subject sinks,
his style sinks ivith it ; but he has for the most part excluded topics incapable
either of vivid description, or of the oratory of sentiment. He had from natme
a musical ear, ^vhence his lines are scarcely ever harsh, though apparently with-
out much study to render them smooth. On the whole, it may not be too nmcli
to assert, that no writer in blank verse can be found more free from stifiiiess and
affectation, more energetic without harshness, and more dignified without
formality."

ARNOT, Hugo, a historical and antiquarian winter of the eighteenth century,
was the son of a merchant and ship-proprietor at Leith, where he was born,
December 8th, 1749. His name originally was Pollock, which he changed in
early life for Arnot, on falling heir, through his mother, to the estate of Balcor-
mo in Fife. As " Hugo Arnot of Balconuo, Esq.," he is entered as a member
of the Facidty of Advocates, December 5, 1772, when just about to complete his
twenty-third year. Previous to this period, he had had the misfortune to lose his
father. Another evil Avhich befell him in early life was a settled asthma, the
result of a severe cold which he caught in his fifteenth year. As this disorder
was always aggi-avated by exertion of any Idnd, it became a serious obstruction
to his progress at the bar : some of his pleadings, nevertheless, were much ad-
mired, and obtained for him the applause of the bench. Perhaps it was this
interruption of his professional career which caused him to tmn his attention to
literatiu-e. In 1779, appeared his " History of Edinburgh," 1 vol., 4to. a work
of much research, and greatly superior in a literary point of view to the gene-
rality of local works. The style of the historical part is elegant and epigram-
matic, Avith a vein of causticity highly characteristic of the author. From this
elaborate work the author is said to have only realized a few pounds of profit ;
a piratical impression, at less than half the price, was published almost simiil-

HUGO ARNOT. 81

tnneously at Dublin, and, being shipped over to Scotland in gi-eat quantities,
completely threw the author's edition out of the market. A bookseller''s .second
edition, as it is called, appeared after the author's death, being simply tlie re-
mainder of the former stock, embellished with plates, and enlarged by some
additions from the pen of the publisher, Mr Creech. Another edition was pub-
lished in 8vo, in 1817. Mi* Arnot seems to have now lived on teniis of literary
oquality with those distinguished literary and professional characters who were
ids fellow-townsmen and contemporaries. He did not, however, for some yeai-s
publish any other considerable or acknowledged work. He devoted his mind
chiefly to local subjects, and sent forth numerous pamphlets and newspaper
essays, which had a considerable eft'ect in accelerating or promoting the erec-
tion of vai-ious public worlds. Tlie exertions of a man of his public spirit and
enlarged mind, at a time when the capital of Scotland was undergoing such a
thorough renovation and improvement, must have been of material service to the
(Community, both of that and of all succeeding ages. Such they were acknow-
ledged to be by the magistrates, who bestowed upon him the freedom of the city.
We are told that Mr Arnot, by means of his influence in local matters, was able
to retard the erection of the South Bridc/e of Edinburgh for ten years — not
that he objected to such an obvious improvement on its own account, but only
in so far as the magistrates could devise no other method for defraying the ex-
pense than by a tax upon carters ; a mode of liquidating it, which Blr Aniot
thought grossly oppressive, as it fell in the first place upon the poor. He also
was the means of preventing for several years the formation of tlie present splen«
did road between Edinburgh and Leith, on account of the proposed plan (which
was afterwards unhappily earned into effect,) of defraying the expense by a toll;
being convinced, from what he knew of local authorities, that, if such an exac-
tion were once established, it would always, on some pretext or other, be kept up.
In 17 85, Mr Ai-not published "A Collection of Celebrated Criminal Trials in Scot-
land, with Historical and Critical Remarks," 1 vol. 4to.; a Avork of perhaps even
gi-eater research than his history of Edinburgh, and written in the same acutely
metaphysical and epigrammatic style. In the ft-ont of this volume appears a
large list of subscribers, embracing almost all the eminent and considerable per-
sons in Scotland, with many of those in England, and testiiying of course to the
literaiy and personal respectability of Mr Arnot. This work appeared without
a publisher's name, probably for some reason connected with the following cir-
cumstance. Owing perhaps to the unwillingness of the author to allow a sufii-
cient profit to the booksellers, the \vhole body of that trade in Edinburgh refus-
ed to let the subscription papers and prospectuses hang in their shops ; for which
reason the author announced, by means of an advertisement in the newspapers,
that these articles might be seen in the coffee-houses. Mr Arnot received the
sum of six hundi'ed pounds for the copies sold of this Avork, from which he would
have to pay the expenses of printing a thin quarto : it thus happened that what
was rather the least laborious of his two works, was the most pi-ofitable. Mr
Arnot only survived the publication of his Criminal Trials about a twelvemonth.
Tlie asthma had ever since his fifteenth year been making rapid advances upon
him, and his person was now reduced almost to a shadow. While still young,
he carried all the marks of age, and accordingly the traditionary recollections of
the historian of Edinburgh always point to a man in the extreme of life. Per-
haps nothing could indicate more expressively the miserable state to which Mr
Arnot was reduced by this disease, than his own half-ludicrous, half-pathetic ex-
clamation, on being annoyed by the bawling of a man selling sand on the
streets : " The rascal !" cried the unfortunate invalid, " he spends as nmch
breath in a minute as would serve me for a month !" Among the portraits and

82 HUGO A KNOT.

) ancitiiires of the well known John Kay, may be found several faithful, thou<::;h
somewlint exag^jeraled. memorials of Ihe emaciatod person of lliijjo Arnot. As
a natural constitutional result of this disease, he w;is exceedinijly iiervoua, and
liable to be discomposed by the slii^htest annoyances : on the other hand, ho
possessed such ardour and intrepidity of mind, that in youth he once rode on a
spirited horse to the end of the pier of Leilh, while the w.ives were dasliing over
it and evei-y beholder expected to see him washed innnedintely into the sea !
On another occasion, liavlng excited some hostility by a pcditiciil pamphlet, and
being summoned by an anonymous foe to appear at a particular hour in a lonely
part of the King's I'ark, in order to fight, lie went and waited four hours on the
spot, thus perilling his life in what might liave been the amimscade of a deadly
enemy. By means of the same fortitude of character, he beheld the gradual
approach of death with all the calmness of a Stoic philosopher. The magistrates
of Leith had acknowledged some of his public services, by the ominous compli-
ment of a piece of ground in their church-yard; and it was the recreation of
the last weeks of IMr Ai-not's life to go evei-y day to observe the progi-ess made
by the workmen in preparing this place for his own reception. It is related
that he even expressed considerable anxiety lest his demise should take place
before the melancholy work should be completed. He died, November 20th,
178(i, when on the point of completing his 37th year; that age so fatal to men
of genius that it may almost be styled their climacteric. He was interred in
the tomb fitted up by hinxself at South Leith. Besides his historical and local
works, he had published, in 1777, a fanciful metaphysical treatise, entitled,
" Nothing," which was originally a paper read before a well-known debating-
club styled the Speculative Society; being probably suggested to him by the
poem of the Earl of Rochester on the equally impalpable subject of Silence.
If any disagi'eeable reflection can rest on Mr Arnot's niemoi7 for the free scope ho
has given to his mind in this little essay — a freedom sanctioned, if not excused,
by the taste of the age — he must be held to have made all the amends in his
power by the propriety of his deportment in later life; when he entered hear-
tily and regularly into the observances of the Scottish episcopal communion, to
which he originally belonged. If Mr Ai-not was any thing decidedly in poli-
tics, he was a Jacobite, to which party he belonged by descent and by rehgion,
and also pex-haps by virtue of his own peculiar turn of mind. In modern poli-
tics, he was quite independent, judging all men and all measures by no other
standard than their respective merits. In his professional character, he was
animated by a chivalrous sentiment of honour worthy of all admiration. He
was so little of a casuist, that he would never undei-take a case, unless he were
perfectly self-satisfied as to its justice and legaUty. He had often occasion to
refuse employment which fell beneath his own standard of honesty, though it
might have been profitable, and attended by not the slightest shade of disgrace.
On a case being once brought before him, of the merits of wliich he had an ex-
ceedingly bad opinion, he said tn the intending litigant, in a serious manner,
" Pray, what do you suppose me to bo ?" " Why," answered the client, " I un-
dei-stand you to be a lawyer." " I thought, Sir," said Arnot sternly, " you took
me for a scoundrel." The litigant, though he perhaps thought that the major in-
cluded the minor proposition, withdre^v abashed. Mr xVx-not left eight children, all
very young ; and the talent of the family appears to have revived Tn a new genera-
tion, viz., in the person of his grandson, Dr David Boswell Reid, whose " Elements
of Chemistry " has taken its place amongst the most useful treatises on the science, and
who was selected by Government, on account of his practical skill, to plan and super-
intend the ventilation of the new houses of parliament, in the prosecution of which
object he has for several years been conducting the most costly and prolonged, if
not the most successful, experiment of the kind ever made.

SIR ROBERT AYTON. 83

AYTON, (Sir) Robert, an eminent poet at the court of James VI., ivas a
vouno-er son of Andi-ew Ayton of Kinaldie, in Fife, and was horn in the year
1570. From the Registers of St Andrews University, it appears that he was
incorporated or enrolled as a student in St Leonai-d's Colfej^e, Decemher 3,
1581, and took his master's degi-ee, after the usual course cf study, in the year
1588, Subsequently to this, he resided for some time in France; whence, in
1003, he addi-essed an elegant panegyric in Latin verse, to king James, on his
accession to the crown of England, which was printed at Paris the same year ;
and this panegyric had, no doubt, some infiaence in securing to the author the
favour of that monarch, by Avhom he was successively appointed one of the gen-
tlemen of the bed-chamber, and private secretary to his queen, Anne of Denmark,
besides receiving the honour of knighthood. He was, at a later period of his
life, honom-ed with the appointment of secretai-y to Henrietta Blaria, queen
of Charles I. It is recorded on Ayton's funeral monument, as a distinction, that
he had been sent to (iennany as ambassador to the Emperor, with a work pub-
lished by king James, which is supposed to have been his Apology for the Oath
of AUeoiance. If this conjecture be cowect, it must have been in 1609, when
his majesty acknowledged a work published anonymously three yeai-s before, and
inscribed it to all the crowned heads of Europe. During Ayton's residence
abroad, as Avell as at the court of England, he lived in intimacy with, and se-
cured the esteem of the most eminent persons of his time. " He was acquainted,"
says Aubrey, "with all the wits of his time in England; he was a great acquain-
tance of Mr Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbuiy, whom Mr Hobbes told me he made
use of, together with Ben Jonson, for an Aristarchus, Avhen he made his Epistle
dedicatoiy, for his translation of Thucydides." To this information, we may
add, as a proof of this respect on the part of Ben Jonson, that, in his convei-sa-
tions with Drummond of Hawthornden, he said, "Sir Robert Ayton loved him
(Jonson) dearly."

Sir Robert Ayton died at London, in March, lf)37-8, in the 68th year of his
a'«-e. He lies buried in the south aisle of the choir of Westminster Abbey, at
the corner of King Henry the Fifth's Chapel, under a handsome monument of
black marble, erected by his nephew, David Ayton of Kinaldie ; having his bust
in brass gilt, which has been presei-ved, while that of Henry, the hero of Agin-
court, (said to have been of a more pi-ecious metal,) has long since disappeared.
The following is a copy of the inscription :

M. S.
Clarissimi omnigenaq. virtute et eruditione, pnEsertim Poesi oniatissimi equitis^
Domini Robert! Aitoni, ex antiqua et illustri gente Aitona, ad Castrum Kmnadinum
apud Scotos, oriundi, qui a Serenissimo R. Jacobo in Cubicula Interiora admissus, in
Germaniam ad Iniperatorem, Imperiiq. Frincipes cum libello Regio, Regiae au-
thoritatis vindice^ Legatus, ac primium Annte, demum Mariae, serenissimis Britannia-
rum Reginis ab epistolis, consiliis et libellis supplicibus, nee non Xenodochio S'*
Catherinae prtefectus. Anima Creatoris Reddita, hie depositis mortalibus exuviis se-
cundum Redemptoris adventum expectat.

Carolum linquens, repetit Parentem

Et valedicens Marlae revisit
Annam et Aiilai decus, alto Olympi
Mutat Honore.
Obiit Coelebs hi Regio Albania Hoc devoti gratiq. animi

Non sine maximo Honore omnium Testimonium optinio PaU-uo

Luctu et Mrerore, iEtat. sute LXVIII. Jo. Aitonus M L P.

Saint. Humanae M.DCXXXVIIL

MUSARUM DKCUS HIC, PaTRIAEQ. AuLAEQ.. DoMlQUE

Et Foris exemplar sed non imitabile honesti.

84: SIR ROBERT AYTON.

The poems of Sir Robert Ayton, for the fii-st time piiblislicd together in the
Miscclany of tlie l^niiiiatyiie ("hib, (from uhich uo derive these particulai-s of
tile poet's life,) are few in nuiiiber, but of jjreat Jiieril. He composed no Scottish
poems, at leiist none tliat have come down to our times. He wrote in English,
and wis, indeed, one of the fii-st of our countrymen who compose*! in (hat lan-
guage with any degree of elegance or piurity. It is unfortunate that ihe most
of his poems are complimentary verses to the illustrious individuals with whom
he was acquainled, and of course characterised only by a strain of conceited and
extravagant tlatteVy. Those, however, upon general topics, arc conceived in a
refined and tender strain of fancy, that reminds us more of the fairy strains of
Herricii than any thing else. John Aubrey remarks, " that Sir IJobert wjfs
one of the best poets of his time," and adds tlie more important testimony
that " IMr John Drydcn has seen verses of his, some of tlie best of that age,
printed with some other verses." According to Dempster, Ayton was also a
writer of verses in Greek and French, as well as in English and Latin. Several
of his Latin poems are preserved in the work called, " Delitiae Foetarum Scoto-
rum," which was printed in his lifetime (1G37) at Amsterdam.

One poem by Ayton, entitled, " Inconstancy Reproved," and commencing
with the words, " I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair," was esteemed by Burns
\vorthy of being paraphrased into the native dialect of the author ; a process cer-
tainly of a very curious nature, as it might have rather been expected that tlie
poet of the eighteenth should have refined upon the poet of the seventeenth cen-
tiu-y. It may be safely avowed that the modern poet has not improved upon his
prede<;essor. Perhaps the reader will be less familiar with the following etnially
beautiful poems by Sir Robert Ayton, than with " Inconstancy Reproved," —
which, after aU, is not ascertained to be his.

SONG.

What means this strangeness now of late,

Since time must truth approve?
This distance may consist with state —

It cannot stand with love.

'Tis either cunning or distrust,

That may such ways allow ;
The first is base, the last unjust;

Let neither blemish you.

For if you mean to draw me on,

There needs not half this art ;
And if you mean to have me gone.

You overact your part.

If kindness cross your wshed content.

Dismiss me with a frox'^Ti,
I'll give you all the love that's spent.

The rest shall be my own.

ON WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY.

I loved thee once, I'll love no more,
Thine be the grief as is the blame ;
Thou art not what thou wast befoie.
What reason I should be the same?
He that can love unloved again,
Hath better store of love than brain :
God send me love my debts to pay.
While mithrifts fool their love away.

SIR EGBERT AYTON.

85

Nothing could have my love o'erthrowni,

If thou hadst still continued mine :
Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own,
1 might perchance have yet been thino.
But thou thy freedom did recall,
That if thou might elsewhere enthnil ;
And then how could I but disdain
A captive's captive to remam ?

V/hen new desires had conquered thee.

And changed the object of thy will,
It had been lethargy in me,
Not constancy to love thee still.
Yea, it had been a sin to go
And prostitute affection so
Since we are taught no prayers to sny
To such as must to others praj%

Yet do thou glory in thy choice.

Thy choice of his good forUme boast ;
111 neither grieve nor yet rejoice.
To see him gain what I have lost :

The height of my disdain shall be.
To laugh at him, to blush for thee ;
To love thee still, but go no more,
A begging to a beggar's door.

THE ANSWER,

BY THE AUTHOR, AT THE KING'S MAJESTy's COMMAND.
Thou that loved once, now loves no more.
For fear to show more love than brain ;
With heresy unhatch'd before.
Apostasy thou dost maintain.

Can he have either brain or love
That dost inconstancy approve?
A choice well made no change admits,
All changes argue after-wits.

Say that she had not been the same,
iShould thou therefore another be ?
What thou in her as vice did blame,
Can thou take virtue's name in thee?
No, thou in this her captive was,
And made thee ready by her glass ;
Example led revenge astray,
When true love should have kept the way.

True love has no reflecting end.
The object good sets it at rest.
And noble breasts will freely lend.
Without expecting interest.

'Tis merchants' love, 'tis trade for gain,
To barter love for love again :
'Tis usury, yea, worse than this.
For self-idolatry it is.

Then let her choice be what it will,

Let constancy be thy revenge ;
If thou retribute good for ill.

Both grief and shame shidl check her change^

86 ROBERT BAILLIB.

I'hus miiy'st thou hitiph when thou shall see

Jd-mofbe riclaiin \n:r home to (hee;
And wliere th<pu begg'sl of lier before,
GJ:e now sits begging at thy door.

We siiljiiiit tliat siicli elea^ant sentiiiieiits as tlicsc, cxpit'ssed in sucli elogart
language, arc an lumour to llieir author, to liis age, and counliy.

B

BAILLIE, Robert, one of the most oniineiit, and perliaps the most moderate,
of all the Scottish presbyterian clergy diu'ing the lime of the civil war, was born
at Glasgow, in 15!)9, His father, Thomas Haillie, citizen, was descended frctni the
Baillies of Lamington ; liis mother, Helen Gibson, was of the family of Gibson of
Durie ; both of which stocks are distinguished in presbyterian liistoiy. Having
studied divinity in his native university, Mr Baillie, in 1G22, received episcopal
ordei-s from Ai'chbishop Law, of Glasgow, and became tutor to tlie son of tbeEarl of
Eglintoune, by wliom he was presented to the parish church of Kilwinning. In
1C2G he was admitted a regent at the college of Glasgow, and, on taking his
chair, delivered an inaugural oration, De Mente Agente. About this period he aji-
peare to have prosecuted the study of the oriental lang-uages, in which he is al-
lowed to have attained no mean proficiency. For some yeai-s he lived in temis of
the strictest intimacy with the noble and pious family of Eglintoune, as also with
his ordinary, Aixhbishop Law, with ^vhom he kept up an epistolary coiresjjon-
dence. Baillie was not only educated and ordained as an episcopalian, but he
had imbibed fi'om principal Cameron of Glasgow, the doctrine of passive resist-
ance. He appeai-s, however, to have been brought over to opposite views during
the interval between 1G30 and 1636, which he employed in discussing with his
fellow-clergymen the doctrines of Anninianism, and the new ecclesiastical i-egu-
lations introduced into the Scottish church by Archbishop Laud. Hence, in the
year 1636, being desired by Archbishop Law to preach at Edinburgh in favour
of the Canon and Service-books, he positively refused; writing, however, a re-
spectful apology to his lordship. Endeared to the resisting party by this con-
duct, he was chosen to represent the presbytery of In'ine in the General Assem-
bly of 1638, by whi«;h the royal power was braved in the name of the whole
nation, and episcopacy formally dissolved. In this meeting, Baillie is said to
have behaved with great moderation ; a tenn, ho\vever, \vhich must be under-
stood as only comparative, for the expressions used in his letter regarding the
matters condemned, are not what would now be considered moderate. In the
ensuing year, when it was found necessaiy to vindicate the proceedings of the
Glasgow Assembly with the sword, "aiUie entered heartily into the vieAvs of his
countiymen. He accompanied the araiy to Dunse Law, in the capacity of
preacher to the Earl of Eglintoune's regiment ; and he it was, who lias handed
down the well known description of that extraordinary camp. — " It would have
done you good," by remarks in one of his letters, " to have cast your eyes athort
our brave and rich hills, as oft as I did, with great contentment and joy ; for
I was there among the rest, being chosen preacher by the gentlemen of our
shire, who came late with Lord Eglintoune. I furaished to half a dozen of good
fellows, muskets and pikes, and to my boy a broad sword. I carried myself, as
the fashion was, a sword, and a couple of Dutch pistols at my saddle ; but I pro-
mise, for the offence of no man, except a robber in the way ; for it was our
part alone to pray and preach for the encouragement of our countrymen, whicli
I did to my power most chearfully." {^Letters, voL i. p. 174.) He aftenvards
states, " Our soldiers grew in experience of arms, in courage, and favour, daily.

ROBERT BAILLIE. 87

Every one encouraged another. The sight of their nobles, and their beloved
pastors, daily raised their hearts. The good sermons and prayers, morning and
evening, under the roof of heaven, to which their drums did call them for bells ;
the remonstrance very frequent of the goodness of their cause ; of their conduct
hithei'to, by a hand clearly divine ; also Leslie's skill, and prudence, and for-
tune, made them as resolute for battle as could be wished. We were feared
that emulation among our nobles might have done harm, when they should be met
in the field; but such was the wisdom and authority of that old, little, crooked
soldier, that all, with an incredible submission, from the beginning to the end,
gave over themselves to be guided by him, as if he had been great SoljTiian. —
Had you lent your ear in the morning, or especially at even, and heard in the
tents the sound of some singing psalms, some praying, and some I'eading Scrip-
ture, ye would have I)een refreshed. True, there was swearing, and cursing, and
brawling, in some quarters, whereat we were grieved ; but we hoped, if our camj)
had been a little settled, to have gotten some way for these misorders ; for all of
any fashion did regTct, and all promised to do their best endeavours for helping
all abuses. For myself, I never found my mind in better temper than it was all
that time since I came from home, till my head was again homeward ; fur I was
as a man who had taken my leave from the world, and Avas resolved to die in
that service without return." Tliis expedition ended in a treaty between the
Scottish leaders and their sovereign, in temis of which hostilities ceased for a few
months. On the renewal of the insun-ectionary war next year, Baillie accom-
panied the Scottish army on its march into England, and became the clironicler
of its transactions. Towards the end of the year 1640, he was selected by the
Scottish leaders as a proper person to go to London, along with other commis-
sioners, to prepare charges against Ai'chbishop Laud, for his innovations upon
the Scottish church, which were alleged to have been the origin of the war. He
had, in April, before the expedition, published a pamphlet, entitled, " Laden-
sium AvTMcaTUKoiaig : the Canterburian's Self-conviction ; or an Evident Demon-
stration of the avowed Anninianisme, Poperie, and TjTannie of that Faction, by
their own confessions," which perhaps pointed him out as fit to take a lead in
the prosecution of the gi-eat Antichrist of Scottish presbytei-y. Of this and al-
most all the other proceeding-s of his public life, he has left a minute account in
his letters and journals, which are preserved entire in the archives of the church
of Scotland, and in the university of Glasgow, and of which excerpts were pub-
lished in 2 vols. 8vo. Edinbm-gh, 1775. These reliques of Mr Baillie form val-
uable materials of histoiy. Not long after his return to his native country, in
1642, he was appointed joint professor of divinity at Glasgow, along with Mr
David Dickson, an equally distinguished, but less moderate divine. It affords
some proof of the estimation in which he Avas now held, that he had the choice
of this appointment in all the fom- universities of Scotland. He perfomied his
duties from this period till the restoration, and at the same time attended all the
General Assemblies as a member, except during an interval in 1643-6, when he
was absent as a delegate to the Westminster assembly of divines. In this latter
capacity, he conducted himself in an unobtrusive manner, but fully concurred in the
principles and views of the more prominent men. It is observable from his let-
ters, that, w ith the pardonable earnestness of his age and party, he looked upon
tolei-ation as a thing fatal to religion, and sti-enuously asserted the divine right
of the presbyterian chui'ch to be established in complete ascendancy and power
as a substitute for the church of England. From 1646 to 1649, he discharged
his ordinary duties as a theological teacher, wthout taking a leading part in
public affairs. But in the latter year, he was chosen by the church, as the fit-
test person to carrj' its homage to king Charles II. at the Hague, and to invito

88 ROBERT BAILLTE.

that youthful iiioiiarcli to assiiine the govorniiK'iit in Scotland, uiidfr the liinitn-
lions and stipulations of the covenant, 'lliis duty lie executed with a dej/ree of
«li;j^nity and j»roi>rirly, uhi<h could have heen «'xj»ected froni no niend»er of his
church, hut one, who, like him liad sjtent several yeai-s in conduclii'ij liii^h diplo-
matic afi'aii-s in Ijijjland. Indeed, J\lr ]5aillie ai)pears in every transaction oi
liis life, to have heen an accomplished man of the world; and yet retaining, along
with habits of expediency, the most perfect sincerity in his religious views.
When the necessary introduction of the malignants into the king's service, caused
a strong division in the church, in l(i51, Baillie, .-is might liave been expected
from his character and former history, sided with the yielding or IJesohitionist
party, and soon became its principal lender. On this account he, and many other
sincere men, were charged by the Protesting and less worldly party, with a declen-
sion from the high principles of the covenant; a charge to which he, at least,
certainly was not liable. After the Restoration, though made Principal of his
college through court patronage, he scrupulously refused to accept a bishopric,
and <lid not hesitate to express his dissatisfaction with the re-introduction of
episcopacy. His health now declining, lie was visited by the new-made arch-
bishop, to whom he thus freely expressed himself: " Mr Andrew," said he, " 1
will not now call you my lord. King Charles would have made me one of these
lords ; but I do not find in the New Testament that Christ has any lords in his
house." He considered this fonn of religion and ecclesiastical government as
" inconsistent with Scripture, contrary to pure and primitive antiquity, and dia-
metrically opposed to the true interest of the country." He died, July, 1662,
in the 63d year of his age.

3Ir Baillie, besides his Lettei-s and Journals, and a variety of controversia,
pamphlets, suitable to the spirit of the times, was the author of a respectable
and learned work, entitled, " Opus Bifttoricum et Chroiiologicum,'''' which was
published in folio at Amsterdam. He was a man of extensive learning — under-
stood no fewer than thu-teen languages, among which were Hebrew, Chaldee,
Syriac, Samaritan, Arabic, and Ethiopic, — and wrote Latin with almost Augus-
tan elegance. He left a large family : one of his daughters, becoming the wife
of Walkinshaw of Barrowfield, was, by a strange chance, the ancestress of Miss
Clementina Walkinshaw, well known from her connexion with the history of
Prince Charles Stuait — and also grandmother to the celebrated Henry Home,
better known under the judicial designation of Lord Kames.

BAILLIE, Robert, of Jeniswood, an eminent patriot of the reign of Charles
11., was the son of George Baillie of St John's kirk in Lanarkshire, cadet of the
ancient family of Baillie of Lamington, Avho appears to have purchased the estate
of Jei-viswood, also in Lanarkshire, in the reign of Charles 1., from a family ff
the name of Livingstone. It is stated by the jacobite, Robert 3Iylne, in the
publication called" " Fountainhall's Notes," that the first circumstance which
;ilienated the mind of Robert Baillie from the government, was his manning a
daughter of Sir Archibald Johnston of Warristoun, who, having borne a conspi-
cuous part in the civil war from its beginning, was executed after the Restora-
tion. W hatever be the truth of this allegation, Baillie appears before the year
1676, to have been otherwise allied to the non-conformist party.

The incident which first brought him forward into view as a subject of perse-
cution, was one of those interferences in behalf of natural justice, where all sense
of consequences is overborne by the exigency of the occasion. During the
misgovernment of the Duke of Lauderdale, a wretched profligate of the name ol'
Carstaii-s had bargained with Archbishop Sharpe to undeilake the business of
an informer upon an uncommonly large scale, having a troop of other informers
under him, and enjoying a certain reward for each individual whom he could

ROBERT BAILLIE. gO

(U'tect at the conventicles, besides a share of the fines imposed upon them. I(
may be supposed that an individual who could permit himself to enter upon a
profession of this kind, would not be very scrupulous as to the guilt of the per-
sons whom he sought to make his prey. He a''cordingly appears to have, at
lo;i3t in one noted instance, pounced upon an individual who Avas perfectly in-
nocent. This was the Fiev. 3Ir Kirkton, a non-confoniiist minister it is true,
but one who had been cautious to keep strictly within the verge of the law.
Ivirkton was the brother-in-law of Mr Baillie of Jerviswood, by his marriage to
the sister of that gentleman, and he is eminent in Scottish literai-y history for a
memoir of the chui-ch during liis o\vn times, which was of great service in manu-
script to the historian Wodi-ow, and was at length published in 1817. One day
in June, 1676, as 31i- Kirkton was walking along the High Street of Edinburgh,
Carstaii-s, whose pei-son he did not know, accosted him in a very civil manner,
and expressed a desire to speak witli him in private. Mr Kirkton, suspecting
no evil, followed Cai-stairs to a very mean-looking house, neai- the common
l)rison. Carstairs, who had no warrant to apprehend or detain Mr Kirkton,
went out to get one, locking the door upon his victim,^ The unfortunate cler-
gyman then perceived that he was in some danger, aiul prevailed upon a pei-son
in the house to go to seek his bi'other-in-law, Rlr Baillie, and apprise him of his
situation. Carstairs, having in vain endeavoured to get tlie requisite number of
privy-councillors to sign a wan-ant, now came back, resolved, it appears, to ti^
at least if he could not force some money from Mr Kirkton for his release. Just
as they were about to confer upon this subject, Mr Baillie came to the door,
with several other persons, and called to Carstairs to open, Kirkton, hearing
the voices of friends, took coui'age, and desired his captor either to set him free,
or to show a waiTant for his detention. Carstairs, instead of doing either, di"ew
a pocket pistol, and Kirkton found it necessary, for his own safety, to enter into
a personal struggle, and endeavour to secure the weapon of his antagonist. The
gentlemen without, hearing a struggle, and cries of murder, burst open the door,
and found Carstairs sitting upon Mr Kirkton, on the floor. Baillie di'ew his
sword, and conunanded the poltroon to come off, asking him at the same time if
he had any warrant for apprehending Mr Kirkton. Carstairs said he had a
>vai'rant for conducting him to prison, but he utterly refused to show it, though
Mr BaiUie said that, if he saw any wairant against his friend, he would assist
in caiTying it into execution. The wTetcli still persisting in saying he had a
warrant, but was not bound to show it, Mr Baillie left the place, with Mr Kirk-
ton and other friends, having ofl'ered no violence whatever to Carstairs, but only
threatened to sue him for unlawful invasion of his brother-in-laiv's person.

It might have been expected from even a government so lost to all honour
and justice as that which now prevailed in Scotland, that it would have had at
least the good sense to overlook this unhappy accident to one of its tools. On
tlie contrary, it was resolved to brave the popular feeling of right, by listening
to the complaints of Carstairs. Tlurough the influence of Aixhbishop Sharpe,
\vlio said that, if Carstairs was not countenanced, no one would be procured to
apprehend fanatics afterwards, a majority of the council agi'eed to prosecute
Baillie, Kirkton, and the other pei-sons concernetL For this purpose, an ante-
dated wari'ant was furnished to Carstairs, signed by nine of the councillors. The
Marquis of AthoU told Bishop Burnet, that he had been one of the nine who
lent their names to this infamous document The whole case was therefore
made out to be a tumult against the government ; Baillie was fined in six thou-
sand merks, (j£3I8 sterling)" and his friends in smaller sums, and to be im-
prisoned till they should render payment.

1 Burnet. Wodrow's account is slightly different.
, * vVodrow says £500 sterling, new edit. v. 2. p. 3i8. „

90 RUBEKT BAILLIB.

This award was so opposite, in ovei^ particular, to tlie ])riiiciples of Inith,
honoiu-, and justice, that, even if not directed ap^ainst individuals connected with
the popular cause, it could luit hare failed to excite general iridiirnation. It
appe.irs that a respectable minority of the council iteelf w.is slronj^iy f)pposed to
the decision, and took care to let it lie known at court, 31r IJaillie was there-
fore released at the end of lour months, in consideration <if j>nynient of one half
of his fine to the creature I'ai-stairs. Lord lialton, however, who was at this
time a kind of pro-regent under his brother Lauderdale, liad interest to obtain
the dismissal of liis opponents from the council, namely, the Duke of Hamilton,
the Ivarls of IVIorton, Dumfries, and Kincardine, and the Lords Cochrane and
Primrose, whom he branded, /or their conduct on this occasion, as enemies to
the church and favourers of conventicles.

After this period, nothing is known of Mr Baillie till the year 10 83, when
he is found taking a prominent share in a scheme of emigration, agitated by a
number of Scottish gentlemen, who saw no refuge but this from the tyxanny of
the government, lliese gentlemen entered into a negotiation with the paten-
tees of South Carolina, for permission to convey themselves thither, along with
their families and dependents. Wliile thus engaged, Mr Baillie was induced,
along with several of his friends, to enter into con'espondence and counsel with
the heads of the Purit<an party in England, who were now forming an extensive
plan of insurrection, for the purpose of obtaining a change of measures in the
government, though with no ulterior view. Under the pretext of the American
expedition, Lord Melville, Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree, Mr Baillie, and three
others, were invited and repaired to London, to consult with the Duke of 3Ion-
mouth, Sydney, Russell, and the rest of that party. This scheme was r.ever pro-
perly matured ; indeed, it never was any thing but a matter of talk, and had
ceased to be even that, when a minor plot for assassinating the king, to which
only a small number of the party were privy, burst prematurely, and involved
several of the chiefs, who were totally ignorant of it, in destruction. Sydney
and Russell suffered for this crime, of which they were innocent ; and Baillie
and several other gentlemen were seized and sent down to be tried in Scotland."

The subsequent judicial proceedings were characterised by the usual violence
and illegality of the time. He endured a long confinement, during which he
was treated very harshly, and not permitted to have the society of his lady,
though she offered to go into irons, as an assurance against any attempt at faci-
litating his escape. An attempt was made to procure sufficient proof of guilt
from the confessions wrought out of his nephew-in-law, the Earl of Tan-as (who
had been fii-st maiTied to the elder sister of the Duchess of Monmouth) ; but,
this being found insufficient, his prosecutors were at last obliged to adopt the
unlawful expedient, too common in those distracted times, of putting him to a
purgative oath. An accus.ation was sent to him, not in the form of an indictment,
nor gi'ounded on any law, but on a letter of the king, in which he was charged
with a conspiracy to raise rebellion, and a concern in the Ryehouse I'lot. He
Avas told that, if he would not clear himself of these chai-ges by his oath, he
should be held as guilty, though not as in a criminal court, but only as before
the council, -who had no power to award a higher sentence than fine and im-
prisonment. As he utterly refused to yield to such a demand, he was fined by

2 Mr Rose, in his Observations on Mr Fox's History, relates that the hope of a pardon
lieing held out to him, on condition of his giving information respecting somu friends sup-
posed to be engaged with him, his answer was, " They who can make such a proposal to me
neither know me nor my country;" an expression of which the latter part is amply justified
by fact, for, as Lord John Russell has justly obser\'ed, in his JMemoirs of Lord William
Russell, " It is to the honour of Scotland, that [on this occasion] no witnesses came forward
voluntarily-, to accuse their associates, as had been done in England.''

ROBERT BAILl.TE. 91

(he countul in jCGjOOO, being about the value of his whole estates. It was then
supposed that the prosecution would cease, and that he would escape with the
doom of a captive. For several months he continued shut up in a loathsome
prison, which had such an efiect upon his health that he was brought almost to
the last extremity. Yet " all the while," to use the words of Bishop Burnet,^
" he seemed so composed, and even so cheerful, that his behaviour looked like a
reviving of the spirit of the noblest of the old Gi'eeks or Romans, or rather of
tlie primitive Chi-istians, and first martyrs in those last days of the church." At
length, on the 23rd of December, 1G84, he was brought before the court of
justiciary. He was now so weak as to be obliged to appear at the bar in his
night-gown, and take frequent applications of cordials, which were supplied to
him by his sister, the wife of Mr Ker of Graden. The only evidence that could
be produced was the confessions forced from his fi-iends by torture, one of
^vhom, the Rev. Mr Carstairs, after^vards the distinguished Principal of the
Edinburgh University, had only emitted a declaration, on an express promise
that no use was to be made of it. Mr Baillie solemnly denied having been
accessary to any conspiracy against the king's life, or being unfavourably dis-
posed to monarchical government. He complained that his friends had been
forced to bring forth untrue representations against him. Indeed, there can be
no doubt that the whole extent of his offence was a desire to procure some ame-
lioration of the measures, and not any change of the members of the govern-
ment ; we say desire, because it never could be proved that a single step had
been taken in the matter, nor is there the least probability that it would have
ever been heard of, but for the trials of several innocent persons.

A cavalier and contemporary writer has alleged that Mr Baillie conducted
himself on his trial in a veiy haughty and scornful manner, — " very huffy and
proud," is the expression used — but this probably is only the colour given by a
political enemy to the Roman dignity, which Burnet saw in his behaviour. Af-
ter the evidence had been adduced, and when the Lord Advocate had ended his
chai-ge, the following remarkable dialogue took place bet^veen him and that offi-
cer : —

" My lord, I think it veiy strange that you charge me with such abominable
things ; you may remember that when you came to me in person, you told mo
that such things were laid to my chai-ge, but that you did not believe them.
How then, my lord, did you come to lay such a stain upon me with so much vio-
lence ? Are you now convinced in yom- conscience that I am more guilty than
before ? You may remember what passed betwixt us in prison."

The whole audience fixed their eyes upon the advocate, who appeared in no
small confusion, and said,

"Jerviswood, I own what you say. My thoughts there were as a private
man ; but what I say here is by special direction of the privy council. And,"
pointing to Sir William Paterson, clerk, " he knows my orders."

" Well," said Baillie, " if your lordship have one conscience for yourself, and
another for the council, I pray God forgive you ; I do. My lords," he added,
" I trouble your lordships no further."

Tlie assize was empanneUed at midnight, and sat tiU nine in the morning of
the succeeding day, when a verdict of guilty was returned against Mr Baillie,
and he was sentenced to be executed that afternoon, at the cross, and his limbs
to be afterwards exliibited on the jails of foiff different Scottish towns. The
reason for such precipitation was the fear of his judges that a natural death
would disappoint the wishes of the government, which called imperatively at this

3 Bumet, being the nephew of Sir Archibald Johnstone, was cousin by marriage to Mr
Baillie. ^ ^

92 MATTHEW BAILl.IE, M.D.

moment for a public example to terrify ltd opponent*. Baillie only said, " Mj
lonls, tlie time is short, the sentence is sharp, but 1 tliank my (iod who hath
made me as fit to die as you are to live." On retuniinjj to the prison he ex-
perienced what Wodrow tloscribes as " a wonderful rapture of joy, from the
assurance he had, that in a few hours he should he inconceivably haj^py."

Mr Baillie was attended to the scatlbld by his faithful an<l allectionate sister.
He had ])ropared an adtboss to the people ; but knowing that he might be pre-
vented tnini dfilivcring it, he had previously given it to his friends in writing.
It is said that tiie government afterwards otlered to give up his body for Iturial,
if his friends would agree to suppress this document. 'Ihey apj>ear to have re-
jected the proposition. The unfortunate gentleman was so ueaii that he requir-
ed to be assisted in mounting the ladder : lie betrayed, however, no &ymj)tom of
moral weakness. Just before being consigned to his fate, he said, in the sell-
accusing spirit of true excellence, " 3Iy faint zeal for the protestant religion has
brought me to this end." His sister-iu-law, with the stern virtue of her family,
waited to the last."

" Thus," says Bishop Bui-net, " a learned and worthy gentleman, after twenty
months' hard usage, was brought to death, in a way so full in all the steps of it
of the spirit and practice of the courts of Inquisition, that one is tempted to
think that the methods taken in it were suggested by one well studied, if not
practised, in them. The only excuse that ever was pretended for this infamous
prosecution was, that they were sure he was guilty ; and that the whole secret of
the negotiation between the two kingdoms was intrusted to him ; and that, since
he would not discover it, all methods might be taken to destroy him. Not con-
sidering what a precedent they made on this occasion, by which, if they were
once possessed of an ill opinion of a man, they were to spare neither artifice nor
violence, but to hunt him down by any means."

Dr Owen has testified in a strong manner to the gi-eat abilities of the Scottish
Sydney. Writing to a Scottish friend, he said, " You have truly men of great
spirits among you ; there is, for a gentleman, Mr Baillie of .lerviswood, a person
of the greatest abilities I ever almost met with."

iMr BailUe's family was completely ruined by his forfeiture. He left a son,
George Baillie, who, after his execution, was obliged to take refuge in Holland,
whence he after»vards returned with the Prince of Orange, by whom he was re-
stored to his estates, llie wife of this gentleman was Miss (irizel Hume, daugh-
ter of Sir Patrick Hume of Polwarth, a fellow-patriot of 3Ir Robert BailUe. The
occasion of their meeting was veiy remarkable, flliss Grizel, when a veiy young
girl, was sent by her father from the country, to endeavour to convey a letter to
iMr Baillie in prison, and bring back what intelligence she coidd. She succeed-
ed in this difficult enterprise ; and having at the same time met with Mr Baillie's
son, the intimacy and friendship was formed, which was afterwards completed
by their mairiage.

BAILLIE, ^Iatthew, M.D. a distinguished modern physician and anatomist, was
the son of the Rev. James Baillie, D.D. Professor of Divinity in the University
of Glasgow. He was born October 27, 17G1, in the manse of Shotts, of which
parish his father was then minister. The father of Dr 3Iatthew Baillie was sup-
posed to be descended from the family of Baillie of Jerviswood, so noted in the his-
tory of Scottish freedom ; his mother was a sister of the two celebrated anatomists,
Dr William and Mi- John Hunter ; and one of his t\vo sisters was 3Iiss Joanna

2 « The Lndy Graden, with a more than mascuh'ne courage, attended him on the scaffold
till he was quartered, and went with the hangman and saw his quarters sodden, oyled, &c."
— FountainlialVs Notes, 117, 118. It is scarcely possible for an individual accustomed ic
the feelings of modern society to believe such a statement.

MATTHEW BAILLIE, M.D. 93

Baillie, the late well known and amiable authoress of " Plays on the Passions."
After receiving the rudinieuts of his education under his father's immediate su-
perintendence, he began his academical course in 1773, in the University of
Glasgow, where he distinguished himself so highly as to be transferred, in 1778,
upon Snell's foundation, to Baliol College, Oxford. Here, when he had attained
the proper standing, he took his degrees in arts and physic In 1780, while
still keeping his tei-ms at Oxford, he commenced his anatomical studies at Lon-
don, under the care of his uncles. He had the great advantage of residing with
Dr William Hunter, and, when he became sufficiently advanced in his studies, of
being employed to make the necessary preparations for the lectures, to conduct
the demonstrations, and to superintend the operations of the students. On the
death of Dr Hunter, ilarch 1783, he was found qualified to become the successor
of that great man, in conjunction with Mr Cruickshank, who had previously
been employed as Dr Hunter's assistant. His uncle appointed him by will to
have the use of his splendid collection of anatomical preparations, so long as he
should continue an anatomical lecturer, after Avhich it was to be transfeixed to
(ilasgow College. Dr Baillie began to lecture in 1784, and soon acquired
tlie highest reputation as an anatomical teacher. He was himself indefatigable
in the business of fonning preparations, adding, it is said, no fewer than eleven
hundred articles to his uncle's museum. He possessed the valuable talent of
making an abstruse and difficult subject plain ; his prelections were remarkable
for that lucid order and clearness of expression which proceed from a perfect
conception of the subject; and he never permitted any vanity of display to turn
him from his gi-eat object of conveying information in the simplest and most
intelligible way, and so as to become useful to his pupils. The distinctness of
his elocution was also much admired, notwithstanding that he never could alto-
gether shake ofl'the accent of his native countiy. In 1795, Dr Baillie embodied
the knowledge he possessed through his own observations and those of his uncle,
in a small but most valuable work, entitled, " The Morbid Anatomy of some of
tiie most important parts of the Human Body," which was inuiiediately translated
into French and German, and extended his name to every land where medical
science was cultivated. The publication of this little treatise was, indeed, an
era in the history of medical knowledge in this countiy. It combined all the
information foi-merly scattered through the writings of Bonetus, Lieutaud, and
jMontagni, besides the immense store of observations made by the ingenious
author. The knowledge of the changes produced on the human frame by disease
had previously been very imperfect ; but it was now so completely elucidated
that, with the assistance of this little volume, any person previously acquainted
with morbid symptoms, but unacquainted with the disease, could, upon an exami-
nation after death, understand the whole malady. Perhaps no production of
the period, ever had so much influence on the study of medicine, or contributed
so much to coiTect unfounded speculations upon the nature of disease, to excite
a spirit of observation, and to lead the attention of the student to fact and ex-
perience. Along Avith all its excellencies, it Avas delightful to observe the
extreme modesty and total absence of pretension, with which the author, in the
fulness of his inmiense knowledge, ushered it into the world.

In 1787, Dr Baillie had been elected physician to St George's Hospital, a
situation Avhich affijrded him many of those opportunities of obserA'ation upon
Avhich the success of his Avork on Morbid Anatomy Avas founded. In 1789,
having taken his degree of M.D. at Oxford, he Avas admitted a candidate at the
College of Physicians, and in the folloAving year had the fuU privileges of fel-
loAvship confen-ed upon him. About the same time, he Avas elected a felloAV
of the Royal Society, to which he had contributed Iavo essays. He sen'ed the

04 MATTHEW BAILLIE, W.IX

oflice of censor in tlie Royal College of Thysicians, in 175)2 and 1797, and that
< if commissioner iukUt tlie act of parliament for tlie inspection and licensing of
mad-lioiises, in 17!)l anil 17!)5.

In 17!l'J, Dr Haillie relin<jiijslu'd the business of an anatomical lecturer, and
in 1 800 resigned his duties as physician to (St Cieorge's Ilosjtital. Partly by
the inlluence of his fame as an anatomist, and p;ully tlirough tlie disinterested
retxmunendations of several members of his own pix)fession, he ioimd himself
gradually tempted into the less agreeable business of a general physician. Ho
^vas always resorted to, uhen more than ordinary scientific precision Avae* re-
quired. About the ye;ir 1801, when he had attained the mature age of forty,
lie had become completely absorbed in practice. As a physician, he possessed,
in an eminent degree, a facility in distinguishing diseases, — one oi" the most
important qualifiuitions in the practice of medicine ; as a want of accuracy in
discriminating sjiuptomatic Irom primai-y afliictions leads to the most serious
eiroi-s ; whilst it may be said that, when a disease is once distinctly character-
ised, and the peculiarities of the case defined, the cure is half perfonned. Ha-
i)its of attentive obsei-vation had enabled Dr BailJie to know, with gi-eat accuracy,
tlie precise extent of the powers of medicine ; indeed, there was no class of
cases more likely to fall under his obsenation than those in which they had
been abused ; younger practitioners being apt to cairy a particidar system of
treatment beyond its proper limits ; Di- Baillie's readiness, therefore, in seeing
this abuse, rendered his opinions, in many cases, of gi-eat value. Yet he was
always scrupulously anxious, thi-ougli the natural benignity of his disposition, to
use his knowledge with a delicate regard to the interests of those juniors whose
procedure he was called upon to amend. He managed, indeed, this part of his
practice with so much delicacy that he was held in the utmost afiection and
esteem by the younger branches of the profession.

Dr Baillie was remarkable for forming his judgment of any case before Inni
from his own obsei*vations exclusively ; carefully guarding himself against any
prepossessions from the opinions suggested by others. When he visited a pa-
tient, he observed him accurately, he listened to him attentively, he put a few
pointed questions — and his opinion was foi-med. Beneath a most natm-al and
unassuming manner, which \vas the same on all occasions, Avas concealed an
almost intuitive power of perceiving the state of his patient. His mind was
always quietly, but eagerly directed, to an investigation of the symptoms ; and
he had so distinct and systematic a mode of putting questions, that the answers
of his patients often presented a connected view of the whole case. On sucli
occasions, he avoided technical and learned phrases ; he affected none of that
sentimental tenderness, which is sometimes assumed by a physician with a view
to recommend himself to his patient; but he expressed what he had to say in
the simplest and plainest terms ; with some pleasantry, if the occasion atbuitted
of it, and with gi-avity and gentleness, if tliey were required ; and he left his
jHitient, either encouraged or tranquillized, persuaded that the opinion he had
received was sound and honest, whether it wns unfavoui-able or not, and that his
physician merited his confidence. In delivering or writing his opinions, he was
equally remarkable for unafi'ected simplicity. His language was sometimes so
plain, that his patients have been able to repeat to their other medical atten^
dants, evei-y word which he had uttered. In consultation, he gave his opinion
concisely, and with a few grounds; those gi-ounds being chieily facts, rather than
arguments, so that little room was left for dispute. If any difierence or diffi-
culty arose, his example pointed out the way of removing it, by an appeal to
other facts, and by a neglect of speculative reasoning.

In every relation and situation of private life, Eh* Baillie was equally to bo

MATTHEW BAILLIE, M.D. 95

admired ; and it must be added, that the same liberal and just ideas which, on
all occasions, guided his conduct as an individual, ruled him in his many public
duties : he never countenanced any measures which had the appearance of op-
pression or hostility towai-ds tlie members of his profession. i\Ien seldom act,
collectively, with the same honour and integi'ity as they would do individually ;
and a member of a public body requires an unusual share of moral courage, who
opposes those measures of his associates, which he may not himself approve of;
but if there was one (pialilication more than another, which gave Dr BaiUie the
public confidence he enjoyed, and raised him to the zenith of professional dis-
tinction, it was his inflexible integTity.

In 1799, Di' Baillie commenced the publication of " A Series of Engravings,
to illustrate some parts of Morbid Anatomy," in successive fasciculi, which were
completed in 1802. The di-awings for this splendid work were done by Mr
Clift, the Conservator of the Hunterian Museum in Lincoln's Inn Fields ; and
they were creditable at once to the taste and liberality of Dr Baillie, and to the
state of art in that day. Dr Baillie afterwards published " An Anatomical de-
scription of the Gravid Uterus ; " and throughout the ^vhole course of his pi-o-
fessional life, he contributed largely to the transactions and medical collections
of the time. When he was at the height of his popidarity, he enjoyed a higher in-
come than any preceding physician, and \vhicli was only inferior to the sum
received by one particular contemporai-y. In one of his busiest yeai-s, when he
had scarcely time to take a single meal, it is said to have reached £10,000.
He was admitted to have the greatest consultation business of his time ; and it
was known that he ^v<'ls applied to for medical advice from many distant quarters
of the world. From his arduous, and to his mind, often irksome duties, he en-
joyed no relaxation for many yeai's, till at length he began to indulge in an
annual retirement of a few months to the country. On one of the first of these
occasions, he paid a visit to the land of his birth, which, during an absence of
thirty years, spent in busy and distracting pursuits, he had never ceased to re-
gard with the most tender feelings. The love of country was, indeed, a promi-
nent feature in his character ; and he was prepared on this occasion to realize
many enjoyments which he had pi-eviously contemplated with enthusiasm, in the
prospect of once more beholding the land and friends of his youth. '1 he result
was far different fi'om his expectations. He found most of his early companions
either scattered over the world, in search, as he himself had been, of fortune, or
else forgotten in untimely graves ; of those who survived, many ^vere removed
beyond his sympathies by that total alteration of feeling which a diflerence of
worldly circimistances so invariably effects in the hearts of early friends, on the
side of the depressed party as well as the elevated.

Dr Baillie was introduced to the favourable notice of the royal family, in con-
sequence of his treatment of the duke of Glou<;ester. Being subsequently joined
in consultation with the king's physicians, upon his majesty's own unhappy case,
he came more prominently than ever into public vie\v, as in some measure the
principal director of the royal treatment. The political responsibility of this
situation was so very weighty, that, if Dr Baillie had been a man of less firmness
of nerve, he could scarcely have maintained himself under it. Such, however,
was the public confidence in his inflexible integrity, that, amidst the hopes and
fears which for a long time agitated the nation, on the subject of the king's
health, the opinion of Dr Baillie ever regulated that of the public. On the first
vacancy, which occurred in 1810, he was appointed one of the physicians to the
liing, with the offer of a baronetcy, which, however, his good sense and unas-
suming disposition induced him to decline.

Dr Baillie at length sunk under the weight of his practice, notwithstanding

<)\i GENERAL SIR DAVID BAIRDl

that for several ycai-s lie \\:u\ tal<eii every j)ossil)le expedient to shift ofT liis
duties to tlio care of yoim-rer aspirants. At tlie last qiiarlerly meeting of the
College of riiysicians hefore liis de.ith, uhen there w;is a full assemblage of
members, in the midst of the alfaii-s for the consideration of uhich they were
called togetlier, I)r Ma;llie entered the room, emaciated, hectic, and with all
the symptoms of api)r()aching dissolution. Such was the ellect of his sudden
and unexpected appearance, that the public business w;w suspended, and evei7
one present instantly and spontaneously rose, and remained standing until Dr
Bailie had taken his seut; the incident though trivial evinces the effectioiiate rever-
eiice with which he was regarded. Besides the natural claim he had upon this body,
iVom his uiiapproached anatomical and medical skill, and the extraordinar\
benignity .and worth of his character, he had entitled himself to its peculiar
gratitude by leaving to it the whole of his valuable (rollection of preparations,
together with the sum of six hundi-ed pounds to keep it in order. Dr Baillie
died on the •2:^d of September, 182.3.

Dr Bailie had married, 6th May, l79l, Miss Sophia Denmaii, second daughter ot
Dr Denuian of Loudon, a distinguished physician, and sister of Mr., subsequently
Lord Denman and Lord High Chancellor of England. By her he left one son, tc
whom he devoted his estate of Dantisbourne, in Gloucestershire, and one daughter.
The sums and effects destined by his will, many of which were given to medical institu-
tions and public charities, were sworn in the Prerogative Court at less than <t80,000.
Di- Baillie is thus characterised in the Annual Obiluary for 1.S21. "He
seemed to have an innate goodness of heart, a secret sympathy w ith the virtuoua,
and to rejoice in their honourable and dignified conduct, as in a thing in which
he had a personal interest, and as if he felt that his own character was raised by
it, as well as human nature ennobled He censured warndy what he disapproved,
from a strong attachment to what is right, not to display his superiority to others,
or to give vent to any asperity of temper ; at the same time he was indulgent to
failings ; his kindness to others leading him on many ocinasions to overlook what
was due to himself; and even in his last illness he paid gratuitous professional
risits which were above his strength, and was in danger of suddenly exhausting
iiimself by exertions for others. His liberal disposition was well known to all
acquainted with public subscriptions; the great extent to which it showed itself
in private benefactions is known only to those who were nearly connected with
him, and perhaps was fully known only to himself,"

BAIRD, (the Right Honourable, General 8ir) David, a distinguished comman-
der during the wars of the French Revcdution, was the second sumving son of
William Baird, Esq., heir, by settlement, of his second cousin Sir John Eaird, of
Newbyth, Bart. He entered the army, December 1(5, 1772, as an ensign in the
2nd foot, joined the regiment at Gibraltar, Ai)ril 1773, and retunied to Britain
in 1776. Having been promoted to a lieutenancy in 1778, he iimnediatelv
after obtained a company in the 7.3rd, a regiment then just raised by I^ord
Blacleod, with which he sailed for India, and arrived at Madras, January 17 80.
This young regiment was here at once ushered into the trying and hazardous
scenes of the war against Hyder Ally, whom the English company had provoked
by a sliameful breach of faith into a hostility that threatened to overwhelm it.
In July 1780, while the company, exclusive of Lord Macleod's regiment, had
only about 5,000 men under arms, Hyder burst into the Carnatic with an army
of 100,000 men, disciplined and coumuinded by French officers, and laid siege
to Ar(X)t, the capital of the only native prince friendly to the British. Sir
Hector Munro, commander-in-chief of the Company's troops, set out to relieve
this city on the 25th of August, expecting to be joined on the 30tli. by a large
detachment, then in the northern circai-s under Colonel Baillie. On learniu'v this

GENERAL SIR DAVID BAIRD. 97

movement, Hyder left Ax-cot, and threw himself in the way of Colonel Baillie.
In order to favour, if possible, the approach of this officer. Sir Hector Munro,
on the 5th of September, changed his position a little, and advanced two miles
on the Trepassore road, which brought him within a short distance from the
enemy. Hyder then detached his brother-in-law, Meer Saib, Avith 8,000 horse,
to attack Colonel Baillie, and afterwards an additional force of 6,000 infantry,
18,000 cavahy, and 12 pieces of cannon, under his son, the celebrated Tippoo.
He at the same time made demonstrations on his front, to keep up the attention
of Sir Hector and the main army. Baillie, though commanding no more than
2,000 Sepoys and a few European companies, gained a complete victory over
the immense force sent against him, but at the same time sent word to Sir
Hector, tliat, unless provision were made for accomplishing a junction, he must
certainly be cut off^ The commander-in-chief held a council of war, when it
^\•as determined at all hazards to send a reinforcement, for the purpose of achiev-
ing the relief of this gallant officer. A small force was selected, consisting
principally of the gi-enadier and infantry companies of Lord Macleod's regiment,
which, having received strict injunctions as to the necessity of a secret and ex-
peditious march, set off towards Colonel Baillie's position, under the command
of Colonel Fletcher and Captain Baird. Hyder Ally had secret intelligence of
this movement, and sent a detachment to cut it off; but Colonel Fletcher and
Captain Baird, having fortunately conceived some suspicion of their guides, sud-
denly altered their line of march, and were thereby enabled to gain their point.
Hyder was detennined that Colonel Baillie, with his friends, should not advance
so safely to the main ai-my. He therefore, with the most consummate ability,
and under his own personal inspection, prepared an ambuscade at a particular
pass through which they would have to march. This part of the road, he liad
occupied and enfiladed with several batteries of cannon, behind which lay large
bodies of his best foot, while he himself, with almost his whole foi'ce, was readv
to support the attack. While these real dispositions were made, a cloud of in-e-
gular cavalry was employed in several motions on the side of Conjeveram, in
order to divert the attention of the English camp.

The morning of the 1 0th of September had scarcely dawned, when the silent
and expectant enemy perceived Colonel Baillie's little army advancing into the
very toils planted to receive it. The ambuscade reserved their fire ^vith admi-
rable coolness and self-command, till the unhappy English were in the nudst of
fchem. The army marched in column. On a sudden, while in a narrow defile,
a battery of twelve guns poured a storm of grape-shot into their right flank
The English faced about ; another battery immediately opened on their rear.
They liad no alternative, therefore, but to advance; other batteries met them here
likewise, and in less than half an liour, 57 pieces of cannon were so brought to
bear on them as to penetrate into every part of the British line. By seven
o'clock in the morning, the enemy poured down upon them in thousands, and
evei-y Englishman in the army was engaged. Captain Baird, at the head of his
grenadiers, fought with the greatest heroism. Surrounded and attacked on aU
sides by 25,000 cavalry, by 30 regiments of Sepoy infantry, besides Hyder
Ally's European corps, and a numerous artillery playing upon them from all
quarters within grape-shot distance, yet this heroic column stood firm and un-
daunted, alternately facing their enemies on every side of attack. Tlie French
officers in Hyder's camp beheld the scene with astonishment, which was increased,
when, in the midst of all this tumult and extreme peril, they saw the British
grenadiers perfonning their evolutions with as much precision, coolness, and
steadiness, as if under the eyes of a commander on a parade.
I. Colonels Baillie and Fletcher, and^Captain Baird, had only ten pieces of

98 GENERAL SIR DAVID BAIRD.

cannon ; hut these wern so excellently gerved, that fhey made great haTOC
nmonjrst tlie eiiciiiy. At Icnjrrtli, afler a dubious contest of three houi-s, (from six
in tlie nioniinjif till nine,) victory bcfjan to declare for the JOnghsh : the flower
of the Mysore cavah-j-, after many hhxxiy repulses, were at lennth entirely de-
feate«l witli g^reat slaughter, and tlie right wing, composed of llyder's best forces,
was tlirown into disorder, ami began to give way. llyder liimself was about to
give the orders t\a- retreat, and the Irench oflicer who directed the artillei-)
began to draw it off.

At this moment of exultation and triumjili, when British valour was just about
to reap that safety which it had so well fought for, tliere occurred an unlucky
accident, which entirely altered the fortune of the day. The tumbrils contain-
ing the ammunition suddenly blew up, with two dreadful explosions, in the
centre of the British line, llie whole face of their column was laid open, and
their artillery overturned and destroyed. '1 he destruction of men was great, but
the total loss of their ammunition was still more fatal to the sunivors. Tippoo
Saib, a worthy son of his martial father, instantly saw and seized the moment of
advantage, and, without waiting for orders, fell with the utmost rapidity, at the
head of the Mogul and Carnatic horse, into the broken square, ivhich had not
yet time in any degree to recover its form and order. Uliis attack by the ene-
my's cavalry being inmiediately seconded by the I'rencb corps, and by the first
line of infantry, determined at once the fate of our unfortunate army. After
successive prodigies of valour, the brave Sepoys were abnost to a man cut to
pieces.

Colonels Baillie and Fletcher made one more desperate effort ; they rallied
the Europeans, and, under the fire of the whole artillery of the enemy, gained a
little eminence and formed themselves into a square. In this form, did this
invincible band, though totally without ammunition, the officers fighting only
with their swords, and the soldiers with their bare bayonets, resist and repulse
the enemy in thii-teen different attacks ; until, at length, incapable of withstand-
ing the successive torrents of fresh troops «hich were continually pouring upon
tliem, they were fairly borne down and trampled upon, many of them still con-
tinuing to fight under the very legs of the horses and elephants.

Out of about 4,000 Sepoys and 800 Etu-opeans who had commenced this
engagement, only about 200 of the latter survived. Colonel Fletcher was among
the slain, and Captain Baird had wounds in four places. When he and Colonel
Baillie, with other captive officers, were taken before Hyder Ally, the latter
gentleman said to the barbarous chief, " Your son will inform you, that you owe
the victoi-y to our disaster, rather than to our defeat." Hyder angrily ordered
them from his presence, and commanded them instantly to prison. The slaugh-
ter among the Mysore troops was very great, amounting, it is said, to three
times the Avliole British army. When Sir Hector Munroe learned the unhappy
fate of his detachment, he found it necessarj' to retreat to Madras.

Captain Baird, mth the officers, remained in a dungeon in one of Hyder's
forts for thi-ee days and a half; he was chained by the leg to another prisoner,
as much of the slaughter in Hyder's ai-my was attributed to the grenadiers. At
length, in July 1784, he was released, and joined his regiment at Arcot In
1787, he removed with his regiment (now styled the 71st) to Bombay, and re-
turned to Madras next year. On the 5th of June 1789, he received the majo-
rity of the 71st, and in October obtained leave of absence, and returned to
Britain. In 1791, he returned as lieutenant-colonel of the 71st, and joined the
army under the marquis Cornwallis. As commander of a brigade of Sepoys, he
was present at the attack of a number of Droogs, or hill-forts, and at the siege
of Seringapatam, in 1791 and 1792; and likewise at the storming of Tippoo

GENERAL SIR DAVID BAIRD. 99

Sultaun's lines and camps in the island of Seringapatam. In 1793, he com-
manded a brigade of Europeans, and was present at the siege of PondicheiTy.
He received a colonelcy in 1795. In October 1797, he embai-ked at Ma-
dras with his regiment for Europe ; in December, when he an-ived at the
Cape of Good Hope, he was appointed Brigadier-general, and placed on tliat
staff, in command of a brigade. June 18, 1798, he was appointed Major-gene-
ral, and returned to the staff in India. In January 1799, he arrived at Madras,
in conmiand of two regiments of foot, together with the di-afts of the 28th dra-
goons. May 4, he conunanded the storming party at that distinguished action, the
assault of Seringapatam ; when, in requital of his brilliant sei'vlces, he was pre-
sented by the army, through the Coimnander-in-chief, with the state sword of
Tippoo Sultaun, and also with a dress-sword from the field-officers serving under
his inunediate command at the assault

The eminent merit of Brigadier-general Baird was now fully known and
acknowledged by the government at home. He was therefore, in 1800, ap-
pointed to the coimnand of an expedition against Batavia, but which was after-
wards sent to Egypt. He landed at Coseir in June, crossed the desert, and,
embarking on the Nile, descended to Grand Cairo ; ^vhence he set out for Alex-
andi'ia, which he reached a few days before it surrendered to General Hutchison.
Next year he led the Egyptian Indian army overland to India, where he was
concerned in various military transactions. His services, however, being soon
after superseded by Sii- Arthur WeUesley (afterwards the illustrious protector of
Europe), he sailed for Britain with his staff, March 1803, and after a tedious
voyage, during which he was taken prisoner by a French privateer, but after-
wards retaken, he arrived in England in November.

Sir David Baird was received at the British court with great distinction. In
December, he received the royal permission to wear the Tm-kish order of the
Crescent. In June, 1804, he received the honour of knighthood; and on the
1 8th of August following became a knight companion of the Bath. With the
increased rank of Lieutenant-general, he commanded an expedition which sailed
in October 1805, for the Cape of Good Hope. Landing there, January 6, 1806,
he attacked and beat the Dutch army, and on the 1 8th received the surrender
of the colony. Being recalled, he amved in Britain, April 1807, and was
shifted from the colonelcy of the 54th, which he had held for some years, to
that of the 24th, and placed on the foreign staff under General Lord Cathcart.
He commanded a division at the siege of Copenhagen, where he was t\vice
slightly wounded ; and retm-ned with the army in November.

Alter a short period of service in Ireland, Sir David sailed in conmiand of an
armament of 10,000 men for Corunna, where he arrived in November 1808,
and formed a junction with the army under General Sir John Moore. He com-
manded the first division of that army, and in the battle of Corunna, January
16, 1809, he lost his left arm.

By the death of Sir John Moore in this action, Sir David succeeded to the
chief command, and had the honour of communicating intelligence of the victory
to government. On this occasion, he received for the fourth time in his life
the thanks of parliament, and, April 13, was created a baronet, with very hon-
oui-able armorial bearings allusive to the transactions of his life. After this
period, he never again appeared in active service. In 1810, he married Miss
Preston Campbell, of Ferntower and Lochlane, Peilhshire, by whom he left no
issue. In 1814, he was promoted to the rank of General, and in 1819 became
governor of Kinsale in Ireland, and in 1827, of Fort George in the north of
Scotland- This brave veteran died at an advanced age, August 18, 1829, at
his seat of Ferntower in Perthshire. His ladv, who survived him till 1847, erected

100 "WALTER BALCANQUEL, D.D.

a moniunent to his memory on llie top of a romantic hill, named. Tom-na-
chaistel, (/. e. t!ie iiill of the castle,) in the ncigliboiiiliood of Kenitowcr.

BALCANQUEL, Waltkr, D.D. an eminent divine of tlie seventeenth century,
was the son of the llev. Walter I'alcancjnci, who was a minister of I'dinburc^h for
I'orty-three years, and died in August, ItJHi. Dr Walter Balcan<iuel was born
nt Edinbiu-gh. It lias been supposed that he was himself a minister of Edin-
burgh ; but probably the writer who makes this statement only mistakes him for
his fatiier, who bore the same name. He entered a bachelor of divinity at Pem-
broke Hall, Oxford, where, Septemher 8th, Kill, he was admitted a /eZ/ow.
He appears to have enjoyed the patronage and friendship of King .Irnnes, and
liis first prefei-ment was to be one of the royal chaplains. In 10 17, he ber^ame
Master of the Savoy in the Strand, London ; which oflice, however, he soon after
resigned in favoui- of 3Iark Antony de Dominis, archbishop of Spalatro, who
came to England on account of religion, and became a candidate for the king's
favour. In IG18, Dr Balcanquel was sent to the celebrated synod of Dort, as
one of the representatives of the church of Scotland. He has given an account
of a considerable part of the proceedings of this grand religious council, in a
series of letters to Sir Dudley C'arleton, which are to be found in " The Golden
Remains of the ever memoi'able Mr John Hales of Eaton, 4to. 1G73." In
1621, the Archbisliop of Spalatro having resigned the mastership of the Savoy,
Dr Balcanquel was re-appointed ; and on the 12th of March, l(i24, being then
doctor of divinity, he was installed Dean of Rochester. George Heriot, at his
death, February 12th, 1624, ordained Dr Balcanquel to be one of the three
executors of his last will, and to take the principal charge of the establishment
of his hospital at Edinburgh. Probably, the experience which he had already
acquired in the management of the Savoy Hospital might be the chief cause of
his being selected for this important duty. Heriot appointed Di* Balcanquel, by
hii will, " to repair, with all the convenience he can, after my decease, to the town
of Edinburgh," in order to conclude with the magistrates about the business of
the hospital ; allowing him, for his pains, in addition to the sum of one hundred
merks, which he enjoyed as an ordinary executor, one hundred pounds sterling,
payable by two equal instalments — the first three months after the decease of the
testator, and the second at the completion of the hospital.

Dr Balcanquel is entitled to no small commendation for the able manner in
which he discharged this great and onerous trust. The Statutes, which, in terms
of the testator's will, were drawn up by him, are dated 1627, and do gi'eat
credit to his sagacity and practical good sense. ^

J They conclude with the following adjuration to the magistrates and olergy of Edinburgh,
xho were designed in all time coming to be the managers of the hospital ; a piece of com-
position, calculated, we should think, by its extraordinary solemnity and inipressivencss, to
have all the effect which could be expected, from counectnig the obligations of the trustees with
the sanctions of religion : —

* And now, finallv, 1, the unworthy servant of God, Waltpr P.nlranquel,the composer of
these Statutes, do onerate and charge the consciences of you, the Lord Provost, IMagistrates,
and Ministry, and Council of the city of Edinburgh, and of all those who shall be your suc-
cessors, unto' the second coming of the Son of Ood, and that by the bowels of our Lord
Jesus Christ, who one day will come to judge the quick and the dead, and take a particular
account of every one of you, for this particular stewardship, wherewith you are trusted; by
the zeal and honour of our reformed religion, which by this pious work of the founder, is
illustrated and vindicated from the calumnies of the adversariesto our holy profession,by that
pious respect which you, his fellow-citizens, ought to carry to the pious memory and last will
of the religious founder, your worthy citizen, Genrge Heriot. And, lastly, for the clearing
pf your own consciences, "and your own particular accounts in the great day of the Lord, let
none of you, who read these presents, nor your successors, who in after ages shall corne to
read them, offer to frustrate the pious Founder of his holy intention, either by takins, direct-
ly or indirectly, from this hospital, any thing which he, in his piety, hath devoted unto it,
or by aiteringit, or bestowing it upon any other use, though you shall conceive it to be far

ALEXANDER BALFOUR. 101

Dr Balcanquel's next appe.irance in the public concerns of his native country,
was of a less happy character, in IGSb, when Charles 1. sent down the Mar-
quis of Hamilton to Scotland, to treat with the Covenanters, the Dean of Roches,
ler accompanied his grace in the capacity of chaplain. What was his external
behaviour on this occasion, we do not know ; but it was afterwards surmised by
the Covenanters, that he had been deputed by Archbishop Laud, as a spy, at
once upon the 3Iarquis, who was suspected of moderation, and the people ivith
whom he was dealing. It is asserted by Sir James Balfour, in his " Memorialls
of State," that Dr Balcanquel also communicated intelligence of all that happened
in Scotland, to Signor George Con, the Pope's legate, " as some of his inter-
cepted letters can beare recorde." Early in the ensuing year, was published an
apologetical narrative of the court-proceedings, under the title of " His Majes-
ties Large Declaration, concerning the Late Tunmlts in Scotland," which, by
univei-sal and apparently uncontradicted report, was ascribed to the pen of Dr
Balcanquel. While this work was received by the friends of the king as a
triumphant vindication of his attempts upon the purity of the Scottish church,
it only excited new indignation in the minds of the outraged people, who soon
after appeared in arms at Dunse law, to defend their religious freedom with the
sword. On the 14th of May, 163 'J, at the very tune wlien the armies were
about to meet on the borders, Dr Balcanquel, apparently in requital of his exer-
tions, was installed Dean of Durham. He had now rendered himself a marked
man to the Scottish presbyterians, and accordingly his name is frequently alluded
to in their publications as an " incendiari/." Under this character he was
denounced by the Scottish estates, July 29, 1641, along with the Earl of Traquair,
Sir John Hay, Clerk liegister. Sir Robert Spottiswoode, and Maxwell, Bishop
of Ross, all of whom were regarded as the principal causes of the war between
the king and his people. In the Canterbui-ian's Self-Conviction, a pamphlet
written in 1641, by the Rev. Robert Baillie, against Ai'chbishop Laud, he is
spoken of in a style of such asperity, as might have convinced him that, in the
event of a complete triumph of the presbyterian party, he would share in the
proceedings which were now directed against that unhappy prelate. Accordingly,
the very next year, when the king could no longer protect his partizans, Dr
Balcanquel was forced from his mastership of the Savoy, plundered, sequestered,
and obliged to fly from London. Repairing to Oxford, he attached himself to
the precai'ious fortunes of his sovereign, and for several years afterwards, had to
shift about from place to place, wherever he could find security for his life.
At length, having taken refuge in Chirk Castle, Denbighshire, he died there
in a very cold season, on Christmas day, 1645. He was buried next day in
the parish chui-ch of Chirk, where some years after a splendid monument was
erected to his memory by a neighbouring royalist. Sir Thomas Middleton of
Chirk Castle.

BALFOUR, Alexander, an esteemed miscellaneous writer, Avas born March
1st, 1767, in the parish of Monikie, Forfarshire. His parents belonged to the

more pious or profitable; or to go about to alter any of these Statutes and Ordinances,
after they shall be once delivered up unto you, completely subscribed and sealed, as yuu will
answer the contrary, at the uttermost of your perils, in the day of the Lord Jesus : to whom,
(being fully assured of your goodly care and zealous conscience in these particulars) with his
Father, and the Holy Ghost, three Persons, but one undivided Essence of the Godhead, as
for all other their blessings, so in particular for the great charity of this most pious and re-
ligious founder, be ascribed, as is most due, all praise, honour, and glory, from age to age,
Amen."

It is alleged, by traditionary report, that the taste of Dr Balcanquel is conspicuous in the
external architecture of Heriot's Hospital. He is said, in particular, to have directed that
anomalous contrariety of ornaments which is observed in the windows of the building; a
blemish, however, affecting only the details, and not the general eflfect of the building.

102 ALEXANDER BALTOUR.

humbler rural class. His education wai very limited, and he was apprenticed at an
early age to a weaver. His first attempts at composition were made when he was
twelve years of age. At a somewhat maturer age he contributed verses to a newspaper
named the "British Chronicle," to Dr Anderson's "Bee," and to several provincial
miscellanies. At twenty-six he became clerk to a manufacturing house in Arbroath,
and married in the following year. From the Arbroath establishment, in which he
had for several years been a partner, he removed, in 1814, to Trottick near Dundee,
where he formed a connection with a branch of an extensive London bouse. In the
ensuing year, so memorable for calamity in the commercial world, the house in which
lie had embarked his fortune was suddenly involved in bankruptcy. Till some better
employment should occur to him, Balfour resorted to the pen, which had never been
altogether laid aside in his busiest and most prosperous days, and, in 1819, he produced
a novel entitled, " Campbell, or the Scottish Probationer," which was received by
the public in a favourable manner. While the work was in progress, he accepted
of a dependent situation at Balgonie in Fife, the emoluments of which were barely
sufficient to maintain a family consisting of a wife, two sons, and three daughters.
He was at length induced to remove to Edinburgh, where, in 1818, he obtained
employment as a clerk from Mr Blackwood the publisher. His health suffered from
constant confinement to the desk, and in June, 1819, he was obliged to relinquish
his employment by a threatened attack of paralysis. For ten years after the month
of October, he was unable to set his foot upon the ground, and spent bis days in a
wheel-chair. He was, nevertheless, enabled to devote himself, with unimpaired
energy, to literary labour. He edited, in 1819, the poetical works of his deceased
friend, Richard Gall, adding a biographical preface ; and contributed various articles
of merit, consisting of tales, sketches, and poems, descriptive of Scottish rural life,
to Constable's Edinburgh Magazine, of which he continued one of the chief literary
supporters till its close, in 1826. In this magazine appeared the poetical series,
entitled, " Characters omitted in Crabbe's Parish Register," which was afterwards
published in a separate volume. In 1820, he published a volume, under the title of
" Contemplation, and other Poems." In 1823 be began to contribute novels to the
so-called Minerva Press, his first work being, " The Foundling of Glenthorn, or the
Smuggler's Cave," a tale in three volumes. Amidst the pangs of his disorder, Mr.
Balfour continued to enjoy such good general health, that he is said to have not
been absent from his family breakfast-table more than twelve times during the long
period often years. He slept regularly, and generally was able to spend twelve or
fourteen hours each day in study and composition. Ilis eyesight was as good, and
bis intellectual powers continued as vigorous as at any period of his life; but his
feelings were morbidly sensitive, and he had little command over their expression.
In the year 1827, through the intervention, it is believed, of Mr. Joseph Hume, M.P.,
who presented a number of Mr Balfour's works to the premier, Mr Canning, a treasury
donation of one hundred pounds was obtained for this unfortunate son of genius.

The latest considerable work of Mr Balfour was a novel, entitled, " Highland
Mary," in four volumes. It is written with great simplicity and taste, and, as a
story, is replete with a mournful pathos. He continued to the last to contribute to
the periodical works of the day.

He enjoyed his usual health, till the 1st of September, 1829, when an illness
commenced that hurried him to the grave. For some days previous to his death,
he was deprived of speech, and communicated with his friends by means of an
alphabet which he had occasionally used before. He died, September 12th, 1829,
in the sixty-third year of his age. A memoir of Balfour was written by the late
Mr Moir, of Musselburgh ("Delta"), and prefixed to a posthumous volume of bis
remains, published under the title of Weeds and Wildflowers.

SIR ANDREW BALrOUR, BART., M.D 103

BALFOUR, (Sir) Andrew, Bart. M.D. who first introduced the dissection of the
human body into Scotland, and that at a very superstitious period ; who pro-
jected the first hospital in the country, for the relief of disease and poverty at
the public expense ; who was the founder of the botanic garden at Edinburgh,
and almost the father of the science in Scotland; who planned the royal
college of physicians at Edinburgh ; and bequeathed to the public a museum,
which at that time would have been an ornament to any university, or any me-
tropolis, — was the fifth and youngest son of Sir Michael Balfour of Denmilne in
Fife, and was born at that place on the 18th of January, 1630. He prosecuted
his studies in the university of St Andrews, where he took his degi'ee of A. M.
At this period his education was superintended by his brother Sir James Balfour,
the famous antiquary, and lion king at arms to Charles I., who was about thii-ty
years older than himself. At college he first discovered his attachment to botany,
which in him is said to have led to the study of physic, instead of being, as it
generally is, a handmaid to that art. Quitting the university about the year
165(J, he removed to London, where his medical studies were chiefly directed by
the celebrated Hai'vey, by Sir llieodore Mayerne, the distinguished physician of
king James 1., and various other eminent practitioners. He afterwards travelled
to Blois in France, and remained there for some time, to see the botanic garden
of the Dulie of Orleans, which was then the best in Europe, and was kept by his
countryman Dr Morison. Here he contracted a warm friendship for that great
botanist, which continued unimpaired while they lived- Fi'om Blois he went
to Paris, where, for a long time, he prosecuted his medical studies with great
ardoui-. He completed his education at the university of Caen, fi*om which he
received the degrees of bachelor and doctor of physic, on the 20th of September,
1661.

Returning to London soon afterwards, Dr Balfour was introduced to Charles
H., who named him as the most proper person to attend the young earl of Ro-
chester on his continental travels. After an absence of four years, he returned
with his pupil in 1667. During their tour he endeavoured, and at that time
not without some appearance of success, to recall that abandoned young noble-
man to the paths of virtue, and to inspire him with the love of learning. Ro-
chester himseli' often acknowledged, and to Bishop Burnet, in particular, only
three days before his death, how much he was bound to love and honour Dr Bal
four, to whom, next to his parents, he thought he owed more than to all the world.

On returning to his native country, Balfour settled at St Andrews as a physi-
cian. " He brought with him," says Dv Walker, in his Essays on Natural His-
tory, " the best library, especially in.medicine and natural history, that had till
then appeared in Scotland ; and not only these, but a perfect knowledge of the
languages in which they were written ; likewise many unpublished manuscripts
of learned men, a series of antique medals, modern medallions, and pictui-es and
busts, to form the painter and the ai'chitect ; the remarkable arms, vestments, and
ornaments of foreign countries ; numerous mathematical, philosophical, and sur-
gical instruments, which he not only possessed, but used ; with operations in sur-
gery, till then unknown in this country ; a complete cabinet with all the simples
of the materia medica, and new compositions in pharmacy ; and large collections
of the fossils, plants, and animals, not only of the foreign countries he traversed,
but of the most distant parts of the world."

Dr Balfour's merit was too conspicuous to sufier him to remain long at St An-
drews. In the year 1670, he removed to Edinburgh, where he iimnediately
came into great practice. Here, among other improvements, he prosecuted the
manufacture of paper, and was the means of introducing that valuable art into
the countiy — though for many years it remained in a state of complete, or nearly

104 SIR ANDREW BALFOUR, BART., M.D.

complete dormancy ; the people derivinsr stationaiy articles of all kinds from
Holland. Adjoinin"^ to his house, he had a small botanic i^arden, wliicli he fur-
nished by the seeds he received from his foreijjn conespondents ; and in this
g^arden he raised many plants >vhicli were then first introduced into i^icotland.
One of his follow-labouiers in this department was Patrick 3Iurray of Livingston,
whom he had initiated into the study of natural history. This youn^; sfentleman,
who enjoved an ample fortune, formetl at iiis seat in llie country a botanic gar-
den, containinaf one thousand species of plants, which at that period was a vei-y
large collection. He traversed the whole of France in quest of the plants of
that country ; and on his way to Italy, lie prematurely died of a fever. Soon
after his death, l)r Balfour transferred his collection from Livingston to IMin-
burgh ; and with it, joined to his own, he had the merit of laying the Inundation
of the public botanic garden. The necessary expense of this new institution
was at first defrayed by Dr Ualfour, Sir Robert Sibbald, and the Faculty of Ad-
vocates. But at length the city allotted a piece of gi'ound near Trinity College
Church for a public garden, and out of the revenues of the university, allowed a
certain sum for its support. As the fii-st keeper of this garden, Dr Balfour
selected Mr James Sutherland; who, in 1G84, published a work, entitled, Hor-
ttis Edinburgensis. [See Sutherl.vnd.] The new institution soon became con-
siderable : plants and seeds ^vere sent from Morison at Oxford, Watts at London,
3Iai-chant at Paris, Herman at Leyden, and Spottiswood at Tangier. From the
last were received many African pLants, which flourished in this country.

Such efforts as these, by a native Scotsman, occurring at a time when the at-
tention of the country seems to have been almost exclusively devoted to contend-
ing systems of church-government, are truly grateful in the contemplation. It
is only to be lamented, that the spirit which presided over them, ^vas premature
in its appearance; it found no genial field to act upon, and it was soon forgotten
in the prevailing distraction of the public mind. Sir Andrew Balfour was the
morning-star of science in Scotland, but he might almost be said to have set be-
fore the approach of day.

He was created a baronet by Charles II., whicli »eems to indicate that, like
most men of literary and scientific character in that age, he maintained a senti-
ment of loyalty to the existing dynasty and government, which was fast decaying
from the public mind at large. His interest with the ministry, and with the
municipality of Edinburgh, seems to have always been considerable, and was uni-
formly exerted for the public good, and for the encouragement of merit.

Upon his settlement in Edinburgh, he had found the medical art taught in a
very loose and irregular manner. In order to place it on a more respectable
footing, he planned, with Sir Robert Sibbald, the royal college of physicians ;
and of that respectable society his brethren elected him the first president.
When the college undertook the publication of a Pharmacopceia, the whole ar-
rangement of the materia medica was committed to his particular care. For
such a task he was eminently qualified by his skill in natural history. This per-
formance made its appearance in 16 85 ; and, in the opinion of Dr Cullen, it is
superior to any Pharmacopasia of that era.

Not Ions before his decease, his desire to promote the science of medicine in
his native country, joined to the universal humanity of his disposition, led him
to project the foundation of an hospital in Edinburgh. The institution was at
first nan-ow and confined, but it survived to be expanded into full shape, as the
royal infirmary, under the care of George Drummond. Sir Andrew died
in 1694, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, after a severe conflict with the
gout and other painful disorders ; which afforded him an opportunity of display-
ing upon the approach of death; those virtues and that equanimity, which had

SIR JA.MES BALrOUR. -[Qfy

disting-uished him during his life. His person, like his mind and mannei-s, was
elegant. He wns possessed of a liandsome figure with a pleasing and expressive
countenance ; of a graceful elocution ; and, by his natural disposition, as well as
ills long intercourse with the higher ranks in society, of a most courteous and
polite demeanour. A print of him was executed at Paris ; but no copy is known
to exist.

His library and museum were the anxious result of fourteen years of travelling,
and bet^veen twenty and thirty more of correspondence. For their accommoda
tion, he had built an addition to his house when he had nearly arrived at his for-
tieth year ; but after the building was completed, he found himself so infirm as
to be unable to place them in that order which he intended. After his death,
liis libraiy, consisting of about three thousand volumes, besides manuscripts, was
sold, we suppose, by public auction. There is a printed catalogue still extant.
His museum was deposited in the hall which was, till 1829, occupied as the uni-
versity library. There it remained many years, useless and neglected ; some
paits of it falling to inevitable decay, and other parts being abstracted. " Yet,
even after 1750," says Dr Walker, "it still continued a considerable collection,
which I have good reason to remember, as it was the sight of it, about that time,
that first inspired me Avith an attachment to natural history. Soon after that
period," to pursue a nan-ative so deeply disgraceful to the age and the institu-
tion refen-ed to, " it was dislodged from the hall where it had been long kept ;
was thrown aside, and exposed as lumber ; was further and fui'ther dilapidated,
and at length almost completely demolished. In the year 1782, out of its ruinj
and rubbish I extracted many pieces stiU valuable and useful, and placed them
here in the best order I could. These, I hope, may remain long, and be consi-<
dered as so many precious relics of one of the best and greatest men this country
has produced."

From the account that has been given of Sir Andrew Balfoui*, evei-y person
conversant in natural histoiy or medicine must regi'et that he never appeared as
an authoi-. To his friend, Mr MmTay of Livingston, he addi-essed a series of
familiar letters, for the direction of his researches while abroad. These letters,
forming the only literary relics of Balfour, were subsequently published by his son,
in the year 1700.

BALFOUR, (Sir') James, an eminent lawyer and public character of the sixteenth
centmy, was a son of Balfour of Monquhanny, in Fife, a very ancient family. In
youth, being designed for the church, he made considerable proficiency, not only
in ordinary literature, but in the study of divinity and law ; w hich Avere aU alike
necessary in those times for an ecclesiastic, on account of the mixed character
which the age admitted to be assumed by such individuals. Balfour, while still
a young man, was so unfortunate as to join with the conspirators who, after assas-
sinating Cardinal Beaton, held out the castle of St. Andrews against the governor
Arran. He seems, however, not to have been a very cordial partizan of the con-
spirators. John Knox, in his own vigorous and plain-spoken manner, styled him the
Blasphemous Ba^ovr, on account of his having refused to communicate along with
his reforming associates. Balfour shared the fate of his companions in being
sent to the French galleys' and was confined in the same vessel along with Knox,
from which he escaped in 1550, along with the rest, by the tacit permission of the
French government.

3 The following imecdote of Balfour in connexion with Knox is related by Dr IM'Crie.
" The galleys returned to Scotland in summer 1548, as near as I ran collect, and continued
for a considerable time on the east coast, to watch for English vessels Knoxs health was
now greatly impaired by the severity of his confinement, and he was seized with a fever
during which his life was despaired of by all in the ship. But even in this state, his fort)-

JOG SIR JAMES BALbOUR.

Balfour seems to have afterwards joined in tlic proceedings of the Reformers,
but only with courtier-like temperance, and without cxliibiting much zeal in the
Protestant cause, lie was preferred to tlie ecclesiastical appointment of official of
Lothian, and afterwards became rector of Flisk, a parisli in liis native county.
Ill 1503, be was appointed by Queen Mary to be a Lord of Session, the court then
being composed partly of churchmen, and partly of laics. In 150-1, when the
Commissary court was instituted in place of the ecclesiastical tribunal, which had
been dissolved at the Reformation, Ralfour became one of tlie four commissaries,
with a salary of four hundred merks, while the others had only three hundred. In
July, 1505, the Queen extended the further favour of admitting him into her privy
council.

J3alfour was one of those servants of the state, who, being advanced rather on
account of merit tlian birth, used at all times to give gi-eat ollence to the Scottish
nobility. It seems to have never been supposed by this haughty class, that there
was the least necessity for ingenious or faithful service in the officials employed
by majesty ; birth and following were the only qualifications allowed by them
to be of any value. Accordingly, it is not surprising to find that the same conspi-
racy which overthrew the " kinless " adventurer Rizzio, contemplated the destruc-
tion of Balfour. He was so fortunate, however, as to escape, and even derived
6ome advantage from the event, being promoted to the office of clerk-register, in
room of Mr James Macgill, who was concerned in the conspiracy. lie was also
about this time made a knight, and appointed to be one of the commissioneri
tor revising, correcting, and publishing the ancient laws and statutes of the
kingdom.

In the beginning of the year 1537, Sir James Balfour was appointed gover-
nor of Edinburgh castle. In this important situation, he naturally became an
object of great solicitude to the confederate lords, who, in the ensuing May, com-
menced a successful rebellion against Queen Mary. It would appear that Sir
James was not now more loyal than many other persons who had experienced
the favour of Mary. He is said to have even been the means of throwing into
the hands of the confederates that celebrated box of lettere, upon which they en-
deavoured to gi'ound the proof of her guilt. There can be no doubt that he
^vas at this time in the way of receiving high favours from the Earl of MuiTay,
who was the chief man opposed to the dethroned queen. He was, in September,
1567, admitted by Murray a lord of his privy council, and made commendator
of t!ie priory of Pittenweem ; and in December, a bargain Avas accomplished, by
which he agreed to accept a pension of L.500 and the presidency of the Couit
of Session, in lieu of the clerk-registry, which IMurray wished to be restored to
his friend MacgilL Sir James continued faithful to the party which opposed
Queen Mary, till the death of Murray, January, 15(59-70, when he was in somo
measm-e compelled to revert to the Queen's side, on account of a charge prefer
red against iiim by the succeeding Regent, Lennox, who taxed him with a share
in the murder of Darnley. For this accusation no proof >vas ever adduced, but

tude of mind remained unsubdued, and he comforted his fellow-prisoners with hopes of re-
lease. To tiieir anxious des|Jo)idin£; inquiries, natural to men in their situation, 'If lie
thought they would ever obtain their liberty,' his uniform answer was, ' God will deliver us
to his glory, even in this life.' While tliey lay on the coast between Dundee and St An-
drews, Mr (afterwards .Sir) James Balfour, who was confined in the same ship, desired him
to look at the land and see if he knew it. Though at that time very sick, he replied, 'Yes;
1 know it well, for I see the steeple of that place where God first opened my mouth in pub-
lic to his glory : and I am fully persuaded, how weak soever 1 now appear, that I shall not
depart this life till that my tongue shall glorify his godly minie in the same place.' This
sti iking reply Sir James repeated in the presence of many witnesses, a number of years
before Knox returned to Scoiland, and when there was very little prospect of his words be-
ing: verified." Life of Knox, \st edit. p. bo.

SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

10^

even allowing Sir James to have been guilty, it will only add another to the
list of great men concerned in the transaction, and show the more clearly how
neither learning, rank, official dignity, nor any other ennobling qualification,
prevented a man in those days from staining his hands with blood. Balfour
outlived Lennox, and was serviceable in bringing about the pacification between
the King's and Queen's party, under Morton, in 1 573. He would appear to have
been encouraged by Morton in the task of revising the laws of the country, which
he at length completed in a style allowed at that time to be most masterly. Mor-
ton afterwards thought proper to revive the charge brought by Lennox against
Sir James, who was consequently obliged to retire to France, where he lived for
some yeai-s. He retui'ned in 1580, and revenged the persecution of Morton,
by producing against him, on his trial, a deed to which he had acceded, in com-
mon with others of the Scottish nobility, alleging Bothwell's innocence of the
King's murder, and recommending him to the Queen as a liusband. Sir James
died before the 14th of January, 1583-4.

The Practicks of Scots Law, compiled by Sir James Balfour of Pittendreich,
president of the Court of Session, continued to be used and consulted in manu-
script, both by students and practitioners, till nearly a century after his decease,
when it was for the fii-st time supplanted by the Institutes of Lord Stair. Even
after that event, it was held as a curious repertoiy of the old practices of Scottisli
law, besides fulfilling certain uses not answered by the work of Lord Stair. It
was therefore printed in 1754, by the Iluddimans, along with an accurate bio-
graphical preface by Walter Goodal. The work was of considerable service
to Dr Jamieson in his Dictionary of the Scottish language.

BALFOUR, (Sir) James, an eminent antiquary, herald, and annalist, was
born about the close of the sixteenth century. He was the eldest son of a small
Fife laird, Michael Balfour of Denmylne, who derived his descent from James,
son of Sir John Balfour of Balgarvy, a cadet ' of the ancient and honourable
house of Balfour of Balfour in Fife. James Balfour, the ancestor of Sir
Michael, had obtained the estate of Denmylne li-om James II., in the four-
teenth year of his reign, which corresponds with 1 450- 1. Michael Balfour, the
father of Sir James, and also of Sir Andrew, whose life has been ah-eady com-
memorated, was, in the words of Sir Robert Sibbald, " equally distinguished for
military bravei^ and civil prudence." He bore the honourable office of Comp-
troller of the Scottish Household, in the reign of Charles I., and in 1630 was
knighted, at Holyi-ood house, by George, Viscount Dupplin, Chancellor of Scot-
land, under his Majesty's special warrant. This eminent personage was, by
Jean Durham, daughter of James Durham of Pitkerrow, the father of five sons,
all of whom attained to distinction in public life, besides nine daughters, who
all formed honourable alliances, except two, who died unmarried. He lived to
see tliree hundred of his own descendants ; a number which his youngest son,
Sir Andrew, lived to see doubled.

Sir Michael Balfour gave his eldest son an education suitable to the extended
capacity which he displayed in his earliest yeai-s. This education, of which the
fruits are apparent in his taste and writings, was accompanied by a thorougli
initiation into the duties of religion, as then professed on a presbyterian
model. The genius of the future antiquary was first exhibited in a turn for
poetry, which was a favourite study among the scliolars of that period, even
where there was no particular aptitude to excel in its composition, but for which

1 This branch was ennobled in 1697, in the person of Michael Balfour of Balijarvy, who,
having served King James in several embassies to the principal courts of Europe, was
created Lord Balfour of Burleigh. This peerage was attainted in consequence of the con-
cern of its occupant in the civil war of 1715.

108 yill JAMES BALFOUR.

Sir James Balfour appears to have ha<l a cfeiiuiiie t.isle. His juvciiilo jiroficicncv
in ve«-silication is tliiis alliideil to by tlio poet Leodi, or Leoclweus, in his ^(renee,
published in ltJ2(), ol" wliicli that entitled Janu.i is dedicated Gcueruw Juvcni
Jacubo Balfuurio Kincardiu :

Hunc til carniiiiibus conslrictum, Jacobe, Lalinis
Coge tuis iiuineris, qiios Musa Caledonis aptai,
Kt iiatura tibi ; nam tu quoi[ue .Scotica Siren.
Pantliea nostra lu est ita cultu lata Britanno,
Kt meliora inea, si quid queat esse, Puella.

It appears tliat Balfour, who cultivated Scottish vernacular poetry, had success-
fully translated Leoch's Latin poem, entitled, Pant/tea, into that *tyle of verse ;
therefore the Latinist says —

Namque ut pulchra satis, minus est mea Paulhea casta ;
Quum non pulchra minus, el tua casta magis.

Sir Robert Sibbald informs us that he had seen a volume containing Latin and
Scottish poems by Sir James Balfoui-, which, however, is now lost. In its
absence, the taste at le.ost of the youtliful antiquary for poetical objects of con-
templation, is evinced by the following letter, extracted from a transcribed col-
lection of his epistles in tlie Advocates' Library at Edinburgh, it is addressed
to Lord Elcho, but has no date.

My Lord,
Ye aske of my health and quhat I am aboute. I make a retume, by that rill
issewing from the ocean of your love, that I am now taken with the plesur of the
fieldes, and delyght als mucli in my reteired quietnes from out of the city, als your
lordship does to find a drag going cole at Cameron,^ for as that promises you for your
pains riches, so does this to me healthful hourcs, and bountiful recreations with the
Muses, quhen as I often feid my eiyes with the fniitful useiy of my winter labors,
much rejoysing that with healthful prosperity, you should remember your poorest
freindes. Onley let me pleid for my bypast silence, since ' I have nothing to wreatt
but foolries, which I presiune to be bot harsli musicke for so wyse and weill tuned
eares. Howsoever, quhen you are most idle, will ye be bot pleased to overlook this
paper, in which, without aney mentall reservatione, I subscribe myselve, my lord.

Your lo : most faithful servant.

Balfour also appears, at an eax-ly period of his life, to have cultivated the
society of WiUiani Drummond of Hawthornden, then by far the highest poetical
name in Scotland. Probably, .is none of his own pieces have escaped to poste-
rity, they were such as to render their loss no matter of regret : he must, however,
have possessed tlie sort of qualification which we have elsewhere ■* designated as
passive or negative poetry, that is, a keen perception and relish of the compo-
sitions of othei-s, though perhaps destitute of the active power of creating good
poetry himself. This seems to be evidenced by the following letters to Drum
mond, \vhich breathe strongly of that ardent affection, which we are apt to en-
tertain towards distinguished literary personages whose writings have made a
deep impression upon our minds.

" To Hawthorndex,

" Sir, — That love I beare you hath mened me. with this passing bearir, to vrestt

thesse few lynes, content thus in haist to salut you, in doing quhereof, aitho I fulfill

not the oflBce of a frind, nevertheless I evedince the constancey of my affection. You

may therfore retume something to reid : and, if necessity urge, imitat my brevity :

' A ctal field at Cameron, in Fife. ^ ggg Ljfg q^- (jeorge Bannatyiie.

SIR JAMES BALFOUR, 109

altho I be bewitched with the neatness of your pieces, yet, finding lieir in my selve
conscions, I daire hardly be bold to crave a qiiholl sheitt ot you ; howsoever, I will
be yours quhill I am " Ja : Balfour."

" To THE SAME,

" Sir, You desyre of me quhoU sheitts, I must confess a symboU of our inteirest

affections. Bot I, conscious of my own imbecility, rather prove a Laconick. No
wounder altho my vaine be stopt, since this longe tyme you have not lanced it, aither
with the reiding of some of your pieces, or with so much as with a lyne of your hand.
AVhence, then, is it that you should become such a usurer to him that has not receved
so long aney leamid annuity of you. Your starrie Urania, on the wings of a strong
wind, flees by us, in every ones handes : qulierfor, I intreid you, wold you have me
deprived of it ? Have you thought me dead to the Muses, that aither I could not
judge of it, or so dull that I could not praise it. In so doing, you have dirogattmuch
from my genius, and daily conversatione. Nevertheless, in despight of your inter-
dictione, I have gained a sight of it. I wold conceill my thoughts with silence. I
wold be revenged, if the admiratione of your writtings did not breke all sense of
injury ; and though you scatter abroad your pieces (yet ceasse not to love me,) I sail
enjoy them, though by the bountifull hand of ane other. Faire ye weill."

The poetical temperament of Sir James, and the courtly grace wliich generally
is, and ever ought to be the accompaniment of that character, is further shown
in the following epistle to a lady, which we consider a very elegant specimen of
the English prose of the age of Charles I., and, indeed, singularly so, when the
native counti-y of the Mxiter is considered : —

" To A Lady for a Friend,
" Madam, — You must appardone me if, after the remembring of my best love to
you, I should rander you hartly thanks for your affectione, since thankes are the best
knowen blossomes of the hartes strongest desyres. I never, for my pairt, doubtit of
your affectione, bot persuadit myselve that so good a creature could never prove
unconstant, and altho the fairest dayes may have some stormy overshadowings, yet I
persuade myselve that these proceids not from heavenly tliinges, bot from vapors
arising from below, and though they for a tyme conte [ract] the sun's heat, yet make
they that heat in the end to be more powerfull. I hope your friends sail have all
the contentment that layes in my power to gif them : And, since Malice itselve can
not judge of you bot noblie, I wlsch that tyme make your affectione als constant, as
my hai-te sail ever prove, and remaine loyall ; and lest I seime to weirey you more
than myselve, again I must beg pardone for all my oversights (if you think of aney)
wich will be a rare perfectione of goodness in you to forgive freely, and love con-
st£uitly him quhosse greatest happuies under heaven is always to leive and die

" Your trewly affectionat servant."

Sir James Iseems to have spent some of the years subsequent to 1626 in foreign
countries, where he is said to have improved himself much by observing the man-
ners of nations more polished than that to which he himself belonged, and by
forming the acquaintance of eminent literary men. At the close of his conti-
nental travels, he spent some time in London, and obtained the friendship of
the distinguished antiquary, Sir Robert Cotton, and also of Sir William Segar,
Garter King at Arms. He had now turned his attention to the study of herald-
ry, and the friendship of these men, whicii he obtained rather through the
intense sympathy produced by a common taste for rare pursuits, than by the
recommendations of others, was of material service in the completion of what
might be called his professional education. He also contracted a literary ac-
quaintance mth Roger Dodsworth, and Sir William Dugdale, to whom he com-

110 SIR JAMES BALPOUll.

municite*! several chartors ami otlier pieces of inronnatiou regartling Scottish
ecclesiastical aiiti<iuities, wiiicli tlu-y attached t<» their Manasticon Anglicannm,
iiiulei- the title, Canobia Scotica, and wliich Sir James alterwards expanded
into a distinct volume, under the title, Mmiaxticon Scolicnm, though, as Bishop
Nicholson has remarked, it looked more like an index to such a uork than the
complete work itself. The friendship of Sir William Segar appears to luive been
of Considerable inlluence in tlie direction of Balfour's course of life. He exerted
himself to conciliate to liis Scottish protege, the respect of the college of heralds ;
and his efforts were crowned with such success, tliat, in 1G2S, that body pro«
seiited to Balfour tlie following hr)nourable diploma:

" To all and singular to whom thir presents shall come. Greeting : Sir Wil-
liam Segar, Sir Richard St George, and Sir John Barroughe, Garter, Clarentius,
and Norroy, Kings of Arms ; William Benson, Lancaster; Sir Heni-y St George,
Richmond, etc. According to the laudable custome of nations, not to conceill
that honour which is due to verteu and learning, We doe testifie and beai-e record,
that James Balfour, Esq. by and attour his insicht and knowledge in diverse
languages, has also singular good experience and knowledge in all antiquities
and fon-aine histories, but especiall in these concerning the illand of Great Bri-
tain and Irland ; as also we testifie and does vitness him to be ane export and
graduate herauld, in blazing of cotts and armories, in inventing of crests and
supporters, in searching of genealogies and discents, in marshalling of funeralU,
triumphs and inaugurations, etc. and in all ceremonies whatsoever pertaining to
honomf or armes. In witnes of the premisses, we above named, kings of avmes,
heraulds, and pursevants, lies to this our present testificate and approbatione,
with the several cotts of our armes, affixed our manuall subscriptions, at our
office of armes in the cittie of London, Oct. 3, and Dec 4, 1628."

Besides these antiquarian friends, Balfour secured several others of a more
courtly complexion, ivho were natives of his own country. He enjoyed the
friendship of Sir Robert Aytoun, the poetical courtier, with whom he afterwards
became distantly connected by maiTiage. He was also on the most familiar
tenios with another poetical attendant on the elegant court of Charles I. — thp
Earl of Stii'ling.' His chief patron, however, was George, Viscount Dupplin^^

3 We quote from his correspondence in the Advocates' Library, the two following letters
to this distinguished nobleman : —

To MY Lord Viscount of Strevkling, Principall Secretarv of Scotland.

My Lord, — 1 love your letters, becausse they bring with them still some matier of glad-
ness. The retribution of your innumerable favors to me, are a few naked lynes, which, by
the generosity of your noble mynd, are als much in esteeme with you as riches are to the
most miserable world-mongers. According to your Lordship's command, I have, by my
letters, humbly randred thanks to the Kingis Majestie, my master, altlio ordnardly dayed
in homely russett, yet doubled with the best tissew, and full of the strong desires of ane
ardent atlectione, quhilks, at the reiding, your goodnes will extend one word of unanimiiy
with me, and sympathize with thir gratulations as a patione of their master: Then sail
your lordship find that your favors hes beine putt upone ane quho will ever be mpidful of
the least of them, and remaine a daily beadsman for the further incresse of your health
and honour. Fairweill, my lord.

Halyroodhouss, this 7 of March, 163L

To THE Same,
My werrey noble good Lord, — This bearir, my frind, as in a sure sanctuary, casts him-
selve in the bossame of your patrociney ; a man every way worthy of your respect ; by pro-
fession a lover of nobility ; quhosse ingenious spirit and modest cariage betters his stocl^
If your lordship suspecte my recommendatione as partial!, hes obsequious cariage and wor-
thy pairts, after your triall, will make all good: So wishing your lordship dl happiness,
heir and for ever, I will live and die, Your lordship,

Ja : Balfour.
Ed. 12 Mail, 1631.

■* Afterwards created Earl of Kinnoul, on the occasion of the coronation of King Charles
at Edinburgh in 1633. Sir James Balfour relates the following curious anecdote of his

SIR JAMES BALFOUll.

Ill

who held the high and ahiiost vice-regal office of Chancellor of Scotland. By
the recommendation of this nobleman, aided by his own excellent qualifications,
he was created by Charles I., Lord Lion King at Ai-ms, a dignified legal office
in Scotland, in which resides the management of all matters connected with ar-
morial honours, as also all public ceremonials. Sir Jerome Lyndsay having pre-
viously resigned the office, Balfour was crowned and installed at Rolyroodhouse,
June 15, 1630, having in the preceding month been invested with the necessary
honour of knighthood by the Iving. On this occasion, Lord Dupplin officiated
as Royal Commissioner.

Sir James Balfour now settled in Scotland, in the enjoyment of his office.
On the 2 1 st of October, he ^vas mamed to Anna Alton, daughter of Sir John
Alton of that Ilk, and in January, 1G31, he obtained, in favour of himself and
his spouse, a grant of the lands and barony of Kinnaird in Fife. In December,
1633, he was created a baronet by Charles I., probably in consequence of the
able m.anner in which he marshalled the processions and managed the other
ceremonials of the royal visit that year. At this period of peace and prosperity,
a nimiber of learned and ingenious men were beginning to exert themselves in
Scotland. It was a peaceful intei'val between the desolating civil wars of the
minority of King James, and the equally unhappy contest which was soon aftei
incited by i-eligious and political dissentions. Like soldiei-s enjoying themselves
during a truce, the people were beginning to seek for and cultivate various
sources of amusement in the more elegant ai-ts. This was the era of Jamieson,
the painter — of Brummond, the poet — of the geographer Pont — and the histo-
rians Spottiswood, Calderwood, Johnston, and Hume.^ Sir James Balfour, in-
spired Avith the common spirit of these men, commenced the writing of history,
A\ ith as nmch zeal as could be expected in an age, when, the printing of a written
work being a comparatively rare occuirence, literature might be said to want the
greater part of its temptations.

Sir James, as ah-eady mentioned, had been bred a strict Presbyterian. In
this profession he continued to the last, notwithstanding that, in politics, he was
an equally finn royalist. In a letter to a young nobleman, [Correspondence,
Advocates'' Library,'] he is found advising a perusal of " Calvine, Beza, Parens,
and Whittaker," as " orthodox writers." When the introduction of the liturgy
imposed by Charles I. roused Scotland from one end to the other in a fit of
righteous indignation, Sir James Balfour, notwithstanding his connection with
the government, joined cordially with his countrymen, and wrote an account of
the tumult of the 23rd of July, under the burlesque title of " Stoneyfield Day."''

lordship. The King, in 1626, had commanded, by a letter to his Privy Council, that the
Archbishop of St Andiews should have precedence of the Chancellor. "To this his lordship
would never submit. " 1 remember," says Sir James, "that K. Charles sent me to the
Ivord Chancellor on the day of his coronation, in the morning, to show him that it was his
will and pleasure, bol onlie for that day, that he wold ceed and give way to the archbishop ;
but he returned by me to his Majestie a wery bruske answer, which was that he was ready
in all humility to lay his ottice doune at his Majestie's feet ; bot since it was his royal will
tie should enjoy it with the kia wen privileges of the same, never a priest in Scotland
should sett a foot before him, so long as his blood was hole. Quhen I had related his an-
svyer to the Idnge, he said, ' Weel, Lyone, letts goe to business : I will not medle farther
with that olde cankered gootish man, at quhose hand ther is nothing to be gained bot soure
words.' " Wiiat makes this anecdote the more expressively illustrative of the rancour with
which the secular officers and nobility beheld the newly dignified clergy is, that the Lord
Chancellor had just on the preceding afternoon been laised to the rank of Earl of Kinnoul.

5 David Hume of Godscroft, author of the History of the Hou^e of Douglas.

"_ In a letter written on the 27th of July, to his friend Lord Elcho, he thus expresses him-
self regarding tliat extraordinary exertion of popular foice : —

My Lord, — I know your suddain departure from this citey on Saturday was to see how
they brought your light from darkness. Nather will I accuse you as privy to that Osanna
our grate-hciiied bishope had this bypast Saboth, from the tumultuous concors in welcom-

112 SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

But, though indignant, in common with all people of liis own ])ersua8ion, at
the religious innovations attempted by tiie government, Sir James appears to
liave very soon adopted ilitlerent feelings. Like many moderate persons, who
iiad equally a)ndennied the ill advised conduct of the king, he afterwards began to
lear that tlie opposition would produce greater mischiefs than the evil which was
opposed, lie conceived that the people, in their indignation at the royal mea.-
sures, had jtut themselves under a more slavish subjection to a band of andjitious
nobles, who appeared determined to press upon the royal prerogative till they
should leave no trace of the ancient government in the land. Thus, so early as
3Iay 1(J3!J, less than two yeai-s after the publication of " Stoneyfield Day," and
while the popular leaders enjoyed an unlimited power, he is found addressing
the following letter " to a noble friend."

Altho, my lord, you think perhaps I might gaine muche by silence, for my part I
will never make question in speaking, quhen I have aney thing in my head better
tlian silence, and admonishe your lordship once again to bewarr of thosse men quho,
furiously seeking to cry downe the present government, and to shake the fundamen-
tall lawes of the kingdom, doe hot rather aim at thcr owen particular advantages than
redress of disorders, and since I have admonished your lordship quhat to eshew, I
wold also gladly advysse you quhat were most fitting for your awen housse and the
prese^^•ation of your awen family to follow. And to causse, if I could, good lawes
to arysse out of evill maneris were not I think it more fitt to take tyme to deliberate
upone a matter of such importance, and trewly, my lord, to speake heirin to purposse
all the witt I have, joined to that of others, were no more than sufficient. In confi-
dence of your lordship's pardon, and in assurance that ye will remaine constant to be
my werrey good lord, I will heir subscribe myself,

Your lordship's most obliged servant.

Falkland, 9 May, 1639.

At a somewhat earlier date, he wTites in the following terms to his friend
Drummond, who, it will be recollected, Avas also a devoted loyalist : —

Sir, — By your letters, you aske how I live heir in winter, out of the capitall citey.
I assure you, mured up within the royall walles, expecting the sessone of primrosses
and anemonies. I am heir in a place of no curiosites. The sunne hath yet heat
eneuche to dissolve our medow snowes, which all the winter fall upon the neighboiu*ing
mountains. If ye wold have me to conceill nothing from you, I must freely tell you
that there is no place qidiar verteu is so neir to vice as heir. Idleness in this place

ing home their new devised liturgie to old St Geilles: Bot our day here begane to darken
ere twelffe o'cloc]<e, (a verey short day in Julay indeid) and if we live to tell you, my lorde
lykely to become a foule day, vernot our piynie churchmen had larpe hreiehes (happily}
and nimble heiles to save them from a stoney tempest, which at two several tymes menacd,
destructione to all, yet nibled the noddells of bot two or three. Nather could that luhardlj
monster with the satin goune defend himseive by hes swolhven hands and gressey bellej',
bot he had half a dissone neck fishes to a reckoninge, and iVLixwell becam so affrighted that
to have been safely gone I verely think that he wold have left Arminius house, and run
imder the keyes of the baticane — nay, he that first vented here Christ's local! discension to
Jiell, if he might have been liberal of feare, wold have (before his tyme) gone thither him-
seive. Bot tin's day is fair wether, and ane indictione set on pjdinburghe, for since the
))receisse peopell will not sing ther prayers, our famous clergy will not suffer them to have
aney in prosse. Our weyfTes heir inveighss [envy] your lordships happines, quho may
pray publickly as the primitive fathers did, and say so be it, quheras ther gressey bellied fa-
thers wold have them to sing Amen, and to usse maney vantone curtisies, bobbings, nod-
inss, and kneilings, which this roughe and uncivill multitude have not been accustomed nor
acquanted with — a world of such trash and trumpries as your lordship may behold landeit
in ther New Alcoran. God bless our prince and all thouse that gives him healthfull coim-
saill, and as to thesse men quho only ambitiously hunts ther commodity and honor, God
gif them the reward of that honorles persone, quho after he had betrayed his maker and
master, hanged himseive, and gif your lordship many happey dayes to be assured of the
treuth, by wliich 1 ovru myselve to be,

Your lordships faithful friind and servant.

SIR JAMES BALi'OUK. II3

being our honest mens ordlnarey creatione, and debauches of all series the exercisses

quherein they disscipline themselves. Notwithstanding if ye be yet yourselve and

by solemne vow liave forsaken tlie world ami the vanities thereof, assure yourselve

that it is in this place qulier felicitie doth attend you, and being once in this place,

you will esteeme all thosse as banished persons quhom you have left in Edin-

burghe behind. Faire weill, and confidently love him quho sail ever bie,

Yoiu- treu friend and servant.
Falkland, January 8, 1639.

It thus appears that, in some disgust at the bold measures taken against tlie
government, he liad no\v retired to the royal hunting-palace of Falkland, where,
and at his seat of Kinnaird, he devoted himself to those studies by which the
present may be forgotten in the past. His annals, however, show that he still
occasionally appeared in public affairs in his capacity of Lord Lion. It is also
clear that his political sentiments must have been of no obtrusive chai-acter, as
he continued in his office during the whole term of the civil war, and was only
at last deprived of it by Cromwell. During his rural retirement at Falkland and
Kinnaird, he collected many manuscripts relative to heraldry, and ^\Tote many
others in his own language, of which some are preserved in the Advocates' Libra-
ry, while others were either lost at the capture of Perth (1651), to which town
he had conveyed them for safety, or have since been dispersed. Persevering
with particular 'diligence in illustrating the History of Scotland, he had recourse
to the ancient charters and diplomas of the kingdom, the archives of monasteries,
and registers of cathedral churches, and in his library was a great number oi"
chronicles of monasteries, both originals and the abridgments ; but it is to be
deeply regi-etted that many of these valuable manuscripts fell a prey to the sa-
crilegious and illiterate, and were shamefully destroyed by the hands of children,
or perished in the flames during the civil wars. A few only were opportunely
rescued from destruction by tliose who were acquainted with their value. Ihe
style of these monastic chronicles was, indeed, rude and barbarous ; but they
were remarkable for the industi-y, judgment, and fidelity to truth, with A\hich
they were compiled. For some time after the erection of monasteries in this
kingdom, these A\riters were almost the only, and certainly the most respectable
observers in literature, as scarcely any other persons preserved in writing the me-
mory of the important cccun-ences of the times. In these registers and chroni-
cles were to be found, an accurate record of transactions with foreign powers,
whether in fonning alliances, contracting man'iages of state, or regulating com-
merce ; letters and bulls of the holy see ; answers, edicts, and statutes of kings ;
church rescripts ; provincial constitutions ; acts of parliament ; battles ; deaths
01 eminent persons ; epitaphs and inscriptions ; and sometimes the natural ap-
pearances of the seasons ; the prevalent diseases ; miracles and prodigies ; the
heresies that sprung up ; with an account of the authci's, and their punishments.
In short, they committed to writing every important occunence in church and
state, that any question arising in after ages might be settled by their authority,
and the unanimous confirmation of their faithful and accurate chronicles. In
collecting and preserving these manuscripts, Ealfour therefore raised a monvment
to his memory which the latest posterity must revere. For he did so from a
conviction that these old and approved authors Mere the only guides to the
knowledge of facts, as well as to coirect evidence, and reasoning on the remote
history of Scotland ; and he considered them, not only of signal use to himself,
but a valuable treasure to the literature of the counti-y. He therefore persevered
throughout life in collecting such manuscripts, without regard to either trouble
or expense. The catalogue ^hich he left is still extant,** although many, as al-

I. S Memoria Balfouriaiia, p. 19 — 33. P

114 SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

ready nii^iitioned, were lost by the «lei»i'odations of the Enplish and other causes.
He torined w'lih great industry, and at a considerable expense, a library of the
most valuable books on every siibjei.t, particularly in the brandies of Scottish
history, antiquities, and heraldry. I'roni these he extracted every assistance
they could aHiird in the pursuit of liis inquiries, and for further aid he estab-
lished a corres[>ondenco with the most respectable livinij historians, such as
Hobert iMaule, Henry 3Iaiile, David Hnchanan, (iordon of Straloch, and, as lias
already been siiown, Drummond of Hawthornden, all of whom he regarded
throii<^h life with the warmest esteem, anil with the greatest respect for their
talents and accomplishments.

He endeavoured to elucidate our history (which was then involved in confu-
sion) from the examination of ancient medals, coins, rings, bracelets, and other
relics of antiquity, of which he formed a separate collection, as an appendage to
his library. Observing also from historians, that the Romans had long been
settled in Scotland, and had made desperate attempts to expel our ancestors,
both Scots and Picts, he collected the inscriptions which they had left on cer-
tain stone buildings, and transcribed them among his notes. In compiling the
work to which he gave the title of Annals, our author was more anxious to sup-
ply the deficiencies of other historians, and to bring to light obscure records,
than to exhibit a continued and regular history of Scotland. He therefore care-
fully extracted, from old manuscripts, the names, dignities, and offices of dis-
tinguished public characters, the dates of remarkable transactions, and every
other circumstance of importance, and arranged them in sepai'ate paragraphs.
He was actuated by a generous disposition, to rescue from oblivion and the
gi'ave, the memory of illustrious men ; for which purpose he visited all the ca-
thedi-al, and the principal parish churches of the kingdom, and examined their
sepulchres and other monuments, from which he copied the epitaphs and inscrip-
tions, carefully preserving them in a volume. He deeply interested himself in
some laudable attempts to improve the geography of Scotland. The ingenious
Timothy Pont traversed the \vhoIe kingdom, (an attempt which had not been
made before) and from personal surveys made plans and descriptions of the
different counties and islands, which he was intending to publish, when carried
off by a premature death. Sir John Scott of Scotstarvet put these papers into
the hands of Straloch, by whom they were published, with corrections and addi-
tions, in the descriptions accompanying Bleau's maps. Sir James made also a sur-
vey of Fife, his native county, examining particularly ancient monuments, and
the genealogies of the principal families. He afterwards compiled a description of
tlie whole kingdom, of which the manuscript was so usefid to Bleau, that he
dedicated to our author the map of Lome in his Theatrum ScoticB, and embel-
lished it with the arms of Balfour.

Zealous in the improvement and knowledge of heraldry, he carefully reviewed,
not only the public acts and diplomas of nobility, but the contents of ancient
edifices, temples, and palaces, shields and sepulchral monuments. When it had
become proper, from his years, to allow the Prince of Wales a separate estab-
lishment, an inquiry was ordex'ed concerning the revenues of the hereditary
princes, as steward or lords marshaU of Scotland, in which Balfour appears to
have taken part, as we find among his manuscripts the following; "The true
present state of the principality of Scotland, with the means how the same may
he most conveniently increased and augmented ; with which is joined ane sur-
vey, and brief notes from the public registers of the kingdoms, of certain infeft-
ments and confinnations given to princes of Scotland ; and by them to their
vassals of diverse baronies and lands of the principalitie, since the fifteenth year
of the reign of Robert III."

ROBERT BALFOUR. 115

In the history of this country, he displayed his uncommon industiy in his
numerous collection of manuscripts, in the gxeat assemblage of historical works
in his own hbraiy, and in his careful inspection of the various manuscripts dis-
persed over the kingdom, from which he generally extracted the substance, if he
did not wholly transcribe them, foi-ming a general index to such as were useful in
Scottish history. He made several abridgments of the Registers of Scone, Cam-
buskenneth, and others, and from the works of Major, Boece, Leslie, and Buchan-
an, which, in proper order, formed parts of his chronological works, along with
relations of important transactions throughout the world. Besides this, he Avi-ote
a remarkably concise yet comprehensive history of the kings of Scotland, from
Fergus I. to Charles I. He also intended to have enlarged the annals of the
Scottish kings from James I. to the beginning of Charles II., of which he had
finished the two first James's, on a more diffuse and extensive scale. In other
works, he wTote memoirs ot James III., IV., V., of Queen Maiy, and of James
VI., and the ti-ansactions of Charles I., brought down to his death. In natural
history, he wTOte an alphabetical list of gems, with descriptions, their names
and qualities, and the places Avhere they are produced. Another work upon
the same subject, written in Latin, exhibited from various authors, an account 01
ingenious inventions or frauds, practised in counterfeiting and imitating precious
stones.

Sir James concluded an industi'ious, and, it would appear, a most blameless
life, in Februaiy, 1657, when he must have been about sixty years of age. He
had been four times mamed ; 1st, to Anna Aiton, by whom he had three sons
and six daughters, and who died August 26th, 1644; 2nd, to Jean Durham,
daughter of the laird of Pitarrow, his own cousin, >vho died without issue
only eleven months subsequent to the date of his first wife's death ; 3d, to Mar-
garet Ai-not, only daughter of Sir James Arnot of Fernie, by whom he had three
sons and three daughters ; 4th, to Janet Auchinleck, daughter of Sir William
Auchinleck of Bahnanno, by whom he had two daughters. Yet his family is
now extinct in the male line. The Annals and Short Passages of State, above
alluded to, were, after neai-ly two centuries of manuscript obscurity, published,
in 1824, in 4 volumes 8vo. by Mr James Haig of the Advocates' Library, in
which receptacle nearly the whole of the collections of this gi-eat antiquary have
found a secui-e resting-place.

BALFOUR, Robert, a distinguished philosopher of the seventeenth century,
was principal of Guyenne coUege, Bourdeaux, and is mentioned by Morhof as a
celebrated commentator on Aristotle. According to Dempster, he was "the
Phoenix of his age ; a philosopher profoundly skilled in the Greek and Latin
languages ; a mathematician worthy of being compared with the ancients : and
to those qualifications he joined a wonderful suavity of manners, and the utmost
warmth of affection towards his countrymen." This eminent personage appears
to have been one of that numerous class of Scotsmen, who, having gained all
their honours in climes more genial to science than Scotland was a few centu-
ries ago, are to this day better known abroad than among their o^vn countrymen.
According to the fantastic Urquhart, who vrrote in the reign of Charles I.,
" Most of the Scottish nation, never having astricted themselves so much to the
proprieties of words as to the knowledge of things, where there was one precep-
tor of languages amongst them, there were above forty professors of philosophy :
nay, to so high a pitch did the glory of the Scottish nation attain over all the
parts of France, and for so long a time continue in that obtained height, by vir-
tue of an ascendant the French conceived the Scots to have above ail nations, in
matter of their subtlety in philosophical disceptations, that there hath not been, till
of late, for these several ages together, any lord, gentleman, or other, in all that

116 JOHN BALIOL.

coiintry, who being desirous to have his son iiistrucled in the principles of phil-
osophy, would intrust liini to llio disf.ipline of any other than a Scottish master;
of whom they were no less proud than IMiilip was of Aristotle, or 'liiilius of ( ra-
tippus. And if it occm-red (as very often it did,) that a pretender to a place in
■my French university, havin<;, in his tenderer years, heen sibferulary to some
other kind of sclioolinij, sliouid enter in cctmpetition with another aimin-^ at tlie
same charije and diy;iiity, \\h(ise learnini>' flowed from a Caledonian soun^e, com-
monly the lirst w;is rejected and tlie other prefcired." It nevertheless appeai-s that
Ixobert iialfour prosecuted the study of philology, as well ;is that of philosophy,
with consideraljle success. His edition of Cleomedes, published at J5ourdeaux,
in 1()05, "■ Latiiie versa, et perpeluo cotninentario iilustrata,'''' is spoken of in
(he highest terms of praise by the erudite liarthins. Uther works by Ualfour are,
" (ielasii Gyziceni (vonnuentarius Actorum Nidcni Concilii, lioberto Balloreo in-
terprete, ICiOl, folio," — " Connuentarius 11. lialforei in Organum Logicum Aris^
totelis, IGK), 4to," — and, " li. Balforei Scoti Conunentariorum in lib. Arist. do
Pliilosophia, tomus secundus, 1620, 4to."

BiALlOL, John, king of Scotland, was the son of .Tohn de Baliol, of Bernard's
Castle in the county of Durham, a man of great opulence, being possessed of
tiiirty knights' fees, (equal to Jt 12,000 of modern money.) and who was a steady
adherent of Henry HI., in all liis civil wars. The mother of Baliol was Uevor-
gilla, one of the three daughters and co-heiresses of Allan, Lord of •ialloway, by
Margai'et, eldest daughter of David, Eai-l of Huntingdon, brother of fllalcolm \\.
and William the Lion, kings of Scotland. The fn-st of the English family of
Baliol was a Norman noble, proprietor of the manors of Baliol, Harcourt, Dam-
pat, and Home in France, and who, coming over with the Conqueror, left a son,
Guy, whom William Rufus appointed to be Lord of the forest of Teesdale and
Marwood, giving him at the same time the lands of Middleton and Guiseford in
Northumberland. Guy was the father of Bernard, who built the strong castle on
the Tees, called from him Bernard''s Castle. Eustace, son of this noble, was
the father of Hugh, who was the father of John dc Baliol,' the father of the king
of Scotland.

1 John (le Baliol has distinguislifd himself in English literary history, by foundins; one of
the colleges of Oxfoi'd, which still bears his name. As this instiiulion is connected in more
ways than one with Scotland, the following a.count of its foundati'jn, from Chalmers' His-
tory of Oxford, may be read with interest. " The wealth and ])olitical consequence of John
de Baliol were dignified by a love of learning, and a benevolence of disposition, which,
about the year 1263 (or 1268, as Wood thinks,) induced him to maintain certain poor scho-
lars of Oxford, in number sixteen, by exhibitions, perhaps with a view to some more per-
manent establishment, when he should have leisure to mature a plan for that purpose. On
his death, in 1269, which appears from this circumstance lo have been sudden, he could only
recommend the objects of his bounty to liis lady and his executors, but left no written deed
or aulhoritj' : and as what he had formerly given was froni his personal estate, now in other
hands, the farther care of his scholars would in all probability iiave ceased, had not his
lady been persuaded to fulfil his intention in the must honourable manner, by taking upon
herself the future maintenance of them. * * * » The first step which the Jjady
Devorgilla took, in providing for the scholars, was to have a house in Horsemonger Lane,
afterwards called Canditch (from Candida Fossa) in St Mary Magdalene's parish, and on
the site where the present college stands; and being supporied in his design by her hus-
band's executors, continued the provision which he allotted. In 1282, she gave them statutes
under her seal, and apjjointed Hugh de Harlipoll and William de Menjle as procurators
or governors of her scholars. * * * » In 1284., the Lady Devorgilla purchased
a tenement of a citizen of Oxford, called Mary's Hall, as a perpetual settlement for tin
principal and scholars of the House of Baliol. This edifice, after receiving suitable repairs
and additions, was called New Baliol Hall, and their foinier residence then began to re-
ceive the name of Old Baliol Hall. The same year, she made over certain lands in the
county of Norihumberland, the greater part of which was afterwards lost. The foundation,
however, was about this time confirmed by Oliver, bishop of Lincoln, and by the son of the
I'oundLr, who was afterwards king of Scotland, and whose consent in tliis matter seems to
entitle him to the veneration of the society. » • • » fj^g revenues of the col-
lege were at fwst small, yielding onl}' eight-pence per week to each scholar, or twenty-seven

JOHN BALIOL.

117

The circumstances which led to the appearance of John Baliol in Scottish his-
tory, may be thus briefly narrated. By the death of Alexander the third, the
crown of Scotland devolved on the Maiden of Norway, Margaret, the only child
of Alexander's daughter, late Queen of Norway. As she was only three years ot
age, and residing in foreign parts, the convention of estates made choice of six
noblemen to be regents of the kingdom during her absence or minority ; but
dissensions soon arising among them, Eric, Icing of Norway, interposed, and sent
plenipotentiaries to treat with Edward king of England, concerning the affairs
of the infant Queen and her kingdom. Edward had already formed a scheme
for uniting England and Scotland, by the man-iage of his eldest son with Mar-
garet, and, accordingly, after holding conferences at Salisbury, he sent an em-
bassy to the parliament of Scotland, on the 18th of July, 1290, with full powers
to treat of this projected alliance. 'The views of Edward were cheerfully met by
the pai-liament of Scotland : a treaty was drawn out honoui-able to both parties,
in which — to guard against any danger that might arise from so strict an alli-
ance with such a powerful and ambitious neighbour — the freedom and indepen-
dency of Scotland were fully acknowledged and secured ; and commissionex's
were despatched to Norway to conduct the young Queen into her dominions.
But this fau' hope of lasting peace and union was at once overthrown by the
death of the princess on her passage to Britain ; and the croAvn of Scotland be-
came a bone of contention between vai-ious competitors, the chief of whom were,
John Baliol, lord of Galloway, Robert Bruce, lord of Annandale, and John Has-
tings, lord of Abergavenny. In order to understand the grounds of their seve-
ral claims, it will be necessary to trace briefly their genealogy.

On the death of the Maiden of Norway, Alexander's grandchild, the crown of
Scotland devolved upon the posterity of David, earl of Huntington, younger bro-
ther, as already mentioned, of the kings Blalcolm and William. David left three
daughters, Margaret, Isabella, and Ada, JMargaret, the eldest daughter, married
Allan, lord of (ialloway, by whom she had an only daughter, Devorgilla, maiTied
to John Baliol, by whom she had John Baliol, the subject of this article, who,
therefore, was gi-eat-grandson to David Earl of Huntington, by his eldest daugh-
ter. Isabella, the second daughter of David, maiTied Robert Bruce, by whom
she had Robert Bruce, the competitor — who, therefore, Avas grandson to the
Earl of Huntington, by his second daughter. Ada, youngest daughter of David,
married John Hastings, by whom she had John Hastings — who, therefore, Avas
grandson to David, by his third daughter. Hastings could have no claim to the
crown, while the posterity of David's elder daughtei's were in being; but he in-
sisted that the kingdom should be divided into three pai-ts, and that he should
inherit one of them. As, however, the kingdom was declared indivisible, his
pretensions were excluded, and tiie difficulty of the question lay bet iveen the two
great competitors Baliol and Bruce, — whether the more remote by one degree,
descended from the eldest daughter, or the nearer by one degree, descended
from the second daughter, had the better title ?

The divided state of the national mind as to the succession presented a fa-
vourable opportunity to the ambitious monarch of England for executing a design
which he had long cherished against the independence of Scotland, by renewing
the unfounded claim of the feudal superiority of England over it. It has been

pounds nine shillings and foiirpence for the whole per annum, which was soon found insuf-
ficient. A number of benefactors, however, promoted the purposes of the founder, by en-
riching the establishment with gifts of land, money, and church-livings.''

Mr Chalmers also mentions, that in 1340 a new set of statutes for the college, received,
amonsst olher confirmatory seals, that of '• Edward Baliol, king of Scotland,'' namely, the
grandson of the founder. The seal attached by Devorgilla to the original statutes contains
a portrait of her. She died in 1289.

118 JOHN BALIOL.

generally sii]ii>oso(l. Iliat lie was chosen arbitrator l»y tlio re-fents and states of
Scotland in tlu" conipelilion tor the crown; but it appeai-s that liis interference
was solicited i)y a few only of the Scottish nobles who were in liis own interest.
Assunnni-- this, however, as the call of the nation, and collectin;r an anny to sup-
port his inifjiiitoiis pretensions, he requested the nobility and clerc^y of Scotland,
and the competitors for the crown, to meet him at Norham within the English
territories. There, after many professions of good-will and affection to Scot-
land, he claimed a right of Lord Paramount over it, and recjiiired that this right
should be innnediately recognized. The Scots were struck with amazement at
this unexpected demand ; but, feeling themselves entirely in his power, could
only request time for the consideration of his claim. Another meeting was
fixed upon ; and during the interval, he employed every method to strengthen
his party in Scotland, and by threats and promises to bring as many as possible
to acknowledge his superiority. His purpose was greatly forwarded by the mu-
tual distrusts and jealousies that existed among the Scots, and by the time-serv-
ing ambition of the competitors, who were now multiplied to the number of thir-
teen — some, probably, stirred up to perplex the question, and others, perhaps,
prompted by vanity. On the day appointed (2d June, 1291) in a plain opposite
to the castle of Norham, the superiority of the crown of England over the crown of
Scotland was fully acknowledged by all the competitors for the latter, as well as
by many barons and prelates ; and thus Edward gained the object on which his
heart had been long set, by conduct disgi-aceful to himself as it was to those who
had the government and guardianship of Scotland in keeping. All the royal
castles and places of strength in the country were put into his hands, under the
security that he should make full restitution in two months from the date of his
award, and with the ostensible reason that he might have a Idngdom to bestow
on the pei-son to whom it should be adjudged. Having thus obtained his wish,
he proceeded to take some steps towards determining the claim of the competi-
tors. Commissioners were appointed to meet at Berwick ; and after various
deliberations, the crown was finally adjudged to John Baliol, on the 19th of
November, l"29-2, and next day Baliol swcre fealty to Edward at Norham.

Baliol was crowned at Scone shortly after ; but, that he might not forget
his dependancy, Edward recalled him into England, immediately after his
coronation, and made him renew his homage and fealty at Newcastle. He was
soon loaded with fresh indignities. In the coui-se of a year he received no fewer
than six citations to appear before Edward in the English parliament, to answer
private and unimportant complaints which were preferred against him by his
subjects. Although led by an insidious policy, and his own ambition, into the
most humiliating concessions, Baliol seems not to have been destitute of spirit,
or to have received without resentment the indignities laid upon him. In one
of the causes befoi'e the parliament of England, being asked for his defence —
" I am king of Scotland," he said, "I dare not make answer Iiere without the.
advice of my people." " What means this refusal," said Eduai'd, " you are my
liegeman ; you have done hora.age to me ; you are here in consequence of my
summons!" Baliol replied with firmness, " In matters which respect my king-
dom, I neither dare nor shall answer in this place, without the advice of my
people." Edward requested that he would ask a delay for the consideration of
the question ; but Baliol, perceiving that his so doing would be construed into
an acknowledgment of the jurisdiction of the English parliament, refused.

In the meantime, a war breaking out between France and England, Baliol
seized upon it as a favourable opportunity for shaking off a yoke that had be-
come intolerable. He negotiated a treaty with Philip, the French king, on the
2.3d October, 1295, by Avhich it was agreed to assist one another against their

JOHN BALIOL. ' j^g

common enemy the king of England, and not to conclude any separate peace.
At the same time, Baliol solemnly renounced his allegiance to Edward, and re-
ceived Irora the Pope an absolution from the oaths of fealty which he had s^vonl.
The grounds of his renunciation were these — That Edward had wantonly and
upon slight suggestions summoned him to his courts ; — that he had seized his
English estates, his goods, and the goods of his subjects ; — that he had foi-cibly
carried off and stiU retained certain natives of Scotland ; — and that, when remon-
sti-ances were made, instead of redressing, he had continually aggravated these
injuries. Edward is said to have received Baliol's I'enunciation with more con-
tempt than anger. " The foolish traitor," he exclaimed, " since he will not
come to us, we will go to him." He accordingly raised a large army ; and,
sending his brother into France, resolved himself, in person, to make a total con-
quest of Scotland.

While Edward advanced towards Beruick, a small army of Scots broke into
Northumberland and Cumberland, and plundered the country. The castle ol
Werk was taken ; and a thousand men, whom Edward sent to preserve it, falling
into an ambush, were slain. An English squadron, also, which blocked up Ber-
wick by sea, was defeated, and sixteen of their ships sunk. But these partial
successes were followed by fatal losses. The king of England was a brave and
skilful general ; he conducted a powerful army against a weak and dispirited
nation, headed by an unpopular prince, and distracted by party animosities.
His eventual success was, therefore, as complete as might have been anticipated.
He crossed the Tweed at Coldstream, took Berwick, and put all the garrison
and inhabitants to the sword. The castle of Roxburgh was delivered into his
hands ; and he hastened Warenne Eai-1 of Surrey forward to besiege Dunbar.
Warenne was there met by the Scots army, who, abandoning the advantage or
their situation, poured down tumultuously on the English, and were repulsed
with terrible slaughter. After this defeat, the castles of Dunbar, Edinburgh, and
Stirling, fell into Edward's hands, and he was soon in possession of the whole of
the south of Scotland.

Baliol, who had retired beyond the i-iver Tay, with the shattered remains of
his army, despairing of making any effectual resistance, sent messengers to im-
plore the mercy of Edward. The haughty Plantagenet communicated the hard
tenus upon which alone he might hope for Avhat he asked ; namely, an unqua-
lified aclvnowledgment of his " unjust and wcked rebellion," and an unconditional
surrender of himself and his kingdom into the hands of his master. Baliol,
whose life presents a strange variety of magnanimous efforts and humiliating
self-abasements, consented to these conditions ; and the ceremony of his degi-a-
dation accordingly took place, July 2, 1296, in the church-yard of Stracathro,
a village near Montrose. Led by force and in fear of his life, into the presence
of the Bishop of Durham and the English nobles, mounted on a soiTy horse, he
was first commanded to dismount ; and his treason being proclaimed, they pro-
ceeded to strip him of his royal ornaments. The crown A\as snatched from his
head ; the ennine torn from his mantle, the sceptre wrested from his hand, and
eveiy thing removed from him belonging to the state and dignity of a king.
Dressed only in his shirt and drawers, and holding a white rod in his hand,
after the fashion of penitents, he confessed that, by evil and false counsel, and
thi-ough his own simplicity, he had gi-ievously offended his liege lord, recapitu-
lated aU the late transactions, and acknowledged himself to be deservedly de-
prived of his kingdom. He then absolved his people from their allegiance, and
signed a deed resigning his sovereignty over them into tlie hands of king Ed-
ward, giving his eldest son as a hostage for his fidelity.

The acknowledgment of an English paramountcy has at all times been so dis-

120 JOHN BALIOL.

a>Xreeal)le to tlie S<;()ttisli |M>o|)k', mid tlie <'.in',imistaiices of tliis rcnimriation of
the kiii^^dom are so cxIrcMiiely liiiiiiiliatinij; to national pride, tliat John lialiol
lias been ever sini;c lioid in liatrod and conteinut, and is scarcely allowed a
place in tlie ordinary rolU of the Scottish monarchs. It must be said, however,
in his defence, that his fust acknowlcdijnient of the pai-amonnti^y was no more
than what bis rival Hriice and the i;realcr part of the nobles of the kinn^dom
were also efnilty of; while he is certainly entitled to some credit for his etforta
to sliake otf the yoke, however inade(|uate his means were for doing- so, or
whatever ill fortune he experienced in the attempt. In liis deposition, notwith-
standing some equivocal circumstances in his subsequent history, he must bo
looked upon as only the victim of an overwhelming force.

The history of .Jolin Baliol after his deposition is not in general treated with
much minuteness by the Scottish historians, all of whom seem to have Mished to
close their eyes as much as possible to the whole affair of the resignation, and
endeavoured to forget that the principal personage concerned in it had ever
been king of Scotland. This histoi-y, however, is curious. The discrowned
monarch and his son were immediately transmitted, along Avith the stone of
Scone, the records of the kingdom, and all other memorials of the national in-
dependence to London, where the two unfortunate princes were coimnitted to a
kind of honourable captivity in tlie Tower. Though the counti-y was reduced
by the English army, several insun-ections which broke out in the subsequent
year showed that the hearts of the people were as yet unsubdued. These insur-
gents invariably rose in the name of the deposed king John, and avowed a
resolution to submit to no other authority. It is also worth remarking, as a
circumstance favourable to the claims and character of Baliol, that he was still
acknowledged by the Pope, the King of France, and other continental princes.
When AVallace I'ose to unite all the discontented spirits of the kingdom in one
gi-and effort against the English yoke, he avowed himself as only the governor
of the kingdom in name of King John, and there is a charter still extant, to
which the hero appended the seal of Baliol, which seems, by some chance, to
have fallen into his hands. The illustrious knight of Elderslie, throughout the
whole of his career, acknowledged no other sovereign than Baliol ; and,
what is perhaps more remarkable, the father of Robert Bruce, who had foi-merly
asserted a superior title to the crown, and whose son afterwards displaced the Baliol
dynasty, appeared in arms against Edward in favour of King John, and in his
name concluded several truces with the English officers. There is extant a deed
executed on the 13th of November, 1299, by William, Bishop of St Andrews,
Robert Bruce, Earl of Can-ick, and John Comyn the younger, styling themselves
guardians of the kingdom of Scotland ; in which they petition King Edward for
a cessation of hostilities, in order, as they afterwards expressed themselves, that
they might live as peaceable subjects under their sovereign King John.

There is, however, no reason to suppose, that these proceedings wei'e in ac-
cordance with any secret instructions from Baliol, who, if not glad to get
quit of his uneasy sovereignty, at the time he resigned it, at least seems to
have afterwards entertained no wish for its recoveiy. A considerable time be-
fore his insurgent representatives made the above declaration in his behalf, he
is found executing a deed of the following tenor: " In the name of God, Amen.
In the year 1298, on the 1st of April, in the house of the reverend father,
Anthony, Bishop of Durham, without London. The said Bishop discoursing of
the state and condition of the kingdom of Scotland, and of the inhabitants of
the said kingdom, before the noble lord John Baliol ; the said John, of his own
proper motion, in the presence of us, the Notary, and the subscribing witnesses,
amoi gst other things, said and delivered in the French tongue to this effect, that

EDWAKU iJALlOL. 121

is to sny, that v,hile he, tlie said realm of Scotland, as King and Lord thereof,
lield and governed, he had found in the people of the said kingdom so much
malice, fraud, treason, and deceit, that, for their malignity, wickedness, treachery,
and other detestable facts, and for that, as he had thoroughly understood, they
had, while their prince, contrived to poison him, it was his intention never to go
or enter into the said kingdom of Scotland for the future, or Avith the said king-
dom or its concerns, either by himself or others, to intermeddle, nor for the rea-
sons aforesaid, and many others, to have any thing to do with the Scots. At
the same time, the said John desired the said Bishop of Durham, that he would
acquaint the most magnificent prince, and his Lord, Edward, the most illustrious
king of England, with his intention, will, and finn resolution in this respect.
This act was signed and sealed by the public notary, in the presence of the
Bishop of Durham aforesaid, and of Ralph de Sandwich, constable of the Tower
of London, and others, who heard this discourse."'

AVe regTCt for the honour of Scotland, that, excepting the date of this shame-
ful libel, there is no other reason for supposing it to be dictated in an insincei'e
spirit. Baliol now appears to have really entertained no higher wish than to
regain his personal liberty, and be permitted to spend the rest of his days in
retirement. Accordingly, having at last convinced King Edward of his sinceri-
ty, he and his son were delivered, on the 20th of July, 1299, to the Pope's le-
gate, the Bishop of Vicenza, by Avhom they were transported to France. The
unfortunate Baliol lived there upon his ample estates, till the year 1314, Avhen
he died at his seat of Castle Galliard, aged about fifty-five years. Though thus
by no means advanced in life, he is said to have been afflicted with many of the
infimiities of old age, among which was an entire deprivation of sight.

Baliol, Edward. King John Baliol had two sons, Edward and Henry.
The former seems entitled to some notice in this work, on account of his vigo-
rous, though eventually unsuccessful attempt to regain the crown lost by his fa-
ther. When King John entered into the treaty with the King of France, in
1295, it was stipulated in the fii-st article that his son Edward should maiTy the
daughter of Charles of Valois, niece to the French monarch, receiving with her
twenty-five thousand livres de Tournois cuirent money, and assigning to her, as
a dowry, one thousand five hundred pounds sterling of yearly rent, of which ore
thousand should be paid out of King John's lands of Baliol, Dampier, Helicourt,
and de Hornay, in France, and five hundred out of those of Lanark, Cadiou,
Cunningham,- Haddington, and the Castle of Dundee, in Scotland. This young
prince accompanied his father in his captivity in the Tower, and was subse-
quently carried with him to France. After the death of John Baliol, Edward
quietly succeeded to the French family estates, upon which he lived unno-
ticed till 1324, when Edward II. conmianded that he should be brought
over to England, apparently for the purpose of being held up as a rival to
Robert Bruce. Whether he now visited England or not is uncertain ; but it
would rather appear that he did not, as, in 1326, he was invited by Edward III.
for the same purpose. At this time, the English monarch was endeavouring to
secure a peace with the King of Scots, but at the same time held himself pre-
pared for war by mustering his barons at Newcastle. He seems to have thought
that a threat of taking Baliol under his pati-onage was apt to quicken the de-
sires of the Scots for an accommodation. Nevertheless, in the summer of this

1 Prjnne's CoUtctions, iii. 665.
2 " Jehu Baliol is known to have possessed in Cunningham the following lands : Largs,
Noddesdale, tsouthannan. Dairy, Giffin, Cumsheuch, Dreghorn, the great barony of Kil-
tnarnoek, together with Bondinton and Hart.shaw ; extending in all to about 1,9,900 Scuts
of valued rent, or about LIS.OOO real rent at present.''— JRuSer/so/t';. Ji/rshire Families.

J 22 EDWARD BALIOL.

year, iIk* Scots inatlc !i hold an*! siicccssfiil iiinirsioii into MniilaiKl, under Ran-
dolpli and l)ou<>las, and Klwj; I'.dward was oldi.j^«Ml, April l.'J-JS, to consent to
the treaty of Norlhanii>ton, >\liich arkno«le<l^^ed at once the independency of
the Scottish crown, and llic riniit of Holiert Hrnce to wear it. No nioi-e is heard
of Edward Haliol, till after the death of 15nic«, when he was tempted by the
apparent weakness »)f Scotland under the minority of David II. to attempt the
recovei*y of his birth-rinht. Two English barons, TIeiiry de IJeaumont and
Thomas T.ord Wake, claimed certain estates in Scolland, \vhich had been
declai-ed their property by the treaty of Northampton ; Mandolph, the Scot-
tish re^jent, distrusting the sincerity of the En<,^lish in rej^ard to other articles
of this ti-eaty, refused to restore those estates ; and the two barons accord-
inoly joined with Baliol in his design. That the English king might not be
supposed accessoiy to so gross a breach of the treaty, he issued a proclama-
tion an-ainst their expedition ; but they easily contrived to ship four hundred
men at arms and three thousand infantry at tlolderness, all of whom were safely
landed on the coast of Fife, July 31, 133;2. Only eleven days before this event,
the Scottish people had been bereft of their brave regent, Randolph Earl of
IVIoray, who was almost the last of those worthies by whom the kingdom of
Bruce had been ^von and maintaine<l. The regency fell into the hands of Don-
ald, Earl of r\Iar, in every respect a feebler man. Baliol, having beat back some
foi-ces which opposed his landing, moved forward to Forteviot, near Perth ; where
the Earl of 31ar appeared with an army to dispute his farther progress. As the
Scottish forces were much superior in number and position to the English, Baliol
found himself in a situation of great jeopardy, and would willingly have re-
treated to his ships, had that been possible. Finding, however, no other re-
source than to fight, he led his forces at midnight across the Erne, surprised the
' Scottish camp in a state of the most disgraceful negligence, and put the whole

to the route. This action, fought on the 1 2th of August, w as called the battle of
Dupplin. The conqueror entered Perth, and for some tiniie found no resistance
i j to his assumed authority. On the 24th of Septembei-, he was solemnly crowned
at Scone. The friends of the line of Bruce, though unable to ofler a formal
I opposition, appointed Andrew Moray of Bothwell to be regent in the room of
! I the Eavl of Mar, who had fallen at Dupplin. At Roxburgh, on the 23rd of
: November, Baliol solemnly acknowledged Edward of England for his liege lord,
I and sun-endered to him the town and castle of Berwick, " on account of the

I i ! gi-eat honour and emoluments which he had procured through the good ^vill of
i the English king, and the powerful and acceptable aid contributed by his peo-
I pie." The two princes also engaged on this occasion to aid each other in all
j their respective wars. Many of the Scottish chiefs now submitted to Baliol, and
it does not appear improbable that he might have altogether retrieved a king-
dom ^vhich was certainly his by the laws of hereditaiy succession. But on the
15th of December, the adherents of the opposite dynasty surprised him in his
turn at Annan, overpowered his Iiost, and having slain his brother Henry, and
many other distinguished men, obliged him to fly, almost naked, and with hardly
a single attendant, to England. His subsequent efforts, though not so easily
counteracted, were of the same desultoi-y character. He i-eturned into Scotland
in March, and lay for some time at Roxburgh, Avith a small force. In May,
1333, he joined forces with King Edward, and reduced the town of Berwick.
The Scottish i-egent being overthrown at Halidon Hill, July 1!), for a time all
resistance to the claims of Baliol ceased. In a parliament held at Edinburgh in
February, he ratified the former treaty with King Edward, and soon after sin--
rendered to that monarch the Avhole of the counties on the frontier, together
with the province of Lothian, as part of tlie kingdom of England. His power.

JOHN BALLANTYNE.

123

Iiowevei-, was solely supported by foreign iiitiuonce, and, upon the rise of a few
of the opposite hostile bai-ons, in November, 1334, he again fled to England. In
July, 1335, Ed^vard III. enabled him to return under the protection of an army.
But, notwithstanding the pei-sonal presence and exertions of no less a warrior
than the victor of Cressy, the Scots never could altogether be brought under
the sway of this vassal king. For two or three years, Edward Baliol held a
nominal sway at Perth, while the greater part of the country ^vas in a state of
rebellion against him. The regent Andrew Moray, dying in July, 1338, was
succeeded by Robert Stewart, the grandson of Bruce, and nephew of David II.
xvho having threatened to besiege Baliol in Perth, obliged him to retreat once
more to England. The greater part of the country speedily fell under the do-
nunion of the regent, nor was Edward 111. now able to retrieve it, being fully
engaged in his trench wars. The Scots having made an incursion, in 1344,
into England, Baliol, with the forces of the northern counties, was appointed to
oppose them. Two years after this period, when the fatal battle of Durham,
and the capture of David II. had again reduced the strength of Scotland, Baliol
raised an insun-ection in Galloway, «hei'e his family connections gave him gi-eat in-
tluence, and speedily penetrated to the central parts of the kingdom. He gained,
however, no pemianent footing. For some yeai-s after this period, Scotland
maintained a noble struggle, under its regent Robert Stewart, against both the
pretensions of this adventurer, and the power of the King of England, till at
length, in 1355-6, Avearied out with an unavailing contest, and feeling the ap-
proach of old age, Baliol resigned all his claims into the hands of Edward III,
for the consideration of five thousand merks, and a yearly pension of U\o thou-
sand pounds. After this suiTender, which was transacted at Roxburgli, and
included his personal estates, as well as his kingdom, this unfortunate prince
retired to England. " The fate of Ed^vai'd Baliol," says Lord Hailes, " was
singular. In his invasion of Scotland during the minority of David Bruce, he
displayed a bold spirit of enterprise, and a courage superior to all difficulties.
By the victory at Dupplin, he won a cTown ; some few weeks after, he Avas sur-
prised at Annan and lost it. The overthrow of the Scots at Halidon, to which
he signally contributed, availed not to his re-establishment. Year after year, he
saw his partisans fall aAvay, and range themselves under the banner of his com-
petitor. He became the pensioner of Edward III. and the tool of his policy,
assumed or laid aside at pleasure : and, at last, by his suiTcnder at Roxbui-gh,
he did what in him lay to entail the calamities of war upon the Scottish nation,
a nation ah'eady miserable through the consequences of a regal succession dis-
puted for threescore years. The remainder of his days Avas spent in obscurity ;
and the historians of that kingdom where he once reigned, know not the time
of his death.'" It may further be mentioned, that neither these historians nor
the Scottish people at large, ever acknowledged Edward Baliol as one of the
line of Scottish monarchs. The right of the family of Bruce, though inferior in
a hereditary point of view, having been continned by pai'liament on account of
the merit of King Robert, this shadowy intruder, though occasionally dominant
through the sword, could never be considered the legitimate monarch, more
especially as he degi*aded himself and his counti-y by a professed surrender of
its independence, and even of a pai-t of its teri-itory, to a foreign enemy. He
died childless, and, it Avoidd also appear, unman-ied, in 1363, when he must
have been advanced to at least the age of seventy.

BALLANTYNE, John. Of all the remarkable men, by whom this name, in
its various orthographical appearances, has been borne, not the least worthy of no-
tice is John Ballantyne, who died on the 16th of June, 1821, about the age of
forty-five years. This gentleman was the son of a merchant at Kelso, where he

124 JOHN BALIJINTYNE (oa BELLENDKN).

was born and ediirai'^ 1. In liis youth, he displayed such an cxtiaoidinary quick-
ness ol iiiind, .'IS suiliciently betokened the general ability by which he was to be
distin<ruished in after life. W liilo still a young man, his mind was turned to
literary concerns by the establislmieiit of a provincial newspaper, tlie Kelso
Mail, which was begun by his ehler brother James. 'I'ho distinction acquired
by his brother in consequence of some improvements in printing, by wiiicli there
issued from a Scottish provincial press a series of books rivalling, in elegance
and accurate taste, the prod.ictions of a Bensley or a Haskerville, caused the
removal of both to Edinburgh about the beginning of the present century. But
the active intellect of John Ballantyiie was not to be confined to the dusky
siiades of the printing-house. He embarked largely in the bookselling trade,
and subsequently in the profession of an auctioneer of worlcs of art, libraries,
&C. The connection which he and his brother had established at Kelso with
Sir Walter Scott, whoso Border 31instrelsy was printed by them, continued in this
more extensive scene, and accordingly during tlic earlier and more interesting
years of the career of the author of Waverley, John Ballantyne acted as the conti-
dant of that mysterious writer, and managed all the business of the conununication
of his works to the pul)lic. Some of these works were published by John Ballan-
tyne, >vho .also issued two diil'erent periodical works, written chieliy by Sir ^^ al-
ter Scott, entitled respectively the Visionary and the Sale-room, of wliich the
litter had a reference to one branch of 3Ir Ballantyne's trade. It is also wor-
thy of notice, that the large edition of the works of Beaumont and Fletcher, which
appeared under the name of Mr Henry Weber as editor, and which, we may pre-
sume to say, reflects no inconsiderable credit upon the Scottish press, Avas an en-
enterprise undertaken at the suggestion and risk of this spirited publisher.
3Ir Ballantyne himself made one incursion into the field of letters : he
was the author of a tolerably sprightly novel in two thin duodecimos, styled,
" The Widow's Lodgings," which reached a second edition, and by which,
as he used to boast in a jocular manner, he made no less a sum than thirty
pounds ! . It was not, however, as an author that Mr Ballantyne ciiiefly shone —
his forte was story-telling. As a conleiir, lie was allowed to be unrivalled by
any known contemporary. Possessing an infinite fund of ludicrous and charac-
teristic anecdote, which he could set off with a humoiu* endJess in the variety of
its shades and tones, he was entirely one of those beings who seem to have been
designed by nature for the task, now abrogated, of enlivening tlie formalities and
alleviating the cai'es of a court : he was Yorick revived. After pureuing a la-
borious and successful business for several ye<ii"s, declining health obliged him to
travel upon the continent, and finally to retire to a seat in the neighbourhood of
3Ielrose. He had been married, at an early age, to Miss Parker, a beautiful
young lady, a relative of Di- Kuthei-ford, author of the View of Ancient His-
tory and other esteemed woi'lis. This union ^vas not blessed with any- children.
In his Melrose rustication, he commenced the publication of a large and beautiful
edition of the British Novelists, as an easy occupation to divert the languor of
illness, and fill up those vacancies in time, which were apt to contrast disagree-
ably with the former habits of busy life. The works of the various novelists
were here amassed into large volumes, to which Sir Walter Scott furnished bio-
graphical prefaces. But the trial was brief. While flattering himself with the
hope that his frame was invigorated by change of air and exercise, death stepped
in, and reft the world of as joyous a spirit as ever brightened its spliere. The
Novelist's Library was afterwards (completed by tiie friendly attention of Sir Wal-
ter Scott.

BALLENTYNE, (or Beli.e-nuen,) John, — otherwise spelt Ballanden and Bal-
lentyn — an eminent poet of the reign of James V., and the translator of Boece's

JOHN BALLENTYNE (or BELLENDEN). 125

liatin Histoi-y, and of the first five books of Livy, into the vei-nacular language
of his time, was a native of Lothian, and appears to have been bom towards the
close of the 15th centuiy. He studied at the university of St Andrews, wheie
his name is thus entered in the records : " 1508, Jo. BaUelyn nac. Lea/ [doni(Ey
It is probable that he remained there for several years, which was necessary before
he could be laureated. His education was afterwai-ds completed at the univer-
sity of Paris, where he took the degi-ee of Doctor of Divinity ; and as has been
remarked by his biographer, [Works of Beilenden, I., xxxvii,] " the effects of his
residence upon the continent may be traced both in his idiom and language."

He returned to Scotland dui-ing the minority of James V., and became attach-
ed to the establishment of that monarch as " Clerk of his Comptis." This ap-
peal's from " the Proheme of the Cosmogi'aphe," prefixed to his translation of
Boece, in which he says : —

And first occurrit (o m\^ remembering.

How tliat 1 wes in service with the king;

But to his grace in yuris tenderest.

Clerk of liis compts, tiiouclit I wes indign [unwortliy.j

With liart and lianu and every otlier thing

That micht him pleis in my maner best ;

Quhil] hie invy me from his service kest,

Be thame that had the court in governing,

As bird but plumes heryit of the nest.

Tlie biographer of Ballentyne, above quoted, supposes that he must have been
the " Maister Johnne Ballentyne," who, in 1528, was " secretar and sei-vitour"
to Archibald Earl of Angus, and in that capacity appeared before parliament to
state his master's reasons for not answering the summons of treason which had
been issued against him. We can scarcely, however, reconcile the circiunstance
of his being then a " Douglas's man," with the favour he is found to have enjoyed
a few years after with James V., whose antipathy to that family was so great as
probably to extend to all its connections. HoAvever this may be, Ballentyne is
thus celebrated, in 1530, as a coiu-t poet, by Sir David Lyndsay, who had been
in youth his fellow-student at St Andi-ews, and was afterwards liis fellow-servant
in the household of the Iving :

But now of late has start up heastily
A cunning clerk that writeth craftily;
A plant of poets, called Bnllanten,
Whose ornat writs my wit cannot defyne ;
Get he into the court authority.
He will precel Quintin and Kenedy,

In 1530 and 1531, Ballentyne was employed, by command of the king, in
translating Boece 's History, which liad been published at Paris in 1526. The
o]))ect of this translation was to introduce the king and others who had " missed
their Latin," to a knowledge of the history of their country. In the epistle to
the king at the conclusion of this work, Ballenden passes a desei-ved compliment
upon his majesty, for having " dantit this region and brocht the same to sicken
rest, gud peace and tranquillity ; howbeit the same could nocht be done be your
gi-et baronis during your tender age ;" and also says, without much flattery,
"Your nobill and worthy deidis proceeds mair be natui-all inclination and active
curage, than ony gudly persuasioun of assisteris." He also attests his own sin-
cerity, by a lecture to the king on the difference between tyrannical and just
government ; whicli, ivs a ciu-ious specimen of the prose composition of that tiuie,

120 JOHN BALLENTYNB (on BELLENDEN).

ami also a testiiiiuiiy to tlic eiili<^hteiie(I and iijtri'rlit character of Balleiilyne, we
aliall extract into tliose paijcs :

" ^\3 Seiieciv says in liis tra^jedeis, all ar noclit kiniris that Itciio clotliit with piir-
pnre and dredoine, but only they that sekis na sini^iilans |irotiet, in danimage of
the conunonweill ; and sa viffilant that the lite of their siibdetis is mair deir and
precious to thcni than thair awin life. Ane tjTane sckis riches; ane king sekis
lionour, conquest be virtew. Ane tyrane governis his realniis be slaiichtcr, dre-
doure, and falset ; ane king gidis his realnie be prudence, integrite, and favour.
Aiie tyrane suspeckis all them that lies riches, gret doniinioun, auctorite, or gret
rentis ; ane king haldis sic men for his maist helply friendis. Ane tyrane luftis
nane bot vane ileschoiu'is, vicious and wicket lynnuaris, be quhais counsall he
rages in slauchter and tyranny ; ane king luliis men of wisdom, gravite, an«l
science ; knawing weill that his gret maleris maybe weill dressit be thair pru-
dence. Treuth is that kingis and tyrannis lies mony handis, mony ene, and
mony mo memberis. Ane tyrane sets him to be dred ; ane Icing to be luft'et.
Ane tyrane rejoises to mak his pepill pure ; ane king to mak thame riche.
Ane tyTane draws his pepill to sindry factiones, discord, and hatrent ; ane king
malts peace, tranquillite, and concord ; knawing nothing sa dammagious as di-
vision amang his subdittis. Ane tjTane confounds all divine and hummane
lawis ; ane king observis thaime, and rejoises in etjuit« and justice. All thir pro-
perteis sal be patent, in reding the livis of gud and evil kingis, in the history
precedent."

To have spoken in this way to an absolute prince shows Ballentyne to liave
been not altogether a courtier.

He afterwai-ds adds, in a finely impassioned strain : — " Quhat thing maybe
mair plesand than to se in this present volume, as in ane cleir miiToui-e all the
variance of tyme bygane ; the sindiy chancis of fourtoiin ; the bludy fechting
and teiTible berganis sa mony years continuit, in the defence of your realm and
liberie ; quhilk is fallen to your hieness with gret felicita, howbeit the samin
has aftimes been ransomit with maist nobill blude of your antecessoris. Quhat
is he that wil nocht rejoise to heir the knychtly afaris of thay forcy campions,
King Robert Bruce and William Wallace ? The first, be innative desjTe to re-
cover his realme, wes brocht to sic calamite, that mony dayis he dui-st noclit
flppeir in sicht of pepill ; but amang desertis, levand on rutes and herbis, in
esperance of better fortoun ; bot at last, be his singulare manheid, he come to
sic preeminent glore, that now he is reput the maist valyeant prince that was
eftir or before his empire. This other, of small beginning, be feris curage and
corporall strength, not only put Englishmen out of Scotkind, but als, be feir of
his awful visage, put Edward king of England to flicht ; and held all the bor-
ders fornence Scotland waist."

Ballentyne delivered a manuscript copy of his work to the king, in the sum-
mer of 1533, and about the same time he appears to have been engaged in a
translation of Livy. The following entries in the tretisurer's book give a curi-
ous view of the prices of literaiy labom-, in the court of a king of those days,

" To Maister John Ballentyne, be the kingis precept, for his translating of the
Chronykill, £30.

" 1531, Oct. 4th. To Maister John Ballantyne, be the kingis precept, for
his translating of the Chroniclis, £30.

" Item, Thairefter to the said Maister Johne, be the kingis command, £6.

" 1533, July 26. To Maister John Ballentyne, for ane new Chronikle gerin
to the kingis grace, £ 1 2.

" Item, To him in part payment of the translation of Titus Livius, £8.

HENRY BALNAVES.

127

" Aug, 24. To Maister John Ballentyne, in part payment of the second

buke of Titus Livius, £S.

" Nor. 30. To Maister John Ballentyne, be the kingis precept, for his

laboris dune in translating of Livie, £20.

The literary labours of Ballentyne were still further rewarded by his royal
master, with an appointment to the archdeanery of 3Ioray, and the escheated
property and rents of two individuals, who became subject to the pains of trea-
son for having used influence \nth the Pope to obtain the same benefice, against
the king's privilege. He subsequently got a vacant prebendaryship in the
cathedral of Ross. His translation of Boece was printed in 153(i, by Thomas
Davidson, and had become in later times almost unique, till a new edition was
published in a remarkably elegant style, in 1821, by Messrs Tait, Edinburgh.
At the same time appeared the translation of the first two books of Livy, which
liad never before been printed. The latter worlc seems to have been carried no
further by the translator.

Ballentyne seems to have lived happily in the sunsliine of (;ourt favour during
the remainder of the reign of James V. The opposition which he afterwards
presented to the reformation, brought him into such odium, that he retired from
liis counti-y in disgust, and died at Rome, about the year 1550.

The translations of Ballentyne are characterised by a striking felicity of lan-
guage, and also by a freedom that shows his profound acquaintance with the
learned language upon which he wrought. His Chronicle, which closes >\-ith the
reign of James 1., is rather a paraphrase than a litei-al translation of Boece, and
possesses in several respects the character of an original work. 3Iany of the
historical eiToi-s of the latter are corrected — not a few of his redundancies re-
trenched — and his more glaring omissions supplied. Several passages in the
work are highly elegant, and some descriptions of particular incidents i-each to
something nearly akin to the sublime. 3Iany of the works of Ballenden are
lost — among others a tract on the Pythagoric letter, and a discourse upon Vir-
tue and Pleasure. He also wrote many political pieces, the most of which are
lost. Those which have reached us are principally Proems prefixed to his prose
works, a species of composition not apt to bring out the better qualities of a
poet ; yet they exhibit the workings of a rich and luxuriant fancy, and abound
in lively sallies of the imagination. They are generally allegorical, and distin-
guished rather by incidental beauties, than by the skilful structure of the fable.
The stoiy, indeed, is often dull, the allusions obscui-e, and the general scope of
the piece unintelligible. These faults, however, are pretty general characteris-
tics of allegorical poets, and they are atoned for, in him, by the sti-iking thoughts
and the charming descriptions in which he abounds, and whicli, " like thi-eds of
gold, the i-ich arras, beautify his works quite thorow."

BALNAVES, Henry, of Halhill, an eminent lay reformer, and also a prose-
\vi"iter of some eminence, was born of poor parents in the town of Kirkaldy.
After an acadenucal coui-se at St Andrews, he travelled to the continent, and,
hearing of a fi"ee school in Cologne, procured admission to it, and received a li
beral education, together with instruction in protestant principles. Returning
to his native country, he applied himself to the study of la\v, and acted for some
time as a procurator at St Andrews. In the year 1538, he was appointed by
James V. a senator of the college of Justice, a court only instituted five years be-
fore. Notmthstanding the jealousy of the clergy, who hated him on account of his
religious sentiments, he was employed on important embassies by James V., and
subsequently by the governor Arran, during the first part of whose regency he
acted as secretary of state. Having at length made an open profession of the
Protestant religion, he was, at the instigation of AiTan's brother, the Abbot of

128 HENRY BALNAVES.

Paisley, dismissed from (li;it silnatioii. lie now appears to have entered into llio
interests of tlie Jumlisli party a^jainst llio govenutr, and accordingly, with tlia
Earl of Hothes and l.onl (iray, w.us thrown into iJiac^kness Castle (November
151..3), where he probably remained till relieved next year, on the appearance o/
the English lleetin the l''irth of I'oitli. There is mn<li reason to believe that this
sincere and pious man was privy to the conspiraiy formed against the life of (car-
dinal Ik'aton; an action (!er(ainly not the brightest in the ]»age of Scottish his-
tory, but of which it is not too much to say, that it might have been less defensi-
ble if its motive lia<l not been an irregular kind of patriotism. Balnaves, though
he did not appear among the actual perpetrators of the assassination, soon after
joined them in the castle of St Andrews, which they held out against the gover-
nor. He was conseijuently declared a traitor and excommunicated. His prin-
cipal employment in the service of the conspirators seems to have been that of
an amb.assador to the English court. In February 151()-7, he obtained from
Henry VHI. a subsidy of jtllSO, besides a quantity of provisions, for his com-
patriots, and a pension of iei25 to himself, which was to run from the 25th
of 3Iarch, On the 1 5th of this latter month, he had become bound along with
his friends, to deliver up Queen IMai-y, and also the castle of St Andrews, into
the hands of the English ; and, in May, he obtained a further sum of i'SOO.
While residing in the castle, lie was instrumental, along with Mr .Tohn Rough
and Sir David Lindsay of tlie Mount, in prevailing upon Jidin Knox to preach
publicly in St Andrews — the first regular ministration in the reformed religion
in Scotland.

When the defenders of the castle surrendered in August, Balnaves shared in
their fate, along with Knox, and many other eminent persons. He was conveyed
to the castle of Rouen in France, and there committed to close coniinement.
Yet he still found occasional opportunities to communicate with his friend Knox.
Having employed himself, during his solitary hours, in composing a Treatise on
Justification, he conveyed it to the reformer, who was so much pleased with it,
that he divided it into chapters, added some marginal notes and a concise epi-
tome of its contents, and prefixed a commendatory dedication, intending that it
should be published in Scotland as soon as opportunity ofiered. This work fell
aside for some years, but, after Knox's death, was discovered in the house of Or-
miston by Richard Bannatyne, and was published at Edinburgh, in 1 584, under
the title of " The Confession of Faith, containing, how the troubled man should
seek refuge at his God, thereto led by Faith ; kc, Compiled by 31. Henrie Bal-
naves of Halhill, one of the Lords of Session and counsell of Scotland, being as
prisoner within the old pallaice of Roane, in the year of our Lord, 1548. Di-
rect to his faithful brethren being in like trouble or more, and to all true profes-
sors and favourers of the syncere worde of (jod." Dr M'Crie has given some
extracts Irom this Avork in his Life of John Knox. After his return from ban-
ishment, Balnaves took a bold and conspicuous part in the contest can-ied on by
the lords of the congregation against the Regent Mary. He was one of the
commissioners, who, in February, 1559-60, settled the treaty at Berwick, between
the former insurgent body and the Queen of England, in consequence of which
the Scottish refoi-mation was finally established, through aid from a country al-
ways heretofore the bitterest enemy of Scotland. In 1563, he was re-appointed
to the bench, and also nominated as one of the conmiissioners for revising the
Book of Discipline. He acted some years later, along w ith Buchanan and others,
as counsellors to the Earl of Mun-ay, in the celebi'ated inquiry by English and
Scottish commissioners into the alleged guilt of Queen IMary. He died, accord-
ing to Mackenzie, in 1 579.

" In his Treatise upon Justific;.tion," says the latter aut'ioriiy, " he afiirnis th;;t

GEORGE BANNATYNE. 129

the justification spoken of by St James is different from that spoken of by St
Paul : For the justification by good works, which St James speaks of, only justi-
fies us before man ; but the justification by faith, which St Paul speaks of, justi-
fies us before (^od: And that all, yea even the best of our good works, are but
sins before God."

" And," adds Blackenzie, with true Jacobite sarcasm, " whatever may be in this
doctrine of our author's, I think Ave may gTant to him that the most of all his
actions which he valued himself upon, and reckoned good works, were really
great and heinous sins before God, for no good man will justify rebellion and
murder."

AVithout entering into the controversies involved by this proposition, either as
to the death of Cardinal Beaton, or the accusations against Queen Mary, we may
content ourselves with quoting the opinion entertained of Balnaves by the good
and moderate 3Ielville ; he was, according to this writei", " a godly, learned,
wise, and long experimented counsellor." 'A poem' by Balnaves, entitled,
" An advice to headstrong Youth," is selected from Bannatyne's manuscript into
the Evergreen.

BANNATYNE, George, takes his title to a place in this work from a source
of lame participated by no other individual within the range of Scottish biogra-
phy ; it is to this person that we are indebted for the preservation of nearly all
die productions of the Scottish poets of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
Though the sei*vict's he has thus rendered to his country A\ere in some measure
the result of accident, yet it is also evident that, if he had not been a person of
eminent literary taste, and also partly a poet himself, we should never have had
to celebrate him as a collector of poetiy. The compound claim which he has
thus established to our notice, and the cmious antique picture which is presented
to our eye by even the little that is known regarding his character and pursuits,
will, it is hoped, amply justify his admission into this gallei-y of eminent
Scotsmen.

George Bannatyne Avas born in an elevated rank of society. His father,
James Bannatyne, of the Kirktown of Newtyle, in the county of Forfar, was a
writer in Edinburgh, at a time Avhen that profession must have been one of some
distinction and rarity ; and he Avas probably the person alluded to by Robert
Semple, in " The Defens of Grissell Sandylands :" —
" For men of law I wait not quhair to luke :
James Bannatyne was anis a man of skill.''

It also appears that James Bannatyne held the office of Tabular to the Lords of
Session, in Avhich office his eldest son (afterwards a Lord of Council and Session)
Avas conjoined Avith him as successor, by rojal precept dated May 2, 1563.
James Bannatyne is further ascertained to have been connected Avith the vei-y
ancient and respectable family of Bannachtyne, or Bannatyne of Camys, [now
Kames] in the island of Bute. He Avas the father, by his Avife Katharine Tail-
liefer, of tAvenly-tln'eii children, nine of Avhoui, Avho sui-vived at the time of his
leath, in 1563, Avere ' Aveill, and sufficiently provydit be him, under God."

George Bannatyne, the seventh child of his parents, was bora on the 22nd
day of t'ebruiiry, 1545, and was bred up to trade.' It is, hoAvever, quite unc-er-

l In a memoir of George Bannatyne, liy Sir Walter Scott, prefixed to a collection of me-
morabilia regarding him, which has been printed for the Bannatyne Club, it is supposed
that he A>as not early engaged in business. But Jiis supposition seems only to rest on an
uiicertaiii inference from a passage in George Bannat3'ne's " Memoriall Buik," where it i.=
mentioned that Katharine Taihiefer, at her death in 1570, left behind her eleven children,
of ^vhom eight were as yet "unput to protieit.'' On a careful inspection of the family no-
tices in this " memoriiill buik," it appears as likely that George himself was one of those
already '■ jjut to protieit " as otherwise, more especially considering that he was then twenty-
Hve years of age. i. r

130 GEORGE BANNATYNE.

tain at what time he ho-raii to he en«jaired in business on his own account, or
wlictlier lit' spent liis yoiitli in imsiness or not. Jinl<,'^in5, iiowever, as the world
is apt to judjje, we should suppose, from his taste for poetry, and his having been
a writer of verses himself, that lie was at least no zealous applicant to any com-
mcn^ial piii-siiit. Two poems of his, written before the ajre of twenty-three, are
full of ardent ihouirh con(XMtc<l allection towartls some fair misln-ss, whom lie
describes in the most extvavap^antly complimentary terms. It is also to be sup.
posed that, at this age, even though obliged to seek some amusement during a
time of necessary sechision, he could not have found the means to collect, oi
the taste to execute, such a mass of poetry as that which bears his name,
if he had not previously been almost entirely abandoned to this particular pur-
suit. At the same time, there is some reason to suppose that he was not alto-
gether an idle young man, given up to vain fancies, firom the two first lines of
his valedictory address at the end of his collection :

" Heir ciulis this Bulk wriltin in tyme of pest,

Quhon wc fra labor was compcl'd to rest."

Of the transaction on which the whole fame of George Rannatyne rests, we give
the following interesting account from the 3Iemoir just quoted : —

" It is seldom that the toils of the amanuensis are in themselves interesting
or that, even while enjoying the advantages of the poor scribe's labour, we are
disposed to allow him the merit of more than mere mechanical dridgery. But
in the compilation of George Bannatyne's manuscript, there are particulars
which rivet our attention on the writer, and raise him from a humble copyist
into a national benefactor.

" Bannatyne's Manuscript is in a folio form, containing upwards of eight
hundred pages, very neatly and closely wxitten, and designed, as has been sup-
posed, to be sent to the press. The labour of compiling so rich a collection was
undertaken by the author during the time of pestilence, in the year 156^,
when the dread of infection compelled men to foi-sake their usual employments,
which could not be conducted without admitting the ordinai-y promiscuous inter-
course between man and his kindi-ed men.

" In this dreadful period, when hundreds, finding themselves surrounded by
danger and death, renounced all care save that of selfish precaution for their
own safety, and all thoughts save apprehensions of infection, George Bannatyne
had the coui-ageous energy to form and <^xecute the plan of saving the litei'atur?
of a whole nation ; and, undisturbed by the universal mourning for the dead,
and genera! fears of the living, to devote himself to the task of collecting and
recording the triumphs of human genius ; — thus, amid the wreck of nil that w; s
mortal, employing himself in preserving the lays by which immortality is at once
given to others, and obtained for the writer himself. His task, he infornxs us,
had its difficulties ; for he complains that he had, even in his time, to contend
■with the disadvantage of copies old, maimed, and mutilated, and which long
before our day must, but for this faithful transcriber, have perished entirely.
The verj' labour of procuring the originals of the woi'ks which he transcribe<l,
must have been attended with much trouble and some risk, at a time when all
the usual intercourse of life was suspended, and when we can conceive that even
so simple a circumstance as the borrowing and lending a book of ballads, was
accompanied with some doubt and apprehension, and that probably the suspected
volume was subjected to fumigation, -and the precautions used in quarantine.^

2 With deference to Sir Walter, we would suggest that the suspicion under which books
are always held at a time of pestilence, as a means of conveying the infection, gives great
reason to suppose that George Bannatyne had previously colJected his oriuinal manuscripts,
and only took this opportunity of transcribing them 'the writing of eight hundred fo]!<->

GEORGE BANNATYNE. 131

" In the reign of James IV. and V., the fine arts, as they awakened in other
countries, made some progi'ess in Scotland also. Architecture and music were
encouraged by botli of those accomplished sovereigns ; and poetry above all,
seems to have been highly valued at the Scottish court. The King of Scotland,
who, in point of power, seems to have been little more than the fii'st baron of
his Idngdom, held a free and merry court, in which poetry and satire seem to
have had unlimited range, even where their shafts glanced on royalty itself.
The consequence of this general encouragement was the pi-oduction of much
poetry of various kinds, and concerning various persons, which the naiTow exer-
tions of the Scottish press could not convey to the public, or which, if printed
at all, existed only in limited editions, which soon sunk to the rarity of manu-
scripts. There was therefore an ample mine out of which Bannatyne made his
compilation, with the intention, doubtless, of putting the Lays of the Makers out
of the reach of oblivion, by subjecting the collection to the press. But the bloody
wars of Queen Mary's time '' made that no period for literai-y adventure ; and
the tendency of the subsequent age to polemical discussion, discouraged lighter
and gayer studies. There is, therefore, little doubt, that had Bannatyne lived
later than he did, or had he been a man of less taste in selecting his materials,
a great proportion of the poetry contained in his volume must have been lost to
posterity ; and, if the stock of northern literature had been diminished only by
the loss of such of Dunbar's pieces as Bannatyne's Manuscript contains, the da-
mage to posterity Avould have been infinite."

The pestilence Avhich caused Bannatyne to go into retirement, commenced at
Edinbui-gh upon the 8th of September, 1568, being introduced by a merchant
of the name of Dalgleish. We have, however, no evidence to prove that Ban-
natyne resided at tjiis time in the capital. We know, from his own infoi-ma-
tion, that he wrote his manuscript dui-ing the subsequent months of October,
November, and December ; which might almost seem to imply that he had lived
in some other to^vn, to \vhich the pestilence only extended at the end of the
month in which it appeared in Edinburgh. Leaving this in uncei'tainty, it is
not perhaps too much to suppose that he might have adopted this means of
spending his time of seclusion, from the fictitious example held out by Boccacio,
who represents the tales of his Decameron as having been told lor mutual amuse-
ment, by a company of persons who had retired to the countiy to escape the
plague. A person so eminently acquainted with the poetry of his own counti^y,
might well be familiar with the kindi-ed work of that illustrious Italian.

The few remaining facts of George Bannatyne's life, which have been gathered
up by the industry of Sir Walter Scott, may be briefly related. In 1572, he
was provided with a tenement in the town of Leith, by a gift from his father.
This would seem to imply that he was henceforward, at least, engaged in busi-
ness, and resided either in Edinburgh or at its neighbouring port. It was not, how-
ever, till the 27th of October, 1587, that, being then in his forty-third yeai', he
was admitted in due and competent form to the privileges of a merchant and
guild-brother of the city of Edinburgh. " We have no means of knowing what
branch of trafiic George Bannatyne chiefly exercised ; it is probable that, as
usual in a Scottish burgh, his connnerce was general and miscellaneous. We

pages in the careful and intricate style of ealigraphy then practised, appears a suffidenttask
in itself for three months, without supposing that any part of the time was spent in collect-
ing miinuscripts. And hence we see the greater reason for supposing that a large part of
the aUention of George Bannatyne before his twenty-third year was devoted to Scottish
poetry.

3 The accomplished writer should rather have said, the minority of James VL, whose
reign had commenced before the manuscript was written.

132

GKOKGE BANNATYNE.

fiave reason to know that, it was successful, ns we fiiul him in a few years yua-
sessed of a considi'ral)lf c^ipital, the time l)ein;f consiih-red, whidi he emjdoyed
to advantaije in various money-lending' transactions. It must iu>t he iori^ol that
t!ie penal laws of the C ntholic period pronoiuued all direct takinsj ot interest
upon money, to he usurious and illejial. 'i'hcse demnicialions did not decic.'ise
the desiix' of the wealthy to derive some prolil from liieir ciipital, or <liniinisii the
necessity of the emharrassed land-holder who wisiied to borrow money. The
nmtual intrest of the parties siig-'cstcd various evasions of tlie law, of which tlie
most conuuon was, that the capitalist advanced to his debtor the sum wanted, as
tile price of a con-esponding annuity, payalde out of the lands and tenements of
the debtor, which annuity was rendered redeemable upon the said debtor repay-
in"- the sum advanced. The moneyed man of tliose days, therefore, imitated the
conduct imputed to the Jewish patriarch by Shylock. Tliey did not t;ike

intirest — not as you vroiiW say

Directly intirest,

but they retained payment of an annuity as long as the debtor retained the use
of their capital, which came to nmch the same thing. A species of transaction
was contri\cd, as afVording a convenient mode of securing the lender's money.
Our reseai-ches have discovered that (jeorge Bannatyne had sufficient funds to
enter into various transactions of this kind, in tlie capacity of lender ; and, as
we have no reason to suppose that he profited unfairly by the necessities of the
other party, he cannot be blamed for having recourse to the ordinal^ expedi-
ents, to avoid the penalty of an absui-d law, and accomplish a fair transaction,
dictated by mutual expediency."

Bannatyne, about the same time that he became a burgess of Edinburgh, ap-
pears to have man-ied his spouse, Isobel Mawchan [apparently identical with the
modern name Maughaii], who was the relict of Bailie William Nisbett, and must
have been about forty years of age at the time of her second nuptials, supposing
15StJ to be the date of that event, which is only probable from the succeeding
year having produced her first child by Bannatyne. This child \vas a daughter,
by name Janet, or Jonet ; she was born on the 3rd of 3Iay, 15S7. A son,
James, born on the Gtli of September, 1539, and who died young, completes the
sum of liannatyne's family. The father of Bannatyne died in the year 1583,
and was succeeded in his estate of Ne\vtyle, by his eldest living son, Thomas,
who became one of the Lords of Session by that designation, an appointment
which foi-ms an additional voucher for the general respectability of the family.
George Bannatyne was, on the 27th of August, 1603, deprived of his affectionate
helpmate, Isobel Mawchan, at the age of fifty-seven. She had lived, according
to her husband's " Memoriall," " a godly, honourable, and virtuous life ; was a
wise, honest, and true matron, and departed in the Loi-d, in a peaceful and
^odly manner."

(jeorge Bannatyne himself deceased previous to the year IfiOS, leaving onlj
one child, Janet, who had, in 1G03, been married to George Foulis of Woodhali
and Ravelstono, second son of James Fouhs of Colingtoun. His valuable col-
lection of Scottish poetry was presei-ved in his daughter's family till 171-2, when
his great-grandson, William Foulis of Woodhali, bestowed it upon the Honourable
William Cannichael of Skirling, advocate, brother to the Earl of Hyndford, a
gentleman who appears to have had an eminent taste for such monuments of
antiquity. While in the possession of Mr cannichael, it was boirowed by Allan
Ramsay, who selected from its pages the materials of his popular collection,
styled, "The Evergreen." Lord Hailes, in 1770, pubUshed a second and more
cx>rrect selection from the Bannatyne Manuscript ; and the venerable tome was,

JOHN BARBOUR. I33

ill 1772, by the liberality of John, third Earl of Hyiidford, deposited in the
Advocates' Library at Edinburgh, where it still remains.

We have already alluded to George Bannatyne as a poet ; and it remains to
be shown in what degree he was entitled to that designation. To tell the truth,
his verses display little, in thought or imagery, that could be expected to interest
the present generation ; neither was he perhaps a versifier of great repute, even
in his own time. He seems to have belonged to a class very numerous in pri-
vate life, who are eminently capable of enjoying poetry, and possess, to appear-
ance, all the sensibilities which are necessary to its production ; but, wanting the
active or creative power, rarely yield to the temptation of writing verse, without
a signal defeat. Such persons, of >vhom George Bannatyne was certainly one,
may be said to have negative, but not positive poetry. As it seems but fair,
however, that he who has done so much to bring the poetry of others before the
world, should not have his own altogether confined to the solitude of manuscript,
or the unobvious print of his own bibliographical society, we subjoin a specimen
from one of the very few pieces which have come down to our own time. The
verses which follo\v are the quaint, but characteristic conclusion of a sonnet to
his mistress' eyebrow. It is ludicrous ta observe theology pressed by the ve-
nerable rhymester into the service of love.

" Na thing of rycht I ask, my Lady fair,

Bot of fre will and mercy me to saif ;
Your will is your awin, as ressoun wald it ware,

Thairfoir of grace, .ind nocht of rycht I craif

Of you mercy, as ye wald mercy haif
Off God our Lord, quhois iitercyis iafeneit

Gois befoire all his workis, we may persaif,
To thame quhois handis with raarcy ar repleit.

Now to conclude with wordis compendious ;

Wald God my tong wald to vn.y will respond,
And eik my speich was so facundious,

That I was full of rethore termys jocond !

Than suld my lufe at moir length be exponed,
Than my cunnying can to you heir declair ;

For this my style inornetly compond,
Kschangs my pen your eiris to truble mair.

Go to my deir with humm'll reverence.

Thou bony bill, both rude and imperfej'te ;
Go, nocht will forgit flattery to her presence.
As is of falset the custome use and ryte ;
Gauss me nocht Ban that evir I the indyte.
Na tyne my travell, turning all in vane ;

Bot with ane faithfall liairt, in word and wryte,
Declair my mind and bring me joy agane.

My name quha list to knaw, let him tak tent
Vnto this littill verse nixt presedent."

It only remains to be mentioned that the name of George Bannatyne has been
appropriately adopted by a company of Scottish literary antiquaries, interested,
like him, in the presei'vation of such curious memorials of the taste of past ages,
as well as such monuments of history, as might otherwise run the hazard of total
perdition.

BARBOUR, John, a name of which Scotland has just occasion to be proud,
was jVi'chdeacon of Aberdeen in the later part of the fourteenth century. There

134 JOHN BARBOUR.

lias been much idle controversy as to the date of liis birth : uliile all that i.^
known witli liisloric certainty, may hv related in a single scnteni;e. As he was
an ai-chdeacon in l.'}57, and as, by the «:.uion law, no man, without a disjtensa-
tion, cm att^iin tliat rank under the aije of twenty-live, he w;is jirobably born be-
fore the year 13^2. There is considerable j»rol)ai>ilily that ho was al)ove the
aije of twenty-fne in 1.357, for not only is that date not mentioned ;is the year
of liis attainhifj the rank of archdeacon, but in the same year he is found exer-
cisinj;;' a very import^mt political trust, wliich wa can scarcely suppose to have been
contided to a man of slender age, or sc;inty experience. This ^vas the duly of
a connnissioner from the Dishop of Aberdeen, to meet with other (;ommissionei-s
at Edinburgh, concerning the ransom of David II., who was then a prisoner in
England.

As to the parentage or bh-th-place of Barbour, \ve have only similar conjec-
tures. Besides the probability of his having been a native of the district in
which lie afterwards obtained higli cleric.il rank, it can be shown that there were
individuals of his name, in and abotit the town of Aberdeen, who might have
been his father. Thus, in 130y, Hobert Bruce granted a charter to Robert Bar-
bour, " of the lands of Craigie, within the shii-efdom of Forfar, (juhilk sumtyme
were Joannis de Baliolo." There is also mention, in the Index of Charters,
of a tenement in the Castle-street of Aberdeen, which, at a period remotely
antecedent to 1360, belonged to Andrew Barbour. The name, which appears
to have been one of that numerous (;lass derived from trades, is also found in per-
sons of the same ei'a, who were connected with the southern parts of Scotland.

In attempting the biography of an individual who lived four or five centuries
ago, and whose life was commemorated by no contemporary, all that can be ex-
pected is a few unconnected, and perhaps not very interesting facts. It is
abeady established that Bai-bour, in 1357, was Archdeacon of the cathe(b'al of
Aberdeen, and fulfilled a high trust imposed upon him by liis bishop. It is
equally ascertained that, in tlie same year, he travelled, with three scholars in
his company, to Oxford, for purposes connected with study. A safe-conduct
granted to him by Edward 111., August 23d, at the request of David 11., conveys
this information in the following teniis : " Veniendo, cum tribus scholaribus in
coraitiva sua, in regnuni nostrum Anglise, causa studendi in universitate Oxonias
et ibidem actus scholasticos exercendo, niorando, exinde in Scotiara ad propria
redeundo." It might have been supposed that Barbour only officiated in this
expedition as tutor to the three scholars ; but that he was himself bent on study
at the univef^ity, is proved by a second safe-conduct, gi-antedby the same mon-
arch, November fith, 1364, in the following terms : "To blaster John Barbour,
Ai'chdeacon of Aberdeen, \vith foui* knights {equites), coming from Scotland,
by land or sea, into England, to study at Oxford, or elsewhere, as he may
think proper." j\s also from a third, bearing date November 30th, 1368, "To
Master .John Barbour, with two valets and two horses, to come into Eng-
land, and travel through the same, to the other dominions of the king, versus
Franciam, causa studlendi, and of returning again." It would thus appear that
Barbour, even after that he had attained a high ecclesiastical dignity, found it
agreeable or necessary to spend several winters at Oxford in study. When we
recollect that at this time there Avas no university in Scotland, and that a man of
such literary habits as Barbour could not fail to find himself at a loss even for
the use of a library in his native couiitiy, Ave are not to wonder at his occasional
pilgrimages to the illustrious shrine of learning on the banks of the Isis. Or
the 16th of October, 1635, he received another safe-conduct from Edward III.,
peimitting him '• to come into England and travel throughout that kingdom,
cum sex sociis siiis equitibus, usque Sanctum Dionisium :" i. e. with six knights

JOHN BARBOUR. I35

in company, to St Denis in France. Such slight notices suggest curious and in-
teresting views of the manners of that early time. We are to understand fi-om
them, that Barbour always travelled in a very dignified manner, being sometimes
attended by four knights and sometimes by no fewer than six, or at least, by two
mounted servants. A man accustomed to such state might be the better able
to compose a chivalrous epic like " the Bruce."

There is no other authentic document regarding Barboui- till the year 1373,
when his name appears in the list of Auditors of Exchequer for that year, being
then described as " Clericus Probationis domus domini nostri Regis ;" i. e. ap-
parently — Auditor of the comptroller's accounts for the royal household. This,
however, is too obscure and solitai-y an authority to enable us to conclude that
he bore an office under the king. Hume of Godscroft, speaking of " the Bruce's
book," says : " As I am infonned, the book was penned by a man of good know-
ledge and learning, named Master John Barbour, Ai-chdeacon of Aberdeene, foi
which work he had a yearly pension out of the exchequer during his life, which
lie gave to the hospitall of that towne, and to which it is allowed and paid still
in our dayes."' This fact, that a pension was given him for ^^Titing his book,
is authenticated by an unquestionable document. In the Rotuli Ballivorum Bur-
gi de Aberdonia for 1471, the enti-y of the discharge for this royal donation
bears that it was expressly given " for the compilation of the book of the Deeds
of King Robert the First," referring to a prior statement of this circumstance in
the more ancient rolls : — " Et Decano et Capitulo Abirdonensi percipient! an-
nuatim viginti solidos pro anniversario quondam Magistri Johannis Barberi, pro
compilatione libri gestorum Regis Roberti primi, ut patet in antiquis Rotuhs de
anno Compoti, xx. s." Tlie first notice we have of Barbour i-eceiving a pension
is dated February 1 Sth, 1390; and although this period was only about two
months before the death of Robert the Second, it appeai-s from the rolls that to
that monarch the poet was indebted for the favour. In the roll for April 26th,
1398, this language occurs: — " Quam recolendie memorie quondam dominus
Robertus secundus, rex Scottorum, dedit, concessit, et carta sua confirmavit quon-
dam Johanni Barbere archediacono Aberdonensi," &c. — In the roll dated Juno
2d, 1424, the words are these : — " Decano et capitulo ecclesire cathedralis Aber-
donensis percipientibus annuatim viginti solidos de firmis dicti burgi pro anni-
versario quondam magistri Johannis Barbar pro compilacione libri de gestis
Regis Roberti Brwise, ex concessione regis Roberti secundi, in plenam solucionem
dicte pensionis," &c. Barbour's pension consisted of j£10 Scots from the cus-
toms of Aberdeen, and of 20 shillings from the rents or buiTow-mails of the
same city. The first sum Avas limited to " the life of Barbour ;" the other to
" his assignees whomsoever, although he should have assigned it in the way of
mortification." Hume of Godscroft and others are in a mistake in supposing
that he appropriated this sum to an hospital (for it appears from t]ie accounts
of the gTeat chamberlain that he left it to the chapter of the cathedral church of
Aberdeen, for the express purpose of having mass said for his soul annually
after his decease : " That the dean and canons of Aberdeen, for the time being,
also the chapter and other ministers officiating at the same time in the said
chm'ch, shall annually for ever solemnly celebrate once in the year an anniver-
sary for the soul of the said umquhile John." Barbour's anniversaiy, it is supposed
continued till the reformation ; and then the sum allowed for it reverted to the
crown.

All that is further known of Barbcur is, that he died towards the close of 1 395.
This appears from the Chartulary of Aberdeen, and it is the last year in which
the payment of his pension of jElO stands on the record.
' History of the Douglasses.

156 JOHN BARBOUIl.

"The Hi'iice," which Harhour himself iiifoniis us lie wrolc in tlie year 1375.
is a mctric;il liistory ot" luihurl llio I'ii-st — his cxerlions and achicveiueiits for tht-
recovery of the iiKh-peiuh-iice »»f Scotland, and tiie i»rinc,i[»al transactions of liis
reign. As IJarboiir tloiirisiied in the a;rc iMnu(i<liatcly loiiouin:; that of his here,
lie must liave enjoyed tlie advantage of liearing Irom eye-Nvitnosscs narratives of
tlie war of hl)erty. As a history, liis work is of good authority; he himscii
ho^i^ of its soot /i fast 7ie.tx ; and the simj)le and straight-forward way in whirli
the story is told goes U\ indicate its general veracity. Although, liowever, tim
object of tlie auilior w.is mainly to give a soothfast history of the life and tran-
sactions of IJobert the Bruce, the work is f.ir trom being destitute of poetic.il
feeling or rhythmical sweetness and harmony. The lofty sentiments and vivid
descrijitions with which it abounds, prove tlie author to haveheen fitted by feelin ■;
and by principle, as well ;is by situation, for the task which he undertook. His
genius has lent truth all the channs that are usually supposed to belong to fiction
I'he hoiTors of war are softened by strokes of tenderness that make us equally
in love with the hero and the poet. In battle painting, Barbour is eminent :
the battle of Bannockburn is described with a minuteness, spirit, and fervency,
worthy of the day. The following is a part of the description of that noble en-
gagement, and presents a striking picture of a mortal combat before tho intro-
iuction of gunpowder mnde warfare less a mntLer of brute force.

with wai)}iiys stalwarl of stele

They dang upon, with all tliair mycht.
Their fayis resawyt wele, Ik hycht,
With swerdis, speris, and with mase
The batlaill thair sa feloun was,
And swa rj'cht spilling of blud.
That on the erd the sloussis stud.
The Scottsmen sa weill thaim bar,
And swa gret slauchter maid thai tliar
And fra sa fele the lyvis rewyt,
That all the feld bliuly was lewyt.

That tyme thir thre bataills wer.
All S3d be syd, fechtand weill ner,
Thar mycht men her monydiiit,
And wapynys apon armurs stynt,
And se nimble knychts and steds,
And mony rych and reale weds.
Defoullyt foully undre fete,
Sum held on loft ; sum tynt the snet.
A lang quhill thus fechtand thai war;
That men na noyis my'cht her thair;
Men hard noucht, but granys, and dynts
That flew fyr, as men flayis on flyiits.
Thai faucht ilkane sa egrely,
That thai maid na noyis na cry,
But dang on othyr at thair mycht,
With wapnys that war burnyst brycht

» » »

Whar mycht men se men felly fychf,
And men, that worthy war and wychtt
Do mony worthy wassellage.
Whai faucht as thai war in a rage.
For quhen the Scotts archery
Saw thair fayis sa sturdely

JOHN BARBOUR. 137

Stand into bntaill them aga3'ne ;

With all thair mycht, and all thair mayne.

Thai la) id on, as men out off wyt.

And quhar thai, with full strak, mycht hyt,

Thar mjcht na armur stynt thair strak.

Thai to fruchyt that thai mycht ourtak.

And with axys such dusches gave,

That thai helmys, and heds, clave.

And thair fayis rycht bardely

Met thaim, and dmig on them douchtely,

With wapyngs that war styth off stele.

Thar wes tJie bataill strekyt weill.

Sa gret dyn that wes off dynts,

As wapyngs apon armur stynts;

And off spers sa gret bresting ;

And sic thrang, and sic thr3Sting ;

Sic gyrning, granyng ; and sa gret

A noyis, as thai gan othyr beit :

And ensenyeys on ilka sid :

Gewand, and takand, wounds wid ;

That it wes hidwyss for to her.— Boot xiii. ?. 14 & 138.

The apostrophe to Freedom, after the painful description of tlie slavery t«
tvhich Scotland was reduced by Edward, is in a style of poetical feeling very
uncommon in that and many subsequent ages, and has been quoted wth higli
praise by the most distinguished Scottish historians and critics : —

A ! fredome is a nobill thing !

Fredome mayse man to haiff liking!

Fredome all solace to man gitlls:

He levys at ess that frely levys !

A noble hart may haiff nane ese,

Na ellys nocht that may him plese,

Gyff fredome failythe : for fre liking

Is yearnyt our all othir thing

Na he, that ay base levyt fre.

May nocht knaw weill the propyrte.

The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,

That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome.

Bot gyff he had assayit it,

Than all perquer he suld it wyt ;

And suld think fredome mar to pryse

Than all the gold in warld that isA— Book i. I. 225.
1 Some readers may perhaps arrive at the sense of this fine passage more readily through
the medium of the following paraphrase :—

Ah, Freedom is a noble thmg,

And can to life a relish bring.

Freedom all solace to man gives ;

He lives at ease that freely lives.

A noble heart may have no ease,

Nor aught beside that may it please,

If freedom fail— for 'tis the choice.

More than the chosen, man enjoys.

Ah, he that ne'er yet lived in thrall,

Knows not the weary pains which gall
The limbs, the soul, of him who 'plains

In slavery's foul and festering chains!

If these he knew, I ween right soon

He v/ould seek back the precious boon

Of freedom, which he then would prize

More than all wealth beneath the skies.'

i:;8 JOHN BARBOUR.

" Barbour," says an eminent rritic in Scdttish poetical literature, " was eviileni-
ly skilled in siicii brandies of knowletli^o as were tlieii eiiltivatetl, and his learn-
injT was sd well regulated as to conduce to llie real ini|»roveinent of his mind:
the liberality ctf his views, and the humanity of his sentiments, appear o(M;;ision-
ally to li.ive been nnconlined by t!ie narrow boundaries of his own aj^e. lie has
drawn various illustralions from ancient history, ami from the stories of romance,
but has rarely displayed his erudition by deciding his verses with the names of
ancient authors : the distichs of Cato,' and the spurious productions of Dares
I'hrv'^ius, and Dictys Crctensis, are the only profane bool^s to ^vhich he formally
refers. He has borrowed more than one illustration from Statins, who w.us the
favourite classic of those times, and who likewise appears to have been the fa-
vourite of Barbour : the more chaste and elegant style of Virgil and lIoraiMj
were not so ^vell adapted to the prevalent taste as the strained thouglils and
fjor.'ieous diction of Statins and Claudian. The manner in which he has inci-
dentally discussed the subject of jistrology and necromancy, may be specilied as
not a little creditable to his g-ood sense. It is well known that these brandies
of divination were assiduously cultivated during the ages of intellectual darkness.
The , absurdity of astrology and necromancy he has not openly attempted to ex-
pose ; for as the opinions of the many, however unfounded in re.ason, must not
be too rashly stigmatized, this might have been too bold and decided a step. Of
the possibility of predicting events he speaks with the caution of a philosopher ;
but the following passage may be considered as a suflicient indication of hi*; de-
liberate sentiments :

And sen thai ar in sic wenyii<i,
For owtyne certaute off wittinf.',
Me think quha sa)'is he knawis tliugis
To cum, he makys great gabingis.

To form such an estimate, required a mind capable of resisting a strong torrent
of prejudice ; nor is it superfluous to remark, that in an age of much higher re-
finement, Di-yden suflered himself to be deluded by the prognostications of
judicial astrology. It was not, however, to be expected that Bai'bour should on
eveiy occasion evince a decided superioi'ity to the general spirit of the age to
which he belonged. His ten-ible imprecation on the person who betrayed Sir
Christopher Seton, " In hell condampnyt mot he be ! " ought not to have been
uttered by a Christian priest. His detestation of the treacherous and cruel King
Edward, induced him to lend a cred'ilous ear to the report of his consulting an
infernal spirit. The misfortunes which attended Bruce at almost every step of
his early progress, he attributes to his sacrilegious act of slaying Comyn at the
high altar. He supposes that the women and children who .assisted in supply-
ing the brave defendei's of Berwick with arrows and stones, were protected from
injury by a miraculous interposition. Such instances of superstition or unchari
table zeal are not to be viewed as marking the individual : gross superstition
with its usual concomitants, was the general spirit of the time ; and the devia-
tions from the ordinai-y track arc to be traced in examples of liberal feeling or
enlightened judgment."^

One further quotation from the Scottish contemporary and rival of Chaucer
may perhaps be admitted by the reader. As the former refer, one to a lofty
incident, the other to a beautiful sentiment, the follo^ving is one of the slight
and niinute stories with which the poet fills up his narrative : —

2 And Catone sa3as us in his wryt
To fenyhe foly quhile is wH. — Tfie Bruce, 4to, />, 13.
' Article BARbouR, written by Dr Irving, in Encyclopeiiia Britannica, 7th edition.

ALEXANDEll BARCLAY. 139

The king has hard a woman cry ;
He askyt quhat that wes in hy.
" It is the layndar, Schyr," said ane,
" That her child-ill rycht now has taiie,
" And mon leve now behind ws her;
" Tharfor scho makys yone iwill cher."
The king said, " Certis it war pite
" 'I'hat scho in that poynt left suld be ;
*' For certis I trow thar is na man
" That be ne will rew a woman than."
Hiss ost all thar arestyt he,
And gert a tent sone stentit be,
And gert hyr gang in haslilj',
And othyr wemen to be hyr by,
Quliill scho wes delier, he bad,
And S3'ne furth on his wayis raid :
And how scho furth suld cary it be,
Or euir he furth fur, ordanyt he.
This wes a full gret curtasy,
That swilk a king, and sa mighty,
Gert his men duell on this maner
Bot for a pouir lauender.

No one cnn fail to remark that, while the incident is in the highest degiee hon-
ourable to Bruce, sho^ving- that the gentle heart may still be known by gentle
deed, so also is Harbour entitled to the credit of humane feelings, from tlie way
in which he had detailed and commented upon the transaction.

Barbour was the author of another considerable work, whicli has unfortunately
perished. 'I'his was a chronicle of Scottish history, probably in the manner of
that by Andrew Winton.

BARCLAY, Alexander, a distinguished Avriter of the English tongue at the
beginning of the sixteentli centuiy, is known to have been a native of Scotland
only by very obscure evidence. He spent some of his earliest yeai-s at Croydon,
in Surrey, and it is conjectured that lie i-eceived his education at one of the
English Universities. In the year 1508, he was a prebendaiy of the collegiate
church of St Mary, at Ottei-y, in Devonshii-e. He was after\vards a IHonk, first
of the order of St Benedict at Ely, and latterly of the order of St Francis at
Canterbury. While in this situation, and having the degree of Doctor of Divi,
nily, he published an English translation of the " Mirrour of Good Mannei's," (a
treatise ctsmpiled in Latin by Dominyke Alancyn,) for the use of the " juvent of
England." After the Reformation, Barciay accepted a ministerial charge under
l!ie new religion, as vicar of Much-Badew in Essex. In 1546, he was vicar of
Wokey in Somersetshire, and in 1552 he was presented by the Dean and Chap-
ter of London to the rectoi-y of iMlhallows in Lombard Street. Having reached
an advanced age, he died in June this year, at Croydon in Sun-ey, where lie
was biu-ied.

Barclay published a great number of books, original and translated, and is
allowed by the most intelligent enquirers into early English literature to have
done more for the improvement of the language than any of his contemporariis.
His chief poetical work is "the Ship of Fooles," which was written in imitation
of a German work entitled, "■Das Narrcn Schiff," published in 1494. "The
Ship of Fooles," which was first printed in 1509, describes a vessel laden wiili
all sorts of absui-d persons, though tiiere seems to have been no end in view but
to bring them into one place, so that they might be described, as the beasts were
Ivo'vrbt before Adam in orfler to be named. We shall transcribe one pas.s;ige

HO JOHN BARCLA.Y, A.JI.

from this work, as a s|>ecJnioii of llio l^^l^lish style of Barclay: it is a curious
contemporary character of Kiiij^- James IV. of Scotiautl.
And, )e Christen priiiecs. whosoever )e he,

If ye be destitute of a noble e(ipta)iie,
Take James of Scollaiul for liis audacitie

And proved nianhode, if ye will laude attainr:
Let him have the forwarde : have ye no disda) lit*
Nor indignation ; foi- never king was borne
That of ought of wauie can shaw the uncorne.

For if that once he take the speaie in hand

Agaynst these Turkes strongly with it to ride,
None sliall be able his stroke for to wilhstande
Nor before his face so hardy to abide.
Yet this his manhode increaseth nut his pride ;
But ever shewetli meeknes and humilitic.
In worde or dede to hje and lowe degree.

Barclay also made a translation of Sallust's History of the Jii«urthine wai,
which was published in 1557, five years after his death, and is one of the earli-
est specimens of English translation from the classics.

BARCLAY, John, A.M. was the founder of a religious sect in Scotland, gene-
rally named Bereans, but sometimes called from the name of this individual,
Barclayans. The Ibnucr title derived its origin from the habit of I\Ir JJarclay,
in always making an appeal to the Scriptures, in vindication of any doctrine he
advanced from the pulpit, or which was contained in his wTitings. The perfec-
tion of the Scriptui-es, or of the Book of divine revelation, was the fundamental
article of his system; at least this was what he himself publicly declared upon
all occasions, and the same sentiments are still entertained by his followers. In
the Acts of the Apostles, xvii. 10. the Bereans are thus mentioned, " Tliese were
more noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all
readiness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily, whether tnose things >vere
so." These words were frequently quoted by I\Ir Barclay. It ought to be ob-
served, however, that originally it was not a name of reproach invented by the
malevolent part of the public, with the design of holding up 31r Barclay and his
associates to contempt, but was voluntarily assumed by them, to distinguish them
from other sects of professed Christians.

Mr Barclay was born in 1734. His father, Mr Ludovic Barclay, was a far-
mer in the parish of Muthill, in the county of Perth. Being at an early age
designed by his parents for the church, he was sent to school, and received the
best education whicli that part of the country could afTord. The name of his
master is no>v forgotten, but if we are to judge from the eminent proficiency of
the pupil, Ave nuist infer, that he ^vas a good scholar and an excellent teacher,
and was well aware of the absolute necessity and advantages of being ^vell
"rounded in the elements of classical learning. Respectable farmers, such as
Mr Barclay's father, had a laudable ambition in aftbrding to their sons an op-
portunity of being instructed in the learned languages, and to do the parish
schoolmasters justice, many of them were eminently qualified for performing the
task which they had undertaken.

Young Barclay was sent by his father to St Andrews, and was enrolled as a stu-
dent in that University ; ivhere he regularly attended the literary and philosophi-
cal classes, and having submitted to the usual examinations, betook the degree of
A.M. At the commencement of the subsequent session, he entered the New Divinity,
or St Mary's College, a sennnary in which theology alone is taught. Nothing
very particular occurred during his attendance at !he Hall, as it is generally

JOIJN BARCLAY, A.M. iil

called. He was iiiiifornily regular in his private conduct, and though consti-
tutionally of very impetuous passions, and a fervid iniag-ination, at no time of
liis life was he ever seduced into the practice of wliat was immoral or vicious.
The Christian principles, witli which he seems to have been impressed very early
in life, adbrded him sufficient protection against the allurements or snares to
which he Avas exposed. He prosecuted his studies with the most unremitted in-
dustry, and Avith great care prepared the discourses prescribed by the professor,
and publicly delivered in the Hall. /

Wliile he attended the lectures on divinity, the University of St Andrews, and
indeed the Cluircli of Scotland in general, were placed in a very unpleasant si-
tuation, by the agitation of a question wliich originated with Dr Archibald
Campl>ell, professor of Church History in St Mary's College. He maintained
" that the knowledge of the existen<"e of God was derived from Revelation, not
fi'om Nature." This was long reckoned one of the errors of Socinus, and no
one in Scotland, before Dr Campbell's time, had ever disputed the opinion that
was generally cun-ent, and consequently esteemed orthodox. It was well known
that tlie Doctor was not a Sociiiian, and did not favour any of the other dog-
mas of that sect. The constitutional tendency of his mind was metaphysical,
and he certainly was possessed of great acuteness, which enabled him to perceive
on what point Ids opponents were most vulnerable, and where they laid them-
selves open to attack. He published his sentiments without the least r.-
serve, and was equally ready to enter upon a vindication of them. He considered
his view of the subject as a foundation necessary to be laid in order to demon-
strate the necessity of revelation. A whole host of opponents volunteered their
services to strangle in the birth such dangerous sentiments. Innumerable pam-
phlets rapidly made their appearance, and the hue and cry was so loud, and cer-
tain persons so clamorous, that the ecclesiastical courts thought that they could no
longer remain silent. Dr Campbell was publicly prosecuted on account of his here-
tical opinions, but after long litigation the matter was compromised, and the only
effect if produced was, that the students at St Andrews in general became more
zealous defenders of the Doctor's system, though they dui-st not avow it so openly.
Among others, Mr Barcl.ay with his accustomed zeal, and with all the enerivies
of his juvenile but ardent mind, had warndy espoused Dr Campbell's svstem.
liong before he left College he was noted as one of his most open and avo\ved
partizans. These principles he never deserted, and in his view of Christianity
it formed an important part of the system of revealed truth. It must not be
imagined, however, that Mr Barclay slavishly followed, or adopted all Dr Camp-
bell's sentiments. Though they were both agreed that a knowledge of the true
God was derived from I'evelation and not from natui-e, yet they differed upon
almost every other point of systematic divinity. Mr Barclay was early, and
continued through life to be a high predestinarian, or what is technically deno-
minated a snpi'alapsarian, while Dr Campbell, if one may draw an inference
from some of his illustrations, leaned to Arminianism, and doubtless was not a
decided Calvinist.

Mr Barclay having delivered the prescribed discom-ses with the approbation of
the professor of Divinity, he now directed his views to obtain license as a preacher
in the establishment, and took the requisite steps. Having delivered the usual series
of exei-cises with the entire appi-obation of his judges, he was, on the 27th Sep-
tember, 1759, licensed by the presbytery of Auchterarder as a preacher of the gos-
pel. He was not long without employment. Mr Jobson, then minister of Errol,
near Perth, was advanced in years, in an infirm state of health, and required
an assistant. Mr Barclay, from his popularity as a preacher, and the reputJi-
tion he enjoyed through a groat part of Perthshire, as well as of Angus and

14:2 JOHN BARCLAY. A.M.

Mearns, easily obtained lliis sitiialioii. ller« lie romaincil for three or foiu
yeara, until a rupture willi Ills pnii(;ii)al ohli-red him to leave iL Mr .lobsoii
was wliiit may be called, of the old school, lie warmly espoused (as a great many
clergymen of the Cluirch of Scofliiiul in those days did), tiie system of the
31arrow of . "Modern Divinity, a b(K>k written by iulward Kishcr^ an l'"n;jflish dis-
senter, about the middle of the seventeenth century. 'Iliis work had a vast
eireidaiion throughout i:>cotiand. The eeleurated 3Ir Thomas Hoston of J'^ttrick,
when visiting his parish ministerially, c^isuaily found it in the house of one of
his jiarisbioners. lie carried it home, was a warm admirer of the system of
divinity it contained, and was at the labour of writing- noics upon it. {Boston's
n.inie secured ils success among a numerous class of readers. l'\ir many years
this book occ.isioned a most serious conunotion in the ('Imrch of Scotland, which
is generally (tailed, " The 31aiTow Conlroversy." It was, indeed, the remote
cause of that great division, which has since been styled the Secestruon.

But there was another cause for the \videning of this unfortunate breach.
'ITie well known Mr .John (ilass, minister of Tealing, near Dundee, had pub-
lished in 17-27, a work entitled, " 'ilie Testimony of the King of Martyrs."
With the exception of the (Jameronians, this gentleman was the first dissenter
from the ChunJi of Scotland since the iievolution, and it is worthy of remark
that tiie foundere of the principal sects were all originally cast out of the church.
31r Glass was an admirer of the writings of the most celebrated English Indepen-
dents, (of !Jr John Owen in particular) and of their fonn of chureh government.
3Ir Barclay, who was no independent, heai-tily approved of many of liis senti-
ments respecting the doctrines of the Gospel, and as decidedly disapproved of
others, as shall be mentioned in the seq'.iel. At no time were disputes earned
on with greater violence bet-.vcen Christians of dilierent denominations. Mr
Barclay had a system of his own, and agreed with none of the parties; but this,
if possible, rendered him more obnoxious to 3Ir Jobson. Much altercation took
place bet\\een them in private. 3Ir Barclay publicly declared his sentiments
from the pulpit, 3Ir Jobson did the same in defence of himself, so that a nipture
became unavoidable.

About the time of Mr Barclay's leaving Errol, Mr Anthony Dow, minister
of Fettercuirn, in the presbytery of Fordoun, found himself unfit for the
t\dl discharge of his duties. He desired his son, the Rev. David Dow, then
minister of the parish of Dron, in tlie presbytery of Berth, to use his endeavour
to pi'o(;ure him an assistant, I\Ir Dow, who, we believe, Avas a fellow student
of Mr Barchiv at St Andrews, was perfectly well acquainted with his talents
and character, and the cause of his leaving Errol, immediately made ofi'er to
him of being assistant to his father. Tins he accepted, and he commenced his
labom-s in the beginning of June, 1763. What wei'e 31r Anthony Dow's pecu-
liar theological sentiments we do not know, but tliose of 3Ir David Dow were
not very ditfei-ent from 3Ir Barclay's. Hei'e he I'emained for nine years, which
he often declared to have been the most happy, and considered to have been
the most useful perictd of his life.

Mr Barclay was of a fair, and in his youth, of a very florid complexion. He
then looked younger than be really was. The people of Fettercaim were at
first greatly prejudi(;ed against him on account of his youthful appearance. But
this was soon forgotten. His fervid manner, in prayer especially, and at diffe-
rent parts of almost every sermon, ri vetted the attention, and impressed the
minds of his audience to such a degree, that it was almost impossiide to lose the
memory of it. His popularity as a preacher became so gi'eat at Fettercairn,
that anything of the like kind is seldom to be met with in the history of the Church
of Scotland. Tlie parish clun-(;h being an old fashioned building, had rafters

JOHN BARCLAY, A.M.

143

across ; these were crowded with liearers ; — tlie sr.shes of tlie a\ iudo^vs were taken
out to acconunodate the muJtitiide who could not gain admittan.^e. Durin"- the
wliole period of his settlement at Fettercairn, he had regular hearers who flecked
to him tiom ten or twelve of the neighbouring parishes. If an opinion could
be formed of what his manner had been in his youth, and at his prime, frcm
^\hat it was a year or two belore he died, it nmst have been veliemant, passion-
ate, and impetuous to an uncommon degree. At the time to which we allude,
we heard him deliver in his o^vn chapel at Edinburgh, a prayer immediately
al"ter tlie sennon, in which he had alluded to some of the corruptions of the
Church of Home ; the impression it made upon our nund was of the nuist vivid
nature ; and, we ai-e persuaded, Avas alike in every other member of the congre-
gation. The following sentence we distinctly remember, " We pray, we plead,
we cry, O Lord, that thou wouldst d.ish out of the hand of Antichrist, that cup of
abominations, wherewith she hath poisoned the nations, and give unto her, and
unto them, the cup of salvation, by drinking whereof they may inherit everlast-
ing life." But the words themselves are nothing unless they were pronounced
with his own tone and manner.

During his residence at Fettercairn lie did not confine his labours to his
public ministrations in the pulpit, but visited from house to house, was the friend
and adviser of all who were at the head of a family, and entered warmly into
Avhatever regarded their interests. He showed the most marked attention to
children and to youth ; and ^vhen any of the household were seized with sick-
ness or disease, he spared no pains in giving tokens of his sympathy and ten-
derness, and administered consolation to the afflicted. He was very assiduous
in discharging those necessary and important duties, which he thought were
peculiarly incumbent upon a country clergyman. Such long continued and
uninterrupted exertions were accompanied with the most happy effects. A taste
for religious knowledge, or what is the same, the reading and study of the
Bible, began to prevail to a great extent ; the morals of the people were im-
proved, and vi<;e and profaneness, as ashamed, were made to hide their heads.
Temperance, sobriety, and regulai'ity of behaviour, sensibly discovered them-
selves throughout all ranks,

Mr Barclay had a most luxuriant fancy, a great liking for poeiry, and possess-
ed considerable facility of versification. His taste, however, was far from being
correct or chaste, and his imagination was little under the management of a sound
judgment. Many of his pieces are exceedingly desultory in their nature, but
occasionally discover scintillations of genius. The truth probably is, that he
neither corrected nor bestowed pains on any of his productions \n prose or
verse. From the ardour of his mind, they were generally the result of a single
efibrt. At least this appears particularly the case in his shorter poems. He
does not seem to have perceived or known that good writing, whether in prose
or verse, is an art, and not to be acquired \vithout much labour and practice,
as well as a long and repeated revisal of Avliat may have been written. Mr Bar-
clay's compositions in both styles, \vith two or three exceptions, appear to have
merely been thrown forth upon the spur of the moment. As soon as written,
they were deposited among his manuscripts, and, instead of being attentively
examined by him, and with a critical eye, were shortly after submitted to the
public. Besides his \vorks in prose, he published a great many thousand verses
on religious subjects.

He had composed a Paraphrase of the whole book of Psahns, part of ^vhicli
was published in 1766. To this was prefixed, " A Dissertation on the best
means of interpreting that portion of the canon of Scripture." His vicAvs upon
this subject were peculiar. He was of opinion that, in all the Psahns wliich are

144 JOHN BARCLAY, A.M.

in tliP first person, flie spealior is Tlirist, and not David nor any oilier mere mnn,
.'111(1 that llie oilier I'saliiis descrilic the situation of llie (liiircli ol' (>«i<l, sonietiiues
in prosperity, soiiietiiues in adversitv, av.d finally triiiiupliinj^ over all its enemies.
Tliis essay is <'liaracleri/ed liy uncommon vigour of expression, yet in some
places with considerable a<-rimony. 'J'lie presbytery of Fordoiin look p-eat of-
I'eni'e at this jMihiication, aiul siimiiioned .Mr iiarday to appear at their bar. lie
did so, and delended himself witli spirit and intrepidity. His opinions were
not contrary to any doctrine contained in the CVmfession of I'aith, so that lie
could not even be censured by theiiu Tlie truth was, that they ha«l taken great
offence at the popularity of 3Ir Marclay as a preacher, and it was only in this
way that they could aveii!;e his sujieriorily over themselves. Bcin<; disap|»ointed
in establishing heresy, their rancour became more violent, and they <leter>iiine«l
to oive him as much annoyance as they possibly could. Even the names of the
members of the presbytery of Fordoun are now foruotten. None of them were
distinguished for remarkable tnlents of any kind, and they have long Liin mute
and inglorious. But at this time they possessed an authority, which they resolv-
ed to exercise to the utmost stretch. Having engaged in the invidious and
ignoble employment of heresy hunting, they seem to have been aware, that it
Avas necessary to proceed with caution. The presbytery have the charge of the
spiritual concerns of all the individuals within their bounds. They have a right
to inspect the orthodoxy of the doctrine taught, as well as the moral conduct
of clergymen and laymen. It is their especial business to examine nnn-owly info
the behaviour of the foi-mer class. Ha\-ing pounced upon IMr l!arclay, they
made the most they could of his supposed oflence, which at the worst, was only a
\enial error.

3Ir Bai-day, who being naturally of a frank, open, and ingenuous disposition,
had no idea of concealing his opinions, not only continued to preach the same
doc^trines which Avere esteemed heretical by the presbytery, but published them
in a small work, entitled, " Rejoice evermore, or Christ All in All." This ob-
stinacy, as they considered it, imtated them to a very high degTce. They drew
up a warning against the dangerous doctrines that he jn-eached, and ordered it
to be read publicly in tlie church of Fettercairn after sermon, and before pro-
nouncing the blessing, by one of tlieir own members, expressly appointed
for that purpose on a specified day, which was accordingly done. This at-
tempt to ruin xMr Barclay's character and usefulness, and deprive him of thf^
means of obtaining daily bread, contained an enumeration of his supposed er-
rors, which they were cautioned to avoid, and strictly enjoined not to receive.
iMr Bai-clay viewed their conduct with indifference mingled with contempt. Al
a former meeting of presbytery, the points of diflerenc^ had been argued in
public at gi'eat length, and he is generally allowed to have come ofl' victo-
rious. He was, it is confessed, too keen in his temper to listen, with sedate
composure, to the arguments of an O2>ponent, Avhen engaged in a private
debate. But his talents for controvei-sy wei-e of a superior order. He had a
clear understanding, a tenacious memory, and a ready elocution : and at no time
of his life did he decline an arg-ument. No effect of any kind resulted from the
warning to the people of Fettercairn, who were imanimous in their approbation
of Mr Barclay's doctrine. He continued during 3Ir Dow's life-time to instruct
the people of his parish, and conducted his Aveekly examinations to the great
profit of those who gave attendance.

In 1769, he pubhshed one of the largest of his treatises, entitled, " Without
Faith without God, or an appeal to God concerning his own existence." This
was a defence of similar sentiments respecting the evidence in favour of the ex-
istence of God, which were entertained by Dr Campbell already mentioned. Tlio-

JOHN BARCLAY, A.M. 145

ilUistrations are entirely Calvinistical. Iliis essay is not very methodical. It
contains, however, a great many acute observations, and sarcastic remavlcs upon
the systems oi' (hose Avho have adopted the generally current notions respecting
\i:Uural i-elig'on. Ilie author repeatedly and solemnly decbi-es, that he attacks
d rtrines and not men — tliat he has no quarrel with any man, nor means to
liiirt any one. The metaphysical arguments in favour of his side of the question,
as well as uhat may not improperly he called the historical proofs, he has left
to othei-s, esteeming such land of evidence as of small value in repard to settling
the point at issue. His object is to prove from the Scriptures, that the know-
ledge of <tod comes not by nature, innate ideas, intuition, reason, &rc. but only
by rievelation. But we must reier to the treatise itself, it being impossible in
this place to give even an abridgment of his reasoning. It may be observed,
however, that he exposes in tlie most unreserved language, and denies, that the
merely holding that there is a hrst, original, unoriginated cause of all things,
&c. is the same with the knowledge of God, whose character and Avorlzs are ixv
vealed in Sci-ipture.

In the course of tlie same year, 17G9, he addressed a letter on the " Fternal
Generation of the Son of God," to 3Iessrs Smith and Feirier. These two gen-
tlemen had been cleigymen in the church of Scotland. They published their
reasons of separation from the established chuich. They had adopted all the
sentiments of Mr Glass, who Mas a most strict independent, and both of tliem
died in the Glassite communion. The late Dr Dalgliesh of Peebles had, about
tlie time of their leaving the church, published a new theory respecting the son-
ship of Christ, and what is not a little singidar, it had the merit of originality,
and had never before occuiTed to any theologian. He held the tri-personality
of Deity, but denied the eternal Sonship of the second person of the Godhead,
and was of opinion that this ^//a</o;i only took place when the divine nature
was united to the human, in the person of Christ, Immanuel, God Avith us. Novel
as this doctrine was, all the Scottish Independents, with a very few exceptions,
embraced it. The ditierence between Dalgliesh and the Arians consists in this,
that the second person of the Trinity, according to him, is God, equal with tlie
Father, whilst the latter maintain in a certain sense his supreme exaltation, yet
they consider him as subordinate to the Fath.^r. Mr Farclay's letter states very
clearly the Scriptural arguments usually adduced in favour of the eternal gene-
ration of the Son of God. It is written with great moderation, and in an ex-
cellent spirit.

In 1771, he puf.lished a letter, " On the Assurance of Faith," addressed to a
gentleman who \\as a member of iVIr Cudworth's congregation in London. Cud-
Avorth was the person who made a distinguished hgure in defending the cele-
brated Mr Hervey against the acrimonious attack of Mr Robert Sandeman, who
was a CJlassite. Excepting in some peculiar forms of expression, Cudwortli's
views of the assurance of faitii did not materially difler from IVlv Barclay's.
There appeared also in the same year, " A Letter on Frayer," addressed to tn
Independent congregation in Scotland.

The Kev. Anthony Dow, minister of Fettercairn, died in 1772. Tlie pres-
bytery of I'ordoun seize<l this opportunity of gratifying their spleen ; they pro-
hibited Mr Barclay from preaching in the kirk of Fettercairn, and used all their
influence to prevent him from being employed, not only within theu' bounds,
\\hich lie in what is called the Meams, but they studied to defame him in all
quarters. The clergy of the neighbouring district, that is, in Angus, were much
more friendly. They >vere ready to admit him into their pidpits, and he gene-
rally preached every Lord's day, during tlie subsequent autumn, winter, and
spring. Multitudes from all parts of the country cro-.vded to hear him.
1. T

146 ' JOHN BARCLAY, A.M.

The pulroiiiige of FetttTfiiiin is in the gift of the crown. Tlie parish ahiiost
unanimously favoured IMr Barchiy. Tiiey were not, however, permitted to have any
choice, and tlie llev. Roliert Foofe, then minister of Eskdale Muir, was presented.
At the moderation of the cull, only three signed in favour of Mr Foote. The
pjirishioners appi'alcd to the Synod, and from the Synoii to tlie General Assemhly,
who ordered Mr Foote to he induct id.

The prcshytery carried their hostility against Mr Barcliiy so far, as to refuse him
a certificate of character, which is always done, as a matter of course, wlien a preacher
leaves their hounds. He ajipealetl to the Synod, and afterwards to the Assemhly,
wiio found (though he was in no instance accused of any immorality) that the
preshytery were justified in wilhiiolding the certificate. He had no alternative, and
therefore left the communion of the Church of Scotland.

A great many friends in Edinhutgh, who had adopted his peculiar sentiments,
formed themselves into a church, and urged him to become their pastor. The people
of Fetteicairn also solicited him to labour in the ministry amongst them; but for
the present he declined both invitations. Having hitherto held oidy the status of
a probationer or licentiate, he visited Newcastle, and was ordained there October
1-th, 1773. The certificate of ordination is signed by the celebrated James Murray
ol Newcastle, the author of the well-known " Sermons to Asses ; " which
contain a rich vein of poignant satire, not unworthy of Swift. It was also signed
by Robert Somerville of Weardale, and James Somerville of Swalwell, and Robert
Green, clerk.

His friends at Fettercairn meanwhile erected a place of worship at Sauchyburn,
in the immediate neighbourhood, and renewed their application to have him settled
amongst them. But Mr Barclay, conceiving that his sphere of usefulness would be
more extended were he to reside in Edinburgh, gave the preference to the latter.
Mr James M'Rae, having joined Mr Barclay, was ordained minister at Sauchyburn
in spring, 1774. The congregation there, at this time, consisted of from one thou-
sand to twelve hundred members.

Mr Barclay remained in Edinburgh about three years ; and was attended by a
numerous congregation, who had adopted his views of religious truth. But having
a strong desire to disseminate his opinions, he left the church at Edinburgh under the
careof hiselders and deacons, and repaired to London. For nearly two years hepreached
there, as well as at Bristol, and other places in England. A church was formed in the
capital. He also established there a debating society, which met weekly in the even-
ing, for the purpose of disputing with any who might be disposed to call his doctiiiies
in question. One of those who went with the design of impugtiing Mr Barclay's
opinions was Mr William Nelson, who eventually became a convert. This gentle-
man had been educated in the Church of England, but, when Mr Barclay came first
to London, had joined the Whitefieldian or Calvinislic Methodists. He afterwards-
came to Scotland ; was connected with Mr Barclay ; practised as a surgeon in
Edinburgh, and delivered lectures on chemistry there, for about fen years. He
was a man of considerable abilities; amiable in private life, and of the most unble-
mished character. He was cut off by apoplexy in 1300.

At Edinburgh, Mr Barclay published an edition of his wcirks in three volumes,
including a pretty large treatise on the sin against the Holy Ghost, which, according
to him, is merely unl)elief or discrediting the Scripture. In 1783 he published a
small work for the use of the Berean Churches, " The Epistle to the Hebrews
Paraphrased," with a collection of jisalms and songs from his other works, accom-
panied with " A close examination into the truth of several received principles."

Mr Barclay died on the 29th of July, 1798. Being Sabbath, when on his road to
preach, he felt himself rather unwell ; he took a circuitous route to the meeting-

JOHN BARCLAY, M.U. M7

liouse, but finding liiiriself no better, he called at the house of one of the members of
his congregation. In a few minutes after he entered the house, while kneeling in
prayer beside a chair, he expired without a groan, in the sixty fourth year of his age,
and thirty-ninth of his prolepsional career. His nephew, Dr John Barclay, was
immediately sent for, who declared his death to have been occasioned by apoplexy.
He was interred in the Calton Old Buryiug-groimd, Edinburgh, where a monument
has been erected to his memory. Mr Barclay was a very uncommon character, and
made a great impression upon his contemporaries.

There are Berean churches in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Crieff, Kirkaldy, Dundee,
Arbroath, Montrose, Brechin, Fettercairn, and a few other places.

BARCLAY, John, M.D., an eminent lecturer on anatomy, was the nephew of
John Barclay, the Berean, after whom he was named. He was born in 1759, or
17C0, at Cairn, near to Drummafjuhance, in Perthshire. His father was a respect-
able farmer in that part of tlie country, and was characterized by great natural
shrewdness and vivacity. His son, John, was educated at the parish school of
Tiluthill, and early distinguished himself by his superior powers of mind, and by his
application. Being destined for the church, he, in IT^O, repaired to the university
of St Andrews, where he became a successful candidate for a bursary. He made
great proficiency in the Greek language, then taught by the late principal George
Hill, and also discovered a partiality for the study of mathematics, although he does
not appear to have prosecuted this important branch of science. After having
attended the usual preliminary classes at the united college of St Salvador aisd
St Leonard, Barclay studied divinity in St Mary's, attaching himself to the moderate
party in the church. He studied divinity at St Andrews, under the professor, Dr
Spence, for two or three sessions, but having engaged to teach a school, he found it
more convenient to deliver the prescribed exercises before the professor in Edinburgh.
On one of these occasions there took place a very singular occurrence, which the
Doctor himself used to relate. Having come to Edinburgh for the express purpose
of delivering a discourse in the hall, he waited upon his uncle, who was an excellent
scholar. It was what is called " An Exercise and Addition," or a discourse, in which
tiie words of the original are criticised — the doctrines they contain illustrated — and
it is concluded by a brief paraphrase. He proposed to read it to his uncle before he
delivered it — and when he was in the act of doing so, his respected relative objected
to a criticism which he had introduced, and endeavoured to show that it was con-
trary to several passages in the writings of the apostle Paul. The doctor had
prepared the exercise with great care, and had quoted the authority of Xenophon in
regard to the meaning of the word. The old man got into a violent passion at his
nephew's obstinacy, and seizing a huge folio that lay on the table, hurled it at the
recusant's head, which it fortunately missed. Barclay, who really bad a great
esteem for bis uncle, related the anecdote to a clergyman a few days after it happened,
and laughed very heartily at it. Barclay wrote about this time, " A History of all
lleligions," but of this no trace was to be found among his manuscripts. Having
delivered with approbation his trial discourses, he obtained license from the Presby-
tery of Dunkeld. Meanwhile he acted as tutor to the two sons of Sir James Campbell,
of Aberuchill, whose daughter, Eleonora, in 1811, became his wife. In 1789 he accom-
panied his pupils to Edinburgh, where he preached occasionally for his friends. The
medical school of Edinburgh was then at the height of its reputation. CuUen's bril-
liant career was drawing to a close, and he was succeeded by the celebrated Dr Gregory,
Dr Black and the second Monro still shed lustre on their respective departments.
Barclay was principally attracted to the anatomical class by the luminous prelections of
Dr Monro, and appears to have thenceforward devoted himself to a complete course
of medical study. In 1796 he took the degree of M.D., choosing as the subject of bis

146 JOHN BARCLAY, M.D.

thesis, De /Inima, seu Prlncipio Vit<ili, the vitsil priiuriple having long been with
him a lavourite topic of specuhition. Alt^r griuluatioii, I)r Hiiiilay proceeded to
Luiidon, and attended tiie unaloniical iectiiifs of Dr Marshall, o( Tiiavies Inn. In
I7'.)7 lie fomnuMired to deliver private lectures on anatomy in a small class room in
till- High ScliO(i]-\ards, Edinliiirgh, hut had to contend with (ormitlahle dilficulties ;
the popularity ot the second Monro, antl of the late Juhn Hell, being still undimi-
nished aiKoiigst the students. Dr Uaiclay, thercloie, liad few students at first; but
he resolved to persevere. The introductory lecture> (which, utter his death, were
published by his friend, Sir George Ballingall, M.D.) were prejiared svith scrupulous
care, lie studied to express himself in plain and perspicuous language, which he
justly esteemed to be the chief quality of st\le in lecturing. His illustrations were
clear and copious, and not unfrecpiently a»i ap|)osite anecdote li.xed more strongly in
the memories of his pupils the particular |)art he was demonstrating; and, at a time
when It was 1 v no means fashionable, he never omitted to point out the wisdom
of God, as displayed in that most wonderful of all his works, the formation and
support of the human body.

Barclay's first literary perforniatice was the article Physiology, in the third edition
ol the Eiiciiclojxedia Brilunnica. In ISO.'J he published a new anatomical nomencla-
ture. Tliis had been long the subject of his meditation, and was a great desideratum
in anatomy. The vagueness or indefinite nature of the terms of anatomy has been
perceived and regretted by all anatomists. They have produced much ambiguity and
confusion in anatomical descriptions, and their influence has been strongly felt, par-
ticularly by those who have just entered u|)on the study. Barclay was the first who,
fully aware of the obstacles that were thus thrown in the way of students, set about
inventing a new nomenclature. The vagueness of the terms princi[)ally referred
to those implying position, aspect, and direction. Thus, what is superior in one
position of the body, becomes anterior in another, posterior in a third, and even
inferior in a fourth. What is external in one position is internal in another,
&,c. These terms become much more ambiguous in comparative anatomy. His
object was to contrive a nomenclature, in which the same terms should universally
apply to the same organ, in all positions of the body, and in all animals. It is the
opinion of very candid judges that he has succeeded in his endeavour, and that, were
his nomenclature adopted, the greatest advantages would accrue to the study of the
science. The proposal is delivered with singular nu desty, and discovers both a
most accurate knowledge of anatomy and great ingenuity.

In ISOS, a|)peared his woik on the muscular motions of the human body, and, in
IS 12, a description ot the arteries of the human body — both of which contain a most
complete account of those parts ot the system. These three works were dedicated
to the late Dr Thomas Thomson, Professor of Chemistry in the University of
Glasgow. The last work which Dr Barclay lived to publish, was an inquiry into
the opinions, ancient and modern, conceining life and organization. This, as we
have mentioned, formed the subject of his thesis.

He also delivered, during several summers, a course of lectures on comparative
anatomy, a branch of study for which he had always shown a marked partiality —
not only us an object of scientific research, but as of great practical utility. At one
time he proposed to the town council, the patrons of the university of Edinburgh,
to be created professor of that department of the science ; how the proposal was
received is not known. The writer of the memoir of Dr Barclay, in the Naturalist's
Library, furnishes a characteristic illustration of the lively interest he felt in the
dissections of uncommon animals which came in his way in the Scottish metropolis.
" At one of these we happened to be present. It was the dissection of a Beluga, or
White Whale. Never shall we forget the enthusiasm of the Doctor wading to his

no BERT BARCLAY. I4 )

knees ainongst the viscera of the great tenant of the deep, alternately cutting away,
with his large and dexterous knife, and regaling his nostrils with copious infusions of
snuff, while he pointed out, in his usual felicitous manner, the various contrasts or agree-
ments of the forms of the viscera witii those of other animals and of man." Barclay
was the means of establishing, under the auspices of the Highland Society, a veteri-
nary school in Edinburgh. He might be called an enthusiast in his profession :
there was no branch of anatomy, wiiether practical or theoretical, that he had not
cultivated with the utmost care ; he had studied the works of the ancient and
modern, foreign and British anatomists with astonishing diligence. Whatever related
to natural science was certain of interesting him. The benevolence and generosity ot
liis temper were also unbounded. No teacher was ever more generally beloved by his
pupils than Dr Barclay, to which his uniform kindness and affability, and readiness
to promote their interest upon every occasion, greatly contributed. Many young men,
in straitened circumstances, were permitted to attend his instructions gratuitously;
and he has even been known to furnish them with the means of feeing other lecturers.
It is a curious circumstance, that Dr Barclay often declared that he had neither
the sense of taste nor of smell.

His last appearance in theleftiire-room was in 1825, when he dtlivered the intro-
ductory lecture. He died 2lst August, 1S26, and was buried at liestalrig, near
Edinburgh, the family burying-ground of his father-in-law. Sir James Campbeil. His
fiKieral was attended by the Royal College of Surgeons as a body.

A bust of Dr Barclay, subscribed for by his pupils, and executed by Joseph, was

presented to the College of Surgeons, to which he bequeathed his museum — a valu-

*;il)le collection of specimens, particularly in comparative anatomy, and which is to

retain his name. His design in this legacy was to prevent it from being broken up

and scattered after his death.

BARCL.4Y, Robert, the celebrated Apologist for the Quakers, was born on the
2.jr<l of December, 1648, at Goidonstoun, in Moray. His father, Colonel David
Barclay, of Ury, was the son of David Barclay, of Mathers, the representative of an
old Scoto-Norman family, which traced itself, through fifteen intervening generations,
to Theobald de Berkeley, who acquired a settlement in Scotland at the beginning of
the twelfth century. The mother of the Apologist was Catherine Gordon, daughter
of Sir Robert Gordon, of Gordonstoun, the premier tjaronet of Nova Scotia, and
well-known historian of the house of Sutherland.

The ancient family of de Berkeley became possessed of the estate of Mathers, by
marriage, in the year 1.351. Alexander de Berkeley, who flourished in the fifteenth
Century, is said to have been the first laird of Mathers who changed the name to
Barclay; a change which says little for his taste, however recommended by that
principle of literal and syllabic economy which seems to have flourished at all periods
in a greater or less degree, though chiefly at the present era. This laird, however*
is reputed to have been a scholar, and to him are attributed the excellent verses,
known by the title of the L.\ird op Mathees' Testament, which, for their piety
and good sense, cannot be too widely disseminated, or too warmly recommended.
These verses are subjoined in the modified form under which they have come down
traditionally to our time :

Gif thou desire thy house lang stand

And thy successors bruik thy land,

Abuve all thhigs, lief God in fear.

Intromit nocht with wrangous gear;

Nor conquess^ nothing wrangously ;

"With thy neighbour keep charity.

1 Acquire.

150 KOBEUT BAKCLAY.

See that tliat thou pass not thy estate;

Obey duly thy inaijistriilf,

Oppress not but support the puire;

To help tlie iNuunuiiiweill take cuirc.

Use no (leci'it ; uu'll- not with treason ;

And to all men do rictit and reason.

Hotli unto word and deid be true ;

All kinds oi' wickedness eschew.

Slay no man ; nor thereto consent ;

Be nocht cruel, but patient.

Ally ay in some gude place,

With noble, honest, godly, race.

Hate luiredoin, and all vices flee ;

Bo humble; haunt gude companye.

Help thy friend, and do n;ie wiang,

And God shall make thy liouse sttmd lang.

David, tlie graniltatlier of tlie Apoloafist, from neglect of some p.irt of liis anceG-
tor's advice, was reduced to such diriiculties as to be oblijred to sell the estate of
3Iathers, after it had been between two and three hundred yeai-s in the family,
as also the more ancient inheritance, which had been the property of the family
from its first settlement in Scotland in the days of King David I. His son, Da-
vid, the father of the Apologist, was consequently obliged to seek Ills fortune as
a volunteer in the Scottish brigades in the service of Gustavus Adolphus, king ot
Sweden. This gentleman, like many others of his countrjinen and fellow-sol-
diers, returned home on the breaking out of the religious troubles in Scotland, ,
and received the command of a troop of horse. Having joined the army raised
by the Duke of Hamilton in 1648 for the relief of Charles I., he was subsequent-
ly deprived of his command, at the instance of Oliver Cromwell; and he never
afterwards appeared in any militai*y transactions. During the protectorate, he
was several times sent as a representative from Scotland to Cronuvell's parlia-
ments, and, in this capacity, is said to have uniformly exerted hiniielf to repress
the ambitious designs of the Protector. After the restoration, David Barclay was
i;ommitted prisoner to Edinburgh (Castle, upon some gi'oundless charge of hostili-
ty to the government. He was soon after liberated, through the interest of the
Ivarl of 3Iiddleton, with whom he had served in the civil war. But during
this imprisonment, a change of the highest importance both to himself and his
son, had come over his mind. In the same prison was confined the celebrated
Laird of Swinton, who, after figuring under the protectorate as a lord of session,
and a zealous instrument for the support of Cromwell's interest in Scotland, liad,
during a short residence in England before the Restoration, adopted the princi-
ples of Quakerism, then recently promulgated for the fii-st time by George Fox,
and was now more anxious to gain proselytes to that body than to defend his life
against the prosecution meditated against him. When this extraoi-dinary person was
placed on trial before parliament, he might have easily eluded justice by plead-
ing that the parliamentary attainder upon which he was now charged, had be-
come null by the rescissory act. But he scorned to take advantage of any plea
suggested by worldly lawyers. He answered, in the spirit of his sect, that when
he committed the crimes laid to his charge, he was in the gall of bitterness and
bond of iniquity, but that God having since called him to the light, he saw and
acknowledged his past eiTors, and did not refuse to pay the forfeit of them, even
thouo-h in their judgment this should extend to his Lie. His speech was, though
modest, so majestic, and, though expressive of the most perfect patience, so pa-

2 Meddle.

ROBERT BARCLAY. jgi

tlietic, that it appeared to melt the hearts of his judges, and, to the s'irprise of
all who reniemljered his past deeds, he was recommended to the royal mercy,
while many others, far less obnoxious, were treated witli unrelenting severity.
Such was the man who inoculated David Barclay with those principles, of which
his son was destined to be the most distinguished advocate.

Kobert Bai'clay, the suijject of the present article, received the rudiments of
learning in his native country, and was afterwards sent to the So its college at
Paris, of which his uncle Robert (son to tlie last Barclay of Mathers,) was Rec-
tor. Here he made such rapid advances in his studies, as to gain the notice and
praise of the masters of the college ; and he also became so great a tavo irite with
his uncle, as to receive the otfer of being made his heir, if he would remain in
France. But his father, fearing that he might be induced to embi-ace the catho-
lic faith, went, in compliance ^vith his mother's dying request, to Paris to
bring him home, when he was not much more than sixteen years of age. The
uncle still endeavoured to pi-event his return, and proposed to purchase for him,
and present to him immediately, an estate greater than his paternal one. Ro-
bert replied, " He is my father, and must be obeyecL" Thus, even at a very early
age, he showed how far he could pr.^fev a sacred principle to any view of private
interest, however dazzling. His uncle is said to have felt much chagrin at his
refusal, and to have consequently left his property to the college, and to other
religious houses in France.

The return of Robert Barclay to his native country took place in 1664,
about two years before his father made open profession of the principles
of the Society of Friends. He was now, even at the early age of sixteen,
perfectly skilled in the French arid Latin languages, the latter of which he
could write and speak with wonderful fluency and correctness ; he had also
a competent knowledge of the sciences. With regard to the state of his
feelings on the subject of religion at this early period of life, he says, in his
'I'reatise on Universal Love : " 3Iy first education, from my infancy fell amongst
the strictest sort of Calvinists ; those of our country being generally acknow-
ledged to be the sevei-est of that sect ; in the heat of zeal surpassing not only
Geneva, from whence they derive their pedigree, but all other the reformed
churches abroad, so called. I had scarce got out of my childhood, when I was,
by the permission of Divine Providence, cast among the company of papists; an 1
ni) tender yeai-s and immature capacity not being able to withstand and resist
the insinuations that were used to proselyte me to that way, I became quickly
defiled with the pollutions thereof, and continued therein for a time, until it
pleased God, through his rich love and mercy, to deliver me out of those snares,
and to give me a clear understanding of the evil of that way. In both these
sects I had abundant occasion to receive impressions contrary to this principle of
love : seeing the straitness of several of their doctrines, as well as their practice
of persecution, do abundantly declare liow opposite they are to universal love.
The time that intervened betwixt my forsaking the church of Rome, and joining
those with whom I now stand engaged, I kept myself free from joining with any
sort of people, though I took liberty to hear several ; and my converse was most
with those that inveigh mucii against jiidginc/, and such kind of severity ; which
latitude may perhaps be esteemed the other extreme, opposite to the preciseness
of these otiier sects ; whereby I also received an opportunity to know Mhat usu-
ally is pretended on that side like«ise. As for those I am now joined to, I
justly esteem them to be the true followers and sei-vants of Jesus Christ."

In his Apology, he communicates the following account of his convei-sion to

the principles previously embi-aced by his father. " It was not," he says, " by

-Strength of argument, or by a uraticular disquisition of each doctrine, and con-

152 ROBERT BARCLAY.

vinroineut of my iiii<l<M-staiiiliii^' lher('l)v. Oiat I (•aiiif to retvivo ami Iioar nitn^ss
ol" ilio tnilli, lilt by l)eiii>; s<M Tt'lly ri'.iclicd Ijy this I, iff. For wlieii I caiiie into
the silent assenililies of (iod's |M;opl(;. 1 felt a secret (Miwer aiii<>ii'4^st lliem whicli
toiielx.'tl my lie;irl ; and :ls 1 ^aveway niilo it, I fouiul tiie evil \\(>akeiiiii<r in nie,
and tlie •rood raised iij> ; an*i so I bec^iiiie (litis iviiit and united unto tlieiii, liiin-
!jeiiii<j more and more after the increase of this {»o«er ami life, ^vheiehy I niijjht
find inysi'lf perfectly ledeeined." Accordiii'j to his frieiul William Peiiu, it was
in tlie year l(>(i7, when <nily niiieteeii years of aife,that he fully became " con-
vinced, and puliliciy owned the t(!stimony of tin; (riKi liqlit, enli^lileulni^
every man/' " This writer," says lie, " came early Jorth a /cealoiis and fervent
witness for it |t!ie true lia^ht]. end\nins>' the cross and despising the shame that
attended his discijtleship, and re(^ived the jrift of the ministi-y as his greatest
honour, ill which he laboured to bring others to (Vid, and his labourwas not in vain
in the Lord." The testimony of another of his brethren, Andrew Jaffray, is to the
same etli^ct: "Having' occasion, through his worthy father, to be in the meetings of
(.Tod's chosen people, who worship him in lli^ own name, spirit, and power, and not
in the words of man's wisdom and preparation, iie was, by the virtue and ellica-
cious life of this blessed power, sliortly alter reached, and that in a time of si-
leiu;e, a mystery to the world, and came so fast to grow therein, through his great
love and watchfulness to the inward appearance thereof, that, not long after, he
was called out to the public ministry, and declaring ;i'.jroad that his eyes had
seen and his hands had handled of the ptu-e wftrd of life. Yea the Lord, who
loved him, counted him worthy so early to call him to some weighty and hard
services for his truth in our iir.tion, that, a little after his coming out of the age
of minority, as it is called, he was made willing, in tlie day of iiod's power, to
give up his body as a sign and wonder to this generation, and to deny himself
;'nd all in him as a man so far as to become a fool, for his sake whom he loved,
in going in sackcloth and ashes through the chief streets of the city of Aberdeen,
liosides some services at several steeple-houses and some sufferings in prison i\jr
the truth's sake."

The true grounds of Barclay's predilection for the meek principles of the
1 riends, is perhaps to be found in his physical teniperanien!,. On arriving in
Scotland, in 1G()4, with a heart open to every generous impulse, his mild nature
appears, from one of tlie above extracts of his own ^mtings, to have been shoclv-
ed by the mutual hostility which existed between tlie adherents of the establisiicd
and the dis-c-tablished chui-ches. While these bodies Jz^cfyerf of each other in
the severest spirit, they joined in one point alone — a sense of the propriety of
persecuting the new and sti'ange sect called Quakers, from whom both might ra-
ther have learned a lesson of forbearance and toleration. Barclay, who, from his
French education, was totally free of all prejudices on either side, seems to have
deliberately preferred that sect which alone, ol' all others in his native country,
professed to regard every denomination of fellow-Christians with an equal feel-
ing of kindness.

In February, 1609-70, Robert Barclay married C'hrislian 3Iollison, daughter
of Gilbert Alollison, merchant in Aberdeen ; and on his mairiage settled at
iJry with his father. The issue of this m;u-riage was three sons and four daugh-
ters, all of whom survived him, and were living fifty years after his death. In
the life of .lohn (iratton, there is an agreeable and instructive account of this
excellent mother's solicitude to imbue the tendar minds of her children with
pious and good principles. The passage is as follows : " I obsei'ved (lf)!)4, her
husband being then d,)ad,) that wiien her children were up in the morning and
dii'ssed, she sat down with them, before breakfast, and in a religious manner
wailed upon the Lord: which pious caj'e, and motherly instruction of her chij-

ROBERT BARCLAY. 158

dren when young, doubtless had its desired effect upon them, for as they grew in
years, they also grew in the knowledge of the blessed truth ; and since that time,
some of them have become public preachers thereof." Believing it to he her duty
to appear a preacher of righteousness, she was very solicitous that her example might,
in all respects, correspond with her station.

Robert Barclay, after his marriage, lived about sixteen years with his lather ; in
which time he wrote most of those works by which his fame has been established.
All his time, however, was not passed in endeavouring to serve the cause of religion
with his pen. He both acted and suffered for it. His whole existence, indeed,
seems to have been henceforth devoted to the interests of that profession of religion
which he had adopted. In prosecution of his purpose, he made a number of excur-
sions into England, Holland, and particular parts of Germany; teaching, as he went
along, the universal and saving light of Christ, sometimes vocally, but as often, we
may suppose, by what he seems to have considered the far more powerful maimer,
expressive silence. In these peregrinations, the details of which, had they been pre-
served, would have been deeply interesting, he was on some occasions accompanied
by the famous William Penn, and probably also by others of the brethren.

The first of his publications in the order of time was, " Truth cleared of Calumnies,
occasioned by a book entitled, A Dialogue between a Quaker and a Stable Christian,
written by the Rev. William Mitchell, a minister or preacher in the neighbourhood
of Aberdeen." " The Quakers," says a defender of the Scottish church, " were, at
this time, only newly risen up ; they were, like every new sect, obtrusively forward ;
some of their tenets were of a startling, and some of them of an incomprehensible
kind, and to the rigid presbyterians especially, they were exceedingly offensive.
Hearing these novel opinions, not as simply stated and held by the Quakers, who
were, generally speaking, no great logicians, but in their remote consequences, they
regarded them with horror, and in the heat of their zeal, it must be confessed, often
lost sight both of charity and truth. They thus gave their generally passive oppo-
nents great advantages over them. Barclay, who was a man of great talents, was
certainly in this instance successful in refuting many false charges, and rectifying
many forced constructions that had been put upon parts of their practice, and, upon
the whole, setting the character of his silent brethren in a more favourable light than
formerly, though he was far from having demonstrated, as these brethren fondly
imagined, 'the soundness and scripture verity of their principles.' " This publica-
tion was dated at Ury, the 19th of the second Month, 1G70, and in the eleventh
month of the same year, he added to it, by way of appendix, " Some things of
weighty concernment proposed in meekness and love, by way of queries, to the
serious consideration of the inhabitants of Aberdeen, which also may be of use to
such as are of the same mind with them elsewhere in this nation." Tiiese queries,
twenty in number, were more particularly directed to Messrs David Lyal, George
Meldrum, and John Menzies, the ministers of Aberdeen who had, not only from the
pulpit, forbidden their people to read the aforesaid treatise, but had applied to the
magistrates of Aberdeen to suppress it. Mitchell wrote a reply to " Truth cleared
of calumnies, ' and, on the 24th day of the tenth Month, 1671, Barclay finished a
rejoinder at Ury, under the title of " William Mitchell unmasked, or the staggering
instability of the pretended stable Christian discovered ; his omissions observed, and
weakness unvailed," <fec. This goes over the same ground with the former treatise,
and is seasoned with several severe strokes of sarcasm against these Aberdonians,
who, "notwithstanding they had sworn to avoid a detestable neutrality, could now
preach under the bishop, dispense with the doxology, forbear lecturing and other
parts ol the Directorial discipline, at the bishop's order, and yet keep a reserve for

154 ROBERT BARCLAY.

presbytery in case it came again in fasliion." He also turns some of William MitclieH's
arguments against himself with great ingenuity, though still he comes (ar short of
establishing his own theory. It is wortliy of remark, that, in this treatise, he has
frequent recourse to llicliard Baxter's aphorisms on justification, whose new law
sclieme of the gospel seems to have been very much to the taste of the Quaker. It
appears to have been on the appearance of this publication that, '• for a sign and
wonder to the generation," he walked through the chief streets of the city of Aber-
deen, clothed in sackcloth and ashes; on which occasion he published (in 1C72) a
" Seasonable warning and serious exhortation to, and expostulation with, the
inhabitants of Aberdeen, concerning this present dispensation and day of God's living
visitation towards them."

His next performance was, " A Catechism and Confession of Faith," the answers
(o the questions being all in the express words of Scripture; and the preface to it
is dated, " From Ury, the place of my being, in my native country of Scotland, the
11th of the sixth month, 1673." This was followed by "The Anarchy of the
Itanters," «fcc.

AVe now come to bis great work, "An Apology for the true Christian Divinity,
n- the same is held forth and preached by the people called in scorn, Quakers : Being
II full explanation and vindication of their principles and doctrines, by many argu-
ments deduced irom Scripture and right reason, and the testimonies of famous authors,
both ancient and modern ; with a full answer to the strongest objections usually
made against them. Presented to the King. Written and published in Latin for
the information of strangers, by Robert Barclay, and now put into our own language
for the benefit of his countrymen." The epistle to the King, prefixed to this
elaborate work, is dated, "From Ury, the place of my pilgrimage, in my native
country of Scotland, the 23th of the month called November, 1675." This epistle
is not a little curious, among other things, for the ardent anticipations which the
writer indulges with regard to the increase and future prevalence of the doctrines of
the Quakers, which he calls, " the gospel now again revealed after a long and dark
night of apostacy, and commanded to be preached to all nations." After some para-
graphs, sufficiently complimentary to the peaceable habitsof his silence loving brethren,
he tells his majesty that ''generations to come will not more admire that singular
step of Divine Providence, in restoring thee to thy throne without bloodshed, than
they shall admire the increase and progress of this truth v/ithout all outward help,
and against so great opposition, which shall be none of the least things rendering thy
memory remarkable." In looking back upon the atrocities that marked the reign of
Charles II., the growth of Quakerism is scarcely ever thought of, and the sufferings
of its professors are nearly invisible, by reason of the far greater sufferings of another
branch of the Christian church. Though led by his enthusiasm in his own cause to
overrate it, Barclay certainly had no intention of flattering the King. "God," he
goes on to tell him, "hath done great things for thee; he hath sufficiently shown thee
that it is by him princes rule, and that he can pull down and set up at his pleasure.
Thou hast tasted of prosperity and adversity ; thouknowest what it is to be banished
thy native country, to be overruled as well as to rule and sit upon the throne, and
being oppressed thou hast reason to know how hateful the oppressor is, both to God
and man. If after all these warnings and advertisements, thou dost not turn unto
the Lord with all thy heart, but forget him who remembered thee in thy distress,
and give up thyself to lust and vanity, surely great will be thy condemnation."

The Apology is a most elaborate work, indicating no small portion of both talent
and learning. It contains, indeed, the sum of the author's thoughts in those treatises
we have already mentioned, as well as in those which he afterwards published,
digested into fifteen propositions, in wliich are included all the peculiar notions of

ROBERT BARCLAY. 155

the sect: — Immediate Revelation; the Universal Spiritual light; Silent worship;
Perfection ; the Rejection of the Sabbath and the Sacraments, &c., &c. This is
done with great apparent simplicity, and many plausible reasons, a number of excel-
lent thoughts being struck out by the way ; yet they are far from being satisfactory,
and never will be so to any who are not already strongly possessed with an idea of
the internal light in man, to which the author holds even the Scriptures themselves
to be subordinate. There are, indeed, in the book, many sophisms, many flat contra-
dictions, and many assertions that are incapable of any proof. The appeals which
he makes to his own experience for the proof of his doctrines are often not a little
curious, and strongly illustrative of his character, as well as of the principles he had
espoused.

The same year in which he published the Apology, he published an account of a
dispute with the students of Aberdeen, which touches little besides the folly of such
attempts to establish truth or confute error. The following year, in conjunction
with George Keith, he put forth a kind of second part to the foregoing article, which
they entitled, " Quakerism Confirmed, being an answer to a pamphlet by the Aber-
deen students, entitled, Quakerism Canvassed." This treats only of matters to be
found in a better form in the Apology. In the first month of the year 1677, from
Aberdeen prison, he wrote his treatise of " Universal Love," and in the end of the
same year, he wrote, from his house at Ury, " An Epistle of Love and Friendly
Advice to the Ambassadors of the several princes of Europe, met at Nimeguen, to
consult the peace of Christendom so far as they are concerned ; wherein the true
cause of the present war is discovered, and the right remedy and means for a firm
I and settled peace is proposed." This last was written in Latin, but published also
I in English for the benefit of his countrymen. Both of the above tracts deserve
I serious perusal. In 1679, he published a vindication of his Apology, and in 1686,
his last work, " The possibility arid necessity of the inward and immediate revelation
of the Spirit of God towards the foundation and ground of true faith ; in a letter to,
a person of quality in Holland," published both in Latin and English. In neither
of these, in our opinion, has he added anything to his Apology, which, as we h^ve
already said, contains the sum of all that he has written or published.

In the latter part of his life, Barclay obtained, by the influence of his talents-and
the sincerity and simplicity of his character and professions, an exemption from that
persecution which marked his early years. He had also contributed in no small
degree, by the eloquence of his writings in defence of the Friends, to procure for
them a considerable share of pul)lic respect. He is even found, strangely enough, to
have latterly possessed some influence at the dissolute court of Charles II. In 1679,
he obtained a charter from this monarch, under the great seal, erecting bis lands of
Ury,i into a free barony, with civil and criminal jurisdiction to him and his heirs.
This charter was afterwards ratified by an act of Parliament, the preamble of which
states it to be " for the many services done by Colonel David Barclay, and his son,
the said Robert Barclay, to the IvJng and his most royal progenitors in times past."
Another and more distinguished mark of court favour was conferred upon him in
1682, when he received the nominal appointment of governor of East Jersey, in
North America, from the proprietors of that province, of whom his friend the Earl
of Perth was one. He was also himself made a proprietor, and had allotted to
him five thousand acres of land above his proprietary share, as inducements for
his acceptance of the dignity, which, at the same time, he was permitted to depute.
The royal comuiission confirming this grant states, that such are his known fidelity
and capacity, that he has the government during life, but that no other governor

I i Ilis father had died in 1676, leaving him in possession of this estate.

la J ROBERT BARCLAY.

alter liiiii shall have it iVii- iiioie llian three yeai*8. One of his hrotliers settled
in llie province, but ho never visited it liiiiideif. In this year we find him iissist-
ing the Laird of Suinton with his interest and purse at lldinbiirfrli ; thus an-
swering practically and freely the apostolic expostidation (1 Cor. ix. 11.), by
periiiitting Swinton to reap carnal things, who had sown spiritual things to his
family.

The remainder of his life is not marked with many instances of public a<>
tion. Much ol" it appears to have been passed in tranquillity, and in the
bosom of his family; yet he occasionally undertook journeys to promote his pri-
vate conc^erns, to sene liis relations and neighboni*s, or to maintain tlie cause of
his broihren in religious profession, lie was in London in 1()H5, and liad fre-
quent access to King James II., who had all along evinced a warm friendship
towards him. Barclay, on the other hand, thinking James sincere in his faith,
and perhaps influenced a little by the flattery of a prince's favour, appears to
have c()n«;eived a real regard for this misguided and imprudent monarch. Li-
berty of conscience having been conceded to the Friends on the accession of
James II., Barclay exerted his influence to procure some parliamentary arrange-
ment, by which they might be exempted from the harsh and ruinous prosecu-
tions to which they ^vere exposed, in consequence of their peculiar notions as to
the exercise of the law. He was again in London, on this business, in lG8(j,
on which occasion he visited the seven bishops, then confined in the Tower, for
having refused to distribute in their respective dioceses the king's declaration
for liberty of conscience, and for having represented to the king the gi'ourids of
their objection to the measure. The popular opinion was in favour of the
bishops ; yet the former severities of some of the episcopal order against dissen-
tei-s, particularly against the Friends, occasioned some reflections on them. This
having come to the knowledge of the imprisoned bishops, they declared that,
" the Quakers had belied them, by reporting that they had been the death of
some." Robert Barclay, being informed of this declaration, went to the Tower,
and gave their lordships a well-substantiated account of some persons having
been detained in prison till death, by order of bishops, though they had been
apprized of the danger by physicians who were not Quakei's. He, however,
observed to the bishops, that it was by no means the intention of the Friends to
publish such events, ar.d thereby give the king, and their other adversaries, any
advantage against them. Barclay was in London, for the last time, in fehe me-
morable year 16 88. He visited James II., and being with him near a window,
the king looked out, and observed that, " the wind was then fair for the prince
of Orange to <;ome over." Robert Barclay replied, " it was hard that no expe-
dient could be found to satisfy the people." The king declared, " he would do
any thing becoming a gentleman, except parting with liberty of conscience,
which he never would whilst he lived." At that time Barclay took a final leave
of the unfortunate king, for whose disasters he was much concerned, and with
whom he had been several times engaged in serious discourse at that time.

Robert Eai'clay " laid down the body," says Andi'ew Jatfray, " in the holy and
honourable truth, wherein he had served it about three and twenty yeai-s, upon
the 3rd day of the eighth month, 1690, near the forty and second year of his
age, at his own house of Urie, in Scotland, and it was laid in his own burial
ground there, upon the 6th day of the same month, before many friends and
other people." His character has been thus drawn by another of the amicable
fraternity to which he belonged : — "

" He was distinguished by strong mental poAvers, particularly by great pene-
tration, and a sound and accui-ate judgment. His talents were much unproved
'■^ A short account of the Life and Writings of Robert Barclay, London, 1802.

WILLIAM BARCLAY. I57

by a regular and classical education. It does not, however, appear that his su-
perior qualifications produced that elation of mind, which is too often their
attendant : he was meek, humble, and ready to allow to others the merit they
possessed. All his passions were under the most excellent government. Two
of his intimate friends, in their character of him, declare that they never knew
hiui to be angry. He had the happiness of early perceiving the infinite supe-
riority of religion to every other attainment ; and the Divine grace enabled him
to dedicate his life, and all that he possessed, to promote the cause of piety and
virtue. For the welfare of his friends he was sincerely and w armly concerned :
and he travelled and Avrote much, as well as suilered cheerfully, in support of
the society and the principles to wliicli he had conscientiously attached himself.
But this was not a blind and bigoted attachme*it. His zeal was tempered with
charity ; and he loved and respected goodness wherever he found it. His mi-
corrupted integrity and liberality of sentiment, his great abilities and suavity of
disposition, gave him much interest \vith persons of rank and influence, and he
euiployed it in a manner that marked the benevolence of his heart. He loved
peace, and was often instrumental in settling disputes, and in producing recon-
ciliations between contending parties.

" In support and pursuit of what he believed to be right, he possessed great
firmness of mind ; which was early evinced in the pious and dutifid sentiment
he expressed to his uncle, who tempted him with great oflers to remain in
Fran<.;e, against the desire of his father : ' He is my father,' said he, ' and he
must be obeyed.' All the virtues harmonize, and are connected with one another:
tliis tirni and resolute spirit in the prosecution of duty, was united with great
sympathy and compassion towards persons in affliction and distress. They were
consoled by his tenderness, a.ssisted by his advice, and occasionally relieved by
his bounty. His spiritual discernment and religious experience, directed by
that Divine influence which he valued above all things, eminently qualified him
to instruct the ignorant, to reprove the irreligious, to strengthen the feeble-
minded, and to animate the advanced Christian to still greater degrees of virtue
and holiness.

" In private life he was equally amiable. His conversation was cheerful,
guarded, and instructive. He was a dutiful son, an atlectionate and faithl'ut
husband, a tender and careful father, a kind and considerate master. Without
exaggeration, it may be said, that piety and virtue were recommendisd by his
example ; and that, though the period of his life was short, he had, by the aid
of Divine grace, most wisely and happily improved it. He lived long enough
to manifest, in an eminent degree, the temper and conduct of a Christian, and
tlie virtues and qualifications of a true minister of the gospel."

BARCLAY, William, an eminent civilian, and father of the still more cele-
brated author of the Arcjenis, nas descended fi-om one of the best families in
Scotland under the rank of nobility, and \vas born in Aberdeenshire, in 1541,
He spent his early years in the court of Queen Mary, with whom he was in hii^h
favour. After her captivity in England, disgusted with the turbulent state of his
native country, which promised no advantage to a man of learning, he removed
to France (1573), and began to study the law at Bourges. Having in time
qualified himself to teach the civil law, he was appointed by the Duke of Loirain,
through the recommendation of his relation Edmund Hay, the Jesuit, to be a pro-
fessor of that science in the university of Fontamousson, being at the same time
counsellor of state and master of requests to his princely patron. In 15S1, lie
married Anne de Maleville, a young lady of Lorrain, by whom he had his son
John, the subject of the following article. This youth showed tokens of genius at
an early period, and was sought from his fathsr by the Jesuits, that he mig!iL entLT

1,',S JOHN BARCLAY.

tlioir society. Tlie fallior, tluiikii£r jiroiu'r to refuse tlic request, becaiiie an ol>-
ject ofsiicli wTiitli to that learned and mist rii|>tiloi:s tVateriiiiy, tliat he was com-
pelh'tl to abandon all his prefenimnts, and seek refiiijo in Jai^laml. This uas
in l(iO.'{, just at the time when his native sovereign had acceded to the throne of
l']n<>land. .lames I. otlored him a pension, and a place in his councils, on con-
dition that he would eml)race the prolestant faith; hut ihouuli iiuli<;nant at the
intrin-ues of the .lesuits, he would not desert their religion. In lliOl, he return-
ed to France, and became professor of civil law at An<iei-s, where he taught for a
considerable time wilii high reputation. It is said tliat he entertained a very
high sense of the dignity of his situation. He use<l to "go to school every day,
attcndid by a seiTant who went before him, himself having a rich robe lined with
ermine, the train of which was supported by two sei'vants, and his son upon liis
ri<>bt hand ; and there hung about his neclc a great chain of gold, with a medal
of gold, with his own picture." Such was, in those days, the pomp and circum-
stance of the profession of civil law. He did not long enjoy this situation, dy-
ing towards the close of 1005. He is allowed to have been veiy learned, not
only in the civil and canon Law, but in the classical languages, and in ecclesias-
tical history. But his prejudices were of so violent a natm-e as to obscure both
his genius and erudition. He zealously maintained the absolute power of mon-
archs, and had an illiberal antipathy to the protestant religion. His works are,
1, a controvci-sial treatise on the royal power, against Buchanan and other king-
killers, Paris, KiOO ; 2, a treatise on the power of the Pope, showing that he
li;is no right of rule over secular princes, 1609 ; 3, a connnentai-y on the title
of the pandects de rebis creditis, &c ; 4, a commentary on Tacitus's Life of
AgTicola. All these works, as well as their titles, are in Latin.

Barclay, John, son of William Barclay, was born at Pontaniousson in
France, January 2S, 1582, and Avas educated under the care of Jesuits.
When only nineteen years old, he published notes on the Thebais of Statins. He
was, as above stated, the innocent cause of a quaiTel between his father and the
Jesuits, in consequence of which the family removed to England, in KiOS. At
the beginning of 1604, young Barclay presented a poetical panegyric to the
king, under the title of Kalendee Januariee. To this monarch he soon after
dedicated the first part of his celebrated Latin satire entitled, Euphonnion. Johi.
Barclay, like many young men of genius, was anxious for distinction, quocnnqut
modo, and, having an abundant conceit of his own abilities, and looking upon
all otlier men as only fit to fiu-nish him with matter of ridicule, he launched at the
very first into the dangerous field of general satire. He confesses in the apology
which he afterwards published for his Euphonnion, that, " as soon as he left
school, a juvenile desire of fame incited him to attack the whole world, rather
with a view of promoting his own reputation, than of dishonouring individuals."
We must confess that this grievous early fault of Barclay was only the transores-
sion of a very spirited character. He says, in his dedication of Euphonnion to
King James, Avrilten when he was two-and-t\venty, that he \vas ready, in the ser-
vice of his Majesty, to convert his pen into a sword, or his sword into a pen.
His prospects at this court were unfortunately blighted, like those of his fa-
tlier, by the religious contests of the time; and in 1604 the family returned
to France. John, however, appears to have spent the next year chiefly in Eng-
land, probably upon some renewal of his prospects at the court of King James.
In 1606, after the death of his father, he returned to France, and at Paris nuir-
ried Louisa Debonnaire, with whom he soon after settled at London. Here he pub-
lished the second part of his Euphonnion, dedicating it to the Earl of Salisbui-y,
a minister in whom he could find no fault but his excess of virtue. Lord Hailes
remarlis, as a surprising circumstance, that the writer who could discover no faults

JOHN BARCLAY. I59

in Salisbury, aime'I the shafts of ridicule at Sully ; but nothing can be less sur-
prising in such a person as Barclay. A man who satirized only for the sake
of personal eclat, would as easily Hatter in gi-atitude for the least notice. It should
also be recollected, that many minds do not, till the approach of middle life, ac-
quire the power of judging accurately regarding virtue and vice, or merit and
demeiit : all principles, in such minds, are jumbled like the elements of the
earth in chaos, and are only at leng:th reduced to order by the overmastering
influence of the understanding. In the disposition which seems to have charac-
terised Barclay, for flattering those who patronised him, he endeavoured to please
King James, in the second p:irt of the Euphormion, by satirizing tobacco and
the puritans. In this year he also published an account of the gun-powder plot,
a vvoik remarked to be singularly impartial, considering the religion of the writer.
During the course of three years' residence in England, Barclay received no
toiten of the royal liberality. Sunk in indigence, with an increasing family
calling for support, he only wished to be indemnified for his English journeys,
and to have his charges defrayed into PYance. At length he was relieved from
liis distresses by his patron Salisbury. Of these circumstances, so familiar and
so discoui-aging to men of letters, we are informed by some allegorical and ob-
scure verses Avritten by Barclay at that sad season. Having removed to France
in 1609, he next year published his Apology for the Euphormion. This denotes
that he came to see the folly of a general contempt for mankind at the age of
twenty-eight. How he supported himself at this time, does not appear; but he
is found, in 1614, publishing his Icon Animarum, which is declared by a com-
petent critic to be the best, though not the most celebrated of his works. It is
a delineation of the genius and manners of the European nations, with remai'ks,
moral .and philosophical, on the various tempers of men. It is pleasant to ob-
serve that in this work he does justice to the Scottish people. In 1615, Barclay
is said to have been invited by Pope Paul V. to Rome. He had previously
lashed the holy court in no measured terms ; but so marked a homage from
this quarter to his distinction in letters, as usual, softened his feelings, and he
now accordingly shifted his family thither, and lived the rest of his life under the
protection of the pontifll In 1617, he pubhshed at Rome his " Paraenesis ad
Sectarios, Libri Duo ;" a work in which he seems to have aimed at atoning for
his former sarcasms at the Pope, by attacking those Avhom his holiness called
heretics. Barclay seems to have been honoured Avith many marks of kindness,
not only from the Pope, but also from Cardinal Barberini ; yet it does not appear
that he obtained much emolument. Incumbered with a ^vife and family, and
having a spirit above his fortune, he was left at full leisure to pursue his studies.
It was at that time that he composed his Latin romance called Argents. He
employed his vacant hours in cultivating a flower garden ; and Rossi relates, in his
turgid Italian style, that Barclay cared not for those bulbous roots which pmduce
flowers of a sweet scent, but cultivated such as produced flowers void of smell,
but having variety of colours. Hence we may conclude that he was among the
first of those who were infected with that strange disease, a passion for tulips,
which soon after ovei'spread Europe, and is commemorated under the name of the
TulipO'Tnania. Barclay might truly have said with Virgil, " Tanhis amorjio-
tim!" He had two raastifls placed as sentinels to protect his garden ; and ra-
ther than abandon his favourite flowers, chose to continue his residence in an iU-
aired and unwholesome situation.

This extraordinaiy genius, who seems to have combined the perfervidum in-
genium of his father's countiy, Avith the mercurial vivacity of his mother's, died
at Rome on the 12th of August, 1 621, in the thirty-ninth year of his age. He
left a wife, who had tonnented him much with jealousy, (through the ardour of

100 JAMES BASSANTIN (or BASSANTOUN).

iicr alVection, as lie ex|tlaiin>(l it ), Im'skIcs tliroo cliildroii, of uluun two were boys.
He also left, in tlio hands of llic printer, liis celebrated Arffenin, and also an un-
|>Ml)lislied history of the eon(|iiest of .lenisaieni, and some iraffiiients of a <i[encr;il
history of iliirope. lie was buried in t!ie chin-ch of St ()niij>hriiis, and his widow
erected a monument to him, with bis bust in marble, at the <-liiM'ch of St Law-
rence, on tlie road to Tivoli. A stran<;e circumstance caused the «lestruction of
tiiis trophy, ('ardinal Barl)erini chanced to erect a monument, exactly similar,
■it the same place, to his j)recej»tor, Bernnrdus Gnlienus a moiite Sancti Sahini.
Wlien the widow of Barclay heard of this, she said, " 31y busi)and was a man of
birth, and famous in the literary w<ir]d ; I will not s'llier him to remain on a
level with a base and obscure pedagogue." She therefore caused the bust to be
removed, and the inscription to be obliterated. The account given of the Ar-
^enis, by Lord Hailes, who wrote a life of John Barclay as a specimen of a Bio-
grap/iia Scolica,^ is as follows: " Are/eius is generally supposed to be a history
under feigned names, and not a romance. Barclay himself contributed to estab-
lish this opinion, by introducing some real characters into the work. But that
was merely to compliment certain <lignitaries of the church, whose good officer
he courted, or whose power he dreaded. The key prefixed to Arcjeiiis has per-
petuated the error. There are, no doubt, many incidents in it that allude to the
state of I'rance during the civil wars in the seventeenth century ; but it requires
a strong imagination indeed to discover Queen Elizabeth in Hyanisbe, or Henry
ni.of France in Meleander." On the whole, Argenis appears to be a poetical fable,
replete with moral and political reflections. Of this work three English translations
have appeared, the last in 1772 ; but it now only en joys the reflective reputation
of a work that was once in high repute. We may quote, however, the opinion
which Cowper ^vas pleased to express regarding this singidar production. " It
is," says the poet of Olney, " the most amusing romance that ever was wTitten.
It is the only one, indeed, of an old date, that I had ever the patience to go
through with. It is interesting in a high degree, richer in incident than can be
imagined, full of surprises, which the reader never forestalls, and yet free from
entanglement and confusion. The style too, appears to me to be such as would
not dishonour Tacitus himself."

BASSAKTIN, or BASSANTOUN, James, astronomer and mathematician, was
the son of the Laird of Bassantin, in Berwickshire, and probably bom in the
early part of the sixteenth centui-y. Being sent to study at the University of
CTlasgo\v, he applied himself ahiiost exclusively to mathematics, to the neglect of
languages and philosophy, which were then the most common study. In order
to prosecute mathematics more effectually than it was possible to do in his own
country, he went abroad, and travelled through the iXetherlands, Switzerland,
Italy, and Germany ; fixing himself at last in Fi-ance, where for a considerable
time he taught his favourite science with high reputation in the University of
Paris. In that age, the study of astronomy was inseparable from astrology, and
Bassantin became a celebrated proficient in this pretended science, ^vhich ^\as
then highly cultivated in France, insomuch that it entered more or less into
almost all public affairs, and nearly every court in Europe had its astrologer.
Bassantin, besides his attainments in astrology, understood the laws of the
heavens to an extent which excited the wonder of the age — especially, when it
was considered that he had scarcely any knowledge of the Gi'eek or Latin lan-
guages, in which all that was fonnerly known of this science had been embodied.
But, as may be easily conceived, astronomy was as yet a most imperfect science ;
the Copernican system, Avhich forms the groundwork of modern astronomy,
was not yet discovered or acknoAvIedged ; and all that was really kno'.Mi had
' Printed in 4to, in 1782, and the grQuml-wurk of tlie present ski-tcli.

JOHN BASSOL. X61

in time become so inextrl<;<ab]y associated witli the dreams of astrology, as to be
entitled to little respect. T5assantin returned to his native country in 15(52,
and in passing tlu-ough England, met with Sir Robert Melville of Mordecairny,
v.ho was then engaged in a diplomatic mission from Mary to Elizabeth, for the
purpose of bringing about a meeting between the two queens. A curious account
oi' (iiis rencontre is preserved by Sir James Blelville in his Memoirs, and, as it
is highly illustrative of tlie character and pretensions of Hassantin, we s'.iall lay
it before the reader. " x\ne Bassantin, a Scottis man, that had been travelit,
and was learnit in liich scyences, cam to him [Sir Robert Melville] and said,
' ijiud gentilman, I liear sa giid report of you that I love you hartly, and there-
fore canot forbear to shaw you, how all your upricht dealing and your honest
travell will be in vain, «here ye believe to obtein a weall for our Quen at the
Quen of Englandis h.indis. You hot tyne yoiu- tyme ; for, first, they will never
meit togither, and next, there will nevir be bot discembling and secret hattrent
for a whyle, and at length captivity and utter wrak for our Quen by England.'
My brother's answer again \vas, that he lyked not to heir of sic devilisch newes,
nor yet wald he (credit them in any sort, as false, ungodly, and unlawfull for
Christians to medle them willi. Bassantin answered again, ' Gud Mester Mel-
vill, tak not that hard opinion of me ; I am a Christian of your religion, and
fears God, and piu-poses never to cast myself in any of the unlawful artis that
ye mean of, bot sa far as Melanthon, wha was a Godly theologue, has declared
and written anent the naturall scyences, that are lawfull and daily red in dyvera
(Christian Universities ; in the quhilkis, as in all othir avtis, God geves to some
less, to some mair and clearer knawledi^e than till others ; be the quhilk kna',v-
ledge I have also that at length, that the kingdom of England sail of rycht
fall to the crown of Scotland, and that ther are some born at this instant, that
sail bruik lands and heritages in England. Bot alace it will cost many their
lyves, and many bludy battailes wilbe fouchten first, or [ere] it tak a sattled
eiiect ; and be my knawledge,' said he, ' the Spaniartis will be helpers, and
will tak a part to themselves for ther labours, quhilk they wilbe laith to leve
again.' " If the report of this conference be quite faithfid, we must certainly
do Bassantin the justice to say, that the most material part of his prophecy
came to pass ; though it might be easy for him to see that, as the sovereign ot
Scotland was heiress-presumptive to the cro^vn of England, she or her heirs had
a near prospect of succeeding. How Bassantin spent his time in Scotland does
not appear; but, as a good protestant, he became a wari>i supporter of the Earl
of Murray, then struggling for the ascendancy. He died in 156 8. His works
are, I, A System of Astronomy, published for the third time in 1593, by .lohn
Torncpsius. 2, A Treatise of the Astrolabe, published at Lyons in 1555, and
reprinted at Paris in 1617. 3, A Pamphlet on the Calculation of Nativities.
4, A Treatise on Aritlimetic. 5, 3Iusic on the Principles of the Platonists. 6,
On Mathematics in general. It is understood that, in the composition of these
works, he required considerable literary assistance, being only skilled in his own
language, which was never then made the vehicle of scientific discussion.

BAS.50L, John, a distinguished disciple of the famous D;nis Scotus, is stated
by Mackenzie to have been born in the reign of Alexander III. He studied
under Duns at Oxford, and with him, in 1304, removed to Paris, where he
resided some time in the University, and, in 1313, entered the order of the
Minorites. After this he was sent by the general of his order to Rheims, where
he applied himself to the study of medicine, and taught philosophy for seven
or eight years. In 1323, he removed to Mechlin in Brabant, and after teach-
ing theology in that city for five and twenty years, died in 1347.

Bassol's only work was one entitled, " Commentaria Seu Lecturce in Quatuor

102 JOHN BASSOL.

Lihros SeiUciitianiin," t(» which woro .ittache*! some miscellaneous papers on
l'hih>sophy and 3Icdicine. The book was piihlislied in folio at Taiis, in 1517,
Bassol was kn(»wn by the title, Doctor (J^diuaits.'iimii.'i, or the most 3Icthodical
Doctor, on account of tiu> clear and accurate method in wiiich he lectured and
composed. The fashion of -jivin!;- such titles to the great masters of the schools
was then in its prime. Thus, Duns Seotus himself was styled Doctor iSnbtilis,
■)r the Suhtlc Doctor. St Francis of Assis was called the Scrap/tic Doctor;
Alexander Hales the Irrefragable Doctor ; 'Ihomas Aquinas the Ancjelical Doc-
tor ; llendricus BonicoUius the Solemn Doctor; Kichard Middleton the Solid
Doctor; Francis IMayron the Acute Doctor ; Dui'andus a S. I'ortiano i\\G most
Uexolutc Doctor ; Thomas i redwnrdin the Profound Doctor ; Joannes Hnys-
brokius the Divine Doctor, and so forth ; the title being in every case founded
upon some extravagant conception of the merit of the particular individual,
adopted by his contemporaries and disciples. In this extraordinary class of
literati, John Hassol, as implied by his soubriquet, shines conspicuous for oi-der
and method; yet we are told that liis works contain most of the faults which
a»-e generally laid to the charge of the schoolmen. The chief of these is an
in-ational devotion to the philosophy of Aristotle, as expounded by Thomas Aqui-
nas. In the early ages of modern philosophy, this most splendid exertion of
the human mind was believed to be irreconcileable to the Christian doctrines ;
and at the very time when the Angelical Doctor wrote bis commentaiy, it stood
prohibited by a decree of Pope (Tregoi^y IX, The illustrious Thomas not only
restored Aristotle to favour, but inspired his followers with an admiration of his
precepts, which, as already mentioned, was not rational. Not less was their ad-
miration of the " angelical " commentator, to whom it was long the fashion
among them to offer an incense little short of blasphemy. A commentator upon
an original work of Thomas Aquinas, endeavoui-s, in a prefatory discourse, to
prove, in so many chapters, that he wrote his books not without the special in-
fusion of the spirit of God Almighty ; that, in writing them, be received many
things by revelation ; and, that C hrist had given anticipatoi-y testimony to his
wTitings. By way of bringing the works of St Thomas into direct comparison
with the Holy Scriptures, the same writer remarks, " that, as in the first General
Councils of the church, it was common to have the Bible unfolded upon tho
Altar, so, in the last General Council (that of Trent), St Thomas' ' Sum' was
placed beside tlie Bible, as an inferior rule of Christian doctrine." Peter Labbe,
a learned Jcstiit, with scai'cely less daring flattery, styles St Thonns an angel,
and says that, as he learned many things from the angels, so he taught the an
gels some things ; that St Thomas had said what St Paul was not permitted to
utter ; and that he speaks of God as if he bad seen him, and of Christ as if he
had been his voice. One might almost suppose that these learned gentlemen,
disregarding the sentiment afterwards embodied by Gray, that flattery soothes
not the cold ear of death, endeavoured by their praises to make interest with
the " angelical" shade, not doubting that he was able to obtain for them a larger
share of paradise than they coidd otherwise hope for. In the words of the au-
tlior of the Reflections on Learning, " the sainted Thomas, if capable of hearing
these inordinate flatteries, must have blushed to receive thein."

Bassol was also characterised, in common with all the rest of the schoolmen,
by a ridiculous nicety in starting questions and objections. Overlooking the
great moral aim of Avhat tliey were expounding, he and his fellows lost them-
selves in minute and subtle inijuiries after physical exactness, started at every
straw which lay upon their path, and measured the powers of the mind by grains
and scruples. It must be acknowledged, in favour of this singular class of ni'v,
that they improved natural reason to a great height, and that much of w^ai

ANDHEW BAXTER. 153

is most admired iu modern philosophy is only borrowed from them. At the
same time, their curiosity in raising and prosecuting frivolous ohjections to the
Christian system is to be regretted as the soui'ce of much scepticism and in-eli-
gion. To many of their ax-guments, ridicule only is du3 ; and it would perhaps
be impossible for the gravest to restrain a smile at the illustrissimo mentioned
by Cardan, one of ^vhose arguments Avas declared to be enough to puzzle aU
posterity, and who himself wept in his old age, because he had become unable
to understand his own books.

The ivorlis of Bassol have been long forgotten, like those of his brethren ;
but it is not too much to say regarding this great man of a former day, that the
same powei-s of mind ^vhich he spent upon the endless intricacies of the school
philosophy, would certainly, in another age and sphere, have tended to the
permanent advantage of his fellow creatures. He was so much admired by his
illustrious preceptor, that that great man used to say, " If only Joannes Bassio-
lis be present, I have a sufficient auditory."

BAXTER, Andrew, an ingenious moral and natural philosopher, was the
son of a merchant in Old Aberdeen, and of Mrs Elizabeth Eraser, a lady
connected ^vith some of the considerable families of that name in the north of
Scotland. He was born at Old Aberdeen, in 1G86 or 1G87, and educated at
the King's College, in his native city. His employment in early life was that of
a preceptor to young gentlemen ; and among others of his pupils Avere Lord Gray,
Lord Blantyre, and 31r Hay of Drummelzier. In 1723, while resident at Dunse
Castle, as preceptor to the last-mentioned gentleman, he iskno^vn, from letters Avhicii
passed between him and Henry Home, afterwards Lord Kaimes, to have been
deeply engaged in both physical and metaphysical disquisitions. As Mv Home's
paternal scat of Kaimes ^vas situated within a few miles of Dunse Castle, the si-
milarity of their pursuits appears to have brought them into an intimate friend-
ship and correspondence. This, however, was soon afterwards broken off Mr
Home, \vho was a mere novice in physics, contended with Mr Baxter that mo-
tion was necessarily the result of a succession of causes. The latter endeavoured,
at first with much patien<;e and good temper, to point out the error of this ar-
gument ; but, teased at lengtli Avith Avhat he conceived to be sophistry purposely
employed by his antagonist to sho\v his ingenuity in throwing doubts on princi-
ples to \vhich he himself annexed the greatest importance, and on which he had
founded what he believed to be a demonstration of those doctrines most material
to the happiness of mankind, he finally interrupted the correspondence, saying,
■' I shall return you all youi* letters; mine, if not already destroyed, you may
likewise return ; Ave shall bui-n them and our philosophical heats together."
About this time, Mr Baxter married Alice 3Iabane, daughter of a respectable
clergyman in Berwickshire. A few years afterwards he published liis gi-eat
work, entitled, " Aii Enquiry into the natui-e of the Human Soul, wherein its
immateriality is evinced from the principles of Reason and Philosophy." This
work was originally without date ; but a second edition appeared in 1737, and
a third in 1745. It has been characterised in the highest terms of panegyric
by Bishop Warburton. " He who would see," says this eminent prelate, " the
justest and precisest notions of God and the soul, may read this book ; one o
the most finished of the Icind, in my humble opinion, that the present times,
greatly advanced in true philosophy, have produced." The object of the trea-
tise is to prove the immateriality, and consequently the immortality of the soul,
from the acknowledged principle of the vis inertice of matter. His argument,
according to the learned Lord Woodhouselee, is as follows: " There is a resis-
tance to any change of its present state, either of rest or motion, essential to
matter, which is inconsistent with its possessing any active power. Those, there-

IGi ANDREW BAXTEK.

lore, uliidi liavc been (■allt'il tlio natiir;:! pouei-s of innttor, as iiravity, attraction,
elasticity, rejuilsioii, are not ]to\Ners ini|ilante(l in niatlcr, or possiiile to 1)0
niatie inlicix'nt in it, but ai-e inijmlses or lonx's iniprossfcl upon it ah extra. '1 be
consequence ot" tiie want of active po«er in matter is, tbat all tbose eflects com-
monly ascribed to its acti>e ]»o\\ers, ini'st be jjrodticetl upon it by an immaterial
being-, lience we (lis<;over tbe ne<;essity for tlie agency of a constant and uni-
versjil ProvidcMice in tbe material world, wbo is ( iqd ; ami lience we must admit
the necessity of an immaterial mover in all spontaneous motions, wbicb is the
Soul ; for tliat wbicb cm arbitrarily elfect a change in tbe pix'sent state of
matter, cannot be matter ilsell", wbicb resists all change ol' its pr^'sent state: and
since this (b.-nge is ejected by willing, tbat thing which wills in us is not mat-
ter, but an immaterial suhslance. 1 rom these fundamental propositions, the
author deduces as conseqiiencos, the necessary immortality of tbe soul, as being
a simple uncoiupoiiiuled suljslance, and thence iucapahle of decay, and its capa-
city of existing, and being <-onscious when separated from tbe body." In 1741.
leaving his family in Herwi(;U, he went abroad with liis pupil IMr I'ay, an«l
resided for several years at Utrecht. In the course of various excursions which
he made through lloihind, France, and (jermany, be was generally well received
by tbe literati, lie retiuned to Scotland in 17 i7, and, till his death in 1750,
resided (;onstantly at AVhittingbam in East Lothian, a seat of his pupil IMr Hay.
His latter works were, " Matho, sive (Josuiotheoria puerilis, Dialogus," a piece
designetl for the use of bis pupil, and, " An Appendix to bis Enquiry into the
i nature of tbe human soul," wherein he endeavoured to remove some difliculties,
which had been started against his notions of the via inertics of matter by
IMaclaurin, in his " Account of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophical Discoveries "
In 1779, the Fev. Dr Duncan of South Warnhorough published, " llie evidence
of reason in proof of tbe Immortality of the Soul, independent on the more
abstruse enquiry into the nature of matter and spirit — collected from the jMSS.
of tbe late Mr Baxter."

The learning and abilities of Mr Baxter are sufficiently displayed in his
writings, \vhich, however, \vere of more note in the literary w orld diu-ing his o^vn
time than now. He was veiy studious, and sometimes sat up whole nights read-
ing and writing. His temper was cheerful; he was a friend to innocent merri-
ment, and of a disposition truly benevolent. In conversation he was modest,
and not apt to make much show of the extensive knowledge be possessed. In
the discharge of the several social and relative duties of life, his conduct was
exemplary. He had the most reverential sentiments of the Deity, of whose
presence and immediate support, he had always a strong impression upon his
mind. He paid a strict attention to economy, though he dressed elegantly, and
was not parsimonious in his other expenses. It is known also that there were
several occasions on which he acted with remarkable disintei-estedness ; and so
far was he irom courting prefennent, that he repeatedly declined ofters of that
kind that were made to him, on the condition of his taking orders in the Church
of England. The French, German, and Dutch languages were spoken by hini
with much ease, and the Italian tolerably: and he read and wrote them all,
together with die Spanish. His friends and coirespondents were numerous and
respectable ; among them arc particularly mentioned, jMr Pointz, preceptor to
the Duke of Cumberland, and i^isbop Warburton. While travelling on the Con-
tinent, he had formed an intimate friendship with the celebrated John Wilkes ;
.and he accordingly dedicated to this gentleman bis Appendix to the Enquiry.
After the death of Mr Baxter, IMr Wilkes publisiied a remarkably interesting
letter, the last but one which he had received from his friend, exhibiting in a
vei-y striking manner the deep impression which the excellent principles of ]M

JAMES BAYNE (oit BAINE). iQ^

Baxter had mnde upon his own mind, and %vhicli were only the more deeply and
confidently cherished as life approached its close. " As to the state of my dis-
ease," says tlie dying philosopher, " unless I would make suppositions contrary
to all prohability, I have no reasonable hopes of recovery, the swelling which
began at my legs, being now got up to my belly and head. I am a trouble to
all about me, especially to my poor wife, who has the life of a slave night and
day, helping me to take care of my diseased frame. Yet I may linger on a
while, as I can still walk a little through the room, and divert myself now and
tiien \vith reading, nay, in wi'iting doun my remarks on what I read. But 1
can with sincerity assure you, my most dear Mr Wilkes, death has nothing ter-
rible to me ; or rather I look upon it Avith pleasure. I have long and often
considered and wi'itten down the advantages of a separate state. I shall soon
know more than all the men I leave behind me ; wonders in material natui'e
and the world of spirits, which never entered into the thoughts of philosophers.
The end of knowledge then, is not to get a name, or form a new sect, but to
adore the power and wisdom of the Deity. This kills pride, but heightens hap-
piness and pleasure. All our rational desu-es, because rational, must be satisfied
by a being, himself infinitely rational. I have been long aware that nothing
can go beyond the gi-ave, but habits of virtue and innocence. There is no dis-
tinction in that world, but what proceeds from virtue or vice. Titles and riches
are laid oft' when the shroud goes on." [Mr Baxter then goes on to express liis
ccmviction that even the punishments which may be awarded in a future state
will only be " to correct and make better."] " Besides, what is it to be free
from the pains and infirmities of the body — though 1 am satisfied just now,
that the weakness of my distressed limba is as much the immediate effect of the
same power and goodness, as their gi'owth and strength was sixty years ago !
Dare I add a word witliout being thought vain ? This is owing to my having
reasoned honestly on the nature of that dead substance, matter. It is as utterly
inert when the tree flourishes, as when the leaf Avithers. And it is the same
divine powei*, differently applied, that directs the last parting throb, and the
first drawing breath. O the blindness of those who think matter can do any
thing of itself, or perform an eii'ect without impulse or direction from superior
power!"

BAYNE, [or Baine] .Iames, A. M. a divine of some note, was the s n of the
Rev. MrBayne, minister of Bonhill in Dumbartonshire, and was born in 1710.
His education commenced at tlie parish school, was completed at the university
of ^;lasgow, and indue time he became a licensed pre.acher of the establislied
church of Scotland. In consequence of the respectability of his father, and his
own talents as a preacher, he was presented by the Duke of Montrose to the church
of Killearn, the parish adjoining that in which his father had long ministered
the gospel, and menioiable as ilie birth-place of Buchanan. In this sequester-
ed and tranquil seen ', he spent many years, which he often referred to in after
life as the happiest lie had ever kno\vn. He hei-e married Miss Potter, daughtei
of Dr Michael Potter, professor of divinity in the Glasgow university, by whom
he had a large family. His son, the Rev. James Bayne, was licensed in the Scot-
tish establishment, but afterwards received episcopal ordination, and died in tlie
exercise of that profession of faith at Alloa.

The reputation of Mr Bayne as a preacher soon travelled far beyond the rural
bcene to which his ministrations were confined. His people, in allusion to the
musical sweetness of his voice, honoured him with the poetical epithet of " the swan
of the west." He was appointed to a collegiate charge in the High Church of Paisley,
where his partner in duty was the celebrated Mr Wotherspoon, afterwards president
of the Nassau Hall College, Princetown, New Jersey. The two colleagues, however,

IGl) JAMES BAYNE (oa BALNE).

did not co-operate liaiinoiiiously, although both enjoyed a high degrue of popularity.
Mr IJayiie dis|)layc(l great public spirit during his coimectioii with the Established
church, defending her spiritual liberties and independence in the church courts, and
offering a determined opposition to the policy of the moderate or ruling party. The
deposition of Mr Tiiomas Gillespie, of Carnock, the founder of the Relief church,
made a powei ful impression o:i his mind, and undoubtedly had a strong influence in
inducing him to resign his pastoral charge in Paisley. But the immediate cause ot
tiiat resolution was a keen dispute which took place in the kirk-session of his parish,
respecting the apiointment of a session-clerk. Tlie session contested the right of
appointment with the town-council; the whole community took an interest in the
dispute; and the case came at last to be litigated in the Court of Session, which decided
in favour of the town-council. Unhappily, Mr Bayne and his colleague took opposite
sides in this petty contest, and a painful misunderstanding was produced betwixt
them, followed by consequences probably afTecting the future destinies of both. Mr
Bayne refers to these differences in his letter of resignation, addressed to the Pres-
bytery, dated 10th February, 1700 :— " They (the Presbytery) know not how far I
am advanced in lile, who see not that a house of worship, so very large as the High
Ciiureh, and commonly so crowded too, must be very unequal to my strength; and
this burden was made more heavy by denying me a .ession to assist me in the com-
mon concerns of the parish, which 1 certainly had a title to. But the load became
quite intolerable, when, by a late unhappy process, the just and natural right of the
common session was wrested from us, which drove away from acting in it twelve men
of excellent character." Mr Bayne joined the Relief churcii, then in its infancy,
having, even whilst in the Establishment, held ministerial communion with Mr Simpson,
minister of Bellshill congregation, the first Relief church in the west of Scotland.
In his letter of resignation, already quoted, Mr Bayne assured his former brethren
that the change of his condition, and the charge he had accepted, would make no
change in his creed, nor in his principles of Christian and ministerial communion —
" Nay (he adds), none in my cordial regard to the constitution and interests of the
Cliurch of Scotland, which I solemnly engaged to support some more than thirty
years ago, and hope to do so while I live. At the same time I abhor persecution in
every form, and that abuse of church power of late, which to me appears inconsistent
with humanity, with the civil interests of the nation, and destructive of the ends of
our office as ministers of Christ." On the 24th December, Mr Bayne accepted a
call to become minister of the College Street Relief Church, Edinburgh, and his
induction took place on the loth February, 1766, three dajs after his resignation of
his charge in Paisley. As his demission fell to be adjudicated upon by the General
Assembly, in May of that year, his name remained for the present upon the roll of the
Establishment, and so little did he yet consider himself separated from the communion
of that church, that when the half-yearly sacrament of the Lord's Supper came round
i;i Edinburgh, soon after his settlement, after preaching in his own church in tlie
forenoon, he went over in the afternoon, at the head of his congregation, to the
New Greyfriars' church, and joined in the ordinance with the congregation of the
Piev. Dr Erskine. At the Assembly in May, Mr Bayne, in obedience to a citation,
appeared at the bar, and was declared to be no longer a minister of the Church of
Scotland, and all clergymen of that body were prohibited from holding ministerial
communion with him. Mr Bayne defended the course he had taken in a review of
the proceedings of the Assembly, entitled, "Memoirs of Modern Church Reforma-
tion, or the History of the General Assembly, 1766, and occasional reflections upon the
proceedings of said Assembly ; with a brief account and vindication of the Presbytery
of Relief, by James Bayne, A.M., minister of the gospel at Edinburgh." He
denounces, with indignant seventy, the injustice of his having been condemned by

CARDINAL BEATON. IC]

the Assembly without a libel, merely for having accepted a charge in another church,
" in which (says he), I presumed, they could find nothing criminal ; for often had
ministers resigned their charge upon different accounts, and justifiable; nav, some
liave given it up for the more entertaining and elegant employ of the stage, who were
not called in question or found deliiupients. This was a palpable hit at Home, the
author of " Douglas,'' who sat in the AssemMy as a ruling elder, to aid Dr Robertson
in punishing Bayne. After <a ministry of GO years, Mr Bayne died at Edinburgh, on
the 17th January, 1790, in his eightieth year. He was 24 years minister of the
College Street Relief congregation, Edinburgh. His popularity as a preacher, his
talents for ecclesiastical affairs, his acquirements as a scholar and a theologian,
and his sound judgment and weight of character, gave him great influence; and it
was mainly to his large and enlightened views that the Relief church was indebted
for the position to which it attained, even during his lifetime, as well as for
retaining, till it was finally merged In the United Presbyterian church, the catho-
lic constitution on which it had been founded by Gillespie and Boston. Mr Bayne
was an uncompromising opponent of whatever he considered to be a violation of
public morality. In 1770 he published a discourse, entitled, "The Theatre Licen-
tious and Perverted," administering a stern rebuke to Mr Samuel Foote for his
Minor; a drama, in which the characters of Whitefield, and other zealous minis-
ters were held up to profane ridicule. The dramatist considered it necessary to reply
to Mr Bayne's strictures, in an " Apology for the Minor, in a letter to the Rev.
Mr Bayne," resting his defence upon the plea that he only satirized the vices and
follies of religious pretenders. A volume of Mr Bayne's discourses was published
in 1778.

BEATON, or EEATOUN (Cardinal) Davtd, who held the rectory of Campsie,
the abbacy of Aberbrothick, the bishopric of Mirepoix in France, the cardinalship of
St Stephen in Monte Coelio, and the chancellorship of Scotland, and who was the
chief of the Roman Catholic party in Scotland in the earlier age of the reformation,
was descended from an ancient family in Fife, possessed of the barony of Balfour,
and was born in the year 1494. He was educated at the college of St Andrews,
where he completed his courses of polite literature and philosophy, but was sent
afterwards to the university of Paris, where he studied divinity for several years.
Entering into holy orders, he had the rectory of Campsie and the abbacy of Aber-
brothick bestowed upon him, by his uncle, James Beaton, Archbishop of St Andrew's,
who retained one-half of the rents of the abbacy to his own use. Possessing good
abilities and a lively fancy, David Beaton became a great favourite with James V ,
who, in 1519, sent him to reside as his ambassador at the court of France. He
returned to Scotland in 1525, and, still growing in the King's favour, was. in 1523
made lord privy seal.

In the year 1533, he was again sent on a mission to the French court.
Beaton on this occasion was charged to refute certain calumnies which it was
supposed the English had circulated against his countrymen, to study the preserva-
tion of the ancient league between the two nations, and to conclude a treaty of
marriage between James nnd Magdalene, the daughter of Francis I. If unsuccessful
in any of these points, he was furnished with letters which he was to deliver to
the parliament at Paris, and depart immediately for Flanders, for the purpose of
forming an alliance with the emperor. In every part of his embassy, Beaton seems
to have succeeded to the utmost extent of his wishes, the marriage excepted, which
was delayed on account of the declining state of health in which Magdalene then
was. How long Beaton remained at the French court at this time has not been
ascertained ; but it is certain that he was exceedingly agreeable to Francis, who,
perceiving his great abilities, and aware of the influence he possessed over the mind

1 08 CARDINAL BKATON.

of the Scottish King, used every expedient to attach him to the interests of France,
being afraid of the predilection of James towards his uncle, Henry VI 11., who also,
he was aware, was strengthening, by all the influence he [lossessed, his interest at
the Scottish com t.

In 153(>, tiii;li:i<r a secniul em!>:ussv also uiis icixissriii, kiiii;' JaiuL's set sail fur
France, and proceeded to the court, where lie was m(»st cordially w(dconied ;
and, unable to «leny iiis s'lit, especially <'is it was exceedingly ag^reeable to
JMa^dalene hei-self, Francis consented to their union, wliicli was (xdebrated
with great rejoicings on the 1st of January, 1537, On the iJtili of 3Iay
following, the royal pair landed in Scotland, being conveyed by a l'ren<:h
fleet. iMagdalene was received hy the Scottish nation with the utmost cor-
diality ; but she >vas already far gone in a decline, and died on the 7tli of
July following, to the inexpressible grief of the whole nation. It was on the
death of this queen that mournings were iirst worn in Scotland. James, ho\\-
ever, in expectation of this event, had fixed his attention upon 3Iary of
(Tuise, widow of the Duke of Longueville ; and IJeaton, who by this time had
returned to Scotland, was dispatched immediately to bring her over. On this
occasion he was appointed by the king of France bishop of Mirepoix, to which
see he w;is consecrated, December 5th, 1537. The following year, he was, at
the recommendation of the French king, elev.ated to the cardinalship by the
Pope, Avhich was followed by a grant on the part of the French king for services
already done and for those whicli lie might afterwai-ds do to his majesty, allowing
his heii-s to succeed Iiim to his estate in France, though the said heirs should be
born and live within the kingdom of Scotland, and though they should have no
particular letter or .act of naturalization in that country. NotAvithstanding of i\u;
'.Idigations he was thus laid under by the king of France, he returned to Scot-
land with 3Iary of tiuise, and shortly after obtained the entire management of
liie diocese and primacy of St Andrews, under his uncle James Beaton, whom he
o»'entuaIly suc^^eeded in that office.

A severe pei'secution was commenced at this liuio by the cardinal against
all who were suspected of favouring the reformed doctrines. Many were forced to
recant, and two pei*sons, Nomian Goui'lay and David Straiton, were burnt at the
liood of Greenside, near Edinburgh. The pope, as a further mark of his re-
epect, and to quicken his zeal, declared Beaton Legatus a latere : and ho,
to manifest his gi'atitude, brought to St Andrews the earls of Huntley, Arran,
i^Iarischal, and JMontrose, the lords of Fleming, Lindsay, Erskine, and Seaton,
fiavin archbishop of Glasgow (chancellor), William bishop of Aberdeen, Henry
bishop of Galloway, John bishop of Brechin, and William bishop of Dundjlane,
the abbots of Melrose Dunfermline, Lmdores, and Kinloss, with a nudtitude o
priors, deans, doctors of divinity, &c. , all of whom being assembled in the cathe-
dral church, he harangued them froiu bis chair of state on the dangers that hung
over the true catholic church from the proceedings of king Heniy in England, and
[KUticulariy from the great incre;ise of hei'esy in Scotland, where it had long been
spreading, and found encouragement even in the court of the king. As he pro-
ceeded, he denounced Sir John Borthwick, provost of Linlithgow, as one of the most
industrious incendiaries, and caused him to be cited before them for maintaining
tliiit the Pope had no great-er authority over Christians than any other bishop
or prelate — that indulgences granted by the pope were of no force or effect, bui
devised to amuse the people and deceive poor ignorant souls — that bishops,
priests, and other clergymen, may lawfully mari-y — that the heresies commonly
called the heresies of England and their new^ liturgy were to be commended by
all good Christians, and to be embraced by them — that the people of ScotIai;d
are blinded by their clergy, and profess not the true faith — that ciiurchmeii

CARDINAL BEATON. 169

ought not to enjoy any temporalities — that the king ought to convert the super-
riiious revenues of the church unto other pious uses — that the church of Scotland
might to be reformed after the same manner as that of England Avas — that the
Canon laiV was of no force, being contrary to the law of God — that the orders
ol" Iriars and monks should be abolished, as had been done in England — that he
!iad openly called the pope a Simoniac, because he had sold spiritual things —
lliat he had read heretical books and the New Testament in English, Mith treatises
written by 3Ieianchthon, (Ecolampadius, and other heretits, and that he not only
read them himself but distributed them among others — and lastly, that he openly
Jisowued the authority of the Koman see. These articles being read, and Sir
Tohn neither appearing himself nor any person for him, he was set down as a
confessed heretic, and condemned as an heresiai-ch. His goods were ordered to
be confiscated and himself burnt in effigy, if he could not be apprehended, and
all manner of persons forbidden to entertain or converse with him, under the
pain of excommunication or forfeiture. 'I'his sentence w;is passed against him
on the 2Sth of May, and executed the same day so far as was in the power of
the court, his effigy being burnt in the market place of St Andi-ews and two days
after at Edinburgh. This was supposed by many to be intended as a gratifying
spectacle to Mary of Guise, the new cjueen, who had only a short time before
arrived from France.

Sir John Eorthwick, in the meantime, being informed of these violent
proceedings, fled into England, where he was received with open ai'ms by
Henry VIII., by whom he was sent on an embassy to the protestant princes
of Germany, for the p irpose of forming with them a defensive league against
the pope. Johnston, in his Heroes of Scotland, says, that " John Borth-
wick, a noble knight, was as much esteemed by king James V. for his exem-
plar and amiable qualities, as he was detested by the order of the priesthood
on account of his true piety, for his unfeigned profession of which he was con-
demned ; and though tabsent, his eftects confiscated, and his effigy, after being
subjected to various marks of ignominy, burnt." as we have above related. " This
condemnation," Johnston adds, " he answered by a most learned apology, which
may yet be seen in the records of the mai'tyi-s, [Fox,] and having survived many
years, at last died in peace in a good old age."

While these affairs were transacted, Henry, anxious to destroy that inter-
est which the French government had so long maintained in Scotland to
the prejudice of England, sent into that kingdom the bishop of St Davids
Avith some books ^vritten in the vulgar tongue upon the doctrines of Clu-is-
tiauity, which he reroiTimeiided to his nephew carefully to peruse, and to
weigh well their contents. James, who was more addicted to his amusements,
than to the study of the doctrines and duties of Christianity, gave the boolcs
to be perused by some of his co'.u'tiers, who, being attached to the clerical
order, condemned them as heretical, and congratulated the king upon hav-
ing so fortunately escaped the contamination of his royal eyes by such pesti-
ferous A\Titings. There were, ho^vever, other matters proposed to the king
by this embassy than the books, though it was attempted by the clei-ical faction
to persuade the people that the books were all that" was intended ; for. shortly after,
the same bisliop, accompanied by William Howai'd, brother of the Duke of Nor-
folk, came to the king at Stirling so suddenly, that he was not aware of their
coming till they were announced as arrived in the town. This no doubt was
planned by Henry to prevent the intriguing of the priests and the French faction
beforehand. His offers were of a nature so advantageous, that James acceded
to them without any scruple, and readily agreed to meet with his uncle Henry
on an appointed day, when they were to settle all matters in dopendence be«

170 CARDINAL BKATON.

ween tiieiu for Uie welfare of both kingtloins. Ni tliina; could l>e more terrible
to the clergy, of wliicli liialon was now coiifrsscdly flu- head in Scotland, tluto
tlie agreement of the two kings; they saw in it notliing short of the loss of all
tli.it was dear to them, their altars, (heir revenues, and of coiirs*; llieir iulluence,
and they hastenetl to court from all (juarters to uecp over (lieir religion about to
be betr.ned by an unholy eouferencc, wliidi, beiniy impious in its purposes,
could not fail, they said, to end in the ruin of the kingdonu Having by these
repres<Mitations made a strong impression upon the hing, ^vlio was igiiorant and
superstitious, they then bribed, by the promise of large sums of money, the coiir-

/iers wl'.o had the most powerful inlhience over him, to dissuade him from th''
lourney he had promised to make into ICngland, A\hich they successfully did, and
so laid the foundation of a cjiiarrcl wiiich ended in a war, the disastrous issue of
^vhich, preying upon the mind of James, brought him to an untimely end.

In the whole of these transactions, Beaton, a zealous churchman and the hired
tool of France, was the chief actor, and knowing that the king was both cove-
tous and needy, he oven^ime his scruples, by pei'suading the clergy to promise hiiii
a yearly subsidy of thirty thousiind gold crowns, and even their wlule i'orlunes, if
this should hu Ihous^ht necessary. As he had no design, however, to be at any untif-
eessary e.xpeiise himself, nor meiintto be hurdensonie to his brethren, he pointed
out the estates of those who rebelled against the authority of the Pope and the m;i-
jesty of the king as proper subjects for confiscation , whereby there might be raised
annually the sum of one hundred thousand ci'owns of gold. In order to attain
this object, he requested that, for himself and his brethren, they might only be
alloAved to name, as they were precluded themselves from sitting in judgment in
criminal cases, a lord chief justice, before whom, were he once appointed, there
C4)u]d be neither diillculty in managing the process, nor delay in procuring judg-
ment, since so many men hesitated not to read the books of the New and fid Testa-
ments, to discuss and disown the power of the Pope, to contemn the ancient riles
of the church, and, instead of reverencing and obeying, dared to treat with deri-
sive contempt those individuals that had been consecrated to God, and whose
business it was to guide them in their spiritual concerns. This wicked counsel,
as it suited both the inclinations and the necessities of the king, was quickly
complied with, and they nominated for this new court of inquisition a judge every
way according to their own hearts, .lames Hamilton, (a natiu-al brother of the
Earl of An-an,) whom they had attac'ied to their interests by large gifts, and
who was willing to be reconiuled to the king, whom he had lately offended, by
any service, however crueL

The suspicions which the king entertained against his nobility from this
time forwartl were such as to paralyze his efforts whether for good or evil
The inroads of the English, too, occupied his whole attention, and the shame-
ful overthrow of his army which had entered England by the Scdway, threw
him into such a state of rage and distraction, that his health sunk under it,
and he died at Falkland on the 13th of December, 1512, leaving the king-
dom, torn by faction, and uttei-ly defenceless, to his only surviving legitimate
child, ?.Iary, then no more than five days old. The sudden demise of the
king, while it quashed the old projects of the Cardinal, only set him upon
forming new ones still more daring and dangerous. Formerly he had laboiu'ed
to direct the movements of the king by humouring his passions, flattering his
v.'inity, and administering to his vicious propensities. Kow, from the infancy ot
tlie successor, the death, the captivity, or the exile of the most influential part
of the nobility, and the distracted state of the nation in general, he conceived
that it would be easy for him to seize upon the government, ^vhich he might now
administer for the infant queen, solely to his own mind. Accordingly, with the

CARDINAL BEATON. 171

assistance of one lieiiry Bnlfour, a inerc«nary priest, wlidin lie subtsriied, he is
said to have forged a will for the king, in wiiidi he was himself nominated agent,
witli three of the nohility as his assessors or assistants. According to Kn<.)x, these
were Argyle, iiuntley, and Murray; but Buchanan, whom we think a very suf-
(icient authority in this case, says that he also assumed as an assessor his cousin
by the mother's side, the Jjarl of Arran, who was, after Mary, the ne\t heir to
the crown, but was believed to be poorly qualified by the humbler virtues for
discharging the duties of a private life, and still less fitted either by courage or
capacity ibr directing the government of a kingdom. A\vare of the danger that
(rtight arise from delay, the cardinal lost not a moment in idle deliberation. The
will which he had forged he caused to be proclaimed at the cross of F.dinburgh
on the Vlonday immediately succeeding the king's death.

Arran, the miambitious presumptive heir to the throne, would, had he
been left to himself, have peaceably acquiesced in tlie cardinal's arrange-
ments, for he had the approbation of the queen mother, and, by presents
and promises, had made no inconsiderable party amon;^- the nobility. But
his friends, the Hamiltons, says Buchanan, mi re anxious for their own
aggrandizement than for his honour, incessantly urged him not to let such
an occasion slip out of liis hands, for they would rather have seen tlie whole
kingdom in tlames than have been obliged to lead obscure lives in private sta-
tions. Hatred, too, to the Cardinal, who, from his persecuting and selfish
spirit, Avas very generally detested, and the disgrace of living in bondage to
a priest, procui-ed them many associates. Ihe neai* prospect \vhich AiTan now
itad oi' succeeding to the crown, ntust also have enlisted a number of the more
wary and calculating politicians upon his side. But what was of still more con-
sequence to him, Henry of England who had canued all the principal prisoners
taken in the late battle to London, marched them in triumph through that me-
tropolis, and given them in charge to his principal nobility, no sooner heard of the
death of the king than hj recalled the captives to court, entertained them in the
most friendly maimer, and having taken a promise from each of them that they
Avould promote as far as possible, without detriment to the public interests, or
disgrace to themselves, a marriage between his son and the young queen, he sent
them back to Scotland, where they an-ived on the 1st of January, 1543. Along
with the prisoners the Earl of Angus and his brother were restored to their coun-
try, after an exile of fifteen years, and all were received by the nation with the
most joyful gratulations.

It was in vain that the Cardinal had abeady taken possession of the
regency. Arran, by the advice of the Laird of Grange, called an assem-
bly of the nobility, which finding the will upon which the Cardinal had as-
assumed the regency forged, set him aside and elected Arran in his place. This
was peculiarly grateful to a great proportion of the nobles, three hundred ol
Avhom, with Ai-ran at their head, -.vere found in a proscription list among the
king's papers, furnished to him by the Cardinal Ari-an, it was well known,
was friendly to the refonuers, and his imbecility of mind being unknown, the
gi-eatest expectations were formed from tlie moderation of his character. In tlio
parliament that met in the monlh of March following, pubhc affairs put on a
nmch more promising appeax-ance than could have been expected. The king of
England, instead of an army to waste or to subjugate the country, sent an am-
bassador to negociate a marriage between tiie young queen and his son, and a
lasting peace upon tlie most advantageous tenms. The Cardinal, avIio saw in this
alliance Avith protestant England the do^vnfall of his church in Scotland, opposed
himself, witli the whole weight of the clergy at his back, and all the intluence
of the Queen-dowager, to every thing like pacific meas'.ires, and tliat with so

172 CARDINAL BEATON.

much violeiit-e, that lie was by Uie general consent of the house shut up in a
separate rliaiuhor, while the votes were talvon ; after A\hi(.h every thinj^ A\as
setlletl in the must amicalile manner, and it was agi'ee«l tliat hostages shoiiI<l
lie sent into 1 n^land tor the tulliimont of tiie stipulate*! articles.

The Cardinal in tlie meantime was committed as a jn-isoner into the hands ot
Lord Setoii, who kept him tirst in Dalkeith, afterwards in Seton, and by and
lj\e, something being bestowed on Lord Seton and the old J.aird of I.etiiington,
by way of compensation, he was suii'ored torestmie iiis o\\n castle at Nt Andrews,
in the great confusion and uncertainty in public all'airs that had prevailed for a
number of years, tr,;de had been at an entire stand, and now that a lasting peace
seemed to be established, the merchants began to bestir themselves in all «juar-
ters, and a number of vessels were sent to sea laden with the most valuable mer-
chandise. Edinburgh itself fitted out twelve, and the other towns on the eas-
tern coast in proportion to their wealth, all of thorn coasting the l^nglish shores,
and entering- their harbours with the most undoubting <:oiifidence. l!cstored
hoAvever, to liberty, the I V.rdinal, enraged at the opposition he had encountered
and writhing under the disgrace of detected fiaud, strained every nerve to break
up the arrangements that had been so happily concluded. Seconded by the
Queen-dowager, who, like him, hated the Douglasses, and ti-embled for the
established religion, any change in which would necessarily involve a rupture of
the ancient ti-eaty with France, he convoked, at St Andreus, soon after his re-
turn to that place, an assembly of the clergy, to detenninc upon a certain sum
of money to be given by them in case their measures for the preservation of the
catholic church should involve the country in a war with England. The whole
of the bishops not being present, the meeting was adjourned to the month of
June ; but the Cardinal had the address to prevail on those that were present
to give all their own money, their silver plate, and the plate belonging to their
churches, for the niaintainance of such a war, besides engaging to enter them-
selves into the army as volunteers, should such a measure be thought necessary.

Aided by this money, with which he wrought upon the avarice and the poverty
of the nobles and excited the clamours of the vulgar, who hated the very name
of ail English alliance, the Cuidinal soon foiiiid himself at the head of a for-
midable party, which treated the English ambassador with the greatest haughti-
ness, in the hope of forcing him out of the country before the arrival of the day
stipulated by the treaty with the regent for the delivery of the hostages. 'J'he
ambassador, however, braved evei'y insult till the day arrived, when he waited on
the regent, and complained in strong tenns of the manner in which be had been
used, and the affronts that had been put, not upon himself only, but upon his
master, in contempt of the law of nature and of nations, but at the same time
demanded the fulfihuent of the treaty and the immediate delivery of the hosta<>es
that had been agreed upon. With respect to the afli-onts complained of, the re-
gent apologised, stating them to have been committed without his knowledge, and
he promised to make strict enquiry after, and to punish the offenders. With
regard to the hostages, however, he was obliged to cor.fess, that, through the in-
trigues of the Cardinal, it was impossible for him to fui-nish them. The treats
being thus broken off, the noblemen who had been captives only a few months
before, ought, according to agi-eement, to have gone back into England bavins
left hostages to that effect. Wrought upon, however, by the Cardinal and the
clergy, they refused to redeem the faith they had pledged, and abandoned the
friends they had left behind them to their fate. The only exception to this base-
ness was the Earl of Cassilis, who had left two brothers as hostages. Henry
was so much pleased with this solitai-y instance of good faith, that he set him
free along with his brothers, and sent him Iiome loaded with gifts. He at the

CARDINAL BEATON. 17^

same time seized upon all the Scottish vessels, a great number of which had been
lately fitted out, as we have stated, and were at this time in the English harbours
and road-steads, confiscated the merchandise, and made the merchants and the
mariners prisoners of ^var. This, while it added to the domestic miseries of
Scotland, served also to fan the dames of dissension, which burned more fiercely
than ever. The faction of the Cardinal and the Queen-dowager, entirely de-
voted to France, now sent ambassadors thither to state tlieir case as utterly des-
perate, unless they were supported from that country. In particular, they re-
quested that 3Iatthew Earl of Lennox might be ordered home, in order that they
miglit set him up as a rival to the Hamiltons, who were ah-eady the objects of
his hatred, on account of their having waylaid and killed his father at Linlithgow.
Arran laboured to strengthen his party in the best manner he could ; and for
this end resolved to possess himself of the infant Queen, who had hithei-to re-
mained at Linlithgow in the charge of her mother the Queen-dowager. The
Cardinal, however, was too wary to be thus circumvented, and assembling his
faction, took possession of Linlithgow, \\liere he lived at free quarters upon the
inhabitants, on pretence of being a guard to the Queen. Lennox, in the mean-
time, arrived from France, and was received by the regent with great kindness,
each of them dissembling the hatred he bore to the other, and having informed
his friends of the expectations he had been led to form he proceeded to join the
Queen at Linlithgow, accompanied by upwards of four thousand men. Arran,
who had assembled all his friends in and about Edinburgh for the purpose of
breaking through to the Queen, now found himself completely in the back
ground, having, by the imbecility of his character, entirely lost the confidence
of the people, and being threatened Avith a law-suit by the friends of Lennox to
deprive him of his estates, his father having maiTied his mother, Janet Beaton,
an aunt of the Cardinal, while his first wife, whom he had divorced, was still
alive. He now thought of nothing but making his peace with the Cardinal. To
this the Cardinal ^vas not at all averse, as he wished to make Arran his tool ra-
ther than to crush him entirely. Delegates of course were appointed by both
parties, who met at Kirkliston, a village about midway betvi^eeu Edinburgh and
Linlithgow, and agreed that the Queen should be carried to Stirling; the Earl of
Montrose, with the Lords Erskine, Lindsay, and Livingstone, being nominated to
take the superintendence of her education. Having been put in possession of the
iidant Queen, these noblemen proceeded with her direct to Stirling Castle,
whore she was solemnly inaugurated with the usual ceremonies on the 9th of Sept,
1513. The I'eeble regent soon followed, and before the Queen-mother and the
principal nobility in the church of the Franciscans at Stirling, solemnly abjured
the protestant doctrines, by the profession of which alone he had obtained the
favour of so large a portion of the nation, and for the protection of which he
had been especially called to the i-egency. In this manner the Cardinal, through
the cowardice of the regent, and the avarice of his friends, obtained all that he
intended by the forged will, and enjoyed all the advantages of ruling, while all
the odium that attended it attached to the imbecile Arran, who was now as much
hated and despised by his own party as he had fonnerly been venerated by them.
There was yet, however, one thing wanting to establish the power of the Cardi-
nal — the dismissal of Lennox, who, though he had been greatly useful to them
in humbling Arran, was now a serious obstacle in the way of both the Cardinal
and the Queen-mother, lliey accordingly wrote to the king of France, entreat-
ing that, as Scotland had been restored to tranquillity by his liberality and assis-
tance, he would secure his own good work and preserve tlie peace Avhich he
had procured, by recalling Lennox, without which it was impossible it could
be lasting'.

17-i CARDINAL BEATON.

Tlioujjli they were thus seci-ctly labouring to tiiuh'niiinc this nobleman, the
t^iicen-iiiother and the ' anlinal siuiuod to study nothing so much as iio>v (hey
mijilit j)tit liononr ujxni him Imforc liie jioojde, and in the most etliM'.tive manner
contrilintc to his comlort. I'y a constant succession of names and Icstivals, the
court juisentod one nnltroken scene of paiely and pleasure. Day after day was
sjient in tournaments, and ni;;lit after nii^ht in masijnerades. In lhes{r feslivtics,
of ivhich he w.is naturally fond, I.ennox found a keen riv.il in .lames Hepburn,
I'.'arl of liothwcll, uho had been banished by .lames V., l.ut had returned aftei
his dece.Tse, and was now labouring to obtain the Queen-dowaiicr in marriane
by the same ai-ts that Lennox fancied himself to be so successfully emijloyin-j.
IJoth these noblemen were remarkable for natural endowments, and in the gills
of fortune they were nearly upon a leveL Findin^^ himself inferior, however,
in the sportive strife of arms, Hothw ell withdrew from the court in ^•ha^rin, leav-
ing- the Held to his rival undisputed. Leiniox, now fancying- tliat lie liad no-
lliinsf more to do tlian to reap the harvest of fair promises that had been so
liberally held forth to him, pressed his suit upon the Queen, but learned with
astonishment that she had no intention of takinj;: hiui for a husl)and, and so far
from granting- him the regency, she had agreed with the ( ardinal to preserve it
in the possession of his mortal enemy Arran, whom they expected to be a more
]>liant tool to serve their own personal views and purposes. Exasperated to the
lii<;liest degi'oe, Lennox swore to be amply reveiu^ed, but uncertain as yet Mbat
plan to pursue, departed tor Dunbarton, where he was in the midst of bis vassals
and fiiends. Here he received thnty thousand crowns, sent to increase the
sinngth of his party by the king of France, who had not yet been iiii<n-iued oi inc
real state of Scotland. IJeing ordered to consult with the Queen-dowager and the
(anlinal in the distribution of this money, Lennox divided part of it among his
friends, and part he sent to the Queen, The Cardinal, who had expected to
have been intrusted with the greatest share of the money, under the influence of
rage and disappointment, ])ers-aaded the vacillating regent to raisj an army and
march to Glasgow, where he might seize upon Lennox and the money at the
same time. Lennox, however, warned of their intentions, raised on the instant
among- his vassals and friends upwards of ten thousand men, with which he
mai-ched to Leith, and sent a message to the Cardinal at Edinburgh, that he de-
sired to save him the trouble of coming to fight him at Gkisgow, and would give
him that pleasure any day in the fields between Kdinburgh and Leith.

This was a new and unexpected mortification to tlie Cardinal, who, having gained
the regent, imagined he should have gained the whole party that adhered to him ;
but the fact was, he had gained only the regent and his immediate dependants
the great body of the people, who had originally given hiivi weiglit and influence
being now so thoroughly disgusted with his conduct, that they had joined the
standard, and now s.vellcd the ranks of his rival. Tlie Cardinal, however
though professing the utmost willingness to accept the challenge, delayed comin"-
to action from day to day under various pretexts, but in reality that he might
have time to sedu(;e the adherents of his rival, and v.eary out the patience of his
followers, who, without i>ay and without magazines, he was well aware could not
be kept for any length of time together. Lennox, finding the war thus
protracted, and himself so completely unfurnished for undertaking a siege,
at the urgent entreaty of his friends, who for the m ;st part had provided se-
cretly for themselves, made an agreement with the regent, and, proceeding to
Edinburgh, the two visited backwards and forwards, as if all their ancient ani-
mosity had been forgotten, Lennox, ho\vever, being advised of treacheiy, vnth-
drew in the night secretly to Glasgow, where he fortified, provisioned, and gan-i-
soned the Bishop's castle, but retired himself to Dunbarton, Here he learned

CAKDINAL BEATON. 175

(hat the Douglasses had agreed with the Haniiltor.s, and that, through the influ-
ence of his enemies, the French king Avas totally estranged from him. Archibald
Douglas Earl of Angus, and Robert Maxwell, in the meantime, came to (alasgow
with the view of mediating between Lennox and the Kegent, The Regent,
however seized them both in a clandestine manner by the Avay, and made them
close prisoners in the castle of Cadzow. ^Vhile the two factions were thus
harassing one anrther to the ruin of their common country, Henry was demand-
inn- by letters satisiaction for the breach of treaties and the insults that had been
h-eaped upon him in the person of his late ambassador. No notice being taken
of these letters, Fenry ordered a large armament, which he had prepared to send
asainst the coast of France, to proceed directly to Leith, and to visit Edinburgh
and tlie adjacent country with all the mioencs oi war; and with so much secrecy
and celerity did this annament proceed, that the first tidings heard of it in Scot-
land was its appeai'ance in Leith roads. Ten thousand men were disembai'ked on
the 4th P'lay, 1544, a little above Leith, who took possession of that place with-
out the sniallest opposition, the inhabitants being mostly Jibroad in the prosecu-
tion of their business. The Regent and the Cardinal were both at the time in
Edinbin-gh, and, panic-stricken at the appearance of the enemy, and still more at
the hatred of the citizens, fled with the utmost precipitation towards Stirling.
The English, in the meantime, having landed their baggage and artillery, march-
ed in order of battle towards Edinburgh, which they sacked and set on fire ; then
dispersing themselves over tlie neighbouring countiy, they burnt towns, viUages,
and gentlemen's seats to the ground, and returning by Edinburgh to Leith, em-
barked aboard their ships and set sail with a fair wind, caiTying with them an
immense booty, and with the loss on their part of only a few individuals.

The Cardinal and his puppet the Regent, in the meantime, raised a small
body of forces in the north, with which, finding the English gone, they marched
against Lennox in the west, and laid siege to the castle of Glasgow, which they
battered with brass cannon for a number of days. A truce was at last concluded for
one day, during wliich thegaiTison were tampered with, and, on a promise of safety,
surrendered. They were, however, put to death, with the exception of one or
two individuals. Lennox, now totally deserted by the French, and unable to
cope with the Cardinal, had no resource but to fly into England, where, through
the medium of his friends, he had been assured of a cordial reception. Eefore
leaving the counti*y, hoAvever, he was determined to inflict signal vengeance upon
the Han;iltons. Having communicated with William Earl of Glencaim upon the
subject, a day was appointed on which they should assemble with their vassals
at (ilasgow, whence th.ey might make an irruption into the territory of the Ham-
iltons, A'.hich lay in the inunediate neighbourhood. The Regent, informed ot
this design, with the advice of the Cardinal, resolved to pre-occupy Glasgow.
Glencairn, however, did not ^\nh the appointed day, but was already in the town,
and learning the approach of the Eaniiltons marched out to give them battle,
aided by the citizens, who do not appear to have been friendly to the Regent.
The battle was stoutly contested, and for some time the Hamiltons seensed to
liave the worst of it. In tl;a end, however, they gained a complete victory, the
greater part of the Cuninghan.es being slain, and among the rest two of tin
Earl's sons. Nor Mas it a bloodless victory to the L'amiltons, several of their
chieftains being slain ; but the severest loss fell upon the citizens of Glasgow,
whose houses were cruelly plundered, and even their dooi-s and window shutters
destroyed. The friends of Lennox refused to risk another engagement, but they
insisted that he should keep the impregnable fortress of Dumbarton, where he
might in safety await another revolution in the state of parties, which they prog-
nosticated would take place in a vei-y short time. Nothing, however, could di-

17G CARDINAL BEATON.

verl liiiii iVoiii liis ]>iir|»(isft ; nnd, roniiiiittintr tlie c.Ii.irne of llie cistle of Diimbar-
ton to (ieorije Slirliiii;, lie saik'd lor liii^laiMl, ^licrd li(« was lioiiourably eiilel--
tained by kiii^ lieiiry. ulio s(>ttlo<l a ])<'iisi(>ii iijioii biiii, and ><;:ivv. biin to w'lie
liis niece, ^lariiaret l)oUi;las, a juincvss in ibe llouer of her aye, and reiebrated
lor every arromplisbnient Itotoniinj; llie leinab! rliaracler. 'i lie tjiieen-dowajjer,
aware tlial Ibc laclion Lennox lia<l llius left without a h-ader eould not be Ijroiijjht
to submit to Arran, \\ln)se le^ity and ind»erility of ehara«ter they were now per-
leetly a((|uainted witii, nor to the Cardinal, whose cruelty they Itolli hated and
I'eared, and dreadin;j^ they niifrlit break out into some more desperate insurrec-
tion, condescended to soothe them and to take them under lurr particular prot<'c-
tion. Arran was delijihted to be delivered from such a fonnidaitk! rival upon
any terms ; and in the next parliament, which met at Linlilhi^oH, he succeeded
in causinj;- Lennox to be declared a traitor, and in Ihuinij his estates and those
of his friends confiscated, by which be realized considerable sinus of monev.

The J']nglish, durin<>- these domestic broils, made a fin-ious inroad into Scotland,
burned Jedburgh andKelso, and Laid waste the whole circiinijaceni country. Thence?
proceeding to Coldingham, they fortified the church and the churcb tower, in
which they placed a garrison on retiring to their own country. This garrison,
from the love of plunder as well as to prevent supplies for a. besieging aniiy,
wasted the neighbouring district to a wide extent. Turning tbeir attention at
last to general interests, the Scottish government, at the head of wliicli was the Car-
dinal, the Queen-dowager, and the nominal L'egent Arran, issued a proclamation
for the nobles and the more respectable of the connuons to assemble armed, and with
provisions for eight days, to attend the Regent. Eigbt thousand men were speed-
ily assembled, and though it was the depth of winter, they ])i-oceeded against
the church and tower of Coldingham wilhout delay. When they had been be-
fore tlie place only one day and one night, the Hegent, informed tliat the Eng-
lish were advancing from Berwick, took horse, and Avitli a few attendants
galloped in tbe utmost baste to Dunbar. This inexplicable conduct threw
the Avhole army into confusion, and, but for tbe bravery of one man, Archi-
bald Douglas I'^nrl of Angus, the whole of their tents, baggage, and artillei^y
would have been abandoned to the enemy. But aUhough Angus and a few of
his friends, at the imminent hazard of their lives, saved the artillery and brought
it in safely to Dunbar, the conduct of the army in general, and of the Kegent in
particular, was pusillanimous in the extreme. The spirit of the nation sunk ai:d
the courage of the enemy rose in proportion. Ralph Ivers, and Brian I.atoun, the
English commanders, overran, without meeting with any opposition, the districts
of 3Iei-se, Teviotdale, and Lauderdale, and the Forth only seemed to limit their
victorious amis. Angus, who alone of all the Scottish nobility at this time gave
any indication of public spirit, indignant at the nation's disgrace and deeply af-
fected with his own losses, for he had extensive estates both in Merse and Teviot-
dale, made a vehement representation to the Regent upon the folly of his conduct
in allowing himself to be the dupe of an ambitious but cowardly priest, who, like
the rest of his brethren, miwarlike abroad, was seditious at home, and, exempt from
danger, wislied only the power of wasting the fruit of olhcr men's labours upon
his own voluptuousness. xMways feeble and always vacillating, the Regent was
roused by these remonstrances to a momentai-y exertion. An order was issued
through the neighbouring counties for all the nobles to attend him, wherever he
should be, without loss of time, and in company with Angus, he set out the
Very next day for the borders, their whole retinue not exceeding three hundred
liorse. An'ived at Melrose, they determined to wait for their reinforcements,
having yet been joined only by a few individuals from the Merse. The English,
who were at Jedbui'gh, to the immber ot five thousand men, having by their

CARDINAX BEATON. 177

scouts ascertained the situation and small nunibei- of their forces, marched on the
instant to surprise them, before their expected supplies should come up. The
Scots, hoMever, apprized of their intentions, withdrew to the neighbouring hills,
•whence, in perfect security, they watched the movements of their enemies, who,
disappointed in not iinding them, wandered about during the night in quest of
such spoils as a lately ravaged town could supply, and with the returning dawn
marched back to Jedburgh. The Scots now joined by Norman Lesly, a youth of
great promise, son to the Earl of Rothes, and three hundred men from Fife, with-
drew to the hills which overlook the village of Ancrum, where they were joined
by the Laird of Balcleuch, an active and experienced connnander, with a few of
his vassals, who assured him that the remainder would follow immediately. By
the advice of Balcleugh, the troops ^\ere dismounted, and the horses under the
care of servants sent to an adjoining hill. The army Avas formed in the hollow
in the order of battle. The English, as had been anticipated, seeing the horses
going over the hill, supposed the Scots to be in full retreat, and eager to prevent
their escape, rushed after them, and ere they Mere aware, fell upon the Scottish
spears. Taken by surprise, the English troops, though they fought Avith great
bravery, were thro\vn into disorder, and sustained a signal defeat, losing in killed
and captured upwards of thirteen hundred men. The loss on the part of the
Scots was two men killed and a few wounded.

In consequence of this victory, the Scots were freed from the incui-sions of the
English for the ensuing summer ; but it was principally improved by the Regent,
M-ith the advice of the Cardinal, for drawing closer the cords of connexion with
France. An ambassador was inunediately despatched to that country with the
tidings — to report in strong terms the treachery of Lennox, and to request re-
inforcements of men and money. These could not at this time indeed well be
spared, as an immediate descent of the Enghsh was expected ; yet, in the hopes
of somewhat distracting the measures of Henry, an auxiliary force of three thou-
■■aiui foot and five hundred hoise was ordered, under the coniniiind of James Mont-
gomery of Largo, who was also empowex-ed to inquire into the differences between
Lennox and the Regent and Cardinal. Montgomery arrived in Scotland on the
3d day of July, 1545, and having exhibited his commission, and explained the
purposes of his master, the king of France, to the Scottish council, they were
induced to issue an order for an army of the better class, who might be able to
support the expenses of a campaign, to assemble on an early day. This ordei
A\as punctually complied Avith, and on the day appointed, fifteen thousand Scots-
men assembled at Haddington, who were marched directly to the English bor-
der, and encamped in the neighbourhood of Werk castle. From this camp, they
carried on their incursions into the neighbouring country for about a day's
iourney, carrying off every thing that they could lay hold of. Having wasted
in the course of ten days the country that lay within their reach, and being des-
titute of artillery for carrying on sieges, the army disbanded, and every man
A'.ent to his own home. Montgomery repaired to court, to inquire into the dis-
putes with Lennox ; the English, in the meantime, by Avay of reprisals, wasting
the Scottish borders in every quarter. IMontgomery, in the beginning of winter,
returned home, leaving the Cardinal, though he blamed him as the sole author
of the dissentions betAveen Lennox and the Regent, in the full possession of all
liis authority.

Beaton noAV supposed himself fully established in the civil as well as the ec-
clesiastic management of the kingdom, and proceeded on a progi-ess through
the different proA'inces for the purpose of quieting the seditions, Avhich, as he
alleged, had arisen in various places, but in reality to repress the protestants,
Avlio, notwithstanding his having so artfully identified tlie cause of tiie catholic

178 CARDINAL BEATON.

roli^jiun with that of n.itionnl tVclinff, Ii.-ul still Itecn rapidly increasiiifj. Carry-
ing his piipjK't Arrau aloiisr «itli him, ns also the l-arl of Ar^'\L>, Lord Jiistice-
(jeneral, Lonl Uortlnvick, the Hishops of Orkney an»l IJiinhlanc, &(:. lie cane
to I'erth, or, as it wns then more commonly called, I't Johnston, \\here several
persons were summontd before hiin for disputing upon the sense of the Scriptures,
whicli, amonij; all true catholics, was a crime to ho punished hy the jud'je. Four
indiappy men, accused of having eaten a goose upon ;i Iriday, «ere condemned
to he hanged, which rigorous sentence was put into execution. A woman,
Helen iStarii, for having refused to call upon the Virgin for assistance in her
lahour, was dKOwned, although again pregnant. A nuiuLer of the burgesses of
the city, convicted or suspected (for in those days they were the same thing) of
smaller jieccadillocs, were banished from the city. He also deposed the Lord
Kuthven from the provostry of the city, for being somewhat attached to the new
opinions, and bestowed the olTice upon the Laird of Kinfauns, a relation to the
lord Gniy, who was noither supposed to be averse to the new religion, nor
friendly to the Cardinal; but he hoj)ed by this arr.ingenient to lay a founda-
tion for a quarrel between these noblemen, by which at least one of them would
be cut off'. This act of tyranny, by which the citizens were deprived of their
privilege of choosing their own governor, was highly resented by them, r.s well
as by the Lord Ruthven, whose family had held the place so long that tliey al-
most considered it to be liereditary in their family. The new provost Kinfauns
was urged by the Cartlinal and his advisers to seize upon the government of the
city by force, but the Lord Ruthven, with the assistance of the citizens, put him
to the route, and slew sixty of his followers. That Ruthven A\as victorious must
have been a little mortifying to the Cardinal ; but as the victims were enemies
of the church, the defeat was the less to be lamented.

From St Johnston the Cardinal proceeded to Dundee, in order to bring to punish-
ment the readers of the New Testament, which about this time began to be taught to
them in the original Greek, of which the Scottish priesthood knew so little that they
held it forth as a new book written in a new language, invented by 3IaFtin Luther,
and of such pernicious qualities that, whoever had tlie misfortune to look into it be-
came infallibly tainted with deadly heresy. Here, however, their prc-ceedings
were interrupted by the approach of Lord Patrick Gray and the Earl of Rothes.
These noblemen being both friendly to the Reformation, the Cardinal durst not
admit them with their followers into a town that was notorious for attachment to
that cause above all the cities of the kingdom ; he therefore sent the Regent back
to Perth, whither he himself also accompanied him. Even in Perth, however,
he durst not meet them openly, and the Regent requiring them to enter sep.i-
r.itely, they complied, and were both committed to prison. Rothes was soon
dismissed, but Gray, whom the Cardinal was chielly afraid of, i-emained in con-
finement a considerable time. The Cardinal having gone over as nuich of
Angus as he foiuid convenient at the time, returned to St Andrews, carrying
along with him a black friar named John Rogers, who had been preaching the
reformed doctrine in Angus. This individual he committed to the sea-tower of
St Andrews, where, it is alleged, he caused him to be privately murdered and
thrown over the wall, giving out that he had attempted to escape over it, and
in the attempt fell and broke his neck. He also broJight along with him the
Regent xVn-an, of whom, though he held his son as a hostage, he was not Avith-
out doubts, especially when he reflected upon the inconstancy of his character,
the native fierceness of the nobility, and the number of them that were still un-
friendly to his own measures. He therefore entertained him, for twenty davs
together, with all manner of shows and splendid entertainments, made him
many presents, and, promising him many more, set out with him to Edinburgh,

CARDINAL BEATON. 179

where lie convened an assembly of the clergy to devise means for putting a stop
to the disorders that were so heavily complained of, and which threatened the
total ruin of the church. In this meeting it was proposed to alky the public
clamours by taking measures for reforming the open profligacy of the priests,
which was the chief source of complaint. Their deliberations, however, Avere
cut short by intelligence that George Wishart, the most enunent preacher of the
reformed docti-ines of his day, was residing with Cockburn of Ormiston, only about
seven miles from Edinburgh. Tliey calculated that, if they could cut off this
individual, tliey should perform an action more serviceable to the cause of the
ciinrch, and also one of much easier accomplishment, than refoi-ming tlie lives
uf the priests. A troop of horse were immediately sent off to secure him ; but
Cockburn, refusing to deliver him, the Cardinal himself and the Regent fol-
lowed, blocldng up every avenue to the house, so as to render the escape of the
reformer impossible. To prevent the effusion of blood, however, the Earl of
liothvvell was sent for, who pledged his faith to Cockburn, tliat he would stand
by Wishart, and that no harm should befall him ; upon which he was peaceably
surrendered. Bothwell, however, wTOught upon by the Cardinal, and especially
by the Queen-mother, with whom, Knox observes, " he \vas then in the glan-
ders," after some shutHing to save appearances, delivered his prisoner up to the
Cardinal, who imprisoned him, first in the Castle of Edinburgh, and soon after
can-ied him to St Andrews, Avhere he was brought before tlie ecclesiastical tri-
bunal, condemned for heresy, and most cruelly put to death, as the reader will
find related in another part of this work, under the article Wishart. Wishart
was a man mighty in the Scriptures, and few even of the martyrs have displayed
more of the meekness and humihty that ought to characterize the follower of
Jesus Christ ; but his knowledge of the Scriptures availed him nothing, and the
meek graces of his character, like oil thrown upon flame, only heightened the
rage and inflamed the fury of his persecutors. An-an, pressed by his friends,
and perliaps by his own conscience, wrote to the Cardinal to stay the proceed-
ings till he should have time to inquire into the matter, and threatened him with
the guilt of innocent blood. But the warning was in vain, and the innocent
victim was only the more rapidly hm-ried to his end for fear of a rescue.

This act of tyranny and murder was extolled by the clergy and their dependants
as highly glorifying to God and honourable to the actor, who Avas now regarded
bv them as one of the prime pillars of heaven, under Avhose auspices the most
glorious days mi^ht be expected. The people in general felt far otherwise,
and, in-itated i-ather than terrified, regarded the Cardinal as a monster of cruel-
ty and lust, whom it would be a meritorious action to destroy. Beaton was not
i<>-norant of the hatred and contempt in which he was held, ncr of the devices
that were foi-ming against him ; but he supposed his power to be now so firmly
establislied as to be beyond ihe reach of faction, and he was determined by the
most prompt and decisive measui-es to be before-hand with his enemies. In the
uK'an time, he thought it prudent to strengthen his interest, which was already
great, by giving his daughter in man-iage to the Master of Crawford. For this
purpose he proceeded to Angus, where the mai-riage was celebrated with almost
royal splendour, the bride receiving from her father the Cardinal, no less than
four thousand marks of doAU'y. From these festivities he was suddenly recalled
by intelligence that Henry of England was collecting a gTcat naval force, with
which he intended to annoy Scotland, and especially the coast of Fife. To
provide against such an exigency, the Cardinal summoned the nobility to attend
nim in a tour round the coast, where he ordered fortifications to be made, and
garrisons placed in the most advantageous positions. In this tour he was at-
tended by the Master of Rothes, Norman Leslie, who had formerly been one of

180 CARDINAL BEATON.

his friends, but had of late, from soiiio private i,m>'<1i;<', he(;onie cold towards
him. Some ahcicat ion of course ensued, and tliey parted in mortal enmity;
tlie Cardinal determined secretly to take o(V, <»r to imprison Norman, with his
friends the liairds of (iransre, elder and yoimsfer, hir .lames I.earmont, provost
of St Andrews, and the Laird of l{aith, all uhon» he feared, and Norman re-
solved to slay the Canliiial, he the consequences what they would.

The Cardinal was in the meantime in p-eat liasle to repair and strenj^then his
castle, upon which a large nimilier of men were employed almost niirht and day.
Tile conspirators havinjj l<id<red themselves secretly in St Andrews on the niffht< f
May the twenty-eighth, I 5 Ki, were, ere the dawn of the next mornin^r, assembled to
the nmnber often or twelve pei-sons in the neii;hbourhuod of the c.istle, and the
gates being opened to let in the workmen Avith their building materials, Kircaldy
of Grange entered, and with him six persons, who held a parley with the porter.
Noi-man Leslie and his company having then entered, passed to the middle of
the court Lastly came .Tohn Leslie and four men with him, at whose appear-
ance the porter, suspecting some design, attempted to lift the dra\vbridge, but
was prevented by Leslie, who leaped upon it, seized the keys, and threw the
janitor himself headlong into the ditch. The place thus secured, the workmen,
to the number of .i hundred, ran oft* the walls, and were put forth at the w icket
gate unhurt. liircaldy then took charge of the privy postem, the others going
through the dift'erent chambers, from which they ejected upwards of fifty persons,
who were quietly permitted to escape. The Cardinal, roused from his morning
shnnbers by the noise, threw up his window and asked what it meant. J?eing
nnswex-cd that Norman Leslie had taken his castle, he ran to the postern, but,
finding it secured, returned to his chamber, drew his two-handed sword, and
ordered his chamberlain to ban-irade the dnor. In the meantime, .lohn Jveslie
demanded admittance, but did not gain it till a chimneyful of burning coals
was brought to burn the door, when the Cardinal or his chamberlain (it is not
known which) threw it open. Beaton, who had in the mean time hidden a box
of gold under some coals in a corner of the room, now sat down in a chair, cry-
ing, " I am a priest, I am a priest; you will not slay me." But he was now in
the hands of men to whom his pi'iestly character was no recommendation. John
I/eslie, according to his vow, struck him twice with his dagger, and so did Peter
Cai-michael ; but James IVIelville, perceiving them to be in a passion, withdrew
them, saying, " Tliis Avork and judg-ment of God, although it be secret, ought to
be gone about with gTavity." Then admonishing the Cardinal of his wicked
life, particularly his shedding the blood of that eminent preacher, Mr George
Wishart, Melville struck him thrice through with a stag sword, and he fell,
exclaiming, " P'ie, fie, I am a priest, all's gone!" Before this time the inhabitants
of St Andrews were apprized of what was going on, and began to throng around
the castle, exclaiming, " Have ye slain my Lord Cardinal ? What have ye done
with my Lord Cardinal ?"' As they refused to depait till they saw him, liis dead
body was slung out by the assassins at the same window from which he had but
a short time before witnessed the burning of Mr George AVishart. Having no
opportunity to bury the body, they afterwards salted it, wrapped it in lead, and
consigned it to the ground floor of the sea tower, the very place where he was
said to have caused Rogers the preaching friai- to be murdered.

In this manner fell Cardinal Uavid Beaton, in the height of prosperity, and
in the prime of life, for he had only reached the fifty-second year of his age.
His death was deeply lamented by his own party, to whom it proved an irrepa-
rable loss, and the authors of it were regarded by them as sacrilegious assassins,
but by numbers, who, on account of difference in religion, were in dread ol
their lives fron) his cruelty, and by others who Avere disgusted by his insufferable

CARDINAL BEATOX. 181

ari-ogance, they were regarded as the restorers of their country's liberties, and
uiauy did not hesitate to hazard their lives and fortunes along- with them. What-
ever opinion may be fonned regarding the manner of his death, there can be
only one regai-ding its effects ; the Protestant faith, which had quailed before
liis persecuting arm, from this moment began to prosper in the land. It is probable,
as his enemies alone have been his historians, that the traits of his character, and
even the tone and bearing of many of his actions, have been to some degree exag.
gerated; yet there seems abundant proof of his sensuality, bis cruelty, and bis total
disregard of principle in his exertions for the preservation of the Romish faith.
Nothing, on the other hand, but that barbarism of the times, w^hich characterizes all
Beaton's policy, as well as his actions, could extenuate the foul deed by which he
was removed from the world, or the unseemly sympathy which the reforming party
in general manifested towards its perpetrators. As a favourable view of bis charac-
ter, and at the same time a fine specimen of old English composition, we extract the
following from the supplement to Dempster : —

" It frequently happens that the same great qualities of mind which enable a
man to distinguish himself by the splendour of his virtues, are so overstrained
or corrupted as to render him no less notorious for his vices. Of this we have
many instances in ancient writers, but none by which it is more clearly displayed
than in the character of the Cardinal Archbishop of St Andrews, David Beaton,
who, from his vei-y childhood, Avas extremely remarkable, and whose violent death
had this in it singular, that his enemies knew no way to remove him from his
absolute authority but that [of assassination]. When he was but ten years of
age, he spoke with so much ease and gravity, with so nuich good sense, and
freedom from affectation, as surprised all who heard him. When he was little
more than twenty, he became known to the Dulte of Albany, and to the court
of France, where he transacted affiiirs of the gi-eatest importance, at an age
when others begin to become acquainted with them only in books. Before he
was thirty, he had merited the confidence of the Regent, the attention of the
Fi-ench King, and the favour of his master, so that they were all suitors to the
court of Rome in his behalf. He was soon after made Lord Privy-Seal, and
appointed by act of parliament to attend the young king, at his majesty's own
desire. Before he attained the forty-fifth year of his age, he was Bishop of
Mirepoix in France, Cardinal of the Roman Church, Archbishop of St Andrews,
and Primate of Scotland, to which high dignities he added, before he was fifty,
those of Lord High Chancelloi-, and legate a latere. His behaviour was so
taking, that he never addicted himself to the service of any prince or person,
but he absolutely obtained their confidence, and this power he had over the
minds of othei's, he managed v.ith so much discretion, that his interest never
weakened or decayed. He was the favourite of the Regent, Duke of Albany,
and of his pupil James V. as long as they lived ; and the French king and the
governor of Scotland equally regretted his loss. He was indefatigable in busi-
ness, and yet managed it with great ease. He understood the interests of the
courts of Rome, France, and Scotland, better than any man of his time, and he
was perfectly acquainted with the temper, influence, and weight of all the nobi-
lity in his own country. In time of danger, he showed great prudence and
steadiness of mind, and in his highest prosperity, discovered nothing of vanity
or giddiness. He was a zealous churchman, and thought severity the only wea-
pon that could combat heresy. He loved to live magnificently, though not pro-
fusely, for at the time of his death he was rich, and yet had provided plentifidly
for his family. But his vices were many, and his vices scandalous. He quar-
relled with the old Archbishop of Glasgow in his o^vn city, and pushed this
ouarrel so far that their men fought in the very churcli- His ambition was

182 JAMES liEATON.

boundless, for he took into Ms hands the entire manas^eineiit of the afTairs of the
kin!>d()iii, civil and ecclesiastical, and treated the English anihassador as if he
had been a sovereign j)riiice. He made no 8rrin)lc of sowing discord miiong his
enemies, that he might reap security from ihcir disputes. His jealousy of the
governor [An-an] was such, that he kejjt his eldest son as a hostage in his house,
under pretence of taking care of his ed-.ication. In point of chastity he was
roi7 deficient; for, though we should sot aside as calumnies many of those things
»vliirh his enemies have reported of his intrigues, yet the posterity he left be-
hi;;d him plainly proves iliat he violated those vows to gratify his passions,
which he obliged othci-s to hold sacred on the penally of their lives. In a word,
bad Ms probity been equal to bis parts, bad bis virtui-s come up to bis abilities, bia
end had been less fatal, and bis meuniiy \\ilbout blemish. As it is, we «»ught to
consider him as an eminent instance of the frailty of the brightest human facul-
ties, and the instaliility of what the world calls tortune."

He «Tote, according to Dempster, " 31emoii-s of his own Embassies," " A Trea-
tise of Peter's Primacy," and " Letters to several Persons."

BEATON, .Tamks, uncle to the preceding, and himself an eminent prelate and
Bt;itesman, was a younger son of John P.eaton of Pialfour, in Fife, and of 3Iary
P)Oswell, daughter of the Laird of Balmouto. Having been cduc^atcd for the
church, he became, in 1503, provost of the collegiate church of PothAvell, by
the favour, it has been almost necessarily supposed, of the house of Douglas, who
were patrons of the establishment. His promotion was very rapid. In 1 504,
he was made Abbot of the rich and important abbacy of Dunfermline, which
had previously been held by a brother of the king; and in 1 505, on the death
of his uncle. Sir David Beaton, who had hitherto been his chief patron, he re-
ceived his office of High Treasurer, and became, of course, one of tlie principal
ministers of state. On the death of Vans, Bishop of Galloway, in 1508, .lames
Beaton was placed in that see, and next year be was translated to the arcbi-
episcopate of Ghisgovv. He now resigtud the Treasurer's staif, in order tbat be
might devote himself entirely to his duties as a churchman. While Archbishop
of Glasgow, he busied himself in Avhat were then considered the most pious and
virtuous of offices, namely, founding new altarages in the cathedral, and im-
proving the accommodations of the episcopal palace. He also entitled himself
to more lasting and rational praise, by such public acts as the building and re-
pairing of bridges within the regality of Glasgow. Upon all the buildings,
both sacred and profane, erected by him, Avere carefully blazoned his armorial
bearings. During all the earlier part oi his career, this great prelate seems to
have lived on the best temis with the family of Douglas, to Avhich he must have
been indebted for liis first preferment. In 1515,Avhen it became his duty to con-
secrate the celebrated Gavin Dougbs as Bishop of Lunkeld, he testified bis respect
fin- the family by entertaining tlie poet and all his train in the most magnificent
manner at Glasgow, and defraying the whole expenses of his consecration.
Archbisliop Beaton was destined to figure very prominently in the distracted
period which ensued upon the death of James IV. As too often happens in the
political scene, the violence of faction broke up his old attachment to the
Douglasses. Tlie Earl of Aaigus, chief of that house, having married the vndow
of the king, endeavoured, against the general sense of the nation, to obtain the
supreme power. Beaton, who was elevated by the Regent Albany, to the high
office of Lord Chancellor, and appointed one of the governors of the kingdom
during his absence in France, attached himself to the opposite faction of the
Hamiltons under the Earl of .Airan. On the 29th of April, 1 520, a convention
having been called to compose the differences of the two parties, the Hamiltons
appeared in militarj' guise, and seemed prepared to vindicate their supremacy

JAMES BEATON. 183

witli the sword. Beaton, their chief counsellor, sat in Ills house at the bottom
of the Blackfriars- Wynd,^ with anuour under his roljes, ready apparently to
liave joined the forces of the Hamiltoiis, in the event of a quaiTel. In this crisis
(iavin Douglas was deputed by his nephew the Earl of Angus, to remonstrate
with the Archbishop against the hostile preparations of his party. Beaton en-
deavoured to gloss over the matter, and concluded M-ith a S((lemn asseveration
upon his conscience, that he knew^ not of it. As he spoke, he struck his hand
upon his breast, and caused the mail to rattle under his gown. Douglas replied,
with a cutting- e<|uivoque, " 3Iethinks, my lord, your conscience clatters," — as
much as to say, your conscience is unsound, at the same time that the word
might mean the undue disclosure of a secret. In the ensuing conflict, which
took place upon the streets, the Hamiltons were worsted, and Archbishop Beaton
had to take refuge in the Blackfriai-s Church. Being found there by th.e
Douglasses, he had his rochet torn from his baclv, and would have been slain <;n
the spot, but for the interposition of the Bishop of DunkeltL Having with
some difficulty escaped, he lived for some time in an obscure way, till the return
of the Duke of Albany, by whose interest he was appointed in 1523, to the
metropolitan see of St Andrews. On the revival of the power of the Douglasses
in the same year, he was again obliged to retire. It is said that the insurrec-
tion of the Farl of Lennox in 15-25, which ended in the triumph of the Doug-
lasses and tlie death of the Earl at Linlithgow Bridge, was stiiTed up by Ai-c-i-
bishop Beaton, as a means of emancipating the i''ing. After this unhapjry
event, the Douglasses persecuted him with such keennfess, that, to save his life,
he assumed the literal guise and garb of a shepherd, and tended an actual flock
upon Bogi'ian-Knowe in Fife. At length, when James V. asserted his indepen-
dence of these powerful tutors, and banished them from the kingdom, Beaton
was reinstated in all his dignities, except that of Chancellor, which was con-
feiTed upon Gavin Dunbar, the King's preceptor. He henceforward resided
chiefly at St Andrews, where, in 1527, he was induced by the persuasions of
other churchmen less mild than himself, to consent to the prosecution and death
of Patrick Hamilton, the proto-martyr of the Scottish Refonnation. He was
subsequently led on to various severities against the reformers, but rather through
a want of power to resist the clamours of his brethren, than any disposition to
severity in his own nature. It would appear that he latterly entrusted much of
the administration of his affairs to his leis aniiable nephew. The chief employ-
ment of his latter years was to found rnd endow the New College of St Andrews,
in which design, however, he was thwarted in a gTeat measui-e by his executors,
who misapplied the greater part of his funds. He died in 1539.

BEArOX, James, Ai-chbishop of Glasgow, was the second of the seven sons of
John Beaton, or Bethune of Balfour, elder brother of Cardinal Beaton. He
received the chief part of his education at Paris, under the care of his celebrated
uncle, who was then I'esiding in the French capital as ambassador from James
V, His fii-st preferment in the church was to be chanter of the cathedi-al of
Glasgow, under Archbishop Dunbar. Wher. his uncle attained to nearly supreme
power, he was employed by him in many important matters, and in 1513, suc-
ceeded him as Abbot of Aberbrothick. The death of the Cai-dinal does not
appear to have materially retarded the advancement of his nephew ; for we find
that, in 1552, he had sufficient interest with the existing government, to receive
the second place in the Scottish church, the Archbishopric of Glasgow, to
which he was consecrated at Bome. He was now one of the most important
personages in the kingdom; he enjoyed the con' dencc of the governor, the
Earl of An-an ; his niece, Mai*y Beaton, one of the " F'oiu' Maries," was the

' Lane.

18i JAMES BEATON.

favourite of the younsj Qiiocii 31aiy, now residiiij;- in l'raii<:e ; and lie was also
esteemed very liij;lily by llie Queen Uo\\ai;vr, ^lary of Lonain, ^slio was now
aspiriiijr to tlie Henency. During tlie suljseijuent sway of llie Queen liegent,
llie Arciibislu)[> of 8t Andrews enjoyed lier liij;liest conlidencte. It was t«t Iiini
that slie handed the celeljraled letter a<Ulressed to her by .loini Knox, saying
with a carel(!ss air, " IMease you, my hud, to read a pascjuil." In 1557, when
the niarriaj;e of the youibl'iil 31ary to the l)auj)hin of I ranee was about to take
l»lace, .lames Ik'aton, Arciiliishop of .St Andrews, stood the first of the i)arlianien-
tary conuuissioners appointed to be present at the ceremony, and to <,ondu(;t the
dirticult business wliieh was to precede it. He and his eonip.inions exe<;uted
this duty in a most satisfactory manner. After his return in 155^, he acted as
a Privy Councillor lo the Queen Eegent, till she was unable any longer to con-
tend with the advancing tide of the liefonualion. In November, 1 55!>, his
former friend, the Earl of Arran, A\ho had now become a leading reformer,
came with a powerful retinue to Glasgow, and, to use a delicate phrase of the
time, •' took order' ^vith the Cathedral, >vhich lie cleared of all the images,
placing a garrison at the same time in the Archbishop's palace. Beaton soon after
recovered his house by means of a few French soldiers ; but he speedily found that
neither he nor his religion could maintain a penuanent fooling in the country.

In June, 15G(J, the Queen Regent expired, almost at the very moment
when her authority became extinct. Her French troops, in tenus of 'd
treaty with the Eefonners, sailed next month for their native country, and in
the same ships was the Archbishop of Glasgow, along Avilli all the plate and
records of the cathedi-al, ^vhich he said he would ne\er return till the Catholic
faith should again be trimnphant in Scotland. Some of these articles were of
gi-eat value. Among the plate, which was very extensive and rich, was a golden
image of Christ, with silver images of his tAvelve apostles. Among the records,
which were also veiy valuable, Avere two chartularies, one of Avhich had been
written in the reign of liobeit 111., and Avas called, " The Red Book of Glas-
gow." All these objects were deposited by the Archbishop in the Scots College
at Paris, where the manuscripts continued to be of use lo Scottish antiquaries up
to the period of the French Revolution, when, it is believed, they were destroyed
or dispersed. Beaton was received by Queen 3Iary at Paris, ^\hh the distinc-
tion due to a virtuous and able counsellor of her late mother. On her depar-
ture next year, to assume the reins of government in Scotland, she left him in
charge of lier aflairs in France. He spent the whole of the subsequent part of
his life as ambassador from the Scottish court to his niost Christian Blajesty.
Tliis duty was one of extreme delicacy during the brief reign of Queen 31ary,
when the relation of the two courts was of the most important character. IMary
addi-essed him frequently in her own hand, and a letter in ivhich she details to him
the circumstances of her husband's death, is a well known historical document.

It is not probable that Beaton's duty as an ambassador during the mi-
nority of James VI. was any thing but a titular honour ; but that prince, on
taking the government into his own hands, did not hesitate, notwithstanding the
difference of religion, to employ a statesman who had already done faithful ser-
vice to the two preceding generations. James also, in 15 57, was able to restore
lo him both his title and estates as Ai-chbishop of Glasgow ; a proceeding quite
anomalous, when we consider that the presbyterian religion was now established
in Scotland. The Archbishop died, April 24, 1G03, in the eighty-sixlh year of
his age, and a full jubilee of years from his consecration. He had been ambas-
sador to three generations of the Scottish royal family, and had seen in France
a succession of six kings, and ti-ansacted public afl'airs under five of them. He
also had the satisfaction of seeing his sovereign accede to the English throne.

JAMES BEATTJE. 185

James learned the intelligence of liis death ^vhile on his journey to London, and
iniiiiediately ajipointed the historian Spottiswoode to be his successor in the ca-
thedral chair of Glasgow. Archbishop Spottiswoode characterises him as " a
man honourably disposed, faithful to the Queen Avhile she lived, and to the Miug
her son ; a lover of his country, and liberal, according to his means, to all his
countrymen." His reputation, indeed, is singularly pure, when it is considered
with what vigour he opposed the reformation. He appears to have been re-
garded by the opposite party as a conscientious, however mistaken man, and to
!iave been spared accordingly all those calmunies and sarcasms with Avhicli party
rage is apt to bespatter its opponents. Having enjoyed several livings in
France, besides the less certain revenues of Glasgow, he died in possession of a
fortune amounting to 80,000 livres, all of Avhich he left to the Scots College,
for the benefit of poor scholars of Scotland ; a gift so munificent, that he was
afterwards considered as the second founder of the institution, the lirst having
been a bishop of Moray, in the year 1325. Besides all this wealth, he left
an immense quantity of diplomatic papers, accmuidated during the course of liis
legation at Paris; whicli, if they had been preserved to the present time, would
unquestionably have thrown a strong light upon the events of his time.

BEATSON, Robert, LL.D. an ingenious and useful author, was a native of
Dysart, where he was born in 1742. Being educated with a view to the militai-y
profession, he obtained an ensigncy in 175!), at the commencement of the seven
years' war. He served next year in the expedition to the coast of France, and af-
terwards, as lieutenant, in the attack on Martinique, and the taking of Guadaloupe.
In 1766, he retired on haif-p.ay, and did not again seek to enter into active
life till the breaking out of the American war. Having failed on this occasion
to obtain an appointment suitable to his former sei'vices, he resolved to apply
himself to another profession — that of literature — for which he had all along
had considerable taste. His publications were, 1, "A Political Index to the
Histories of Great Britain and Ireland," 1 vol. 8vo. 1786, of which a third
edition in 3 volumes was published at a late period of his life. This work con-
sists chiefly of accurate and most useful lists of all the ministers and other prin-
cipal otHcers of the state, from the earliest time to the period of its publication,
2, " Naval and Military Memoirs of Great Britain, from 1727 to the present
time," 3 vols. 8vo. 17!)0; 2nd edition, 6 vols. 1804. 3, " View of the Me-
morable Action of the 27th of July, 1778," 8vo. 1791, 4, "Essay on the
Comparative Advantages of Vertical and Horizontal Windmills," Svo. 1798,
5, " Chronological Register of both Houses of Parliament, from 1706 to 1807,"
3 vols. Svo. 1807, Besides some communications to the board of agriculture,
of which he was an honorary member. This laborious autlior enjoyed in his
latter years the situation of barrack-master at Aberdeen, Avhere, if ^ve are not
mistaken, he received his degree of LL,D, He died at Edinbui-gh, January 24,
1818.

BEATTIE, James, poet and moral philosopher, was born on the 25th October,
1735, at Lamencekirk, then an obsciu-e hamlet in Kincardineshire. His father,
James Beattie, was a small shop-keeper in the village, and at the same time
rented a little fai-m in the neighbourhood. His mother's name was Jean Wat-
son, and they had six children, of whom the subject of this article was the
youngest. The father was a man of information, and of character superior to
ills condition, and the mother was also a person of abilities ; on the early death
of her husband, she carried on the business of his shop and farm, with the a»
sistance of her eldest son, and thus was able to rear her family in a comfortable
manner.

Young Beattie, Avho, from his earliest years, was considered a child of pro-

I. 2 A

lSt> JAMES BEAITIE.

miso, roceive<l tlHi rudiiueiits of a classic^il odiicalion at llio parish school, which
h.ul Iteen laii<j;lit forly y<'ara before by UinMimaii, aiul was at this time a semi-
nary of coiisi(leral)le rt'jtulatioii. Mis avidity for l)()olts, whiili, in sin',h u scene
iuii>;ht liave otlierwise remained unsntislied, \v;is ol)S(!rved by tiic minister, who
kindly a<bnilled him to the use of iiis liltrary. I'rom a copy of ()g;ilvy's V'irpil,
obtained in this way, he derived his (irst notions of l']n<Tlish versification. Kven
at this early period, his turn for poetry hcjjan to manifest itsell", and among his
school-fello\\s he uent by the n.nne oi' l/ie Poet. In ITt!*, bein^- fourteen years
of a^re, he commenced an academical com'se at IMareschal Colleefc, Aberdeen,
and was dislingiiislied by Professor iMackweil as the best scholar in the (JrceU
class. Having entitled himself by this superiority to a bursary, he continued at
the college for three years more, studying philosophy under the distinguished
Gerard, and di^inity under I)r I'ollock. His original destination being for the
church, he read a discourse in the Hall, which met with much commendation,
but Wcis at the same time remarlvcd to be ■poetry in proifc. Before the period
when he should liave taken liis trials before the presbytery, he relinquished all
thoughts of ill is profession, and settled as school-nKister of the parish of Fordoun,
near his native village.

In this humble situation, Beattie spent the yeara between 1753 and 1758.
In the almost total want of society, he devoted himself alternately to useful study
and to poetical recreation. It was at this period of life his supreme delight to
saunter in the fields the livelong night, contemplating the s!ty, and marking the
approach of day. At a small distance from the place of his residence, a deep
and extensive glen, finely clothed uith wood, runs up into the mountains,
'riiither he frequently repaired ; and tliere several of his earliest pieces were
WTitten. From that wild an<l romantic spot, he drew, as from the life, some of
the finest descriptions, and most beautiful pictures of nature, that occur in his
poetical compositions. It is related that, on one occasion, having lain down
early in the morning on the bank of his favourite rivulet, adjoining to his
mother's house, lie had fallen asleep; on awaking, it was not without astonish-
ment that he found he had been walking in his sleep, and that he was then at
a considerable distance (about a mile and a half) from the place where he had
Lain doun. On his way back to that spot, he passed some labourers, and in-
quiring of them if they had seen him walking along, they told him that they
iiad, Avith his head hanging down, as if looking for something he had lost. Such
an incident, though by no means unexampled, shows to what a degree Beattie
was now the creature of impulse and imagination. He was, indeed, exactly tha
fanciful being whom he has described in " The Minstrel" Fortunately for
Beattie, 3Ir Garden, advocate, (afterwards Lord (iardenstone) who at that time
resided in the neighbourhood, found him one day sitting in one of his favourite
haunts, employed in wTiting with a pencil. On discovering that he Avas engaged
in the composition of poetry, Mr Garden became interested, and soon found oc-
casion to honour the young bard with his friendship and patronage. Beattie at
the same time became acquainted Avith Lord 3Ionboddo, whose family seat was
within the parish.

In 1757, when a vacancy occiorred in the place of usher to the grammar-
school of Abei'deen, Beattie applied for it, and stood an examination, without
success. On the place becoming again vacant next year, he had what he con-
sidered the good fortune to be elected. This step was of some importance to
him, as it brought him into contact with a circle of eminent literary and profes-
sional characters, who then adorned the colleges of Aberdeen, and to whom he
Boon made himself favourably known.

In 17()0, one of the chairs in the "^larischal College became vacant by thn

JAMES BEATTIE, 187

death of Dx- Duncan, professor of Natural Philosophy. Beattie, whose ambition
had never presumed to soar to such an object, happened to mention the circum-
stance in conversation, as one of the occun-ences of the day, to his friend, Mr
Arbiithnot, merchant in Aberdeen;' who surprised him witli a proposal that he
should apply for the vacant situation. With a reluctant permission from Beattie,
he exerted his influence with the Earl of En-ol to apply, by means of Lord Mil-
ton, to the Duke of Argyll, who then dispensed the crown patronage of Scot-
land; and to the astonishment of the subject of the application, he received the
appointment. By an acconunodation, however, with the nominee to another
vacant chair, he became professor of Moral, instead of Natural Philosophy ; an
arrangement suitable to the genius and qualifications of both the persons con-
cerned.

By this honourable appointment, Beattie found himself, through an extraor-
dinary dispensation of fortune, elevated in the course of tAvo years from the
humble and obscure situation of a country j^arish school-master, to a place of
vei'y high dignity in one of the principal seats of learning in the country, where
he could give full scope to his talents^ and indulge, in the greatest extent, his
favourite propensity of conmiunicating knowledge. His first business was to
prepare a course of lectures, which he began to deliver to his pupils dui-ing the
session of 17G0-1, and whicli, during subsequent years, he greatly improved.
In the discharge of his duties, he was quite indefatigable ; not only delivering
the usual lectures, but taking care, by frequent recapitulations and public ex-
aminations, to impress upon the minds of his auditors the gi-eat and important
doctrines which he taught.

So early as the year 175(5, Dr Beattie had occasionally sent poetical contri-
butions to tlie Scots Magazine from his x-etirement at Fordoun. Some of these,
along Avith others, he now arranged in a small volume, Mhich was published at
London, 1760, and dedicated to the Earl of En-oI, his recent benefactor. His
" Original Poems and Translations," — such was the title of the volume — made
him favourably knoAvn to the public as a poet, and encouraged him to further
exertions in that branch of composition. He also studied verse-making as an
art, and in 1762, wrote his " Essay on Poetry," which was published in 1776,
along with the quarto edition of his " Essay on Ti-uth." In 1763, he visited
London from curiosity, and in 1765, he published a poem of considei-able length,
but unfortunate design, under the title of " The Judgment of Paris," which
threatened to be as fatal to his poetical career, as its subject had been to the
Trojan state. In 17C6, he published an enlarged edition of his poems, con-
taining, among other compositions, "The Judgment of Paris;" but this poem
he never afterwards reprinted. His object was to make the classical fable
subservient to the cause of virtue, by personifying wisdom, ambition, and plea-
sure, in the characters of three goddesses, an idea too metaphysical to be gene-
rally liked, and which could scarcely be compensated by the gi-aces of even
Beattie's muse.

Gray, the author of the " Elegy in a Country Church-yard," visited Scotland
in the autmun of 1765, and lived for a short time at Glammis Castle with the
Earl of Strathmore. Beattie, whose poetical genius Avas strongly akin to that of
Gray, \vi'ote to him, intreating the honour of an interview ; and this was speedi-
ly accomplished, by an invitation for Dr Beattie to Glammis Castle, where the
two poets laid the foundation of a friendship that was only interrupted by the
death of Gray in 1771. In a letter to Sir William Forbes, Beattie thus speaks
of the distinguished author of the Elegy .

1 Father to Sir William Arbuthnot, Bart who was Lord Provost of Edinburgh at the
\isit of George IV. in 1822.

JH8 JAMES BEATTIE.

" You would have been iiuicli pleased with Mr firay. Settiri!* aside his merit
as a poet, whicii, however, is jjre.iter in my opinion than any of his contempo-
raries can boast, in tliis or any other nation, I found liini possessed of the most
exact taste, tlie soundest jud<rnient, and tlie most extensive learninfj. He is hap-
py in a singular facility of expression. His conversation abounds in orijj^inal
olisei*vations, delivei*ed witli no ajtjtearance of sententious formality, and seeming
to arise spontaneously, without study or premeditation. I jjassr-d two very
afri'eeal)Ie days with hiiu at (ilannnis, ynd found him as easy in his mannei's, an<l
as connuuni('ative and frank, as I could have Avished."

It is curious to find that, during this trip to Scotland, Gray thus expressed
liimsclf to Dr (Gregory of Edinburgh reganling tlic inuuortal poem to which his
name is so endearingly attached ; " he told me," says !)r (iregory, " leitli a good
deal, of acrimony, it owed its popularity entirely to the subject, and that the
public Mould have received it as well if it had been Avritfen in prose.'' "^

Eealtie was at this period in a low state of health, being afflicted with a
kind of giddiness, \vhich defied all his cfiorts to banish it, and even threatened
to interrupt his professional duties. In a letter to the honourable Charles Boyd,
brother of the I'^arl of I">rol, he thus playfully alludes to this, as well as several
other personal peculiarities :

" I Hatter myself that I shall ere long be in the ^vay of becoming a great
7nan. For have I not headaches like Pope? vertigo like Smft? grey hairs like
Homer?"* Do I not wear large shoes (<'or fear of corns) like Virgil? and some-
times complain of sore eyes (though not of lippitude) like Horace ? Am I not,
at this present «Titing, invested with a garment not less ragged than that of
Socrates? Like Joseph the pati'Iarch, I am a mighty dreamer of dreams; like
Ninu'od the hunter, I am an eminent builder of castles (in the air). I procras-
tinate like Julius Caesar : and very lately in inntation of Don Quixote, I rode a
horse, lean, old, and lazy, like Rosinante. Sometimes, like Cicero, I write bad
verses ; and sometimes bad prose like Virgil. This last instance I have on the
authority of Seneca, I am of small stature like Alexander the Great; somewhat
inclined to fatness like Dr Arbuthnot and Aristotle ; and I drink brandy and
water like Mr Boyd. I might compare myself, in relation to many other infir-
mities, to many other great men ; but if fortune is not influenced in my favour
by the particulars already enumerated, I shall despair of ever recommending
myself to her good graces."

Some time previous to September 1786, Beattie commenced a poem in tlie
Spenserian stanza ; a description of verse to which he was much attached, on
account of its hanuony, and its admitting of so many fine pauses and diversified
terminations. The subject was suggested to him by the dissertation on the old
minstrels, which was prefixed to Dr Percy's " Keliques of Ancient English
Poeti-y," then just published. In May, 17(]7, he informs his friend BlackJock
at Edinburgh, that he wYOtG one hundred and fifty lines of this poem some
months before, and had not since added a single stanza. His hero was not then
even born, though in the fair way of being so ; his parents being described and
uian-ied. He proposed to continue the poem at his leisure, with a description
of the character and profession of his ideal minstrel ; but he was wofuUy cast
f' own by the scantiness of the poetical taste of the .age.

On the 28th of June, 17G7, Di- Beattie was married at Aberdeen, to Miss
Mary Dun, the only daughter of Di- James Dun, rector of the grammar-school of
that city. The heart of the poet had previously been engaged in honourable
affection to a Miss Mary Lindsay, whom, so late as the year 18-23, the writer of

2 Forbes' Life of Beattie, 4to. vol. i. p. 83.
' Hair, like Byron's, "grey at thirty ! " »

JAMES BEATTIE.

189

this lueiuoir heard recite <i poem ^vritten by Beattie in her praise, the lines of
^vhich coninienced with the letters of her name in succession. The venerable
lady was the widow of a citizen of jMontrose, and in extreme, though healthy
old age.

At this period, infidelity had become fashionable to a gi*eat extent in Scot-
land, in consequence of the eclat which attended the publication of Hume's me-
taphysical treatises. Attempts had been made by Urs Keid and Campbell, in
respective publications, to meet the arguments of the illustrious sceptic ; but it
was justly remarked by the friends of religion, that the treatises of these two
individuals assumed too much of that deferential tone towards the majesty of
Ml- Hume's intellect and x-eputation, which was to be complained of in society
at large, and no doubt was one of the causes why his sceptical notions had be-
come so fashionable. It occun-ed to Dr Jieattie, and he was encouraged in the
idea by his friends Dr Gregory, Sir William Forbes, and other zealous adherents
of Ciiristianity, that a work treating Hume a little more roughly, and not only
answering him with argument, but assailing him and his foUowei-s with ridicule,
might meet the evil more extensively, and be more successful in bringing back
the public to a due sense of religion. Such was the origin of his " Essay on
Truiii," which was finished for the press in autumn 1769.

It is curious that this essay, so powerful as a defence of religion, Avas only
brought into the world by means of a kind of pia frans. The manuscript was
ceunniitLed to Sir \\'illiam Forbes and 3Ir Arbuthnot, at Edinburgh, with an in-
junction to dispose of it to any bookseller who would pay a price for it, so as to
insure its having the personal interest of a tradesman in pushing it forward in
the world. Unfortunately, however, the publisher to whom these gentlemen ap-
plied, saw so little prospect of profit in a work on the unfashionable side of the
argument, that lie positively refused to bring it forth unless at the risk of the
author ; a mode to which it was certain tiiat Dr Beattie would never agree.
" Thus," says Sir William Forbes, " there was some danger of a work being lost,
the publication of which, we flattered ourselves, would do nmch good in the
world.

" In this dilemma it occurred to me," continues Beattie's excellent biogi-apher,
" that we might, without much artifice, bring the business to an easy conclusion
by our own interposition. W^e therefore resolved that we ourselves should be
the purchasers, at a sum with which we knew Dr Beattie would be well satisfied,
as the price of the first edition. But it was absolutely necessary that the business
should be glossed over as much as possible ; otherwise, we had reason to fear
that he would not consent to our taking on us a risk which he himself had re-
fused to run.

" I therefore wTOte him (nothing surely but the truth, although, I confess, not
the whole truth,) that the manuscript was sold for fifty guineas, which I remitted
to him by a bank-bill ; and I added that we had stipulated with the booltseller
who was to print the book, that we should be partnei-s in the publication. On
such trivial causes do things of considerable moment often depend ; for had it
not been for this interference of oui-s in this somewhat ambiguous manner, per-
haps the ' Essay on Truth,' on which all Dr Beattie's futui-e fortunes hinged,
might never have seen the light."

In the prosecution of his design, Dr Beattie has treated his subject in the
following manner: he first endeavours to trace the diiTerent kinds of evidence
and reasoning up to their first principles ; with a view to ascertain the standard
of truth, and explain its immutability. He shows, in the second place, that his
sentiments on this head, how inconsistent soever with the genius of scepticism,
and with the principles and practice of sceptical wxiters, are yet perfectly con-

1!'0 JAMES BEMTIE.

sistent with the penins of true phihisophy, ;nid «lth ihe piMClice and principles
of those uhoiu all arknowlctl-^e to have been the most successful in the investi-
gation of truth : conchiding with some inferen(-es or ndes, by which the most
important fallacies of tlie Rcei)lical pliilosojtliers may be detected by every per.
son of connuon sense, even tiioujih lie should not possess acuteness of nietaphysi.
cal knowledjje sulhcient to qualify him for a logicuil confutation of them. In
the third place he answers some objections, and makes some remarks, by way
«)f esliniate of scepticism and s('epti("al writers.

The llssay appeared in 31ay 1770, and met with the most splendid success.
It immediately became a shield in the hands of the friends of religion, where-
with to intercept and turn aside the hitherto i-esistless shafts of the sceptics. A
modern melaphysician may perhaps find nmny flaws in the work ; but, at the
time of its publication, it was received as a complete and triumphant refutation
of all that had been advanced on the other side. Under favour of the eclat
\\\\\i\\ attended the publication, i-eligion again raised its head, and lor a time
infidelity was not nearly so fashionable as it had been.

After getting this arduous business oiV his mind, 15cattie returned to his long
Spenserian poem, and, in 1771, appeared the fii-st part of " 'ilie JMinstrel,"
Milliout his name. It was so highly successful, that he was encouraged tore-
publish this, along with a second part, in 1774; when his name appeared
in the title-page. " Of all his poetical works, ' the jMinstrel ' is, beyond all
question, tlie best, whether we consider the plan or the execution. The language
is extremely elegant, the versification harmonious, it exhibits the richest poetic
imagery with a delightful flow of the most sublime, delicate, and pathetic senti-
ment. It breathes tlie spirit of the purest virtue, the soundest philosophy, and
the most exquisite taste. In a word, it is at once highly conceived and ad-
mirably finished."' Lord Lyttleton thus expressed his approbation of the
poem ; one of the most warmly conceived compliments that ^vas ever |>erhaps
paid by a poet to his fellow : " I read the Minstrel with as much rapture as
poetry, in her sweetest, noblest charms, ever raised in my mind. It seemed to
me, that my once most beloved minstrel, lliomson, was come dottii from heaven,
refined by the converse of purer spirits than those he lived with here, to let lue
hear him sing again the beauties of nature and finest feelings of virtue, not with
human but with angelic strains !" It is to be regretted that Eeattie never com-
pleted this poem. He originally designed tliat the hero should be employed in
the third canto in rousing his countrymen to arms for defence against a foreign
invasion, and that, overpowered and banished by this host, he should go forth
to other lands in his proper character of a wandering minstrel It nuist al-
ways be recollected, in favour of this poem, that it was the first of any length,
in pure English, which had been published by a Scottish writer in his own
cou»try — so late has been the commencement of this department of our literature.

Eeattie visited London a second time in 1771, and, as might be expected
from his increased reputation, entered more largely into literai-y society than
on the former occasion. Among those who lionoiu-ed him with their notice, was
Dr Johnson, who had been one of the warmest admirers of the Essay on Truth.
In 1773, he paid another visit to the metropolis, along with his wife, and was
received into a still wider and more eminent circle than before. On this occa-
sion, the university of Oxford confen-ed upon him an honorary degi*ee of Doctor
of LaAvs.

The chief object of this tour was to secure a provision which his friends had
led him to expect from the government, in consideration of his services in the
cause of religion. Many plans were proposed by his friends for obtaining this
1 Forbes' Life of Beattie.

JAMES BEATTIE. 191

object, A bishop is believed to have suggested to tlie king, that tlie author of
the Essay on Truth might be introduced to the English church, and advanced
according to his merits ; to which the king, however, is said to have slily rejjlied,
that, as Scotland abounded most in infidels, it would be best for the general in-
terests of religion that he should be kept there. George 111., who had read and
admired Beattie's book, and whose whole mind ran in favour of virtue and reli-
gion, suggested himself the more direct plan of granting him a pension of two
hundred pounds a year, which was accordingly carried into effect. The king
also honoured Dr Beattie with his particular notice at a lecee, and, further,
granted him the favour of an intei-^iew in his private apartments at Kew for up-
wards of an hour. The agTeeable conversation and unassuming manners of Dr
Beattie appear to have not only made a most favoui-able impression upon the
king and queen — for her majesty also was present at this interview — but upon
evei-y member of that lofty circle of society to ^vhich he was introduced.

Even after he had been thus provided for, several dignified clergymen of the
church of England continued to solicit him to take ordei-s ; and one bishop Avent
so far as directly to tempt him \vith the offer of a rectorate worth five hundred
a-year. He had no disinclination to the office of a clergjTuan, and he decid-
edly preferred the government and worship of the English church to the
presbyterian system of his own country. But he could not be induced to take
such a reward for his efforts in behalf of religion, lest his enemies might say that
he had never contemplated any loftier principle than that of bettering his own
circumstances. Nearly about the same time, he further proved the total absence
of a mercenary tinge in his character, by refusing to be promoted to the chaii
of Moral Philosophy in the university of Edinburgh. His habits of life were
now, indeed, so completely associated with Aberdeen, and its society, that he
seems to have contemplated any change, however tempting, Avith a degree of pain.
About this time, some letters passed between him and Dr Priestley, on occasion
of an attack made by the latter on the Essay on Truth. In his correspondence
Avith this ingenious but petulant adversaiy, Dr Beattie sho\vs a gi'eat deal of can-
dour and dignity. He had at first intended to reply, but this intention he ap-
pears afterwards to have di-opped : " Dr Priestley," says he, " having declared
that he Avill answer Avhatever I may publish in my own vindication, and being a
man who loves bustle and book-making, he wishes above all things that I should
give him a pretext for continuing the dispute. To silence him by force of argu-
ment, is, I know, impossible."

In the year 1786, Beattie took a keen interest in favour of a scheme then
agitated, not for the first time, to unite the two colleges of Aberdeen. It was
found impossible to cari-y this project into effect, though it is certainly one oi
those obvious improvements which must sooner or later be accomplished. In the
same year, Dr Beattie projected a new edition of Addison's prose works, with a
biogTaphical and critical preface to the extent of half a volume, in which ho
meant to show the peculiar merits of the style of Addison, as well as to point oul
historically the changes which the English language has undergone from time to
time, and the hazard to which it is exposed of being debased and corrupted by
modern innovations. He was reluctantly compelled by the state of his healtli to
retrench the better part of this scheme. The works of Addison Avere published
under his care, in 1790, by 3Iessrs Creech and Sibbald, booksellers, Edinbui-gh,
but he could only give Tickell's Life , together w ith some extracts fi-om Dr Johnson's
" Remarks on Addison's Prose," adding a few notes of his own, to make up any
material deficiency in Tickell's narrative, and illustrating Johnson's critique by a
few occasional annotations. Though these additions to his original stock of ma-
terials, are very slight, the admirer of Addison is much gratified by some new

192 JAMES BEATTIE.

infomiatioii \virn;li he w.is isynorant of before, and to whicli Dr Deattie lias given
<lt>2freo of antlieiiticitv, by adboriiij;^, even in tiiis insUinco, to liis general prac-
ti«;e of putting bis nanio to every ibing lie wrote.

In 1787, Dr Boallie made apidic^ilion to llie IMarisrbal t-ollego, wliile tbe
pioject of tbe union w;is still jien<ling, desirinij that bis eldest son, James Hay
Beattie, tben in bis twentieth year, should be re<dmmended to tbe rrown as liis
assistant and successor in tbe eiiair of IVloral I'hiiosopiiy. 'i'be letter in whieh
this aj>|dir,uioii >va-s made, srts forth the cxtraonlinary «jualilicalions of bis son,
with a deliirhtt'ul mixture of dcli(;aey and warmth, 'i'lie yoiuig man was an ex-
cellent (ireelv and Latin scholar; wrol« and talked beautifully in the latter Ian
guage, as well .as in I'aiglisli, and, to use the language of bis father, the best
of liis genius lay entirely towards tbeolog)-, classit^il learning, morals, poetry,
and criticism. The college re<;eived the application with much respect, and,
after a short delay on account of the business of the union, gave a cordial sanc-
tion to the proposal.

Unfortunately for tbe peace of Dr Beattie's latter years, bis son, while in the
possession of tbe highest intellectual qualilicatioiis, and characterised by every
virtue that could be expected from his years, was destined by the inherent infiriu-
ity of bis constitution for an early death. After liis demise, which happened
on the IPth of November, 1790, when he bad just turned two-and-twenty, Dr
Beattie published a small collection of bis writings, along with an elaborate pre-
face, entering largely into the character and qualifications of tlie deceased. In
this, he was justified by the admiration which he heard everywhere expressed,
of the character and intellect of his son; but, as posterity appears to have re-
duced the prodigy to its proper limits, which ^vere nothing wonderful, it is
unnecessary to bring it further into notice. The following is the more unalfected
and touching account which tbe afflicted parent has given of his loss, in a letter
to the Duchess of (iordon ; a lady with whom, for many years, be cultivated the
warmest friendship, and whose society he largely enjoyed, along with bis son,
d'oring repeated visits to Gordon Castle :

" Knowing with what kindness and condescension your Grace takes an inter-
est in evei-y thing that concerns me and my little family, I take the liberty to
infonn you that my son James is dead ; that the last duties are now paid ; and
that I am endeavouring to retui-n, with the little ability that is left me, and Avith
entire submission to the will of Providence, to the ordinary business of life. I
have lost one who was always a pleasing companion ; but who, for the last five
or six years, was one of the most entertaining and instructive friends that ever
in.an was blest with : for bis mind comprehended almost every science ; lie was
a most attentive observer of life and manners : a master of classical learning ;
and he possessed an exuberance of wit and humour, a force of understanding,
and a correctness and delicacy of taste, beyond any other person of his age I
have ever known.

" He was taken ill on the night of the 30th of November, 1789 ; and from
that time bis decline commenced. It was long what physicians calls a nervous
atrophy ; but towards tbe end of June, symptoms began to appear of the lungs
being affected. Goat's milk, and afterwards asses' milk, were procured for him
in abundance ; and such exercise as he could bear be regularly took : these
means lengthened bis days, no doubt, and alleviated his sufferings, which indeed
Avere veiy often severe ; but in spite of all that could be done, he grew weaker
and weaker, and died the 19tb of November, 1790, Avitbout complaint or pain,
Avithout even a groan or sigh ; retaining to his last moment the use of his rational
faculties : indeed, from first to last, not one delirious word escaped him. He
lived t>venty-tAvo years and thirteen days. Many Aveeks before it came, he saA»

JAMES BEATTIE. 193

death approaching ; and he met it with such composure and pious resignation,
as may no doubt be equalled, but cannot be surpassed.

'^ * * * My chief comfort arises from reflecting upon the par-

ticulars of his life; which was one uninterrupted exercise of piety, benevolence,
liiial atiection, and indeed every virtue which it was in his power to practise,
1 shall not, with respect to liim, adopt a mode of speech which has become too
common, and call him my poor iton, for I must believe that he is infinitely happy,
and will be so for ever."

Dr Beattie bore the loss of his son with an appearance of fortitude and re-
signation. Yet, although his grief was not loud, it was deep. He said, in a
subsequent letter, alluding to a monument which he had erected for his son :
" I often di-eam of the grave that is under it : I saw, with some satisfaction, on
a late occasion, that it is very deep, and capable of holding my coffin laid on
that which is already in it ;" words that speak more eloquently of the griet
\vliich this event had fixed in tlie heart of the writer, than a volume could have
done. The following is a copy of the epitaph which he composed for his amia-
ble and accomplished child : —

JACOBO HAY BEATTIE. JACOBI, F.

Piiiios. iu Acad. Marisclial Professori.

Adolescenti.

Ea. Modestia.

Ea. suavitati. morum.

Ea. benevoleiitia. erga. omnes.

Erga. Deiiin. pietate.

' Ut. Humanum. nifiil. supra.

In. bonis. Uteris.

In. tfieologia.

111. omni. Pfiilosophia.

Exerdtissimo.

Poelse. insuper.

Rebus, in. levioribus. faceto.

111. grandioribus. sublinii.

Qui. Piucidam. Animam. efflavit.

xix. Novemb. mdccxc.

Aniios. habens. xxii. diesque. xiii.

Pater Moerens. H. M. P.

Another exemplification of the rooted sorrow which this event planted in the
mind of Beattie, occurs in a letter \vTitten during a visit in England, in the sub-
sequent summer. Speaking of the commemoration music, which was performed
in Westminster Abbey, " by the greatest band of musicians that ever were brought
tO"ether in this country," he tells that the state of his health could not permit
liim to be present Then recollecting his son's accomplishment as a player on
the organ, he adds, " Perhaps this was no loss to me. Even the organ of Dui--
ham cathedral \vas too nmch for my feelings; for it brought too powerfully to
my remembrance another organ, much smaller indeed, but more interesting,
which I can never liear any more."

In 1790, Dr Beattie published the first volume of his " Elements of Moral
Science," the second volume of which did not make its appearance till 1793. He
had, in 1776, published a series of Essays on poetry and music, on laughable
and ludicrous composition, and on the utility of classical learning. In 1783,
had appeared " Dissertations, Moral and Critical," and, in 1786, a small tract
entitled, " The Evidences of the Christian Religion, briefly and plainly stated."
All of these minor productions originally formed part of the course of prelections
which he read from his chair in the university ; his aim in rhoir publication be-

19i JAMES BEA'ITIE.

iiig "to inure yomifj iiiiiuls to liriMls of attentive observation ; to guard them
a""ainst tlie inlliKMice of Itad principles ; and to set before tliein such views of na-
ture, and such plain and practical truths, as niisht at onw improve the heart and
the understaudinn-, anil amuse and elevate the tan(;y." I lis '' Klenients of Moral
Science," was a suuuuary of the whole of that coin-se of lectures, a little enlarged
in the doctrinal parts, with the addition of a few illustrative examples. In a
certain degree, this work may l)e considered as a text-book; it is one, however,
so copious in its extent, so luminous in its arrangement an<l language, and so
excellent in the sentiments it everywhere inculcates, that if the profound meta-
physician and logician do not lind in it that depth of science which they may ex-
pect to meet with in other works of greater erudition, the candid enipiirer al'ter
ti-uth may rest satislied, that, if he has studied these " Elements" with due atten-
tion, he will have laid a solid foundalicjn, on which to build all the knowledge
of the subject necessary for the common purposes of life. Uf such of the lectures
as had already appeared in an extended shape, under the name of " Essays,"
particularly those on the theory of language, and on memory and imagination,
Dr 13eatlie has made this abridgment as brief as was consistent with any degree
of perspicuity ; while he bestowed no less than seventy pages on his favourite
topic, the Abolition of the Slave Trade, and the subject of slavery connected
with it.

While delighting the world with the quick succession and variety of his produc-
tions, Dr Eeattie was himself nearly all the while a prey to the severest private sul-
ferin<>s. IVIrs Beattie had unfortunately inherited from her mother a tendency
to madness. Though this did not for a considerable time break out into open
insanity, yet in a few years after their marriage, it showed itself in caprices and
follies, which embittered every hour of her husband's life. Dr Beattie tried for
a long time to conceal her disorder from the world, and, if possible, as he has
been heard to say, from himself; but at last, from whim, caprice, and melan-
choly, it broke out into downright phrenzy, which rendered her seclusion from
society absolutely necessary. During every stage of her illness, he watched and
cherished her with the utmost tenderness and care ; using every means at first
that medicine could furnish for her recovery, and afterwards, when her condition
was found to be perfectly hopelesss, procuring for her, in an asylum at Mussel-
burgh, every accommodation and comfort that could tend to alleviate her sutTer-
inos. " When I reflect," says Sir William Forbes, " on the many sleepless
nights, and anxious days, which he experienced from Mrs Beattie's malady, and
think of the unwearied and unremitting attention he paid to her, during so great
a number of years in that sad situation, his character is exalted in my mind to a
degree which may be etjualled, but 1 am sure never can be excelled, and makes
the fame of the poet and the philosopher fade from my remembrance."

The pressure of this calamity — slow but certain — the death of his eldest son,
and the continued decline of his health, made it necessary, in the session of
1793-4, that he should be assisted in the duties of his class. From that period
till 1797, when he finally relinquished his professorial duties, he was aided bj
Mr tieorge Glennie, his relation and pupil. He experienced an additional ca-
lamity in 1796, by the sudden death of his only remaining son, Montague, a
youth of eighteen, less learned than his brother, but of still more amiable man-
ners, and whom he had designed for the English church. This latter event un-
hinoed the mind of Beattie, who, it may be remarked, had always been greatly
dependent on the society, and even on the assistance, of his children. 'Ihe care ef
their education, in which he was supposed to be only over indulgent, had been liis
chief employment for many years. This last event, by rendering him childless,
dissolved nearly the last remaining tie which bound him to the world ; and let'fc

JAMES EEATTIE. ' 105

Iiim a miserable MTCck upon the shores of life. Many days liad not elapsed
after the death of Montague Beattie, eie he began to display symptoms of a de-
cayed intellect, in an almost total loss of memory respecting his son. He would
search through the whole house for him, and then say to his niece and house-
keeper, Mrs (jilennie, " You may think it strange, but I must ask you, if I have
a son, and where he is." This lady would feel herself under the painful necessity
of bringing to his recollection the death-bed sufferings of his son, which always
restored him to reason. A^.d he would then, with many tears, express his thank-
fulness that he had no child, saying, with allusion to the malady they might have
derived from their mother, " liow could I have borne to see their elegant nunds
mangled with madness ?'' When he looked for the last time on the dead body of
his son, and thought of the separation about to take place between himself and
the last being that connected him with this sublunary scene, he said, " Now,
I have done with the world !' After this, he never bent his mind again to study,
never touched the violincello on which he used to be an excellent and a frequent
player, nor answered the letters of his friends, except, perhaps, a very few. He
connnanded his mind, liowever, to compose the following epitaph on his son ; it
was the last effort of the iMinstrel, and has all his usual happiness in this peculiar
branch of composition :

MONTAGU. BEATTIE.

Jacobi. Hay. Beattie. Frater.

Ejusque. virlutum. et. studiorum.

.^mulus,

Sepulchrique. coiisors

\'aiiiirum. Peritus. Allium.

Pingfiidi. imprimis.

Katus. Octavo. Julii. sidcclxxvui.

Mullum. Defletus. obiit.
Decimo. quarto. Martii. mdccxcv.

The phrase " sepulchrique consors " was literally true. That space in the
roomy grave of his eldest son, which he had calculated on as sufficient for him-
self, was devoted to receive this second and final hope of his old age.

In March 1797, Dr Beattie became completely crippled with rheumatism, and
in the beginning of 1799, he experienced a stroke of palsy, which for eight days
so affected his speech that he could not make himself undex'stood, and even for-
got several of the most material Moi-ds of every sentence. At different periods
after this, he had several returns of the same afflicting malady ; the last, in Octo-
ber 1802, deprived him altogether of the power of motion. He lingered for ten
months in this humiliating situation, but was at length relieved from all his suf-
ferings by the more kindly stroke of death, August 1 8, 1 803. He expii-ed without
the least appearance of suffering. His remains were deposited close to those ot
his two sons in the ancient cemetery of St Nicolas, and were marked soon after
by a monument, for which Dr James Gregory of Edinbiu-gh, supplied an elegant
inscription.

The eminent rank which Dr Beattie holds as a Christian moral philosopher is
a sufficient testimony of the public approbation of liis larger literary efforts. It
may, however, be safely predicted, that his reputation will, after all, centre in
his " Minstrel," which is certainly his most finished work, and, every thing con-
sidered, the most pleasing specimen of his intellect. If we consider how much
original talent, and how much cidtivated taste nmst have been necessary to the
composition of this beautifid poem, we will wonder that such shoiUd have been
found in a professor of a Scottish provincial university, at a time when scarcely
any vestige of the same qualifications was to be found out of London. "Beat-

190 ANDREW BELL, D.D.

tie," says Cowper — a kindred mind, well qualified to jiidpe of liis merits, " is the
most agreeable and aniiaLle writer 1 have ever met with; tlie only antlior 1 have
seen whose critical and jdiilosophieal researches are diversified and embellished
by a pi»etic-a! imaffinalion, that makes even the driest subject, and the leanest, a
feast for an epicure in books ; one so miidi at his ease, too, that his own charac-
ter appears in every pajje, and, which is very rare, not only the writer but the
man; and the man so gcnlle, so well tempered, so hapjiy in his relij^ion, and so
liumane in his piiilosophy, that it is necessary to love him, if one has any sense
of what is lovely."

The mind of J5eattie is so exactly identified with his works, and is so undis-
gnisediy depicted in them, that when his works are described, so also is his char-
acter. His whole life was spent in one continued series of virtuous duties. His
piety was pure and fervent ; his affection for his friends enthusiastic ; his bene-
volence unwearyinj^, and the whole course of his life in-eproachable. '1 he only
fault which his biographer. Sir William Forbes, could find in the whole com-
position of his character, ^vas one of a contingent and temporary nature : he be-
came, towards the end of his life, a little imtable by continued appliccition to
metaphysical controvei-sy.

Although his connections in early life had been of the humblest sort, yet he
showed no awkwardness of behaviour in the most polished circles to which his
eminent literary reputation afterwards introduced him. On the other hand,
though, in the coui-se of his frequent visits to I'lngland, he was caressed by the
very highest pei-sonages in the realm, he never was in the least degree spoilt,
but retui-ned to his country with as humble and unassuming manners as he had
carried away from it. To a vei^y coirect and refined taste in poetry, he added
the rare <acci niplishment of an acquaintance to a considerable extent with both
the sister arts of painting and music : his practice in drawing never went, in-
deed, beyond an occasional gi'otesque sketch of some friend, for the amusement
of a social hour. In music he was more deeply skilled, being not only able to
take part in private conceits on the \'ioloncelIo, but capable of appreciating the
music of the very highest masters for every other instrument In his person, he
was of the middle height, though not elegantly, yet not awkwardly formed, but
with something of a slouch in his gait. His eyes were black and piercing, with
an expression of sensibility somewhat bordering on melancholy, except when en-
gaged in cheerful conversation, and social intercourse with his friends, when they
were exceedingly animated. Such was " the Minstrel."

BELL, Andrew, D.D., author of the "Madras System of Education," was born
at St Andrews, in 1T53, and educated at the university of that place. The circum-
stairces of his early life, and even the date of his entering into holy orders, are not
known ; but it is stated that he was remarkable in youth for the exemplary manner
in which he fulfilled every public and private duty. After having spent some time
in America, we find him, in 1T86, officiating as one of the ministers of St Mary's, at
Madras, and one of the chaplains of Fort St George.

In that year, the Directors of the East India Company sent out orders to Madras,
that a seminHry should be established there, for the education and maintenance of
the orphans and distressed male children of the European military. The proposed
institution was at first limited to the support of a hundred orphans : half the expense
was defrayed by the Company, and half by voluntary subscriptions ; and the Madras
Government appropriated Egmore Redoubt for the use of the establishment. The
superintendence of this ayslum was undertaken by Dr Bell, who, having no object
in view but the gratification of his benevolence, refused the salary of 1200 pagodas
(£480) which was attached to it. " Here," he reasoned with himself, "is a field
for a clergyman, to animate his exertion, and encourage his diligence. Here his

ANDREW BELL, D.D. 197

success is certain, and will lie in proportion to the ability he shall rliscover, the
labour he shall bestow, and the means he shall employ. It is by instilling principles
of religion and morality into the minds of the young, that he can best accomplish
the ends of his ministry : it is by forming them to habits of diligence, industry,
veracity, and honesty, and hy instructing them in useful knowledge, that he can
best promote their individual inteiest, and serve the state to which they belong, —
two purposes which cannot, in sound policy, or even in reality, exist apart."

With these feelings, and with this sense of duty, Dr Bell began his task. He had
to work upon the most unpromising materials, but the difficulties he had to encounter
led to that improvement in education with which his name is connected. Failing
to retain the services of properly qualified ushers, he resorted to the expedient oli
conducting his school through the medium of the scholars themselves. It is in the
mode of conducting a school by means of mutual instruction, that the discovery of
Dr Bell consists ; and its value, as an abbreviation of the mechanical part of teaching,
and where large numbers were to be taught economically, could not be easily over-
estimated at the time, although later educationalists have improved upon the plan,
and the Madras system is now less in use than formerly. The first new practice
which Dr Bell introduced into his school, was that of teaching the letters, by making
the pupils trace them in sand, as he had seen children do in a Malabar school. The
next improvement was the practice of syllabic reading. The child, after he had
learned to read and spell monosyllables, was not allowed to pronounce two syllables
till he acquired by long practice a perfect precision. From the commencement of his
experiment, he made the scholars, as far as possible, do everything for themselves :
they ruled their own paper, made their own pens, &c., with the direction only of their
teacher. The maxim of the school was, that no boy could do anything right the
first time, but he must learn when he first set about it, by means of his teacher, so
as to be able to do it himself ever afterwards. Every boy kept a register of the
amount of work which he perfoimed, so that his diligence at different times might
be compared. There was also a black book, in which all offences were recorded :
this was examined once a-week; and Dr Bell's custom, in almost every case of ill-
behaviour, was to make the boys themselves judges of the offender. He never had
reason, he says, to think their decision impartial, biassed, or unjust, or to interfere
with their award, otherwise than to mitigate or remit the punishment, when he
thought the formality of the trial, arid of the sentence, was sufficient to produce
the effect required. But the business of the teachers was to preclude punishment,
by preventing faults ; and so well was this object attained that for months together,
it was not found necessary to inflict a single punishment.

An annual saving of not less than £f)CO, upon the education and support of two
hundred boys, was produced in the institution at Madras, by Dr Bell's regulations
and improvements. This, however, he justly regarded as an incidental advantage;
his grand aim was to redeem the children from the stigma under which they laboured,
and the fatal effect which that stigma produced ; and to render them good subjects,
good men, and good Christians. After superintending the school for seven years,
he found it necessary for his health, to return to Europe. The directors of the
charity passed a resolution for providing him a passage in any ship which he might
wish to sail in, declaring, at the same time, that, under "the wise and judicious
regulations which he had established, the institution had been brought to a degree
of perfection and promising utility, far exceeding what the most sanguine hopes could
have suggested at the time of its establishment ; and that he was entitled to their
fullest approbation, for his zealous and disinterested conduct." The language in
which Dr Bell spoke of the institution on leaving it, will not be read without
emotion, hy those who are capable of appreciating what is truly excellent in human

198 ANDREW BELL. D.D.

nature. During seven years wLicb be bad devoted to tbis office, he bad "seen tbe
vices incident to the iuiiner situiiliuii of tbc&e oi|)lians giadually vaiiisLiiig, their
morals and conduct approacljing nearer and neuier every year to what he wished
them to be, and tbe character ot a race of children in a manner changed." " This
numerous family," said he, " I have long regarded as my own. These children are,
indeed, mine by u thousand ties! I have tor them a parental affection, which has
grown upon me every year. For them 1 have made such sacrihces as parents have
not always occasion to make for their children ; and the nearer the period approaches
when I must separate myself from them, the more I feel the pang I shall suffer in
tearing niyself from this charge, and the anxious thoughts I shall tiirow hack upon
these children, when 1 shall cease to be their jjrotector, llicir guide, and their instruc-
tor." Eleven years after he had left India, Dr Bell icccived a letter, signed by
forty-four of these pupils, expressing, in the strongest tcrnjs, their gratitude lor the
instruction and care which he had bestowed upon them in childhood.

On his arrival in Europe, Dr Bell published, in 1707, a pamphlet, entitled " An
Experiment in Education, made at the Male Asylum of Madras ; suggesting a System
by which a School or Family may teach itself, under the superintendence of the
Master or Parent." The first [)lace in England where the system was adopted, was
the charity school of St Botolph's, Aldgate. Dr Briggs, then of Kendal, the second
who profited by Dr Bell's discovery, introduced it into the Kendal schools of industry.
These occurrences took place in 1798. In 1801, tbe system was fully and successfully
acted upon in the schools of the Society for bettering the condition of the poor.

In 1803, Mr Joseph Lancaster first appeared before the public. He published a
pamphlet with the following title — " Improvements in Education, as it res|)ects the
Industrious Classes of the Community ; containing a short Account of its Present
State, Hints towards its Improvement, and a detail of some Practical Experiments
conducive to that End." " The institution," he says, " which a benevolent Provi-
dence has been pleased to make me the happy instrument of bringing into usefulness,
was begun in the year 1798. The intention was to afford the children of mechanics,
«tc., instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic, at about half tbe usual price. The
peculiarity of bis plan seems to have consisted, chiefly, in introducing prizes and
badges of merit, together with a mode of teaching spelling, which was said to
economize time and trouble : be also called in the assistance of boys, as monitors.
In his pamphlet of 1803, he freely accords to Bell the priority of the mutual system,
acknowledging also that the published account of it bad furnished him with several
useful hints. Eventually, Mr Lancaster put forward a claim, obviously unfounded,
to be considered the sole inventor of the system. One of his advertisements in the
nevvspapers was thus introduced : — "Joseph Laiicaster, of the Free School, Borough
Road, London, having invented, under the blessing of Divine Providence, a new
and mechanical system of education fur tbe use of schools, feels anxious to disseminate
the knowledge of its advantages through the united kingdom. By this system, para-
doxical as it may appear, above lOUO children may be taught and governed by one
master only." And on another occasion be writes : — " 1 stand forward before the
public, at the bar of mankind, to the present, and for the future ages, avowing
myself the inventor of the British or Royal Lancasterian System." (^Morninff Post,
4th September.) Again : " I submit the plan, original as it is, to tbe country. The
same cannot be found in any other work, unless copied or pirated." (Preface to
edition of 1808.)

But however unfounded Lancaster's claim to originality may be, there can be no
doubt that, through his exertions chiefly, the system was extensively reduced to practice
in England. Belonging to the sect of Quakers, a body whose exertions in the cause
of philanthropy are universally known, he did not apply to them in vain for pecuniary

BENJAMIN BELL. 10".)

support and personal exertion. Lancasterian schools were rapidly established in all
parts of the kingdom.

Dr Bell lived long enough to witness the introduction of his systenn into 12,973
national schools, educating 900,000 of the children of his English countrymen, and
to know that it was employed extensively in almost every other civilized country.
He acquired in later life the dignity of a prebendary of Westminster, and was
master of Sherborn hospital, Durham. He was also a member of the Asiatic Society,
and of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. He employed himself during his latter years
in writing several works on education, among which the most valuable were, " The
Elements of Tuition," " The English School," and a " Brief Manual of Mutual
Instruction and Discipline." The evening of his pious and useful life was spent at
Cheltenham, in the practice of every social and domestic virtue. Previously to his
death he bestowed £120,000, three per cent, stock, for the purpose of founding an
academy on an extensive and liberal scale in his native city. He also bequeathed a
considerable sum for purposes of education in Edinburgh; which, however, to the
everlasting disgrace of the individuals intrusted with the public affairs of that city
at the time, was compromised among the general funds of that corporation, a few
months before its bankruptcy.

Dr Bell died on the 27th of January, 1832, in the eightieth year of his age, and was
buried in Westminster Abbey, the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishop of London
acting as chief mourners.

BELL, Benjamix, a distinguished surgical author, was horn in Dumfries in 1749.
He received an excellent classical education at the grammar-school of that town,
under Dr Chapman, the rector. The property of Blackett House, rii Dumfriesshire,
having devolved to him on the death of his grandfather, be gave a remarkable instance
of generosity by disposing of it, and applying the proceeds in educating himself and
the younger branches of the family, fourteen in number.

IMr Bell had early made choice of medicine as a profession, and accordingly he was
bound apprentice to Mr Hill, surgeon in Dumfries, whose practice was in that quarter
very extensive. It was a distinguishing feature in Mr Bell's character, that what-
ever he had once engaged in was prosecuted with extreme ardour and assiduity.
He therefore went through the drudgery and fatigue necessarily connected with the
detail of a surgeon apothecary's shop, with the greatest spirit. He, by degrees,
materially assisted his master, by attending his patients; to whom his correct beha-
viour, unfailing good humour, and agreeable manners recommended him in the most
powerful manner. He repaired to Edinburgh in 1766, entered himself as a member
of the university, and set himself, with the most serious application, to the prose-
cution of his medical studies. The Edinburgh medical school had just sprung into
notice, and was beginning to make very rapid strides to its present eminence. The
first and second Monro had already given evident tokens of the most distinguished
genius. The first had now relinquished, in favour of his equally skilful son, the
business of the anatomical theatre, and only occasionally delivered clinical lectures
in the infirmary. Mr Bell's ardour in the study of anatomy, in all its branches, was
unabated. As he proposed to practise surgery, he was well aware that eminence in
that department of the profession could only be arrived at by persevering industry.
He was appointed house-surgeon to the royal infirmary, which afforded him every
opportunity of improvement. It was here that he laid the foundation of that superior
adroitness and dexterity which so peculiarly characterized him in the many hazardous
but successful operations which he was called to perform.

Though Mr Bell was more particularly designed for the profession of a surgeon,
there was no department of medicine neglected by him. Dr Black, whose dis-
coveries formed a new era in the science of chemislry, had been removed from

200 HENRY BELL.

Glasgow to Edinburgh during tlie year in which Mr Bell entered the university.
His lectures and experiments proved generally attractive, and powerlully interested
the mind ot Mr Bell. Dr CuUen was professor of the Institutes of Medicine, and
his original genius excited the greatest ardour amongst the students. The practice
of medicine was taught by Dr John Gregory, and Botany by Dr John Hope. These
were the piotessors whom Mr HlII attended, and it must he confessed, that they
were men of distinguished talents, whose lectures no diligent student could listen
to without deriving very great advantage.

Mr Bell had resolved, in 1770, to visit Paris and London, the two great schools
for surgical practice. Before doing so, however, he passed the examinations at
Surgeon's Hall, and was admitted a member of the Royal College of Surgeons,
Edinburgh. In those great cities he remained nearly two years, assiduously im-
proving himself in surgery. Returning to his native country in 1772, he commenced
business in Edinburgh. Few came better prepared than he did for the practice of
surgery. His education was liberal and extensive. His appearance was much in
his favour. His address was good, his manner composed and sedate. Mr Bell had
early formed the plan of composing a system of surgery — and this he at last accom-
plished. He did not publish the whole work at once; but in the year 1778, about
six years after he had finally settled in Edinburgh, and become established in
practice, the first volume was given to the world. The remaining volumes appeared
from time to time until the work was completed in six volumes 8vo. in 1788. In
1793, appeared his "Treatise on Gonorrhoea," and in 1794, another "Treatise on
Hydrocele," which is understood to be the least popular of his works.

Mr Bell married, in 1776, Miss Hamilton, daughter of Dr Robert Hamilton, professor
of divinity in the University of Edinburgh, by whom he had a numerous family.
He died, April 4, 1806.

BELL, He.nry, the first successful applier of steam to the purposes of navigation
in Europe, was born at Torphichen in Linlithgowshire, April 7, 1767. He was
sprung from a race of mechanics, being the fifth son of Patrick Bell and Margaret
Easton, whose ancestors, through several descents, were alike well-known in the
neighbourhood as ingenious uiill-wrights and builders; some of them having also
distinguished themselves in the erection of public works, such as harbours, bridges,
dtc, not only in Scotland, but also in the other divisions of the United Kingdom.
Henry Bell, after receiving a plain education at the parish school, began, in 1780, to
learn the handicraft of a stone-mason. Three years after, he changed his views in
favour of the other craft of the family, and was apprenticed to his uncle, who
practised the art of a mill-wright. At the termination of his engagement, he went
to Borrowstounness, for the purpose of being instructed in ship-modelling, and, in
1787, he engaged with Mr James Inglis, engineer at Bell's Hill, with the view of
completing his knowledge of mechanics. He afterwards went to London, where he
was employed by tlie celebrated Mr Rennie ; so that his opportunities of acquiring
a practical acquaintance with the higher branches of his art, were altogether very
considerable.

About the year 1790, Bell returned to Scotland, and it is said that he practised
for several years, at Glasgow, the unambitious craft of a house-carpenter. He was
entered October 20, 1797, as a member of the corporation of wrights in that city.
It was his wish to become an undertaker of pubUc works in Glasgow; but either
trom a deficiency of capital, or from want of steady application, he never succeeded
to anv extent in that walk. " The truth is," as we have been informed, " Bell had
many of the features of the enthusiastic projector ; never calculated means to ends, or
looked much farther than the first stages or movements of any scheme. His mind was
a chaos of extraordinary projects, the most of which, from his want of accurate

HENRY BELL. 201

scientific calculation, lie never could carry into practice. Owing to an imperfection
ill even bis niecliunical skill, he scarcely ever made one part of a model suit the rest,
so that many designs, after a great deal of pains and expense, were successively
abandoned. He was, in short, the hero of a thousand blunders and one success."
It may easily be conceived that a mechanician open to this description could not
succeed, to any great extent, as either a designer or executor of what are called public
works. The idea of propelling vessels by means of steam early took possession of
his mind. "In 1800 (he writes) I applied to Lord Melville, on purpose to show
his lordship and the other members of the Admiralty, the practicability and great
utility of applying steam to the propelling of vessels against winds and tides, and
every obstruction on rivers and seas, where there was depth of water. After duly
thinking over the plan, the lords of that great establishment were of opinion that
the plan proposed would be of no value in promoting transmarine navigation." He
repeated the attempt in 1S03, with the same result, notwithstanding the emphatic
declaration of the celebrated Lord Nelson, who, addressing their lordships on the
occasion, said, " My Lords, if you do not adopt Mr Bell's scheme, other nations will,
and in the end vex every vein of this empire. It will succeed (he added), and you
should encourage Mr Bell." Having obtained no support in this country. Bell
forwarded copies of the prospectus of his scheme to the different nations of Europe,
and to the United States of America. " The Americans," he writes, " were the
first who put my plan into practice, and were quickly followed by other nations."
Mr Watt himself had no faith in the practicability of applying his own great discovery
to the purpose of navigation. In a letter addressed to Mr Bell, he said, " How
many noblemen, gentlemen, and engineers, have puzzled their brains, and spent
their thousands of pounds, and none of all these, nor yourself, have been able to
bring the power of steam, in navigation, to a successful issue." The various attempts
which preceded that of Bell are briefly noticed in the following extract from tlie
" Fifth Report of the Select Committee of the House of Commons on Steam-Boats,
J une, 1822, Sir Henry Paniell, chairman." Mentioning the following as experimenters,
namely, Mr Jonathan Hulls, in 173G ; the Duke of Bridgewater, on the Manchester
and Runcorn canal ; Mr Miller of Dalsvvinton ; the Marquis de JoufTroy (a French
nobleman), in 1*781; Lord Stanhope, in 1795; and Mr Symington, and Mr Taylor,
on the Forth and Clyde canal, in 1801-2; the Report proceeds — "These ingenious
men made valuable experiments, and tested well the mighty power of steam. Still
no practical uses resulted from any of these attempts. It was not till the year 1807,
when the Americans began to use steam-boats on their rivers, that their safety and
utility was first proved. But the merit of constructing these boats is due to natives
of Great Britain. Mr Henry Bell of Glasgow gave the first model of them to the
late Mr Fulton of America, and corresponded regularly with Fulton on the subject-
Air Bell continued to turn his talents to the improving of steam apparatus, and its
application to various manufactures about Glasgow; and in 1811, constructed
the Comet steam-boat, the first of the kind in Europe, to navigate the Clyde, from
Glasgow to Port-Glasgow, Greenock, Helensburgh, and Inverness." An interesting
recollection of Mr Miller's experiments on Dalswinton lake has been preserved
by Mr James Nasmyth, the eminent engineer, on the authority of his father, who
was present on the occasion. " The parties in the boat on that memorable occa-
sion," writes Mr Nasmyth to Mr D. O. Hill, the landscape painter, who has
introduced the lake into his picture of the Valley of the Nith, " were Miller (of
Dalswinton), Taylor (the engineer), Robert Burns (the poet), Henry Brougham
(the future Lord Chancellor), and Alexander Nasmyth (the father of landscape
painting in Scotland); a fit and worthy crew to celebrate so great an event. Many a
I- 2 c

202 HENRY BELL.

time (adds the writer) I have heard my father describe the delight which this tirst
and successful essay at steam-iiavigation yielded the party in question. I only wish
Burns had immortalized it in rhyme, for indeed it was a subject worthy of his
muse."

In 1S08, Bell removed to the modern village of Helensburgh, on the Firth of
Clyde, where his wife undertook the superintendence of the public baths, and at the
same time kept the principal inn, whilst he continued to prosecute his favourite
scheme, without much regard to the ordinary afTiiirs of the world. In 1812 he pro-
duced his steam-boat, the Comet, of 30 tons burthen, witli an engine of three horse-
power. The Comet, so called from the celebrated comet which appeared at that time,
was built by Messrs John Wood and Co., at Port-Glasgow, and made her trial trip
on the ISth of January, when she sailed from Glasgow to Greenock, making five
miles an hour against a head-wind. In August of the same year we find Bell
advertising the Comet to ply upon the Clyde three times a-week from Glasgow,
"to sail by the power of air, wind, and steam." In September the voyage was
extended to Oban and Fort-William, and was to be accomplished to and from the
latter place in four days. Mr Bell lived to see his invention universally adopted.
The Clyde, which first enjoytd the advantages of steam-navigation, became the
principal seat of this description of ship-building; and, at the present time, Clyde-
built steamers maintain their superiority in every port in the world. Steam-ships
are now launched from the building-yards of Glasgow and Greenock of 2000 tonnage
and 800 horse-power; and Clyde-built ships, with Glasgow engines, make the
voyage betwixt Liverpool and New York in ten days. Steam-boat building and
marine-engine-making received their first powerful impulse from the solution of the
problem of ocean sieam-navigation. From tables, constructed by Dr Strang from
returns furnished to him by the various ship-builders and engineers in Glasgow, Dum-
barton, Greenock, and Port-Glasgow, it appears that, during the seven years from
1846 to 1852, there were constructed at Glasgow and in its neighbourhood, 123
vessels, of which 1 was of wood, 122 of iron, 80 paddle, and 43 screw ; consisting of
200 wooden tonnage ; Y0,441 iron tonnage ; 6610 horse-power engines for wooden
hulls, 22,539 horse-power engines for iron hulls, and 4720 horse-power engines for
vessels not built on the Clyde. During the same period there were constructed in
Dumbarton, 58 vessels, all of iron, 20 being for paddles and 38 for screws, and having
a tonnage of 29.761 ; and during the last three years of the same period 3615 horse-
power engines were made there for iron hulls, and 200 horse-power engines for
vessels not built on the Clyde. During the same period, from 1S46 to 1S52, there
were constructed at Greenock and Port- Glasgow, 66 steam-vessels, of which 13 were
of wood, and 53 of iron, 41 paddle, and 25 screw ; consisting of 18,131 wood tonnage,
and 29,071 iron tonnage, 129 horse-power engines for wooden hulls, 5439 horse-
power engines for iron hulls, and 4514 horse-power engines for vessels not built on
the Clyde. For the whole ports in the Clyde, the steam-vessels built and the marine
engines made, from 1846 to 1852, were as follows : — Number of steam vessels built

Wood hulls, 14; iron hulls, 233; in all, 247; of these 141 were paddles, and 106

screws. The tonnage of the wooden steamers amounts to 18,331, of the iron to
129,273. The engines' horse-power in wood hulls was 6739, the engines' horse-power
in iron hulls was 31,503 ; while there was of engines' horse-power for vessels not
constructed on the Clyde, 9434, making a grand total of 247 steamers, amounting
to 147,604 tons, and of engines 47,766 horse-power. The steam communication
which has, for several years, existed betwixt our West Indian and North American
colonies and the mother country, has recently been extended to Australia and the
Cape of Good Hope, thus uniting Great Britain to her most distant dependencies by
new and powerful ties, and literally realizing the vivid description of George Can-

JOHN BELL. 203

ning, who, dilating on the benefits of steam-navigation, several years before the
death of Bell, described it as "that new and mighty power, new at least in the
application of its might, which walks the water like a giant, rejoicing in its course,
stemming alike the tempest and the tide — accelerating intercourse — shortening
distances — creating, as it were, unexpected neighbourhoods, and new combinations
of social and commercial relations, and giving to the fickleness of winds, and the
faithlessness of waves, the certainty and steadiness of a highway upon the land."
Whilst commerce and civilization were thus making rapid progress by means of his
invention, TTenry Bell reaped no personal advantage from it. He even approached
the confines of old age in very straitened circumstances. Touched by his condition,
the late Dr Cleland, and a number of other benevolent individuals, commenced a
subscription on his behalf, by which a considerable sum was raised. The trustees
on the river Clyde granted him an annuity of £100, which has been continued to
his widow. This was but a becoming acknowledgment of the value of his great
invention on the part of the trustees of a river whose annual revenue was increased,
mainly by the impulse given to its trade by steam-navigation, from £GG7G in 1810,
the year before Bell commenced the construction of the Comet, to £20,296 in 1830,
the year in which he died ; and which has been more than tripled during the last
twenty-two years, being, in 1852, £70,000. Within the same space of time, the
channel of the river has undergone a corresponding improvement, being rendered
navigable by ships of TOO and 800 tons burthen ; whereas, little more than half a
century ago, it was navigable only by coal gabbards and vessels of 30 to 45 tons.
The average available depth of the Clyde at high water of neap-tides, is 16 feet,
with an additional depth of two or three feet at spring-tides. At the Broomielaw,
the harbour of Glasgow, there are now 10,000 lineal feet of quayage, giving accom-
modation to hundreds of the largest ships belonging to the mercantile marine of this
and foreign countries, Mr Bell died at Helensburgh, March 14, 1830, aged sixty-
three, and lies buried in the Row churchyard. An obelisk to his memory was
erected on the rock of Dunglass, a promontory on the Clyde, about 2i miles above
Dumbarton.

BELL, John, of Antermony, a traveller of the eighteenth century, was the
son of Patrick Bell, the representative of that old and respectable family, and
of Anabel Stirling, daughter of Mungo Stirling of Craigbarnet. He was born
in 1691, and, after receiving a classical education, turned his attention to the
si udy of medicine. On passing as physician, he determined to visit foreign countries,
but we shall insert this part of his history in Mr Bell's own words. " In my
youth," says he, " I had a strong desire of seeing foreign parts ; to satisfy which
inclination, after having obtained, from some persons of worth, recommendatory
letters to Dr Areskine, chief physician and privy counsellor to the Czar Peter
the First, I embarked at London, in the month of July, 1714, on board the
Prosperity of Ramsgate, Captain Emerson, for St Petersburg. On my arrival
there, I was received by Dr Areskine in a very friendly manner, to whom I com-
municated my intentions of seeking an opportunity of visiting some parts of Asia,
at least those parts which border on Russia. Such an opportunity soon presented
itself, on occasion of an embassy then preparing, from his Czarish Majesty to the
Sophy of Persia." — Preface to his Travels. The ambassador fortunately applied
to Dr Areskine to recommend some one skilled in physic and surgery to go in
his suite, and Mr Bell was soon afterwards engaged in the service of the Russian
Emperor. He accordingly left St Petersburg on the 15th of July, 1715, and
proceeded to Moscow, from thence to Cazan, and down the Volga to Astracan.
The embassy then sailed down the Caspian Sea to Derbend, and journeyed by
Mougan, Tauris, and S>aba, to Ispahan, where they arrived on the 14th of March,

2^04: JOHN BELL.

1717. They left that city on the 1st of September, and returned to St Peters-
hurijli on the .3()th of Dcrciiilier, 1718, after havin<; travcllcfl across the ooiintrv
from SaralolK On his arrival in the capital, Mr Hell foinid that his friend and
patron l)r Areskine had died al)oiit six weeks before, but he had now secured
the friendshi[» of the anihassador, and upon hearing that an embassy to China
was preparing he easily ohtained an appointment in it tln'oiigh his intluence.
The account of his journey to (.azan, and through Siberia to China, is by far
the most complete and interesting part of his travels. His description of the man-
nere, customs, and superstitions of the inhabitants, and of the Delay-lama and
Chinese wall, deserve particularly to be noticed. They arrived at Pekin " aftei
a tedious journey of exactly sixteen months." I\lr IJell hiis left a very full
account of occuiTcnces during his residence in the capital of China. The em-
bassy left that city on the 2nd of 3L'\rch, 1721, and an-ived at 3Ioscow on the
5th of January, 1722.

The war between Russia and Sweden was now concliulcd, and the Czar had de
teruiined to undertake an expedition into Persia, at the request of the Sophy, to
assist that prince against, tlie Affglians, his subjects, who had seized upon Kand-
ahar, and possessed themselves of several provinces on the frontiers towards India.
Mr Bell's former join-ney to Persia gave him peculiar advantages, and he was
accordingly engaged to accompany the army to Derbent, from which he returned
in December, 1722. Soon afterwards he revisited bis native country, and re-
turned to St Petersburgh in 1734. In 1737, he was sent to Constantinople by
the Russian Chancellor, and Mr Rondeau the British minister at the Russian
court.^ He seems now to have abandoned the public service, and to have settled
at Constantinople as a merchant. About 1746, he married 3Iary Petei-s, a Rus-
sijin lady, and determined to return to Scotland. He spent the latter part of
his life on his estate, and in the enjoyment of the society of his friends. At
length, after a long life spent in active beneficence, and exertions for the good
of mankind, he died at Antermony on the 1st of July, 1780, at the advanced
age of 89.

The only work written by Mr Bell is his " Travels from St Petersburgh in
Russia, to various parts of Asia," to which reference has ah-eady been made. It
was printed in 2 volumes quarto by Robei't and Andrew Foulis, in 1763, and
published by subscription. " The history of this book," says the Quarterly
Review, " is somewhat curious, and not generally known. For many years aftei
Mr Bell returned from his travels, he used to amuse his friends with accounts ol
what he had seen, refreshing his recollection from a simple diary of occurrences
and obser^'ations. The Earl Granville, then pi-esident of the council, on hearing
some of his adventures, prevailed on him to throw his notes together into the
fomi of a narrative, which, when done, pleased him so much that he sent the
manuscript to Dr Robertson, ^vith a particular request that he would revise and
put it into a fit state for the press. The literai-y avocations of the Scottish
historian at that time not allowing him to undertake the task, he recommended
Mr BaiTon, a professor in the University of Aberdeen, and on this gentleman
consulting Dr Robertson as to the style and the book of travels which he would
recommend him to adopt for his guide, the historian replied, ' Take Gulliver's
Travels for your model, and you cannot go wrong.' He did so, and ' Bell's
Travels' have all the simplicity of Gulliver, with the advantage which truth
always can-ies over fiction."'

BELL, John, an eminent surgeon in Edinbm-gh, and of distinguished literary
qualifications, Avas born in 170 2. He was the second son of the Rev. William

1 ]\l'Ure's History of Gla^cow, new edition, p. 115.
2 Quarterly Review on M'Leod's Voyage in tlie Alceste, 1817, pp. 464-5.

JOHN BELL. 20 J

JBell, a clerg-jTnan of the Scottish Episcopal Chm-ch, established at Edinburgh.
His mother Avas the daughter of Mr Morrice, also a member of the Scottish Epis-
copal Church. Mr John Hell, cifter receiving a liberal education, became the
pupil of Mr Alexander Wood, surgeon, who was long celebrated in Edin-
bui'gli as a medical pi-actitioner. From the first, Mr Bell devoted himself to his
professional studies with that enthusiastic ardour so characteristic of genius, and
almost always the precursor of distinction. After completing his professional
education he travelled for a short time in Russia, and the north of Europe ;
and on his return commenced his professional duties by delivering lectures on
Surgery and Midwifery, 'i'hese lectures, Avhich he delivered between the years
1786 and 1796, were very highly esteemed, and speedily brought him into
practice as a consulting and operating surgeon. The increase of his private
practice, indeed, rendered it necessai-y for him, in 1796, to discontinue his
lectures, and from that time forward he devoted himself to his patients, and to
the prepai-ation of the several publications of \vhich he was the author.

For up\vards of t^venty years Mr I'ell may be said to have stood at the head
of his profession in Edinburgh as an operator. Patients came to him from all
quarters, both of Scotland and England, and even from the continent; and
during that interval he performed some of the most delicate and difficult opera-
tions in surgery. Nor was his celebrity confined to Edinburgh. He was gene-
rally known both in this country and throughout the world, as one of the most
distinguished men in his profession ; and his works show that his reputation was
well founded.

Early in IS 16, he was thrown by a spirited horse; and ajipears never to
Iiave entirely recovered Jrom the effects of the accident. In the autumn of that
year he made an excursion, partly on account of his health, to London; thence
lie proceeded to Paris, and afterwards pursued his journey south^vards, visiting
the most distinguished cities of Italy. Dui-ing his residence on the Continent, he
was treated in the most flattering manner by the members of his OA\n profession ;
and his countrymen, who, after the peace of 1815, had gone to the Continent
in gi-eat numbers, gladly took his professional assistance. In Paris, Naples, and
Rome in particulai*, his numerous patients occupied him perhaps too exclusively ;
for his health continued to decline, and he died at Rome, April 15, 1820, in
the fifty-seventh year of his age.

Mr Bell very early in life became impressed with a high notion of the ad-
vantage of combining general accomplishments ^nth pi-ofessional skiU ; he there-
fore spared no pains to qualify himself in every way to assume a favourable po-
sition in society. He Avas a good classical scholar, and so general a reader that
there were few works of any note in literature, either ancient or modern, with
which he was not familiar. This Avas remarkably shown in his library, in ivhicli
there was hardly a volume on any subject which did not bear traces of having
been carefully perused and noted by him. His practice was to make annota-
tions on the margin as he read ; and considering the engrossing nature of his
professional laboui-s, and the several works in which he was himself engaged,
nothing is more extraordinai*y than the evidence which is still in existence ef
the extent and variety of his miscellaneous reading.

The information which he thus acquired was not lost upon him ; he was po-
lished and easy in his manners — his perception of the ludicrous was keen — and
the tact with which he availed himself of his extensive reading and general
knowledge of all the interesting topics of the day, will be long remembered by
those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance. His conversational powers,
indeed, were of the very highest order ; and as he had great urbanity and kind-
ness of manner, and was happily free from that aflectation by which good talkeis

2^U(i ^ JOHN BELL.

;ire sometimes distin«^uislied, tliere were few of his coteinporaries whose society
was more j^enerally courted by tlie iii)i>er classes in l'!diiiltiir(^h ; and none who
were better titled to adorn and enliven the circle in which he moved.

Mr Bell's notions of tlie dij^nity of his profession were very high ; and
no man perhaps ever discharged his professional «liities with more disinterested
humanity, and honourable indcjtendence. His generosity to those whose cir-
cmnslances required pecuniary aid was well known, and his contempt for any
thing approaching to what he tliought mean or narrow minded, was boundless,
and fi-eqn(!ntly expressed in no very measured terms. The wanutli of his tem-
per, however, involved him in several misunderstandings with his professional
brethren ; the most remarkable of whicli was that which brought him and the
late Dr Gregoi-y into collision. The «piestion on which these two distinguished
men took opposite sides, related to the right of the junior members of the Col-
lege of Surgeons of I'Minburgh, to perforai operations in the Royal Infinnary.
This dispute divided the medical men of Edinburgh towards the close of the last
centui-y ; and Dr Gregoi-y and Mr Bell wrote several volumes about it. Bui,
although great wit and much happy sarcasm Avere displayed on both sides, it is
impossible to look back to this dissension without feeling regret that two of the
most eminent medical men of their day should have wasted their ingenuity and
high talents in acrimonious and unprofitable controversy, on a topic of epheme-
ral interest and comparatively minor importance. Mr Bell's principal publica-
tion in this controversy was entitled, " Letters on Professional Character and
Manners ; on the education of a Surgeon, and the duties and qualifications of a
Physician; addressed to James Gregory, M.D." Edinbui-gh, 1810. It is a
large octavo volume, and is characterised by exti'aordinaiy acrimony.

In the fine arts, JMr BeU's taste was very coirect. As a painter and draughts-
man his talents were far above mediocrity ; and the anatomical di-aivings bv
which his works are illustrated have been much admired. He was also a profi-
cient in music, with more taste, however, than execution ; and, as Mrs Bell was
also a highly accomplislied musician, his musical parties, although conducted on
a scale of expense which his circumstances hardly wan-anted, assembled at his
house the elite of Edinburgh society. He had no family, and his whole house
was laid out for this species of display — a foible >\hich those who were inclined
to laugh at his expense, did ziot overlook ; and which was to a certain extent
censurable, since his income, although very large, was never equal to his ex-
penditure.

Mr Bell's personal appearance was good. Although considerably under the
middle size, he was exceedingly well proportioned, vei-y active, and studiously
elegant in his movements. His head was weU fonned, his features regular, his
eyes keen and penetrating, and his whole expression intellectual and intelligent
in no ordinai-y degiee. He was also remarkable for the good taste which he
exhibited in his dress ; and was altogether a person whom even a stranger could
not have passed without recognizing as no ordinai-y man.

The limits of this work do not admit of an analysis of Mr Bell's writings. The
best is his treatise on " Gun-shot wounds," to enable him to prepare which, he
passed some weeks amongst the wounded men of Lord Duncan's fleet, after the
battle of Camperdown.

The following is a complete list of his professional worlis : — 1. The Anatomy
of the Human Body, vol. i. 8vo. 1793, containing the Bones, Muscles, and
Joints; vol. ii. 1797, containing the Heart and Arteries; vol. iii. 1802, con-
taining the Anatomy of the Brain, Description of the course of the nerves, and
the Anatomy of the Eye and Ear ; with plates by Charles Bell, third edition, 3
vols. 8vo. 1811. 2. Engravings of the Bones, Muscles, and Joints, illustratinff

WILLIAM BELLENDEN. 207

the first volume of the Anatomy of the Human Body, drawn and engraved by
himself, royal 4to. 1794, third edition. 3. Engravings of the Arteries illus-
trating the second volume of the Anatomy of the Human Body, royal 4to. 1801
third edition, 8vo. 1810. 4. Discourses on the nature and cure of wounds
8vo. 1795; third edition, 1812. 5. Answer for the Junior Members of the'
Royal College of Surgeons to the Memorial of Dr James Gregory, to the Mana-
gers of the Royal Infirmary, 8vo. 1800. 6. The Principles of Sargei-y, 3 vols,
4to. 1801-1808. 7. Letters on Professional Character, &c. His Observa-
tions on Italy is a posthumous work, which was edited by his respected friend,
the late Bishop Sandford of Edinburgh.

Mr Bell married Miss Congleton, daughter of Dr Congleton of Edinburgh.
His eldest brother was the late Robert Bell, Advocate, Professor of Conveyancing
to the Society of Writers to the Signet : author of the " Scotch Law Dictionary,"
and of several other vvoiks on the law of Scotland; who died in 1816. John
Bell's immediately younger brothers were, the late George Joseph Bell, Advocate,
Professor of the Law of Scotland in the University of Edinburgh, and author
of "Commentaries on the Law of Scotland," a work of high authority; and
the late Sir Charles Bell, F.R.S. of London, the distinguished anatomist and
physiologist. It is rare to find so many members of the same iamWy so favourably
known to the public.

BELLENDEN, William, more commonly known by his Latin name of Guliel-
mus Bellendenus, is one of those learned and ingenious Scotsmen of a former
age, who are esteemed in the general literary world as an honour to their coun-
try, but with whom that counti-y itself is scarcely at all acquainted. As there
were many gi-eat but unrecorded heroes before Agamemnon, so may it be said
that there have flourished, out of Scotland, many illustrious Scotsmen, whose
names have not been celebrated in that country. It is time, however, that this
should cease to be the case, at least in reference to AVilliam Bellenden, whose
intellect appears to have been one of most extraordinary character, and whose
intellectual efforts, if in a shape to command more extensive appreciation, would
certainly be considered a great addition to those productions which reflect hon-
our upon his native country,

William BeUenden was unquestionably a member of that family whose name
has been variously spelled Ballenden, Ballantyn, and latterly BaUantyne, and
which has produced several men eminent in Scottish literature. He lived in
the reign of James VI., to whom he was Magister SuppUcum JAbeUorum, oi
reader of private petitions, an ofiice probably conferred upon him in considera-
tion of his eminent learning. King James, whose many regal faults were re-
deemed in no small measure by his sincere love of literatiu-e, and his extensive
patronage of literary men, provided Bellenden with the means of leading a life
of studious retii-ement at the P'rench capital, where he is said to have afterwards
become Professor of Humanity, and an advocate in the parliament of Paris. As
he is said to have enjoyed his oflice of professor in 1602, it would of course appear
that James had fui-nished the necessai-y allowances for the retirement of his
learned protegee out of the slander revenues Avhich he enjoyed in his native
kingdom ; a circumstance which enhances the praise due to him for his munifi-
cence in a very high degi'ee.

Bellenden's first work, entitled, " Ciceronis Princeps," and published, appa-
rently without his name, in 1608, is a treatise on the duties of a prince, formed
out of passages of the works of Cicero refening to that subject. In this work, "he
shows that, whoever desires to exercise authority over othei-s, should fii-st of all
learn the government of himself; should remember and be obedient to every
tiling- which the laws command ; should on all occasions be ready to hear the

208 WILLIAM BELLENDEN.

seiitiiiieiiU of llie ulse ; disdaiiiina; Mlintevcr bears affinity to rx)iTiiption, and
abliorring the delusions ol" llattei y : lie slioiild be lenarioiis in pieseiving bis
dignity, and (tuitions bow be aUeiiii)ls to extend it; be sboiild be leniaikable
lor tbe purity of bis morals, and (be moderation of bis conduct, and never direct
bis band, bis eye, <ir bis imagination, to tbat ubicb is ibe iirojterly of anotber."'
To tbe " Ciceronis Princeps," in wbieb JJellenden bas only (be merit of an in-
genious collector, was jirelixed an original essay, styled, "'I'ractatus de Trocessu
et S«:rijitoribus Hei Tolitica'.," in «bicb tbere is a ricb vein of masculine sense
and fervent jtiely, ubiie tbe origin of our errors in religion, and of our defects
in jxiliiy and learning, is traced out witb considerable accura<;y and erudition.
In tbis treatise, tbe aulbor, ubile be <;ondenins tbe monstrous tenets of ancient
idolatry, and tbe gross corruptions of pbilosopby, bestows many just encomiums
on tbe wisdom and patriotism of some ancient legislators. He infonus us tbat
among tbe (neelc tbeorists. tbere is no systematic work on tbe science of poli-
tico, at once comprebensive in its principles, and applicable to real life; but
acknowledges tbat mucb useful information may be gatbered frcm tbe writings
of Xcno}>bon, and tbe fragments of Solon, (barondas, and Zaleucus. (Jn tbe
autb()rity of Cicero, be represents Demetrius I'balereus as tbe lirst person wlio
united tbe practice of politics witb a correct and profound knowledge of bis art.
He allo\vs, Iiowever, great merit to Plato, to Aristotle, to Tbeophrastus, and olber
imitators of Hippo<lamus, wbo, it seems, was tbe lirst writer on tbe subject of
government, ^vitbout being personally concerned in tbe administration of it.
He tben speaks witb becoming and warm admiration of Cicero, and enumerates
tbe political works of tbat writer Avliicb bave come down to us — tbose wliicb
were written by bim, but are now lost — and tbose wbicb be intended to draw
up at tbe request of Atticus.

Bellenden next publisbcd a treatise, formed like tbe foregoing from detached
passages in Cicero, regarding the duties of the consul, senator, and senate among
Ihe Romans. It was entitled, " Ciceronis Consul, Senator, Populusque liomanus :
illustratus publici observatione juris, gravissinu usus disciplina, administrandi
temperata ratione : notatis inclinationibus temporum in liep. et actis rerum in
Senatu : (pije a Ciceroniana nondum edita profluxere memoria, annorum dccx.
congesta in libros xvi. De statu rerum Romanorum unde jam manavit Ciceronis
Princeps, dignus habitus summorum lectione principum." Bellenden bas liere
shown, not only the duties of a senator, or statesman, but upon what basis the
rights of a free but jealous people ;Li-e erected, and the liallowed care those iiw
stitutions demand, which bave descended to us from our ancestors. 'Ibis work
was published at Paris, in 1()12, and like tbe former, was dedicated to Henry,
Prince of Wales. On the title page, tbe author is termed " Magister Suppliciuu
Libellorum augusti Regis IMagnas Britannije ;" from \vbich it would appear that
either there is a mistake in describing him as Master of Requests to the King of
Scotland, or be nuist have been subsequently prefeired to the same office for
Great Britain. The office, since he resided at Paris, must have been a sinecure,
and was probably given to bim as a means of sustaining bim in literary leisure.

Tbe next work of Bellenden was entitled, " De Statu Prisci Orbis, in Reli-
gione. Re Politica, et Literis, liber unus." It was printed, but may scarcely be
described as published, in l(jl5. Tbis is tbe most original of Bellenden's works.
The expressions and sentiments are all bis own, excepting tbe quotations wliich
he takes occasion to inti'oduce from liis favourite Cicero. In this work be luis
" brought to light, from the most i-emote antiquity, many facts which had beoii
buried in oblivion. Wliatever relates to tbe discipline of the Persians and
Egyptians, which was obscui'e in itself, and very variously dispersed, he has carc-
' I'an'b Preface to Bullciideiius.

WILLIAM BELLENDEN. 20D

fully collected, placed in one uniform point of view, and polished uitli diligent
acuteness. In a manner the most plain and satisfactory, he has described the
first origin of states, their progTessive political advances, and how they differed
from each other. Those fabulous inventions with which Greece has encumbered
history, he explains and refutes. Philosophy owes him nmch. He lias <;onfuted
all those systems wliic'h were wild and extravagant, and removed the difliculties
from such as were in their operation subservient to religious piety. But he has
in particular confirmed and dignified with every assistance of solid argument,
whatever tended to sei-ve the great truths of revelation. Much, however, as he
has been inv(»lved in the gloom of ancient times, he in no one instance assumes
the character of a cold unfeeling atitiquary ; he never employs his talents upon
those intricate and useless questions in endeavouring to explain which many
luckless and idle theologists torment themselves and lose their labour. The style
of Bellendenus, in this performance, is perspicuous, and elegant without affecta-
tion. The dirterent parts of the work are so well and so judiciously disposed,
that we meet with nothing harsh and dissonant, no awkward interval or inter-
ruption, nothing placed where it ought not to remain.""

All these three works — namely, the " Princeps," the " Consul," and the " De
Statu Prisci Orbis," were republished in IGIG, in a united finnn, under the ge-
neral title, " De Statu, Libri Tres." Prince Henry being now dead, the whole
work was dedicated anew to his surviving brother Charles ; a circumstance which
afforded the author an opportunity of paying an ingenious compliment to the
latter prince :

Uno avulso iion deficit altur,

Aureus, et simili frondescit virga metallo.

Of the justness of this eulogy the politician may liave some doubt, but the man
of feeling will be captivated by its elegance and pathos.

The last work which Bellenden himself published is of very small extent, con-
sisting merely of two short poems : " Caroli Primi et Henricas Maria;, Regis et
Keginse Magnse Britanniae," &c. " Epithalamium ; et in ipsas augustissimas
nuptias, Panegyricum Carmen et Elogia." Paris, 1675, 4to. It would appear
that Bellenden did not soon forget the kind patronage which he had experienced
from King James, but transferred his gratitude, with his loyalty, to the descen-
dants of that prince. This is the only known specimen of Bellenden's eflbrts in
poetry.

The "De Statu, Libri Tres," which perhaps were never very extensively dif-
fused, had latterly become so extremely scarce, as only to be known by name to
the most of scholars. From this obscurity, the work was rescued in 1787, by
Dr Samuel Pai-r, the most eminent British Latinist of modern times. Dr Parr
republished it in an elegant form, with a preface, which, though embracing
a singular jumble of subjects, and not free from the charge of pedantry, is justly
looked upon as one of the most admirable specimens of modern Latin which we
possess. Imitating the example of Bellendenus, Avho prefixed a dedication to
each of his three books, the learned editor inscribed them anew to three great
men of modern times, Edward Burke, Lord North, and Charles James Fox, who
were then the leaders of his own party in British politics. In the preface, he
introduced a high allegorical eulogy upon these statesmen, which was admired
as a singularly nervous piece of composition, though there Avere, of course, difie-
rent opinions as to the justness of the panegyric. He also exposed the plagiary
which Middleton, in composing his " Life of Cicero," had conuuitted upon the
splendid stores of Bellenden.

While Bellenden was employed in writing his tripartite work, " De Statu," he
* Parr's Preface „„

210 WILLIAM BELLEiNDJiN. .

had Cicei-o constantly Ix^foie him. " His warmest attachment, and increasinaf
admiration," to «|note Die words of l)r Tare, "wore necessarily attracted to the
character wliose writin<js were tlie oi/ject of his iinreiiiittiny; attention; whose
expressions were as familiar to liim as possihle ; and wiiose various and protoimd
leaniing occupied all the facidties of his soul." lie now connuenced a still more
extensive and lahorious cento of the writintrs of the l{<»man orator, which he
conduded in sixteen hooks, and which, with the addition of similar «;entoes of
the writinj^s of Senecji and I'liny the Elder, was to bear the name, " De 'I'ribus
LnminibiLs Homanorum." The Ciceronian cento, the only one he lived to com-
plete, is justly considered a most extraordinai-y perfcn-mance. I5y an exertion
of fictitious machinery, akin to the modern historical romance, Cicero is intro-
duced as if he had spoken or «Titten the whole from beginning to end. The
first seven books give a very concise abstract of the Roman history, from the
foundation of the city, to the (i 47th year, in which he was born. Then he be-
comes more particular in the account of his own times, and enlarges very fully
on all that happened after his lirst appearamie in public business. He gives an
account of the most remarkable of his orntions and epistles, and the occasions on
which they were Amtten, as also of such of his philosophical works as have come
down to us, and of some other pieces that are now lost, ending with a letter he
is supposed to have Amtten to Octavianus, afterwards named Augustus, which let-
ter, however, is supposed to be spurious. There cannot be a more complete
history of the life of Cicero, or of the tumultuous times in which he lived, than
this work, all of which, by an exquisite ingenuity, is so faithfully compiled Irom
tlie known works of the orator, that probably there is not in the whole book a
single expression, perhaps not a single word, which is not to be found in that
great storehouse of philosophical eloquence. Nor is there any incoherence or
awkwardness in this re-an-angement of Cicero's language ; but, on the contrary,
the matter flows as gracefully as in the original. " Whatever we find," says
PaiT, in the different writings of Cicero, elegantly expressed, or acutely con-
ceived, Bellendenus has not only collected in one view, but elucidated in the
clearest manner. He, therefore, who peruses this performance with the attention
which it merits, will possess all the treasures of antiquity, all the energy of the
mightiest examples. He will obtain an adequate knowledge of the Roman law,
and system of jurisprudence, and may draw, as from an inexhaustible source, an
al>undance of expressions, the most exquisite in their Icind." In the opinion of
another critic,' it is inconceivable that Bellenden could have composed this sin-
gular work, without having the whole of the writings of Cicero, and all the col-
lateral authorities, in his mind at once, as it must have been quite impossible to
perfonii such a task by turning over the leaves of the books, in order to find the
different expressions suited to the various occasions where they were required.

After the death ofBellenden, the date of which is only known to have been
postei'ior to 1625, the manuscript of his gi-eat work fell into the hands of one
Toussaint du Bray, who printed it at Paris in 1631, or 1634, and dedicated it
to King Charles I. of Great Britain. It is alleged that the pi'incipal part of
the impression, about a thousand copies, was shipped for sale in Britain, and
was lost on the passage, so that only a few copies survived. The work therefore
fell at once into obsciu-ity, and in a few yeai-s was scarcely known to exist.. One
copy having found its way to the Cambi-idge University Libraiy, fell into the
hands of Conyers Middleton, the keeper of that institution, who seems to have
adopted the idea of making it the ground-work for a Life of Cicero under his
OAvn name. Henc^ has arisen one of the most monstrous instances of literaiy

1 The late Earl of Buclian, who had the extraordinary fortune to possess a copy of this
rare book.

WILLIAM BELLENDEN. 211

plagium which modern times have witnessed. The A\ork of Middleton at once
attained to great reputation, and chiefly through that skilful arrangement of the
\M-itings of the orator himself, A\hich Bellenden had provided to his hands. The
theft was first denounced by Warton, and subsequently made clear by Dr Parr,
in Ins preface to the " De Statu.'' As the latter gentleman was prepossessed in
favour of both the literary and political charact(^r of Middleton, the terms in
which he spealcs of the theft are entitled to the more ^veight. He commences
his exposure in the following strain of tender apology, which we quote in the
original, on account of its extraordinary beauty ; for we know not that even the
^v^•itings of Tully exhibit periods more hannonious, or that the human ear has
hitherto been gratified with a more enchanting sweetness of language :

" Litteras fuerunt Middletono, non vulgares hre et quotidians', sed uberrimi-iR et
maxime exquisitje. Fuit judicium subtile limatumque. Teretes et religiose fuer-
unt aures. Stylus est ejus ita purus ac suavis, ita salebris sine uUis profluens
quiddam et canorum habet, numeros ut videatur complecti, quales in alio quopiam,
prseter Addisonum, frustra qua;siveris. Animum fuisse ejusdcm parum candidum
ac sincei-um, id vero, fateor invitus, dolens, coactus."

" Middleton was a man of no common attainments ; his learning was elegant
and profound, his judgment acute and polished ; he had a line and correct taste ;
and his style was so pure and so harmonious, so vigorously flowing without being
inflated, that, Addison alone excepted, he seems to be without a rival. As to
his mind, I am compelled with grief and reluctance to confess, it av:is neither in-
genuous nor faithful.

" Of the faitli of any man, in matters of religion,' I presume not to speak
with asperity or anger: yet I am vehemently displeased that a man pos-
sessed of an elegant and enlightened mind, should deprive Bellenden of (he fame
he merited. For I assert, in the most unqualified terms, that Middleton is not
only indebted to Bellenden for many useful and splendid materials, but that,
wherever it answered his purpose, he has made a mere transcript of his work.
He resided at Cambridge, where he possessed all tlie advantages which that uni-
versity and all its valuable libraries aflbrd, to make collections for his undertak-
ing. Yet did the man who proposed a system for the regulation of a university
library, possess the writings of l^ellenden, anticipating all that he professed to
accomplish. I cannot deny but (hat he makes some allusion to this particular
work of Bellendenus in his prefiice, although in a very dark and mysterious
manner; particularly where he speaks of the history of those times, vihich, who-
ever wishes to understand minutely, has only to peruse Cicero's Epistles with at-
tention ; of the tediousness of being obliged to peruse Cicero's Avorks two or
three times over ; of the care and trouble of consorting for future use various
passages scattered tlirough the different volumes ; and, above all, of the very
words of Cicero, which give a lustre and authority to a sentiment, A\hen woven
originally into the text.

*' To conclude tlie \\hole — whatever Middleton ostentatiously declares it to
be his wish and his duty to do, had been already done to his hands, faitlifully
and skilfully by Bellendenus, from the beginning to the end of the work !"

It is impossible to dismiss the life and singular writings of William Bellenden,
without a passing expression of regret, that so much ingenuity, so much learning,
so much labour, may be expended, without producing even the remuneration of
a name — for Bellenden, to use a phrase of Buchanan, is a ligld rather than a
name. His last work extended to 824 pages in folio, and he contemplated other
two of similar size, and equal labom-. Yet all this was so futile, that the very

1 Middleton was a free-thinker.

212 AVILLIAM BEIlllY.

next jjeiieration of his o«-n coundynicn do not appear to have know-n that such
a man ever existed Even after all llie care of biljliutrrapliors and others, which
lias searched out the few facts embraced by this imperfect narrative, the name of
Bellenden is only known in connexion with cerUiin works, \\liich are, it is true,
reputed to be admirable of their kind, but, for every practical purpose, are
almost as entirely lost to the world at lar<?e, as those lidri perdili of Ci<;ero,
which he has himself alluded to with so much regret. Nor can liellenden bo
ilescribed as a man defrauded by circumstances of that fame which forms at once
the best motive and the best reward of literature. He must have written with
but very slender hopes of rei)utation throuoh the medium of the press. It thus
becomes a curious subject of speculation, that so much pains should have been
bestowed where there was so little prospect of its redecting credit or profit upon
Uie labourer. And yet this seems to be rather in consetpicnce of, than in defi-
ance to the want of such temptation, 'i'he Avorks of the ancient classits, writ-
ten when there was no vehicle but manuscripts for their circulation, and a very
small circle in whicii they could be appreciat.-d, are, of all literary perf(jrmances,
the most carefully elaborated: those of the age when printing was in its infancy,
such as the worlvs of Jiellenden and other great Latinists, are only a degi-ee in-
ferior in acciu-acy and finish ; while these latter times, so remarkable for the fa-
cility with which the works of men of genius are diffused, have produced hardly
a single work, which can be pointed to as a perfect specimen of careful work-
mansliip and faultless taste. There is something not ungratifying in this reflec-
tion ; it seems to atone to the great memories of the past, for the imperfect re-
wards which they enjoyed in lUte or in fame. If we could suppose that the lofty
spu-its who once brightened the lustre of knowledge and literature, and died
without any contemporary praise, still look down from their spheres upon the
present world, it would gratify tlie moral faculties to think of the pleasure which
they must have, in contemplating their half-forgotten but unsurpassed labours,
and ill knowing that men yet look back to them as the giants of old who have
left no descendants in the land. Thus even the aspirate "■ name " of Bellenden,
which almost seems as if it had never had a mortal man attached to it, might
reap a shadowy joy from the present humble eifort to render it the justice which
has been so long withheld.

BERNARD, made abbot of Aberbrothir.k in 13)3, and the fii-st chancellor of
king Robert Bruce after his assumption of the crown in 130(5, desei-ves a place
in this work, as the supposed writer of that spirited remonstrance which the Scot-
tish nobility and barons transmitted, in 13 IS, to the Roman pontiff, asserting
the independency of their country. He held the great seal till his death in
1327. Crawford supposes that his surname was Linton.

BERRY, William, an ingenious artist, was born about the year 1730, and
bred to the business of a seal-engraver. After serving an apprenticeship under
a Mr Proctor at Edinburgh, he commenced business for himself in that city, and
soon became distinguished for the elegance of his designs, and the clearness and
sharpness of his mode of cutting. At tliis time the business of a stone-engraver
in the Scottish capital was confined to the cutting of ordinary seals, and the most
elaborate work of this kind which they undertook, was that of engraving the
ai-morial bearings of the nobility. Mr Berry's views were for several years con-
fined to this common drudgery of his art ; but, by studying some ancient entaglios,
he at lenoth conceived the desig-n of venturing into that higher walk, which
mitrht be said to bear the same relation to seal-engraving, which historical paint-
ing does to portrait^painting. The subject he chose for his first essay was a head
of Sir Isaac Newton, which he executed with such precision and delicacy, as
astonished all who had an opportunity of observing it. The modesty of Mr

WILLIAM BERRY. 21!

Berry pennitted him to consign this gem to the hands of a friend in a retired
situation of life, who had few opportunities of showing it to others. He resumed
his Avonted drudgeiy, satisfied, ^ve may suppose, with that secret consciousness
of triumphant exertion, which, to some abstracted minds, is not to be increased,
but rather spoilt, by the applause of the uninitiated multitude. For many years
tliis ingenious man " narrowed h^s mind " to the cutting of heraldic seals, while
in reality, he must have knoAvn that his genius fitted him for a competition with
the highest triumphs of Italian art. When he Mas occasionally aslced to under-
take some^vhat finer work, he generally found that, though he only demanded
pex'haps half the money which he could have earned in humbler Avoi'k during the
same space of time, yet even that '.vas grudged by his employers ; and he there-
fore found tliat mere considerations of worldly prudence demanded his almost
exclusive attention to the oi'dinary walk of his profession.

Nevertheless, in the course of a few years, the impulse of genius so far over-
came his scruples, that he executed various heads, any one of which would have
been sufficient to ensure him fame among judges of excellence in this depart-
ment of art. Among these were heads of Thomson, author of " tlie Seasons,"
Maiy Queen of Scots, Oliver Cromwell, Julius Cajsar, a young Hercules, and Mr
Hamilton of Bangour, the well-known poet. Of these only tAvo were copies from
the antique ; and they were executed in the finest style of those celebrated enta-
glios. The young Hercules, in particular, possessed an unaffected plain simpli-
city, a union of youthful innocence with strength and dig-nity, which struck
every beholder as most appropriate to that mythological personage, while it \vas,
at the same thne, the most difficult of all expressions to be hit off^'by the foithful
imitator of natui-e. As an actor finds it much less difficult to imitate any extra-
vagant violence of character, than to represent, with trutli and perspicuity , the
elegant ease of the gentleman ; so the painter can much more easily delineate
the most violent contortions of countenance, than that placid serenity, to express
which requires a nice discrimination of such infinitely small degrees of variation
in certain lineaments, as totally elude the observation of men, on whose minds
nature has not impressed, vnth her irresistible hand, that exquisite perceptive
faculty, which constitutes the essence of genius in the fine arts.

BeiTy possessed this perceptive faculty to a degree which almost proved an
obstruction, rather than a help, in his professional career. In his best pei-form-
ances, he himself remarked defects which no one else perceived, and which he
believed might have been overcome by greater exertion, if for that greater exer-
tion he could have spared the necessary time. Thus, while others applauded his
entaglios, he looked upon them with a morbid feeling of vexation, arising from
the sense of that struggle which his immediate personal wants constantly main-
tained with the nobler impulses of art, and to which his situation in the world
promised no speedy cessation. This gave him an aversion to the higher depart-
ment of his ait, which, though indidged to his own temporary comfort, and tlie
advantage of his family, was most unfortunate for the world.

In spite of every disadvantage, the worlis of 3Ir Beny, few as they ^vere in
numbei*, became gradually known in society at large ; and some of his pieces
wei'e even brought into competition, by some distinguished cognoscenti, with
those of Piccler at Rome, who had hitherto been the unapproached sovereign ot
this department of the arts. Although the experience of Piccler was that of a
constant practitioner, while Mr Berry had only attempted a few pieces at long
intervals in the course of a laboi'ious life ; although the former lived in a country
where every artificial object was attuned to the principles of art, while Mr Berry
was reared in a soil remarkable for the absence of all such advantages ; the lat-
ter was by many good judges placed above his Italian contemporary. The re-

214 \^'1LLIAM BERRY.

spectivo worlcs of tli<! two artists were well known to each otlier; and each de-
clared, with tliat manly in<j('niioiisiiess, which very high genius alone can con-
fer on (ho hmuan mind, that the other w:is greally his sii|»enor.

Mr 15orry possessed not merely tlie art of imilating busts or ligurcs set before
him, in which he could observe and copy the prominence or depression of the
parts : but he possessed a faculty which presupposes anmcli nicer discrimination ;
that of being able to execute a figme in relievo, witli perfect justness in all its
parts, which w;is copied from a painting or drawing upon a Hat surface. This
was fairly put to the test in the head he executed of Jlamilton of Uangour
That gentleman had been dead several years, when his relations wished to have
a head of liim executed by iJerry. The artist liad himself never seen 31r Ham-
ilton, and tliere remained no pictuie of liiiu but an imperfect sketch, which was
by no means a striiving likeness. This w;is put into tiie hands of I\lr Berry, by
a person who had known the deceased poet, and who pointed out the defects of
the resemblance in the best way that wortls can bo made to correct things of this
nature; and from tiiis picture, witli the ide.is that 3Ir Jierry had imbibed from
the corrections, he made a head, which every one who knew Mr Hamilton, al-
lowed to be one of the most perfect likenesses that could be wislied for. In
this, as in all his works, there was a correctness in the outline, and a trutii and
delicacy in the expression of the fcatm-es, highly emulous of the best anticpes ;
which were, indeed, the models on which he formed his taste.

The Avhole number of heads executed by 3Ir Berry did not exceed a dozen ;
but, besides these, he executed some full-length ligures of both men and animals,
in his customary style of elegance. That attention, however, to the interests of
a numerous family, which a man of sound principles, as Mr Berry was, could
never allo\v himself to lose sight of, made hini forego those agreeable exertions,
for the more lucrative, though less pleasing employment, of cutting heraldic seals,
which may be said to have been his constant employment from morning to night,
for forty years together, ^vith an assiduity that almost surpasses belief. In this
department, he was, without dispute, the fu'st artist of his time ; but even here,
that modesty which was so peculiarly his own, and that invariable desire of giv-
ing perfection to every thing he put out of his hand, prevented him from drawing
such emoluments from his labours as they deserved. Of this the following anec-
dote will serve as an illustration, and as an additional testimony of his very great
skill Henry, Duke of Buccleuch, on succeeding to his title and estates, was
desirous of having a seal cut, with his arms properly blazoned upon it. But, as
there were no fewer than thirty-two compartments in the shield, ^vhicli was of
necessity confined to a very small space, so as to leave room for the supporters
and other ornaments, within the compass of a seal of ordinary size, he found it
a matter of gi-eat difficulty to get it executed. Though a native of Scotland
himself, the noble Duke had no idea that there was a man of first-rate eminence
in this art in Edinburgh ; and accordingly he had applied to the best seal-en-
o-ravers in London and Paris, all of whom declared it to be beyond thei^ power.
At this time. Berry was mentioned to him, with such powerful recommendations,
that he was induced to pay him a visit, and found him, as usual, seated at his
wheeL The gentleman \vho had mentioned Mr Berry's name to the Dulse,
accompanied him on his visit. This person, without introducing the Duke,
showed IMr Berry the impression of a seal \vhich the Duchess-dowager had got
cut a good many years before by a Je\v in London, now dead, and ^vhich had
been shown to others as a pattern ; asking him if he Avould cut a seal the same
as that After examining it a little, JMr Berry answered readily, that he would.
The Duke, at once pleased and astonished, exclaimed, " Will you, indeed!"
Mr Beiiy, who thourrht that this implied some doubt of his ability to perform

HUGH BINNING. 215

what lie undertook, was a little piqued, and turning round to the Duke, whom
he liad never before seen, he said, " Yes, Sir ; if I do not make a better seal
than this, I will charge no payment for it.'' The Duke, higldy pleased, left the
palfern with Mr Beny, and went away. The original contained, indeed, the
various devices of the thirty-two compartments distinctly enough to be seen ; but
none of the colours were expressed. Mr Berry, in proper time, finished the
seal ; on which the figures were not only done with superior elegance, but the
coloiu's on every part so distinctly marked that a painter could delineate the
whole, or a herald blazon it, with perfect accuracy. For this extraoi'dinai-y and
most ingenious labour, he charged no more than thirty-two guineas, though the
pattern seal had cost seventy-five. Thus it was, that, though possessed of talents
unequalled in their kind, at least in Britain, and assiduity not to be surpassed, —
observing at the same time the strictest economy in his domestic arrangements —
Mr Ben-y died at last, in circumstances far from affluent, .Tune 3d, 1783, in the
fifty-third year of his age, leaving a numerous family of children. It had been
the lot of this ingenious man, to toil unceasingly for a whole life, without obtain-
ing any other reward than the common boon of mere subsistence, while his abili-
ties, in another sphere, or in an age more qualified to appreciate and employ
them, might have enabled him to attain at once to fame and fortune in a very
few years. His art, it may be remarked, has made no particular progress in
Scotland, in consequence of his example. The genius of BeiTy was solitary,
both in respect of place and time, and has never been rivalled by any other of
his countrymen. It nuist be recorded, to the honour of this unrequited genius,
that his character in private life was as amiable and unassuming as his talents
were great ; and that his conduct on all occasions was ruled by the sti'ictest prin-
ciples of honour and integrity.

BINNING, Hugh, an extraordinary instance of pi-ecocious learning and genius,
was the son of John Binning of Dalvennan, a landed gentleman of Ayrshire.
He appears to have been born about the year 16-27, In his earliest years he
outstripped aU his seniors in the acquisition of Latin. At Glasgow college, which
he entered in his fourteenth year, he distinguished himself very highly in philo-
sophy. What Avas to others only gained by hard study, seemed to be intuitively
known by Binning. After taking the degree of Master of Arts, he began to
study for the church, AA' hen Mr James Dali-jTiiple, afterwards Lord Stair, vacated
the chair of philosophy at Glasgow, Binning, though not yet nineteen, stood a
competitor with some men of graver years and vei*y respectable acquirements,
and gained the object of his ambition by the pure force of merit. Though un-
prepared for entering upon his duties, no deficiency was remarked. He was one
of the first in Scotland to reform philosophy from the barbarous jargon of the
schools. While fulfilling the duties of his chair in the most satisfactory manner,
he continued his study of theology, and a vacancy occurring in the church of
Govan, near Glasgow, he received a call to be its minister. Here he married
Barbara Simpson, the daughter of a presbyterian clei-gyman in Ireland. As a
preacher, Mr Binning's fame Avas very great: his knowledge was extensive, and
there was a fervour in his eloquence which bore away the hearts of his congrega-
tion, as it were, to heaven. At the division of the church into Besolutioners
and Protesters, he took the latter and more zealous side, but yet was too full of
virtuous and benevolent feehng to be a violent partizan. In order to heal the
difference as much as possible, he wrote a ti-eatise on Christian love. When
Oliver Cromwell came to Glasgow, he caused a dispute to be held between his
own independent clergjinen, and the Scottish presbyterian ministers. Binning
having nonplussed his opponents, Cromwell asked the name of " that bold young
man." On being told that he was called Mr Hugh Binning, the sectarian gene-

216 CHARLES BISSET.

rai said, " llehatli bound well, indeed, but '' (r,laj)|>in<; liis hand upon his sword,
" tills will loose all ajjain." Tiiis excellenl youiin iireaclier died ot' consumption,
1G53, in his twenty-sixth year, leaving beiiind him a reputation for piety, vir-
tue, and learninjjf, such as has rarely been attained l)y any individual uiuler that
age. Besides his treatise on Christian love, he wrote many miscellaneous pieces,
of a pious nature, which were published, in 1732, in one volume quarto. A
selection from these, under the title of " Evanjrelical Beauties of Hugh Binning,"
appeared in 182D, with a memoir of the author by the Rev John i3rown of
\\hilburn.

BISSAT, OR BISSART, Peter, professor of the Canon Law in the Univei-sity
of Bononia, was born in Fife in the reign of James V., being a descendant of
Thomas Bissat, or Bissart, who was Marl of Fife in the reign of David 11. lie
received instructions in granuaar, philosophy, and the laws, at the University o/
St Andrews, and afterwards perfected his education at that of Paris. Having
then travelled into Italy, he was honoured by tiie University of Bononia with
the degree of Doctor of Laws, and shortly after became professor of the Canon
Law in that seminary, in which situation he continued for several yeai-s, " willi
great applause."

Bissat appeai-s to have been a man of genei'al accomplishment — a poet, an
oratoi', and a pliilosopher ; but his forte lay in the Canon Law. His various
UTitings were published at Venice in 1535, in quarto, under the title, " Patricii
Bissarti Opera Omnia, viz. Poemata, Orationes, Lectiones P'eriales, fet Liber de
In-egularitate." The last of these compositions was a commentai-y on that part
of the Canon Law which gives the reasons assigned by the Church of Rome for
excluding certain laymen from the clergy.^ Bissat died in the latter part of the
year 1568.

BISSET, Charles, an inffenious physician and writer on Fortification, was
born at Glenalbert, near Dunkeld, in the year 1717, It is alone known, re-
garding his parentage, that his father was a lawyer of some eminence, and a
distinguished Latinist. After a course of medical studies at Edinbui-gh, he was
appointed, in 1740, second surgeon of the Military Hospital in Jamaica, and
spent several years in the West India Islands, and in Admii-al Vernon's fleet, in

1 Of these, as detailed by Bissat, an abstract may be interesting' to the British reader,
now happilj' so Utile familiar with the systems of the Catholic Church. The primitive
Christians, in admitting the clergy, observed exactly the rules laid down by St Paul in the
first ep stle to Timothj'. Yet sometimes, as we learn from !St Cyprian, at the pressing in-
stance of the people, persons of noted merit, who refused through humility, were compelled
to enter. By the canons, however, a man required to be a deacon before he could be a priest,
and a priest before he could be a bishop. It was a general principle of the church, that the
clergy should be chosen from the most hoi}' of the lait\-, and, therefore, all liable to any re-
proach in their lives and conversations, were excluded. Agreeably to this principle, which
agreed with the injunction of St Paul, that they should be blameless and without reproach,
the first coLUicil of Nice excluded all those, specifically, who, after baptism, had been guilty
of an)' sort of crime, such as heresy, homicide, or adultery, nor was penance any pallia-
tive, seeing that the memory of the offence always remained ; while it was to be expecied
that those whose lives were without stain should be preferred to those who had fallen. Thus
all persons who liad ])erformed penance were excluded. Those also were deemed irrr^idar,
and not entitled to admittance, who had killed any person, by accident or in self-defence,
or who had borne arms even in a just war; who had twice married, or married a widow ;
or who engaged much in worldly ad'airs ; all of which ciicumstances were held as derogating
in some degree from the necessary purity of the individual. The only other moral disqua-
lification was ignorance : the physical disqualifications were almost equally numerous. All
deaf, dumb, or blind persons were excluded, as unable to perform their functions in a pro-
per manner. All persons who were lame, or had any deformity calculated to create an
aversion in the people, were declared unfit for orders. INladness and self-mutilation were
disqualifications. AH persons born out of wedlock were excluded, because, however inno-
cent the individual in his own person, the associations which the sight of them was calcu-
lated to awaken, were not favourable to virtue. Slaves, servants, children, and monastic
clergy without the consent of their superiors, were excluded.

CHARLES BISSET. 217

order to become acquainted with the diseases of the ton-id zone. The physiciau
\vho studies new and local forms of disease, with their symptoms, and natural
and accidental tenninations, whatever may be his success as a medical practi-
tioner, may justly be said to perform good service to his kind. His observations
are not of less value than those of the cautious and expert navigator, who
searches and describes shores hitherto unknown. But, while thus seeking to avert
disease from others, Dr Bisset became himself liable to its ravages. Having, in
1745, contracted ill health at Greenwich in Jamaica, he was under the necessity
of resigning his situation as second surgeon, in order to return to Britain. In
May, 1746, he purchased an ensigncy in the 42nd (Highland) regiment, so well
known for a long train of military glories, and which was then conmianded by
Lord John Murray. By this transition, his attention was turned from the medi-
cal to the military profession, and fortification became his favourite study. After
a fruitless descent on the coast of Brittany in September, 1748, and passing a
winter at Limerick in Ii-cland, the regiment was, in the beginning of next cam-
paign, brought into action at Sandberg, near Hulst, in Dutch Flanders, where
one Dutch and two English regiments suffered very severely. Here Dr Bisset
employed himself in drawing a sketch of the enemy's approaches, and some time
after, in another of Bergen-op-Zoom, with the permanent lines, the environs,
and the enemy's fii-st parallel ; ^vhich ^vere presented by his colonel to the Duko
of Cumberland, the commander-in-chief. The Duke Avas so much pleased with
these specimens of Dr Bisset's militaiy knowledge, that he ordered him to attend
the siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, and give due attention daily to the progresj of
both the attack and the defence, in order to form a journal of the whole pro-
ceedings. This distinguished duty Dr Bisset undertook with a modest reluc-
tance, the result rather of inexperience than of any consciousness of want of
knowledge. The result, however, was highly honourable to him. His journals,
duly illustrated with plans, were daily delivered to Lord John Murray, who for-
wai-ded them every second or tliird day, to the Duke, who was then at JMaestricht,
at the head of the allied army, observing the motions of the French army under
Marshal Saxe. His royal highness was pleased to express his approbation, by
r ecommending Dr Bisset to the Duke of Montagu, then master-general of tho
ordnance, who honoured him ^vith a warrant as engineer extraordinary to the
brigade of engineers ; he was at the same time promoted to a lieutenancy in
the army.

At the end of the war, being placed on half-pay, he had full leisure to pursue
his studies in fortification, and also to visit the principal specimens of the art
upon the Continent. The result was his " Essay on the Theory and Construc-
tion of Fortifications," which appeared in 1751, in 8vo.

His attention being now disengaged from this pursuit, he resumed his original
profession, and, for the sake of a salubrious air, which Avas necessary to his
weakly constitution, retired to practise at the village of Skelton, in Cleveland,
Yorlishire, where he spent all the remainder of his life. In 1755, when the
'Seven Years' War was impending, he published a " Treatise on the Scurvy, with
Remarlcs on the Cure of Scorbutic Ulcers," which he dedicated to Viscount An-
son, and tlie other Lords of the Admiralty. In 1762, appeared his "Essay on
th-i IMedical Constitution of Great Britain," which he inscribed to liis ti-iend Sir
John Pringle. In this work he shoivs the effects of the change of weather, and
of the seasons, on the diseases of Great Britain ; and at the conclusion is an
interesting paper on the virtues of the herb Bear's-foot, in the cure of worms.
In 1765, the University of St Andrews conferred upon him the degree of M.D.
In 1766, he published, at Newcastle, a volume of " Medical Essays and Observa-
tions," in which are upwards of twenty papers on the cUmate and diseases of the

218 JOSEPH BLACK, iM.D.

West Indies, which his oxporience in that country had enahlcd him to ilhistrato
in a most satisfactory ni.iiiiier; besides some others on the cliroiiic diseases of
(ireat Britain, particularly the hoopinir-o.^uirh and the scorlmtic itch, as uell as
•nany chirurgical remarks, which show o. mi'ii hont on the improvement of his
profession. A few years before his deatti, ha deposited, in the J^ibrary of the
Infirmary at Leeds, a manuscript of medical obiiervations, in octavo, and extend-
ing- to nearly seven hnndred pages; for which the physicians of that institution
honoured him witli a formal vote of thanks. Dr Dlsset also presented a manu-
script treatise on fortification to the Prince of Waloj (afterwards George IV.);
which was deposited in his lioyal Iligluicss's private library. These, with a
small publislied treatise on naval tactics, and a lew political papers, constituted
tlie whole of the intellectual exertions of this distinj^uished man; who died at
Knayton, near Thii'sk, in May 17 'J I, aged seventy-five years.

BLACK, Joseph, M.D. " the illustrious Nestor (as he has been tci-med by
Lavoisier) of the chemical revolution," — was not a native of Scotland, having
been born on the banks of the Garonne, in France ; but as his fatlier was of
Scottisli extraction, while his mother was a native of that country, and as Scot-
land, further, was the scene not only of the better part of his life, but of all
those exertions in science which will transmit his name to posterity, it seems pro-
per that he should obtain a place in this work, even at the expense of a slight
violation of its leading principle.

John Black, the father of the illustrious subject of this memoir, was a native
of Beltast, descended, as already mentioned, from a Scottish family, which had
for some time been settled there. For the purpose of carrying on the profession
of a mne-merchant, he resided chiefly at Bourdeaux, where he married a daugh-
ter of IMr Robert Gordon of Hillhead in Aberdeenshire ; a gentleman who also
resided at Bom-deaux, and was engaged in the same trade. The sister of IMrs
B lack was mother to IMr Russel, professor of natural philosophy in the university
of Edinburgh, and their aunt was mother to Dr Adam Lerguson. professor of
moral philosopliy in the same college, and author of the History of the Roman
Republic. While 3Ir John Black resided at Bourdeaux, he was honoured with
the friendship of fliontesquieu, who was president of the parliament or court of
justice in that province. " I\Iy father," says Dr Black, " was honoured with
President Montesquieu's fi-iendship, on account of his good character and virtues.
He had no ambition to be very rich ; but was cheerful and contented, benevolent
and liberal-minded. He was industrious and prudent in business, of the strictest
probity and honour, very temperate and regular in his manner of life. He and
my mother, who was equally domestic, educated thirteen of their children, eight
sons and five daughters, who all grew up to men and \vomen, and were settled in
different [daces. My mother taught her children to read English, there being
no school for that purpose at Bom-deaux." The regard Avhich Montesrjuieu en-
tertained for Mr Black was testified in the wannest terms, A^hen the latter was
proposing to return to his native country. " I cannot," said he, on that occasion,
" be reconciled to the thoughts of your leaving Bourdeaux. I lose the most
agreeable pleasure I had, that of seeing you often, and forgetting myself with
you.'»

Dr Black was born in the year 1728. In 1740, a few years before his father
retired from business, he was sent home, in order to have the education of a
British subject. After spending some time at the schools of Belfast, he was sent
in 1746, to complete his studies at the college of Glasgow. Here his attention
became decidedly fixed upon physical science; insomuch that, on being desired
to select a profession, he chose that of medicine, on account of its allowing the
greatest scope for such studies. It was about this time that Dr Cullen had been

JOSEPH BLACK, M.D. 219

nppointed lectiu*er on chemistry in Glasgow university. Hitherto tliis science
had been only treated as a ciuious, and, in some respects, a useless art. This
great man, conscious of his own strength, and taking a Avide and comprehensive
view, sa\v the unoccupied field of philosophical chemistry open before him. He
was satisfied that it was susceptible of great improvement, by means of liberal
inquiry and rational investigation. It was perhaps the good fortune of Dr Black,
in falling under such a master, that gave his mind a peculiar bent in favour of
this department of physical science. His previous acquirements and extraordin-
ary aptitude speedily became known to Dr CuUen, who was at all times remark-
able for the personal attentions he paid to liis pupils. Black became a valuable
assistant to Dr CuUen in his chemical operations, and his experiments were some-
times publicly adduced in the lectiu-e, as a sufficient authority for various new
facts. Thus conunenced a friendship between t^vo great men, which was never
afterwards interrupted, except by the Great Divider of Idndred minds and loving
hearts, and which was of considerable service to mankind.

In 1751, Black was sent to Edinburgh to complete the course of his medical
studies. At this time, the mode of action of lithotriptic medicines, but parti-
cularly lime \vater, in alleviating the pains of stone and gi*avel, divided the opin-
ions of professors and practitioners. This subject attracted the attention of Black,
and it appears from some of his memorandums, that he at first held the opinion,
tliat the causticity of alkalis was owing to the igneous matter which they derive
from quick lime. Having prosecuted his experiments on magnesia, the grand
secret of nature, which for ever will be associated with his name, was laid open
to him. He perceived that the acrimony of these substances was not owing to
their combination Avith igneous particles ; that it was their peculiar property ;
and that they lost this property, and became mild, by combining with a certain
portion of air, to Avhich he gave the name of fixed air ; because it ivas fixed or
become solid in the substances, into the composition of Avhich it entered. He
discovered, for instance, that a cubic inch of marble consisted of half its weight
of pm'e lime, and a quantity of air equal to six gallons measure. This gi'and
discovery, which forms one of the most important eras of chemical science, was
the subject of his inaugui-al essay, on obtaining his degTce as doctor of medicine ;
and the reputation it acquired for him, was the means, in 1756, of placing him
in the chair of chemistry at Glasgow, then vacated by Dr Cullen, who Avas trans-
ferred to the same chair in the college of Edinbm-gh. The theory of fixed air
(now termed by chemists, carbonic acid gas,) was speedily propagated on the con-
tinent, where at this time chemistry was occupying the attention of many great
men. In Gex-many, Dr Black's opinions, though placed on the firmest basis by
experiments, met with much opposition, which, it appears, gave him an uneasi-
ness not to have been expected from his philosophical, and rather indolent char-
acter. In France, hoAvever, he was very differently treated. Lavoisier, in send-
ing him a copy of his treatise on respiration, thus expressed himself: " It is but
just you should be one of the first to receive information of the progress made
in a career which you youi-self have opened, and in which all of us here consider
ourselves your disciples." To this Black replied, with a just admiration of what
the French chemists Avere doing, and without reference to any merit of his own.

On his assuming the chair of chemistry at Glasgow, that of anatomy was also
imposed upon him ; but this latter he soon exchanged for that of medicine, for
whicli, it would appear, he was better qualified. He gave great satisfaction by
t\e perspicuity and simplicity, the caution and moderation, ivhich he discovered
in his medical lectures. At the same time, he became a favourite practitioner in
the city, where his engaging appearance and manners, and the benevolent
and unaffected interest which he took in all the cases entrusted to his care, ren-

220 JOSEPH BLACK, M.D.

dered liiiu a most welcome visitor in every family. His principal friend at
Glasgow was his associate l)r Adam Smith, professor of moral i.hiloso|)hy, with
whom he had becimic intimate, when attending the university as a stndcnL A
peculiar simplicity and sensibility, an incorriiplil)le integrity, the strictest deli-
cacy and correctness of manners, marlccd the character of eacii cf the philoso-
phers, and firmly hound them in the closest union.

" It seems to liave been between the year 175!> and 17G.3,' that his specula-
tions concerning hkvt, which Iiad long occupied his thoughts, were brought to
niaturity. And when it is considered by what simple experimisnts, by what
familiar observations, Dr IlLack illustrated the laws of tliiidity and evaporation,
it appears wonderful that they had not long beforo been observed and demon-
strated. They are, however, less obvious than might at first sight be imagined,
nnd to have a distinct and clear conception of those seemingly simple processes of
nature, required consideration and reflection. If a piece of wood, a piece of lead,
•nnd a piece of ice, arc placed in a temperature much inferior to that of the body;
and if we touch the piece of wood Avith the hand, it feels cold ; if we touch the piece
of lead, it feels colder still ; but the piece of ice feels cohler than either. Now,
the first suggestion of sense is, that we receive cold from the wood; that we re-
ceive more from the lead ; and most of all from the ice ; and that the ice con-
tinues to be a source of cold till the whole be melted. But an inference pre-
cisely the contrary to all this is made by him, whose attention and reflection has
been occupied with this subject. He iniere that the wood takes a little heat from
the hand, but is soon heated so much as to take no moi'e. The lead takes more
heat before it be as much satiated ; and the ice continues to feel equally cold ,
and to carry off heat as fast as in the first moment, till the whole he melted.
This, then, was the inference made by Dr Blade

" Boerhaave has recorded an interesting observation by Falirenheit, namely,
that water would sometimes gi-ow considerably colder than melting snow without
freezing, and would freeze in a moment when shaken or disturbed ; and in the
act cf freezing give out many degrees of heat. Founded on this observation, it
appears that Dr Black entertained some vague notion or conjecture, that the
heat which ^vas received by the ice, during its conversion into water, was not
lest, but was still contained in the water. And he hoped to verify this conjec-
ture, by making a comparison of the time required to raise a pound of water one
degree in its temperature, with the time required to melt a pound of ice, both
being supposed to receive the heat equally fast. And that he might ascertain
how much heat was extricated during congelation, he thought of comparing the
time required to depress the temperature of a pound of water one degree, with
the time required for freezing it entirely. The plan of this series of experiments
occurred to him during the summer season. But for want of ice, which he could
not then procure, he had no opportunity of putting them to the test. He there-
fore waited impatiently for the winter. The winter arrived, and the decisive
experiment was performed in the month of December 1761. From this experi-
ment it appeared that as much heat was taken up by the ice, during its liquefac-
tion, as would have raised the water 140 degrees in its temperature, and on the
ether hand, that exactly the sarae quantity of heat w;is given out during the
congelation of the water. But this ex2)eriment, the i-esult of which Dr Black
eagerly longed for, only informed him how much heat was absorbed by the ice
during liquefaction, was retained by the water while it remained fluid, and was
again emitted by it in the process of freezing. But his mind was deeply im-
pressed with the truth of the doctrine, by reflecting on the obser\'ations that

1 The following most interesting account of one of the principal discoveries in modem sci-
ence is from a biographical memoir, prefixed by professor Robison to Dr Black's lectures.

JOSEPH BLACK, M.D. 221

presented themselves when a frost or thaw happened to prevail. The hills are
fiot at once cleared of snow durinj the sunshine of the brightest winter day, nor
were the ponds suddenly covered with ice during a single frosty night. Much
heat is absorbed and fixed in the water during the melting of the snow ; and
on the other hand, while the water is changed into ice, much heat is extricated
During a thaw, the thermometer sinks when it is removed from the air, and
placed in the melting snow ; and during severe frost, it rises when plunged into
freezing water. In the first case, the snow receives heat ; and in the last, the
water allows the heat to escape again. These were fair and unquestionable in
fcrences, and now they appear obvious and easy. But although many ingenious
and acute philosophers had been engaged in the same investigations, and had
employed the same facts in their disquisitions, those obvious inferences were en
tirely overlooked. It was reserved for Dr Black to remove the veil which hid
this mystery of nature, and by this important discovery, to establish an era in
the progress of chemical science, one of the brightest, perhaps, which has yet
occurred in its history,"

Dr Black explained his theory of latent heat — such was the name he himself
gave to it — to the members of a literary society, April 23, 17(52, and afterwards
laid before his students a detailed view of the extensive and beneficial effects of
this habitude in the grand economy of nature. Froni observing the analogy
between the cessation of expansion by the thermometer, during the liquefaction
of the ice, and during the conversion of water into steam, Dr Black, having
explained the one, thought that the phenomena of boiling and evaporation would
admit of a similar explanation. He was so convinced of the truth of this theory,
that he taught it in his lectm*es in 1761, before he had made a single experi-
ment on the subject. At this period, his prelections on tlie subject of evapox-a-
tion were of great advantage to Mr James Watt, afterwards so distinguished for
his application of steam power. His discovery, indeed, may be said to have laid
the foundation of that great practical use of steam, which has conferred so im-
mense a blessing upon the present age.

In 1766, on Dr CuUen being removed from the chair of chemistry at Edin-
burgh, to that of medicine, Dr Black, as foiinerly, supplied the vacant place. In
this new scene, he saw that his talents would become more conspicuous, and
of more extensive utility. He was therefore encouraged to devote himself, with
still more enthusiastic zeal, to his duties as a chemical teacher. In this he was
so far successful, that chemistry at length became a fashionable study in the Scot-
tish capital, and a necessary part of the education of every gentleman. After
this period, however, he retired from the field of chemical research, which nDw
began to be occupied by a gi-eat nmnber of distinguished philosophers. The
rause of this was the delicate state of his health, aided, perhaps, a little by that
indolence, or rather perhaps absence of ambitious motive, which has been ali-fcady
alluded to. It is to be regi-etted that, for the same reason, he can scarcely
be said to have published any thing to the world, by which his discoveries
might be permanently secured to the honour of his own name. From the period
of his accession to the chemical chair at Edinburgh, he was, for thirty years, a
most distinguished member of the professional society, which then adorned the
capital, and has since given such an Augustan eclat to the latter age of the eigh-
teenth century. Whatever obstruction his health proved in the way of publish-
ing, it never marred the active discharge of his duties. His courses became
every year plainer and more familiar, and were attended by a larger number of
pupils. The simplicity and elegance of his experiments were always much ad-
mired. His manner and appearance were peculiarly pleasing. His voice in
lecturing was low and fine, and his articidation so distinct that it was perfectly

223 JOHN BLACKADDER.

well heard by a large audience. His discoui-se was remavkaljlo for plainness and
perspicuity ; all his illustrations, whether by cxpcriiucnt, or by reference to the
processes of natui-e, were quite app(>sile ; his hearei-s rested wiih the most entire
coiilidenco on his conclusions, and even the most illiterate could not mistake his
sentiments.

Dr JJlack's conduct in private life was marked by a striking degree of deco-
rum, without the slightest approach to formality. His habit of studying physical
science rendered him very much a man of facts and demonstrations : he is said
to liave been so entirely destitute of fancy, or to have so ellectually repressed
that faculty, that ho never was knoivn to utter a joke. In his domestic aflairs,
ho was rigidly frugal and methodical ; yet his house was open to an enlightened
hospitality, in which he enjoyed as mich of the society of his friends as his deli-
cate health would permit. His chief friends were Smith, Hume, t'arlyle, Home,
and Hutton. The last was closely connected with him in philosophical pursuits,
as well as in the bonds of private friendship — notwithstanding that there were
some striking points of ditlerence between the two men. In the latter days of
Dr Black, he sunk into a low state of health, and only preserved himself from
the shocks of the weather in this variable climate by a degree of care almost fan-
tastia Thus he spun out the thread of life to the last libre. It was his gene-
rous and manly wish that he might never live to be a bui-den to his friends ; and
never was the wish more completely gi-atified. On the 2 6 th of November, 171)9,
and in the seventy-first year of his age, he expired, without any convulsion, shock,
or stupor, to announce or retard the approach of death. Being at table with
his- usual fare — some bread, a few prunes, and a measured quantity of milk,
diluted with water, and having the cup in his hand when the last stroke of the
pulse was to be given, he had set it dorni upon his knees, which Avere joined
together, and kept it steady with his hand in the manner of a person perfectly
at ease, and in this attitude expired, without spilling a drop, and without a
Avrithe in his countenance ; as if an experiment had been required, to show to
his friends the facility with which he departed. His servant opened the door to
tell him that some one had left his name, but getting no answer, stepped about
half-way towards him, and seeing him sitting in that easy posture, supporting his
basin of milk with one hand, he thought that he had dropped asleep, Avhich he
had soraetmies seen happen after his meals. The man went back and shut the
door, but before he got down stairs, some anxiety that he could not account for,
made him return, and lock again at his master. Even then, he was satisfied,
after coming pretty near, and turned to go away, but again returned, and com-
ing quite close, found his master without life. Ur Black, Avho had never been mar-
ried, left more money than any one had thought he could have acquired in the
course of his career. It was disposed of by his wiU in a manner highly charac-
teristic. Being divided into ten thousand shares, it was parcelled out to a nu-
merous list of relations in shares, in numbers, or fractions of shares, according
to the degree in which tliey Avere proper objects of his care or solicitude.

BLACKADDER, John, a distinguished preacher of the time of the persecution,
Avas the representative of an ancient but decayed family — Blackadder of Tullial-
lan — and Avas born in the year 1615. He Avas nephew to principal Strang of
GlasgoAV, and gi-and-nephew to the famous chorographer Timothy Pont. His
theological education took place under the eye of the former of these eminent
men, and having been duly licensed by the presbyterian chm-ch, then in its high-
est purity and most triumphant domination, he received a call, in 16 52, to the
parish-church of Troqueer, in the neighbourhood of Dumfries. Previous to this
period, he had married the daughter of a Avealthy mei-chant of that town, named
Haninsf. Mr Blackadder commenced his ministerial labours Avith a zeal which

JOHN BLACKADDER. 223

seems to have been singulai- even in those times. He, iu the first place, gathered
around him a very active body of eklers, whom he set to work in every direc-
tion, upon the task of cultivating the religious mind of the parish. He also instituted
a very sti'ict system of moral discipline among his flock. Not content with the
weekly sermons on Sunday, he instituted lectures on the ordinary days, which were
attended by many persons ii-om a distance. He also projected a plan for occasion-
ally interchanging duty with the neighbouring parochial clerg)', which was carried
into effect mthin the entire limits of the presbytery, and is said to have been
attended with the best results. The chiu'ch at this time rested undisturbed under
the suay of Cromwell, who gave it toleration in every respect except as a collective
body ; fllr Blackadder, therefore, found no bar to his progress, which was so
exceedingly rapid, that in less than two years he had the satisfaction of seeing a
tliorough reformation in the devotional habits of his parishioners. Evil days,
however, came at last. In IG62, the episcopal fomi of church-government ^vaa
forced by the restored house of Stuart upon a people who were generally repug-
nant to it. IMr Blackadder, so far from complying Mith the new system, employed
himself for several successive Sundays in exposing what he considered its un-
lawfulness, and, in his own Avords, " entered his dissent in heaven " against it.
The presbyteiy of Dumfries, upon which the influence of so zealous a mind was
probably very great, gave a positive refusal to an order of the parliament to
celebrate the anniversary of the restoration at a festival. A party of fifty horse
was accordingly sent to bring the whole of this refractory band of churchmen to
Edinbm-gh. On the day of their arrival at Dumfries, I^Ir Blackadder was engaged
to preach in the town church. He was entreated not to appear in the pulpit,
lest he should exasperate the soldiers against him ; but instead of taking this
advice, he desired the gallery to be cleared, in order that the militaiy might
attend his sermon. They did so, and listened decorously to the denunciations
which he could not help uttering against all who had been concerned in the late
religious defections. He, and some of his brethren, were next day conducted in an
honourable captivity to the capital, where he underwent some examinations, but
was speedily released, by the interest of his fi-iends. He was now, however,
obliged to demit his charge, in favour of an episcopal incumbent. On the last
Sunday of October, he preached a farewell semion to his attached flock.

"This," we are informed, " was a day of anxious expectation throughout the
country, and made an impression on the minds of those who witnessed it never to
be forgotten. The church of Troqueer stood (as it now does) upon a gentle emi-
nence on the banks of the Nith, commanding an extensive view of the surround-
ing country, Avhich, in the neighbourhood of Dumfries, presents a delightful
variety of local scenery. On the morning of that memorable Sabbath, Mr Black-
adder had risen early from prayer and private conununion. He stepped forth
to meditate on the subject of the day. Thei-e was a gloom and heaviness in the
atmosphere that seemed to correspond with the general melancholy. A fog, or
thick haze, that covered the face of the earth, as with a grey mantle, had retired
from the vale of Nith towards the mountains. As he paced his little garden
with a slow and pensive step, his contemplations were suddenly inteiTupted by
the tolling of the morning bells, several of which, in the adjacent parishes, Avere
distinctly audible from the uncommon stillness of the air. These HalloAved
chimes, once the Avelcome summons to tlie house of prayer, noAv sounded like
the knell of their expiring liberties, reminding him how many of his brethren
Avere, like himself, preparing to bid their last adieu, amidst the tears and bless-
ings of their people. At this signal of retirement, he betook himself to the du-
ties of the closet, to hold nearer intercourse Avith heaven, and fortify himself for
tlie solemn occasion.

224 JOHN BLACKADDER.

" The people, at an early hour, had been strajr^lin;;; on llie heigVt, but kept
aloof from the cliurdi, iiiiwillinjf to put llieir minister to hazard by convening in
nmltitiidos, which had boon discharged ;is a breach of peace and good order.
Tliey coUeclod by degrees in small s<;atterod groups about the cliurcli-yard, occu-
pied in dark conjectures, and \vaiting the minister's approach with extreme
juixiety. Mr Blackaddor made bis appearance with bis wt)ntod linimess and
composui"o, and with tbe same placid serenity of countenance for which lie was
remarkable. Tlie audience was not numerous, but every feature appeared set-
tled into a deep and earnest concern, fllost of them were dissolved in tears,
and at many parts of the discour^R. there were loud and involuntary bui'sts of

SOITOW.

"Towards the middle of the sermon, an aLinn was given that a party of sol-
tliei-s from Dumfries were on their march to seize him, and had crossed the
bridge. Upon this he closed hiistily, pronounced the blessing, and retired to
his chamber. The military surrounded the church-yard, and, as tlie people de-
pai-ted, they took down the names of all those who belonged to Dumfries, or any
of the other parishes, as the law had affixed a penalty of twenty shillings Scots
on every person absent from liis own church. They offered violence to none,
and went away without entering the manse, being assured that no strangers were
there. When they wex-e gone, the minister assembled the remains of the congre-
gation in his own house, and finished the sermon, ' standing on the stair-head,
both the upper and lower flat being crowded to the fulL'

" The people seemed very loath to depart, lingering in suspense about tlic
door, expressing their concern for his safety, and their willingness to shed their
blood in his defence. Mr Blackadder conjui-ed them to have regaid to the
peace of the countiy, and give no handle to their adversaries by any disturbance.
' Go,' said he, and fend [ provide 1 for yourselves : the hour is come when the
shepherd is smitten, and the flock shall be scattered. Blany are this day mourn-
ing for the desolations of Israel, and weeping, like the prophet, between the
porch and the altar. God's heritage lias become the prey of the spoiler ; the
mountain of the house of the Lord as the high places of the forest When the
faithful pastors ai-e removed, hirelings shall intrude, whom the great Shepherd
lever sent, who will devour the flock, and tread down the residue with their
laet. As for me, I have done my duty, and no^v there is no time to evade. I
recommend you to Him, ^vho is able to keep you from falling, and am ready,
through grace, to be disposed of as the Lord pleases.' '' ^

After this solemn and affecting scene, IMr Blackadder went, Avith his wife and
numerous family, to reside at Caitloch in the pai'ish of Glencairn, a wilder and
more central part of the stewartry of Kirkcudbright. Here he soon attracted
the attention of the authorities by the crowds which he collected to hear his oc-
casional preachings, and he was therefore obliged to remove. For some years
ifter this period, he appears to liave wandered through the country, preaching
whenever he could find a proper opportunity. In 1670, having performed wor-
ship at a conventicle near Dunfermline, where tlie people had armed themselves
for self-defence, he was summoned before the privy council, but contrived to
elude their power. ^Vhen the search was a little slackened, he renewed his
practice of itinerant preaching, which he not only conceived to be no offence
against human laws, but a duty solemnly enjoined by the word of God. On one
occasion, he preached at Kinkell, near St Andiews: the people flocked from
that metropolitan city to hear him, notwithstanding all the injunctions and sur-
veillance of Archbishop Sharpe. It is said, that, on Sharpe desiring the provost
to send out the militia to disperse the congregation, he was informed tliat it was
1 Crichton's l^ife of John Blackadder, 12mo, 1823.

TITOATAS BLACKLOCK. 225

impossible — the militia had gone alrea«ly as worshippers. In 1674, he was out-
l.iwed, and a re^Vtard of a thousand merks was offered for his apprehension ; but
he nevertheless continued to preach occasionally to large assemblages in the
fields. What may appear surprising, he often resided in the capital, without
undergoing any annoyance, and conti'ived, notwithstanding the migratory nature
of his life, to rear a large and well-instructed family. It does not appear that he
appi'oved of the insuiTection of his friends, which was suppressed at BotliAvell.
1 hough engaged in duty immediately before this event, he fortunately was con-
fined during the whole period of its continuance, by a rheumatism, and therefore
escaped all blame on that account. In 1680, he made a voyage to Holland, and
settled his son at Leyden, as a student of medicine ; a circumstance which proves
that the persecution to which these clergymen were subjected was not uniformly
attended by pecuniary destitution. After spending several months in Holland,
he returned to Scotland, and, in the succeeding year, was apprehended, and con-
fined in the state-prison upon the Bass. He remained here lor four years, when
at length his health declined so much, on account of the insalubrious nature of
his prison, that his friends made interest to procure his liberation upon the plea
that he must otherwise sink under his malady. The government at first mocked
him with a proposal to transfer him to Haddington or Dunbar jail, but at length,
on a more earnest and better attested remonstrance, oflered to give him liberty to
reside in Edinburgh, under a bond for five thousand merks. Ere this tender
mercy could be made available, he died in his islet prison, December, IG85, hav-
ing nearly completed his seventieth year. John Blackadder lies inteired in
North Berwick church-yard, where there is an epitaph to his memory, containing,
among others, the following characteristic lines : —

Grace formed him in the Ciaristiaii hero's mould ;

Meek in his o^vn concerns — in's Master's l)okI ;

Passions to reason chained, prudence did lead,

Zeal warmed his breast, and prudence cooled his head.

Five years on this lone rock, yet sweet abode,

He Enoch-like enjoyed and walked with God ;

Till by long-living on his heavenly food,

His soul by love grew up, too great, too good,

To be confined to jail, or flesh, or blood.

BLACKLOCK, Thomas, an ingenious blind poet, was born, November 10th,
1721, at Annan; his parents were natives of Cumberland, his father a brick-
layer, and his mother the daughter of Mr Richard Kae, an extensive cattle
dealer. Before he was six months old, he lost his sight in the small-pox; and
was thus rendered incapable of learning a mechanical trade, while the poor cir-
CHmstances to which a series of misfortunes had reduced his father, placed equally
beyond his reach an education for any of those professions where the exercise of
the mental faculties is principally required. His affectionate parent seems to
have been a^vare, however, that the happiness of his son, shut out from so many
of the enjoyments afforded by the external world, must mainly depend upon his
intellectual resources; and in order to form these, he devoted part of his leisure
hours to such instruction as his poor blind boy was susceptible of — he read to
him, at first the books adapted to the understanding of a child, and afterwards
those fitted for a maturer capacity, such as Milton, Spenser, Prior, Pope, and
Addison. His companions also, who pitied his want of sight, and loved him for
his gentle disposition, lent their assistance in this task of kindness ; and by their
help he acquired some little knowledge of Latin. Thomson and Allan Kamsay
were his favourite authors ; and it was as earlv as his twelfth year that he evinced
still m.ore decidedly his love of the poetical art by the composition of an ode. ad-

22G THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

ilressetl " To a litllc Girl whom I liad olIeiMled," — a luntliiction not remarkable
solely on account of llio rutiae celebrity of ils aiillior, but because it displays at
once his mildness of temper and lively fancy. The arj^ument that shrewishness
spoils a youujr lady's looks, and on<;ht theiefore to be avoided, coininij;- as it does
fnaii a lilllu fellow of twelve to a girl about his own age, is adroitly managed:
" Slidulil Imt thy l':ii'r coiiipaniuiis view

How ill liiat frown becoints thy brow,

Willi fear iiiiil giicf in every eye,

E;u'h would to eueh, astonished, cry,

Heavens! where is all lier sweetness llowii ! —

How strange a llgure now she's grown !

Kun, Nuiicy, kt us run, le?t we

Grow pettish a« kward things as she."

Thus early did Blackloclc show, that in the course of reading t-hosen for him,
his father had not mistrdiea the bent of his inclination. But though, as wc have
menticned, some of his conn-adcs delightod to forward his favourite studies, and,
by their assiduous attentions, to make him forget the deprivation under which
ho laboured, there were others who took pleasure in rendering him bitterly con-
scious of his misfortinie, and exulted in the success of such practical jokes, as it
was easy to make him the subject of. It is but too obvious that his own experi-
ence at this period,* \\hen exposed to the insults of unfeeling boys, suggested the
retlection introduced in the article " Blind," afterwards ^vritten by him for the
Encyclopaedia Britannicu : "Parents of middle or of higher rank," he there
remarks, "who are so unfortmiate as to liave blind children, ought by all possi-
ble means to keep them out of vulgar company. The herd of mankind have a
wanton malignity which eternally impels them to impose upon the blind, and to
enjoy the painful situations in which these impositions pbice them. 'Ihis is a
stricture upon the humanity of our species, uhich nothing but the love of truth
and the dictates of benevolence could have extorted from us. 13ut we have
known some," ho adds, evidently referring to himself, '' who have suH'ered so
much from this diabolical mirth in their own persons, that it is natural for us, by
all the means in our power, to prevent others from becoming its victims." The
very means taken to alleviate Elacklock's misfoxtune in some sort increased its
force ; for as his mind expanded, it taught him to feel with greater keenness his
own dependent condition: familiar with some of the noblest flights of genius,
rnd himself become a poet, he would probably have exchanged all his intellec-
tual stores for the ability of earning his bread by handicraft labour. Lamenting
his blindness, he thus closes an enumeration of the miseries it entailed upon him:
'' Nor end my sorrows here: The sacred fane

Of knowledge, scarce accessible to me.

With heart-consuming anguish I behold :

Knowledge for wliich my soul insatiate bums

With ardent thirst. Nor can these useless hand?,

Untulor'd in each lite-sustaining ait,

Nourish this wretched being, and supply

Frail nature's ^vants, that sliort cessation know."

Alternately depressed by a sense of his own helplessness, and comforted by
chat piety %vith ^vhich he seems to have been from first to last most deeply im-
tued, Elacklock lived at home till his nineteenth year. A fresh misfortune then
overtook him in the loss of his father, who was crished to death by the fall of o
n alt-kiln, with eighty bushels of grain upon it, belonging to his son-in-law.
Blacklock's afl'ection for his parents nmst have exceeded that of other children ;
for that anxious solicitude about his safety and comfort which other boys begin

TIIOAIAS BLA.CKLOCK. 227

to forget, when the business of the world removes them from its immediate influ-
ence, had been to him extended over those years when to tlie helplessness of a
child he added the sense and feelings of a man. To his keenly susceptible
mind this stroke must therefore have been peculiarly afflicting. And it was at-
tended not only with regret on account of remembered benefits, but also by the
xnticipation of future evils. A means of livelihood was indeed suggested by
niacklock's love of music : as he played well on the violin and flute, and even
composed pieces with taste, it was proposed that he should follow this art as a
profession. " But the unhappy situation in which he was then placed," says the
authority upon which this statement is given,' " made him dread consequences
to which he could never reconcile bis mind. The very thought that his time
and talents should be prostrated to the for\varding of loose mirth and riot in-
spired him with an honest indignation."" Unable to bring down his mind to
this occupation, — the only one which seemed within liis reach, — deprived of the
stay on which be had hitherto leaned, blind and feeble, no wonder that the fate
of a houseless beggar sometimes presented itself as Avhat might possibly happen
to himself. Bums occasionally indulged in similar forebodings; but when be
depicts his unhappy fortune, and doggedly exclaims,

"Tlie last o't, the warst o't,
Is only but to beg!"

we must be excused for iron-heartedly I'ccollecting that he was an able-bodied
man, who, as his brother Gilbert records, never met wth his match in mowing —
the hardest of all rustic labour. A man so gifted, yet so complaining, meets with
little sympathy, as he is entitled to none : but with poor Blacklock the dread of
dying a houseless wanderer was more than a mere rhetorical flourish or the in-
didgence of a groundless querulousnoss. While we read the lines in which he
unfolds his fears, Ave perceive that anguish wrung his heart in writing them, and
we know that his situation justified his apprehensions.

" Dejecting prospect ! soon tlie Ihapless hour
May come— perhaps this moment it impends—
Which drives me forth to penury and cold,
Naked, and beat by all the storms of heaven,
Frirndless and guideless to explore my way ;
Till on cold earth this poor unsheltered head
Reclining, vainly from the ruthless blast
Respite I beg, and in the shock expire."

Although gloomy anticipations like these sometimes intruded, Blacklock did
not permit them to overwhelm him, but calming his fears, and resting with a
pious confidence in the awards of a protecting Providence, he continued to live
with bis mother for a year after bis father's death.

Some of his poems had by this time got abroad and made him known beyond
bis o«Ti immediate circle of friends. We shall not pretend to deny that the cir-
cumstance of his blindness had some effect, in addition to the intrinsic merits of
these productions, in making them be sought after and dispersed among literary
persons. On account of their being the verses of a blind poet, they were no
doubt read by many who were little able to appreciate their real excellencies, and
who, having gratified their curiosity, did not concern themselves about the con-

1 An article in the Gentleman's Magazine, which, after being read over to Dr Blacklock,
slightly altered, and two notes added at his request, was reprinted in the Scots Magazine for
1754, The authority may therefore be considered to be that of Dr Blacklock himself.
From internal evidence it appears very certain, that this article was a contribution to Mr
Uiban from his frequent correspondent Dr Johnson,

2'JS THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

(lition of llie author: but still by this iiieaiis the fniiie of Blncklock's ^t^nitis wiis
extemU'tl ; and at l.usl it ix'arheil a gentU'iiiau, «lio to curiosity a<lded benevo-
lence of liearL 'I'liis was Dr Jolin Stevenson, a physician in Edinburgh, mIio,
while on a professional visit in Dumfries, saw some of our aiillior's pieces, and
resolved to utlord the yoinijj man's talents the opportunity of expanding in avo-
cations and amid swiely more congenial to one so much restricted to pleasures
of an intellectual kiniL Accordingly JUacidock was, in 1741, induced lore-
move to the nietropt>lis, where he attended a grannuar-school lor some time, and
afterwards entered as a student in the college, Ur Stevenson suppljing him with
the means necessary for the prosecution of his studies. To the frieml who thus
so etlicaciously patrtmized him, he at'terw;u-ds inscribed an imitation of tlie ode to
Macenas, which occupies the first pLice in his jioems, as it does in tliose of Horace ;
and that he never forgot the benelits bestowed upon himself is manifested by the
ready zeal which his futiu-e life at all times displayed for the encouragement of
unnoticed genius.

lilacklock's studies were interrupted by the expedition of the Ilighlanders, in
1745; and during the distractions conset^uent upon that memorable campaign
he resided in DumlVies with Mr ftl'JMurdo, his brother-in-law. On the re-estab-
lishment of peace, he returned to college, and studied six ycai-s nun-e. In this
period he acquired a good luiowlcdge of all those branches of education where
he was not hindered by the want of sight ; and became better skilled than was
conunon in the French language, from being on habits of intimacy with the
family of provost Alexander, whose wife was a Parisian. It may well inspire
wonder that lattei'ly there was no science Avitli Avhich Blacklock had not made
himself acquainted — no learned language which he did not master — and no mo-
dem tongue, of any acknowledged use to a man of general literature, \\ith Avhich
he was not more or less familiar.

Amid the severer studies of classical learning, philosophy, and theology, his
attachment to poetry was not forgotten. In 174(), a volume of his verses in 8vo.
was published at Glasgow. A second edition followed at Edinburgh, in 1754 ;
and two years afterwards, a quarto edition, with an account of his life by Mr
Spence, professor of poetry at Oxford, came out by subscription in London.
In the selection of pieces for the press, Blacldock was by his friends considered
to be over fastidious ; and by persisting to exclude what he himself thought un-
worthy of a pla<-e, he greatly limited the size of his boolis. By the London edi-
tion a considerable sum was realized for the author's advantage. Besides these
editions of his poems, another in 4to. was published in 1793, with a life elegant-
ly written by Henry 3Iackenzie. They have also been reprinted in the col-
lections of Anderson and Chalmers. Of all these the edition of Dr Anderson,
though not the latest, is the most complete.

Hume the historian Avas among the friends who early interested themselves in
the fortunes of Blacklock, and \vas of considerable service in promoting the sub-
scription to the London edition of his poems ; but all intercourse between theni
was subsequently broken off. When at a later period Beattie submitted to our
author's judgment his " Essay on the Imnmtability of Moral Sentiment," and
acquainted him with the more extensive plan of the " Essay on Trutli,'' stating
that, in the prosecution of that design, he should think it his duty to treat Mr
Hume with freedom, he alluded to that eminent jdiilosopher as " a friend of
yours." This drew from Blacklock a long account of the intercoui-se between
himself and Hume, from its conunencement to its close. The interruption of
their good understanding took place, as Sir Wilham Forbes, who saw the letter
among Beattie's papers, informs us, " through no fault on the part of Dr Black-
lock;'' but the letter itself has never been published, — which is to be regi-etted.

THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

229

because it might afford some farther insight than we possess into a character
round which Hume has dra^\^l the screen of an impenetrable autobiogi-aphy. It
is also desirable that the i-eal circumstances of the connexion should be known,
as it has been the means, in the hands of Hardy, author of tlie Memoii-s of Lord
Charlemont, of throwing a most disagreeable i-eflection upon the memory of
Blacklock. This writer affinns that Hume confeiTed upon him the salary whicli
he derived from an office in the university — meaning, probably, the Advocates'
Library ; while, from the numerous impossibilities and obvious en-oi-s of the
statement, it may be pretty confidently assumed, that the whole is destitute ot
truth.

The course of study followed by Blacklock at college was that usually gone
through for the purpose of entering upon the ministry ; hut it was not till after
the abandonment of a project, (which he began to entertain in 1757, and from
which he was dissuaded by Mr Hume, after making considerable preparations to-
wards it,) for delivering lectures on oratory, that he finally adopted the resolu-
tion of becoming a clergyman. Having applied himself for some time exclu-
sively to the necessary studies, he ^vas licensed as a preacher by the presbytery
of Dumfries, in 1759. He soon acquired considerable reputation as a pulpit
orator, and took great delight in composing senuons, a considerable number of
\vhich he left behind him : these it was at one time the intention of his friends
to publish ; but for some reason or other this has never been done.

The Rev. Blr Jameson, Blacklock's intimate companion, to whom allusion is
more than once made in his poems, has given the follo^ving account of his habits
about this time :

" His manner of life Avas so uniform, that the history of it during one day, or
one week, is the history of it during the seven years that our intercourse lasted.
Reading, music, walking, conversing, and disputing on various topics, in theo-
logy, ethics, &c., employed almost evei-y hour of our time. It was pleasant to
hear him engaged in a dispute ; for no man could keep his temper better than
he always did on such occasions. I have known him fi-equently very Avaraily
engaged for houi-s together, but never could observe one angry word to fall from
him. Whatever his antagonist might say, he always kept his temper, — ' sem-
per paratus, et refellere sine pertinacia, et refelli sine iracundia ?' He was, how-
ever, extremely sensible to what he thought iU usage, and equally so whethei
it regarded himself or his friends. But his resentment was always confined to a
few satirical verses, which were generally bm-nt soon after. The late Mr
Spence (the editor of the 4to. edition of his poems) frequently urged him to write
a tragedy, and assured him that he possessed interest enough with MrGarrick to
get it acted. Various subjects were proposed to him, several of which he ap-
proved, yet he never could be prevailed on to begin any thing of that kind. It
may seem remarkable, but as far as I know, it was invariably the case, that he
never could think or write on any subject proposed to him by another. I have
frequently admired with what readiness and rapidity he could make verses. I
have known him dictate from thirty to forty verses, and by no means bad ones,
as fast as I could write them ; but the moment he was at a loss for a rhyme or a
verse to his liking, he stopt altogether, and could very seldom be induced to
finish what he had begun with so much ardoui-."

'' All those who ever acted as his amanuenses," says Mackenzie, " agree in
this rapidity and ardour of composition which Mr Jameson ascribes to him. He
never could dictate till he stood up ; and as his blindness made walking about
without assistance inconvenient or dangerous to him, he fell insensibly into a
vibratory sort of motion of his body, which increased as he wanned with his
subject, and was pleased \\i\h the conceptions of his mind. This motion at lasj

230 THOMAS ULACKLOCK.

became liahilii.il to him; niul tlinii<rli ho coiiUl s(mietimc8 restrain it uhen on
ceremony, or in any i>wl)lic, appearance, s'leh as preai-.hinir, lie felt a certain nn-
casiness from the elVorl, and alwavK returned to it uhen hi; coidd indul<,'e it witli-
ont inii)r<)pricty. 'Jiiis is the aiipi-aranee which lie deserihes in lite liidicronp
picture he lias drawn of liimself :

' As somo vessel lo<;s<'(l Ity wind aiMl tide

lidinids o'er tlie waves, and rocks fr(im side to .side,
111 just vibration thus 1 always move."

31ii<h (if the singnlarjty in the gestures of jinor TUnc,kh>c,1< must have jirocccd-
cd from his inahility to ohsorte the carriage of others, and to regulate iiis own
in conformity witii theirs: a tree will accommodate its growth to the restraints
imposed upon it, hut wlicre a single hranch cs(;apes from the artificial training,
tlinging itself abroad in all tlie wild vigour of nature, its tufied luxurianc« aj)-
pears more striking from the contiguity of a well-c!ii»t and ord-rly neighliour-
hood. Such was iUac.klock's manner: he could not know with how little out-
ward discomposure the world has taught men to accompany the expression of
their emotions; and with him ardent feeling produced an iinrcstraincd cflecl
upon the countenance and gestures. 'J he author of Douglas, in one of his let-
ters, has given a curious picture of his singular apjiearanc^ when under strong
excitement: " 1 went to a companion's," says Home, " and sent for the hlind
poet, who is really a sli-ange creature to look at — a small weakly under thing — a
chilly, bloodless animal, that shivers at every bree/e. But if nature lias cheated
him in one respect, by assigning to his share forceless sinews, and a ragged
form, she has made him ample compensation on the other, liy giving him a mind
endued with the most exquisite feelings — the most ardent, kindled-up affections;
a soul, to use a poet's phrase, that's tremblingly alive all over : in short, he is
the most flagrant enthusiast I ever saw ; when he repeats verses, he is not able
to keep his seat, but springs to his feet, and shows his rage by the most animat-
ed motions. He has promised to let me have copies of his best poems, which 1
will transmit to you whenever he is as good as his word,"

'Diis letter, besides the description of Blacklock's exterior and caiTiage, opens
to us one source of his acutest sulfei-ings : we have already adverted to the un-
thinking insults to which his blindness exposed him while a boy, and it appears
but too certain that many who had aiTived at manhood in respect of their out-
ward frame, did not treat him with gi'eater tenderness in his maturer years.
They did not, perhaps, decoy him to the edge of a ditch that they might have the
satisfaction of seeing him flounder into it, or ofler prickles to liis grasp that they
miglit be diverted by the contortions of countenance which the unexjtcctcd
wounds occasioned; but they went to see the blind poet, and induced him to
recite his verses, from the same kind of motive that takes people to witness the
exhibition of a learned pig. Blacklock's position in regard to such visitors w.is
peculiarly painful : he was in a great measure dependant upon his talents for
support; and to have indig-nantly refused to display them, would have been to
raise up obstacles to his own success. His feelings were at the same time the
most nicely wTOUght, and even the triumphs of genius did not afford him perfect
gratification ; for he knew that his hearers were not can-ied away by his enthu-
.'iasm, but listened with a cold and critical attention, noting every pecidiarity of
tone, look, and gesture. He has himself told us how exquisitely painful was the
consciousness of being the object of such unfeeling curiosity :

" tlie supercilious eye

Oft, from ilie noise and g^are of prosperous lifo,
On my obscurity diverts its gaze,

THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

231

Exulting; and with wanton pride elate
Felicitates its own superior lot:
luhumau triunipli !''

A letter of Bladilock, uritten from Dumfries about tlio time when he re-
ceived his licence as a preacher, admits us to a very near view of his remarkable
sensibility of temperament. It does not appear what were tlie circumstances
alluded to in this letter ; but probably the connexion mentioned as having just
been formed, was a declaration of mutual attachment and promise of marriage
between our poet and his future wife, ivliich he calls ill-fated, on account of his
gloomy prospects, and his regret for having involved one whom he loved in his
own unhappy fortunes. This letter is as follows:

" Dear Hir, — I received your last inclosed to Mr ; and so far as my

situation was capable of being- consoled, I was happy in the tenderness and sym-
pathy which you express for me. Beneath those exalted pleasures which we are
taught to expect in an eternal state ; beneath the enjoyment of God himself; I
know no happiness which deserves the attention of a wise man, but such as we
derive from conscious virtue, benevolence, or friendship. These alone are at
present the cordial drops with which heaven has thought proper to mix my cup
of bitterness. Since every object of my former pursuit eludes my embrace, or
grows insipid by enjoyment, it is time to anticipate such pleasm-es as are subject
to neither of tliese misfortunes, and to cultivate a relish for them. Fate and na-
ture tell me that I nuist quickly make my exit from this present scene ; they never
could semi this information to a heart less intimidated by it. I approach the
verge of my present existence, not vvith the reluctance of inexperienced youth, not
with the horrors of guilt and superstition, but with the cheerfulness of a weax-ied
traveller, in prospect of the chamber destined for his repose. From this account
it will be easy to judge how much I would prize, or how eagerly pursue any
civil or ecclesiastical employment were it in my power ; but far from being so,
it is beyond my remotest hopes; — all access to every resource whence these ad-
vantages are derived is denied to me. I have neither power nor influence in life,
and am consequently incapable of interesting any who have it. There are evils
which may be suflered without mortitication ; yet, let me confess it, there are
others which I cannot think of without being melted to infantine weakness. In
my former I told you that I had projected one last resource, and made one last
ertbrt for happiness: had I then foreseen the weakness of my constitution, and
tlie unhappiness of my cixcumstances, sooner would I have run any hazard which
this or any future scene can pi-esent, than have ventured to fonn such an ill-fated
connexion. It is true that these who are interested in me, persuaded either by my
looks, or the present degree of strength which I seem to possess, flatter themselves,
or are willing to flatter me, that my present indisposition will not prove decisive ;
such is the opinion of tlie lady formerly mentioned. I have endeavoured to im-
press her with contrary sentiments, that the friendship between us might be
dissolved without tearing : but I had reason to lament my success ; for in pro-
portion to her sense of my danger, which, after my return from Edinburgh, was
pretty high, her whole manner, not to me only, but to all her otiier friends,
appeared expressive of dejection and misery. I had not resolution to continue
my former plan, but used every possible argument to persuade her of my return-
ing iiealth ; and though ccnscious of acting a wrong part in this, I have not suf'
ficient strength of mind to act a right one. This is my present situation of mind:
1 luiow it is what I ought not to liave discovered to one of your humanity, nor
can I pretend any other apology, but that I apply to the last and most natural
resource of wretchedness, the sympathy of a friend. It is all I ask ; it is all I
hope; and it is what I am sure to obtain. Pray, tell me whether your bro-

'232 THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

(her prose<nites tlic same hiisiincss with you, or whi^lhcr friciuls in (lie country
may not liave it in their jHt>v<'r to seiTO liini ? 'J'lio precaution in my Cornier
e«)iK'«riiinfj the halanre of accounts between us was not taken from any i'ear of
its appearini; a^j^ainst my i-elations, but that ynn mijrht recover it A\ith preater
ease from myself duriii;;' mino own life. ()n(!e more I must ask ]*ar«Uin for the
k'njjth and suiiject of tliis h'tler; hut if you continue to favour me as a corres-
pondent, my future answers shall be less tedious and more cheerful. As yon are
now more «liseni;ai;ed from secular business, the demaiuls of your fiiemls to hear
from you will proportionably increase ; and as you have now Ion-,' taiii>ht nie to
think myself of that number, I can no more resii^n the claim which it jjives than
(he tenderness which it inspires, — a tenderness which sliall ever be felt in the
highest degree, by your most sincere friend, and humble servant,

" DumiVies, loth April, I75i>. '1'homas T^lacklock."

In I7(i2, the I'^arl of Selkirk procured from the Crown a presenUition to the
parish of Kirkcudbright in favour of Mr Ulacklock ; ^vho, having thus the pros-
pect of a competent income, married Mrs Sarah Johnston, daughter of Mr
Joseph Johnston, surgeon in Dumfries. But though not disappointed in the
hajtpiness he expected to derive from this union, the gleam of fortune which
Beems to have induced hina to form it, forsook him inmiediately after the step
was taken. He was ordained a few days after his maiTiage ; but the people of
the parish refused, on account of his blindness, to acknowledge him as their
pastor, and a lawsuit Avas commenced, which, after two years, was compromised
by JJlacklock retiring upon a moderate annuity. PVom the lirst moment of op-
position, it had been his wish to make this arrangement, not from any conviction
of incompetency to the duties of a parisli minister, but because he saw it was
needless to contend against a prejudice so strongly maintained. " Civil and eccle-
siastical emplojTiients," he says, "have something either in their own nature, or
in the invincible prejudices of mankind, which renders them almost entirely in-
accessible to tiiose who have lost the use of sight. No liberal and cultivated
mind can entertain the least hesitation in concluding that there is nothing, either
in the nature of things, or even in the positive institutions of genuine religion,
repugnant to the idea of a blind clergyman. But the novelty of the phenome-
non, while it astonishes vulgar and conti'acted undei'standings, inflames their
zeal to rage and madness." His own experience, it is evident, suggested this
observation. Blindness is cex'tainly not in itsell" a sufficient reason for debarring
those afflicted with it from the ministerial office ; it does not incapacitate a n\an
for the acquirement of the requisite knowledge, nor exclude from his bosom the
glow of holy zeal. On the contrary, worldly cares and ambition are not so ap-
to intrude. " The attention of the soul, confined to those avenues of perception
which she can connnand, is neither dissipated nor confounded by the immense
multiplicity, or the rapid succession of surrounding objects. Hence Jier con-
temphitions are moi-e uniformly fixed upon herself, and the revolution of her
own internal frame," ' and hence a greater fitness in her for the growth of de-
votion. The want of sight would, indeed, put inconvenien(;es in the way of a
clergyman's intercourse with his parishioners, but they are small ; and it is not
ejisy to conceive any thing more affecting and impressive than for those in the
full enjoyment of their faculties to hear lessons of submission to the divine will,
and of gi'atitude for the blessings of providence, from the mouth of one upcn
wliom the hand of God has been laid. Such were not, however, the opinions (»f
those w ith whom Blacklock had to deal ; and he a(;quiesced. This effort could
not but be painful ; the sense of exclusion from all the business of life had long
oppressed him, and the moment that patronage was extended towards him, and
' Kiicyflopfetlia Britannira, article Blimi, § 10.

THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 23:

opened the prospect of public usefulness, he was assailed by a pei-secution Avhich
lejected liiiu as incompetent to the duties for Avhich other men are fit and th-ove
liim back to his former state of dependence and seclusion. It is probably to
the period when he experienced so determined an opposition from the people ot
Kirkcudbright, that we are to rel'er the composition of his ParaclesJs ; for he
informs us in the preface that his motive for Mriting that work was " to alleviate
the pressure of repeated disappointments, to soothe his anguish for the loss of
departed friends, to elude the rage of implacable and unprovoked enenucs, — in
a word, to support his oivn mind, which, for a number of years, besides its lite-
rary difficulties and its natural disadvantages, had maintained an incessant con-
ilict with fortune." At no other period but that above referred to, are we
aware that Blacklock was the object of any thing like an angry feeling.

On the day of Mr Blacklcck's ordination v,as afforded, in liis person, an in-
stance of sleep-M alking, perhaps the most remarkable and complicated on record.
As such the reader may be pleased to see an account of it as it is preserved
in Dr Cleghorn's thesis De Somno, which was published in Blacklock's own life-
time (in 1783). The facts were authenticated by Mrs Blacklock, Mr Gilbert
Gordon, ^ and a numerous party of friends who dined with him at the inn of
Kirkcudbright on the occasion in question. " Harassed by the censures of the
populace," says Di- Cleghorn, "whereby net only his reputation, but his very
subsistence was endangered, and fatigued with mental exertion, Blacklock fell
asleep after dinner. Some hours afterwards he was called by a friend, answered
his salutation, rose and went into the dining-room, where his friends Avere met.
He joined with tM o of them in a concert, singing tastefully as usual, and without
nussing a \vord. He ate an egg to supper, and drank some wine, and other
liquors. His friends, however, observed him to be a little absent. By and bye
he began to speak to himself; but in so low a tone, and so confusedly, as to be
unintelligible. At last, being pretty forcibly roused, he awoke with a sudden start,
unconscious of all that had happened." We have no example of a person in
sleep performing so many of the functions of one awake, and in so exact a man-
ner, as Blacklock is here stated to have done. He spoke, walked, sung, took
wine, and must have observed with accuracy many of the Lttle courtesies of so-
cial life ; for his friends did not suspect that he was asleep till he began to talk
to himself. The time, however, Avas convenient for so unusual an exliibition ;
and perhaps many other somnambulists would join in the occupations or amuse-
ments of those around them, if the world Avere astir Avhen they make their rounds.
Circumstances, however, are quite different in ordinary cases ; the person gets
up when all others are at rest, and perfonus one or U\o acts, to which his half-
awakened fancy impels him, Avithout being involved, as it were, in any current
of events exti-aneous to himself, A\hich, by the habit of association, might have
ltd him on to other mechanical exertions of the mental or bodily faculties ; thus
the original excitement, i-eceiving no casual addition, goon expends itself, and
allows him to relapse into slumber. Blacklock, on the contrary, when partially
roused, found the business of life in progress, and Avas drtiAATi on from one act to
another in the usual course, no excitement occun-ing strong enough Avholly to
burst the bonds of sleep. Tliis intermediate state betAveen sleeping and Avaking,
when part of the faculties are alert and active, and the other part entirely dor-
mant, may be approached from either confine ; and Avhether from sleeping A\e
become half aAvake, or from Avaking fall half asleep, the effects ai-e strikingly si-
milar. Many instances of Avhat is called absence, or reverie, disclose phenomena
equally surprising with those of somnambulism ; and a comparison betAveen them

2 Author of the Short Account of the Life and Writings of Blacklock, prefixed to the
second edition of his poems, 1754. „ „

234 THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

Mould probably afford the best means of explaining both. A contemporary of
lUaddock, the author of the '' Woailli of Nations," uas in the habit, «hen awake,
of doing things as unaccoinilaljle as the blind poet is above stated to have doue
\\iien nsleep.

In 17t)l, after the connovion between him and the jiarisii of Kirkcudbright
uas dissolved in the manner we have mentioned, lilacklock removed to Kdin-
burgii, where he received boarders into his honse,^ superintending the studies of
lln)se Wi>(» chose to have such assistance. " In this occupation." says 3Iackenzie,
" no tea«'hcr was j>criiaps ever more agi'ccable to his pupils, nor master of a
family to its inmates, than Ur Blacklock. The gentleness of his manners, the
benignity of his disposition, and that warm interest in the liappiness of othei-s
wliicli led him so constantly to promote it, wore cpjalities that could not fail to
procure him the love and regard of the yoinig people conunilted to his charge ;
wiiile the society which esteem and respect for his character and his genius
olten assembled at iiis house, afibrded them an advantage rarely to be found in
establishments of a similar kind. The writer of this account has frequently been
a witness of the family scene at Dr Blacklock's ; has seen the good man amidst
t!ie circle of his young friends, eager to do him all the little oflices of kindness
Avhich he seemed so much to merit and to feci. In this society he appeared en-
tirely to forget the privation of sight, and the mcLancholy Avhich, at otlier times,
it miglit produce, lie entered Avith the cheerful playfulness of a young man in-
to all the sprightly naiTative, the sportful fancy, the humorous jest, that rose
around him. It w.ns a sight highly gratifying to philanthropy to see how much
a mind endowed with knowledge, kindled by genius, and above all, lighted up
Avitli innocence and piety, like Blacldock's, could overcome the weight of its own
calamity, and enjoy the content, the happiness, the gaiety of others. Several of
those inmates of Dr Blacklock's house retained, in future life, all the Avannth of
tliat impression which his friendship at this early period had made upon them ;
and in various quarters of the world he had friends and coirespondents from
whom no length of time, or distance of place, had ever esti-anged him."

In these hours of social relaxation, Blacklock found one of the greatest plea-
sures of his existence. IMusic also afforded him a lively gratification ; for he
tung with taste, and perfomied tolerably well on several instruments, particularly
on the flute. He had learned to play on the flageolet in consequence of a
dream in which he supposed himself to listen to the most enchanting melody,
produced by a shepherd on a hillside from that instrument ; and he always car-
ried one in his pocket, on which he was by no means averse from being asked to
perform, — " a natui-al feeling," says IMackenzie, " for a blind man, who thus
adds a scene to the di'ama of his society." We have ah-eady alluded to his skill
in composition, which was begun early at least, if it Avas not veiy assiduously
cultivated, ^Diere is a specimen of liis abilities in this way in the lidinburgh
Magazine and Review for 1774, under the title of " Absence, a Pastoral, set to
music, by Dr Blacklock."

Blacklock's friendship Avitli Beattie commenced about a year after his return
from Kirkcudbright to Edinburgh. The first letter from the opponent of lhim<?,
dated in 1765, expresses satisfaction tliat the present of a copy of our author's
poems had at last afforded the opportunity of establishing an acquaintance. The
cfsiTespondence was for some time kept up with great regularity by Beattie, Avho
when the composition of the "Minstrel" had not advanced beyond a few
stanzas, explained his plan to the blind bard. The progress of a work of still greater
importance Avas confided to Blacldock. The '' Essay on the Immutability of

2 He occupied the two upper flats of a house at the west end of West Nicolson Slrett,
lookins towards St Cuthbert's Chapel of Ease burjing ground.

THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 23a

Moral Sentiment " having been perused and approved by him, the more exten-
sive plan and object of the " Essay on Truth" was also disclosed; and that he
uas pleased with the design, and encouraged the author to proceed, may be un-
dei-stood from what afteruards took place : on the publication of the work, it
was thought necessary, by Beattie's friends, that an analysis of it, giving a brief
md popular view of the manner in which the subject was treated, should be in-
serted in the newspapers; and "this task," Sir William Forbes says, " Dr
Blacklock undertook, and executed ^ ivith much ability." On Blacldock's part
this literary intercourse Avas cultivated by allowing Beattie the perusal of a
translation of the " Cenie " of D'Happoncourt de Grafigny, which he had made
under the title of " Seraphina." This play was not intended to be either
printed or brought on the stage ; but the translator appears to have beeia under
•ome apprehensions, in consequence of the proceedings in i-egai'd to " Douglas,"
that, if his having engaged in such a work siiould come to be known, it miglit
draw upon him the censure of the church courts, or at least, of tlie more rigid
ecclesiastics. We find Dr Beattie exhorting him not to be afraid of meeting
with Mr Home's treatment; for tliat " to translate a dramatic poem could never
be made to be on a footing with composing one and bringing it on the stage."
Tliis is but indifferent logic, we are afraid, and marvellously resembles that of
cex-tain schoolboys, who, ambitious of rendering their discourse more emphatic by
the admixture of oaths, yet di'eading to swear the common English kind, think
themselves secure in adopting a few out of the learned languages, or in spelling if
they do not pronounce them. Whether Blacklock \vas satisfied \vith his friend's
reasoning, or if he took a different view of the case, and considered that, though
there might be some risk, there ^vas no hann in the dramatic form of composi-
tion, does not appear; but he ventui*ed beyond translation, and actually wrote a
ti'agedy, of which, however, the subject and merits are alike unknown, as it had
been put into the hands of Mr Andrew Crosbie, advocate, and could never be
recovered. It is probable that the suggestion of Dr Beattie procured for oar
author from the college of Aberdeen the degree of D. D. in 1767. After the
publication of the " Essay on Truth" and of the " Minstrel" had introduced
him to a literai-y acquaintance much more extensive than be previously enjoyed,
we do not find that Beattie cultivated Blacklock's correspondence witli the same
assiduity as before ; but he never ceased to love and respect him, which is mani-
fested by the epitaph which the afflictions of his own later years did not prevent
him from writing for his friend.

Finding that his increasing years and infirmities required repose, Dr Black-
lock discontinued the keeping of boarders in 1787. But though his bodily
vigour began to fail, he experienced no diminution of that benevolence which
had ever cliaracterised him. His own genius having been greatly indebted to
patronage, he was ever ready to acknowledge it in others, and especially to cul-
tivate and bring it into reputation where he found it struggling with obscurity.
Nor were his efibrts for this purpose confined to occasional acts of libei-ality —
they were laborious and long-continued. He had taken a boy from a village
near Carlisle to lead him, and perceiving in the youth a willingness to learn,
taught him Latin, Greek, and French, and having thus fitted him for a station
superior to that in which he ^vas born, procui-ed for him the situation of secre-
tary to Lord Milton, who was chief active manager of state affairs in Scotland for
many years. This young man was Richard Hewitt, known to the admirer of
Scottish song as the author of " Roslin Castle." Hewitt testified his gratitude
to his instructor by a copy of complimentaiy verses, in every line of Avhich may
be traced the chief excellence of compositions of that description — sincerity ;
* Edinburgh Evening (Jourant, 2d Ju.ie, 1770.

23G THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

I>iit lie did not long ciijdy his clianjje of fortune, having died in 17G4 from tlio

fatij^iio of l!ii' ()lii(;e to xvliit;li lie had beoo oiuvated.

Milt we liiid a still iiiore oiiiiiieiit exaiin»Io of lUncklotik's s;)lic.itii(le to pro-
mote the interests of tlie sons of genius, in his lieinij the first man aiiioiig the
literary circles of Kdinburs^h who appreciated the poetry of Ihirns, (perhaps, in-
deed, because he had tlu; earliest opportunity of becoming acquainted with it,)
and kindled in the author the ambition of a prize beyond that of provincial
fame. The liev. Mr Lawrie of Newmills had transmitted to JUacklock a copy of
the Kilmarnock edition of Ihirns' poems. It is not easy for a modern reader to
understand with what wonder and deliglit IMacklock must have perused them.
In our time, t!ie pleasin-e felt from his most perfect pieces is damped by the re-
collection of their authors melancholy fate. Wliat reflecting mind can turn
from the perusal of the " 3Iouiitain Daisy " with any otlier feeling than one of
sorrow that Burns was not a better and a happier man ? But while his career
was yet to run, with what enviable anticipations must such a perusal have inspired
a generous heart! Here was poetry the purest and most genuine : he who pro-
duced it was of no note ; but to what a liigh place in his country's esteem might
he not rise! The world was then all before him, and ho capable of attaining
whatever fame the most ardent imagination could desire. With calmness, yet
with energy, the enthusiastic Blacklock indicated his own admiration and the
(^rtainty of the poet's future fame : — " many instances," he WTOte to Mr Lawrie.
" have I seen of nature's force and beneficence exerted under numerous anil
formidable disadvantages; but none equal to that with which you have been
kind enough to present me. There is a pathos and delicacy in his serious poems,
a vein of wit and humour in those of a moi'e festive turn, which cannot be too
much admired nor too warmly approved. I think I shall never open the book
\vithout feeling my astonishment renewed and increased. — It were much to be
wished, for the sake of the young man, that a second edition, more numerous
than the fomier, could immediately be printed ; as it appears certain that its in-
trinsic merit, and the exertion of the author's friends, might give it a more uni-
versal circulation than any thing of the kind which has been published within
my memory." — " I had taken the last farewell of my few friends," says Burns;
" my chest was on the road to Greenock ; I had composed the last song I should
ever measui-e in Scotland — ' The Gloomy night is gathering fast' — when a letter
from Dr Blacklock to a friend of mine ovex'threw all my schemes, by opening-
new prospects to my poetic ambition. The Doctor belonged to a set of critics
for whose applause I had not dared to hope. His opinion that I would meet
with encouragement in Edinburgh for a second edition, fired me so much, that
away I posted for that city, without a single acquaintance, or a single letter ot
introduction." — " Blacklock received him," says Dr CuiTie, " with all the ar
dour of affectionate admiration ; he eagerly introduced him to the respectable
circle of his friends ; he consulted his interest ; he emblazoned his fame ; he
lavished upon him all the kindness of a generous and feeling heart, into which
nothing selfish or envious ever found admittance." — " In Dr BLacklock," Burns
himself writes to Mr Lawrie, " In Dr Blacklock, whom I see veiy often, I have
found what I would have expected in our friend, — a clear head and an excellent
heart." It is not our business, in this place, to trace Burns's career farther.
Dr Blacklock's duty towards him was perfonned, \vlien he had bestowed upon
him every mark of private regard, and consigned him to the care of more influ-
ential patrons. After Burns retired to the country, some letters passed between
them, which, on Dr Blacklock's pai-t, show how very poorly a remarkably sensible
man could write when he had little to say, and thought to compensate for the
meagreness of his subject by elevating it into rhyme.

THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 237

Besides the miscellaneous poems l)y which Dr Blacklock is best known as an
author he pubhshed several other works. In 1756 he gave to the world an
" Essay towards Universal Etymology ;" in 1760, " The Right Improvement of
Time, a Sermon ;" in the ensuing year another sermon, entitled " Faith, Hope,
and Charity compared." In 1767 appeared his ''Paraclesis; or Consolations
deduced from Natural and Revealed Religion," in two dissertations, the first
supposed to be Cicero's, translated by Dr Blacklock, — the other written by him-
self. This ^vork, to use the author's own touching woi-ds, " was begun and pur-
sued by its author, to divert wakeful and melancholy hours, which the recollec-
tion of past misfortunes, and the sense of present inconveniences, would other-
wise have severely embittered." He endeavours, but without success, to prove
the authenticity of the dissertation ascribed to Cicero, which he has translated
with fidelity and elegance : the object of the original discourse is to prove tlie
superiority of the consolations afforded by revealed religion. In 176 8, he
printed " Two Discourses on the Spirit and Evidences of Christianity," trans-
lated from the French of BIr James Armand. To this work he prefixed a long
dedication to the Moderator of the General Assembly. In 1773 appeared his
•' Panegyric on Great Britain," which shows him to have possessed considerable
talents for satire had he chosen to pursue that species of writing. His last pro-
duction was in 1774, "The Graham, an Heroic Ballad, in Four Cantos;" in-
tended to promote a good undei-standing between the natives of England and
Scotland. He conti-ibuted to the Encyclopajdia Britannica, in 1783, the article
Blind — a little treatise of peculiar interest, which we have had occasion to
quote in the present account of its author. He is also said to have written tlie
Fssay on Poetry, and others on various subjects in the same work. Dr Black-
lock left behind him in manuscript some volumes of sermons, and a Treatise on
Morals.

In his latter years our author was occasionally afflicted Avith deafness — in his
case a double calamity, as at the periods when it visited him, he Avas in a manner
shut out from all communication with the external world. In this forlorn con-
dition — old, blind, and sometimes deaf — it was more difficult for him than for-
merly to bear up against the depression of spirits to which he had always been
more or less subject; but his gentleness of temper never forsook him, and
though he could not altogether avoid complaint, he was not loath to discover
and state some alleviating circumstance along with it. He died from fever after
a week's illness, on the 7th July, 1791, and was bui-ied in the ground of St
Guthbert's Chapel of Ease, Avhere there is a tombstone erected, with the folJow-
iiig inscription by Dr Beattie : — " Viro Reverendo Thomas Blacklock, D, D.'
Probo, Pio, Benevolo, Omnigena Docti'ina Erudito, Poetae sublimi; ab incunabu-
lis usque oculis capto, at hilari, faceto, amicisque semper carissimo ; qui natus
XXI Novemb. mdccxx. obiit vii Julii, mdccxci : Hoc Monumentum Vidua ejus Saia
Johnston, moerens P."

It has been said of Dr Blacklock that " he never lost a friend, nor made a
foe ;" and perhaps no literaiy man ever passed through life so perfectly free
from envious feeling, and so entirely respected and beloved. His convei-sa-
tion was lively and entertaining ; his wit was acknowledged, but it had no tinge
of malice; his temper was gentle, his feelings warm — intense; his whole eha-
racter was one to which may be applied the epithet amiable, without any quali-
fication. We do not deny him the merit of this ; but he was placed in circum-
stances favourable for the development of such a chai-acter: his blindness,
together with his genius, prepossessed all in his favour, and procured him many

1 The classical reader will easily detect a fault here — Divinitatis Doctor! whicli, it maybe
reniaikedj was also committed on one occasion by Ur Adam,

238 THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

warm friciuls; while lio was never in hazard of creating enemies, because, being
incapaciUilcd lor any of tiie more aolivo piu-siiits of life, his interests did not
come into collison with thosj of any olher asj)irant in a similar patli. Jle waf
tinis enabie«l to " live jileasant," as far as iiis intercourse witii the world was con-
cerned. In his own mind, he did not at all times enjoy the clieurfulness which his
excellent temiter and his piety niii;ht seem to jtromisj ; ho laboured inider a de
pression (if spirits, which <;rew upon him, as the bmtyancy of youth and the energ\
of manhood declined. When we consider how miu;h nun-e we are liable to super-
stitious fears aiul alarms of every kind during' the niijht than in the day, it does
not appear surprisin;^, that those condennied to ceaseless darkness siiould find it
impossible to subdue their sense of loneliness and destitution. No variety of
visible objects, no beauty of colour or grace of motion, ever diverts the mind
of the blind man from brooding over its own phantasmata ; the car may be said
to be the only inlet by which he can receive cheering ideas, and hence, when
companionless, lie becomes liable to the intrusion of doubts and dreads in an
endless train. Tho bodily inactivity to which the want of sight compels Iiim-
and his exclusion from business, unhappily promote the same morbid sensibility ;
and though society may allbrd him many gleams of delight, the long hours of so-
litude bring back tlie prevailing gloonu From this disease of the mind, Dr
Blacklock's varied stores of acquired knowledge, the native sweetness of his tem-
per, and the tender cares of an alTectionate wife, could not preserve him. It
might be the cause of uneasiness to himself, however, but never influenced his
behaviour to othei-s ; it made him melancholy, but not morose. Even they
who look upon it as being, in ordinary instances, a fantastic and blameable
weakness, must pity the present suflerer, in whom so many causes concurred to
render it irresistible.

To Dr Blacklock as a poet, the rank of first-rate excellence has not been as-
signed, and is not claimed; but his works posses; solid merits, which will al-
ways i-epay a perusal. The thoughts are, for the most part, vigorous, seldom less
than just; and they are conveyed with a certain intensity of expression, which
shows them, even when not uncommon in themselves, to be the otTspring of a
superior genius. As the productions of a blind man, tliey present a study of the
very highest interest, and have frequently been viewed as a problem in the
science of mind. The author himself seems to have been not unwilling to invest
them with a certain character of mystery: " It is possible," he says, "for the
blind, by a retentive memory, to tell you, that the sky is an azure ; that the sun,
moon, and stars, are bright ; that the rose is red, the lily white or yellow, and
the tulip variegated. By continually hearing these substantives and adjectives
joined, he may be mechanically taught to join them in the same manner ; but as
he never had any sensation of colour, however accurately he may speak of
coloured objects, his language must be like that of a parrot, — without meaning,
or without ideas. Homer, 3Iilton, and Ossian, had been long acquainted witli
the visible world before they were suiTOunded with clouds and ever-during dark-
ness. They might, therefore, stiU retain the warm and pleasing impressions of
what they had seen. Their descriptions might be animated with all the rapture
and enthusiasm which originally fired their bosoms when the grand or delight-
ful objects which they delineated were immediately beheld. Nay, that enthusiasm
might still be heightened by a bitter sense of their loss, and by that regret which
a situation so dismal might naturally inspire. But how sliall we account for the
same energy, the same transport of description, exhibited by those on whose
minds visible objects were either never impressed, or have been entirely obliter-
ated? Yet, however unaccountable this fact may appear, it is no less certain
Uian extraordinary. But delicacy, and other particular circumstances, forbid us

THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 239

to enter into this distjuisitlon mth that minuteness and precision which it re-
quires."

" jMr Spence observes," says the nTiter in the Gentleman's Magazine,^ " that
Blacldock's notion of day may comprehend the ideas of warmth, variety ot
sounds, society, and clieerfidness ; and his notion of night, tlio contrai-y ideas ot
diillness, silence, solitude, melancholy, and, occasionally, even of horror: that
tie substitutes the idea of glory for that of the sun ; and of glory in a less de-
gree for those of the moon and stars : that his idea of the beams of the sun may
be coinposed of this idea of glory, and that of rapidity : that something of soli-
dity, too, may perhaps be admitted both into his idea of light and^ darkness ;
but that what his idea of glory is, cannot be determined. Mr Spence also re-
marks, that iMr Blacklock may attribute paleness to grief, brightness to the eyes,
cheerfulness to green , and a glow to gems and roses, Anthout any determinate ideas ;
as boys at school, when, in their distress for a word to lengthen out a verse, they
find purpureus olor, or purpureum mare, may afterwards use the epithet purpu-
reus Avith propriety, though they know not what it means, and have never seen
either a swan or the sea, or heard that the swan is of a light, and the sea of a
iark colour. But he supposes, too, that Mr Blacklock may have been able to
distinguish colours by his touch, and to have made a new vocabulai7 to himself,
by substituting tangible for visible differences, and giving them the same names ;
so that green, with him, may seem something pleasing or soft to the touch, and
red, something displeasing or rough. In defence of this supposition, it has been
said, with some plausibility, that the same disposition of parts in the surfaces ot

1 We have already stated our belief that this writer was Dr Johnson. Besides the evi-
dence which the passages quoted in the text afford, there is much of the spirit of Johnson
tn the summary of Blacldock's personal character: "This gentleman has one excellence
which outvalues all genius, and all learning— he is truly and eminently a good man. He
nonsesses great nbilkies ivilh modest;/, and wants abno<:l every thing else with content." The pro-
bability is farther heightened by 'the kindness which Johnson manifested to Blacklock when
he visited Scotland. On being introduced at Mr Boswell's, the English moralist "received
him with a most humane complacency — 'Dear Dr Blacklock, 1 am chid to see you!'"
Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides. We are also told by iMr Bos\vell,that Dr Johnson, on his re-
turn from the Western Islands, breakfasted once at Dr Blacklock's house. We esteem the ver-
bal criticism in the article we have just spoken of, as equally characteristic of the illustrious
lexicographer: « Some passages," it is remarked, "appear to have something wrong in them
at the first view, but upon a more accurate inspection, are found to be right, or at least only
to be wrong as they reflect the faults of others. In these verses,
'What cave profound, what star sublime,
fcihall hide me fiom thy boundless view,'

there seems to be an improper connexi n of ideas; but the impropriety is in a great degree
of our own making. We have joined ideas which Mr Blacklock, without any absurdity,
nas here separated. We have associated the idea of darkness with that of profundity, and
d star being, as a luminous body, rather adapted to discover than to hide, we think the cave
and the star, with their epithets, improperly opposed in this passage; but Mr Blacklock's
idea included only distance: and as neither height nor depth, in the language of St i'aul,
can separate good men from the love of God ; neither, says 3Ir Blacklock, can height or
depth conceal anv being from his si£;ht. And that he did not here suppose concealment the
effectof obscurity, appears plainly from the epithet boundless, which he has given to that
vie^v which he supposes to comprehend all height and depth, or, in other words, universal
space. It must, however, be granted, that as height and depth are relative to a middle
point, there is no proportion between the depth of a cave and the height of a star.
" There is certainly a mistake in the last line of this couplet :

' So fools their flocks to sanguine wolves resign.
So trust the cunning fox to prune the vine.'
But into this mistake he was perhaps led by the impropriety of the common fable of the f-.x
and grapes, which we frequently quote, without reflecting that an inordinate love of grapes
is falsely attributed to that animal: when the fox could not reach the grapes he said they
were sour. Blacklock explained this latter passage by saying, " that he alluded o hat well-
known passage of the Scripture: ' Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vir«s;
for our vines have tender grapes.' Cant. ii. 15."

240 THOMAS BLACKT.OCK.

hollies, which nuikes them i-elldct dillerent rays of liy;ht, ui.iy inako (hem ibol as
(lilVeroiUly to the cxc|nisite ttmdi of a hliml man. Hut there is so miieli <lilier-
eiico ill the taiisfihL' (jialities of thin"^ of tlio same cohmr, so inticli vouirlniess aiul
smoothness, harshness ami softness, arisinj;^ from other causes, tiiat it is more dif-
licult to conceive how that minute <legree arisin;;^ from colour should be «listin.
{fuished, than how a blind man shouhl talk sensibly on the subject without having
nuulo such distiiKJtion. We cannot conceive how a piece of red velvet, woollen
cloth, cainblet, silk, and painted canvass, should have something in common,
M'hich can l>e distint^uished by the touch, tlirou;^h the i^'catest dilf'erencc in all
(jti.ilitics which the touch can discover ; or in ^vhat mode j^rocn buckram should
be more soft and pleasin^ to the toucli than red velvet. If the softness peculiar
lo £;Teen be distinijuished in the buckram, and the harshness peculiar to red in
the velvet, it niuit be by some quality with which the rest of mankind are as
little acquainted as the blind with colour. It may perhaps be said, that a blind
man is supposed to distinguish coloui-s by his touch, only when all thinn^s are equal.
But If this be admitted, it Avould as much violate the order of his ideas to call
velvet red, as to call softness harsh, or, indeed, to call green red ; velvet being
somewhat soft and pleasing to the touch, and somewhat s;)ft and pleasing to the
toucii being his idea of green."

Tiie acuteness of these remarks leaves iis to regi-et that the author eluded the
discussion of the most difficult part of the subject, and fixed upon that concern-
ing >vhich there is no dispute : Blacklock himself acknowledged what is ht're
Slid about distinguishing colours by the touch, to be trile as fax- as he w.is con-
cerned, that being a nicety of perception which, though reported to be possessed
by othei-s, he in vain endeavoured to attain. " We have known a person," he
says, in his article on Blindness, " who lost the use of his sight at an early pe-
riod of infancy, who, in the vivacity or delicacy of his sensations, was not, per-
haps, inferior to any one, and who had often heard of othei-s in his own situation
capable of distinguishing colours by touch with the utmost exactness and promj>-
titude. Stimulated, therefore, partly by curiosity, to acquire a new train of
ide:is, if that acquisition were possible, but still more by incredulity with respect
to the facts related, he tried repeated experiments by touching the surfaces of
different bodies, and examining whether any such diversities could be found in
them as might enable him to distinguish colours ; but no such diversity could he
ever ascertain. Sometimes, indeed, he imagined that objects which had no co-
loui-, or, in other Avords, such as were black, were somewliat different and
peculiar in their surfaces ; but this experiment did not always, nor universally
hold."

But even supposing Di- Blacklock to have possessed the power of distinguish-
ing coloui-s by the touch, and that by handling the coat which he ^vore he could
have told Avhether it was blue or black, the stock of ideas that ha might thereby
liave obtained, would have contributed little to fit him for describing external
natm-e. lie could have formed no conception of a landscape from the repre-
sentation of it on canvass, which, at the most, could only convey the idea of a
])lain surface covered Avith a variety of spots, some of Avhich were smoother and
more pleasant to the toucli than others. Tlie pomp of groves and garniture of
fields would never have been disclosed to his yearning fancy by so slow and im-
perfect a process. Nor could his notions of scenery be much improved by what-
ever other conventional method he endeavoured to form them. Granting that
he framed his idea of the sun upon the model of that of glory, it was still but an
abstract idea, and could bring him no nearer to a distinct apprehension of the
solondour with which light covers the face of the earth ; nor coidd his idea o/

ALEXANDER and ELIZABETH BLACKWELL. 241

the obscuration of glory enable him to understand tlie real nature of tlie appe.ir-
ances he describes when he says —

'' Clouds peep on clouds, iuid as tliey rise,
Condense to solid gloom Uie skies.''

All these suppositions fail to afford a solution of the difficulty conceniinj^ the
natui-e of his ideas of visible objects. In order to arrive at the proper explana-
tion, let us inquire whence he derived them : that the sky is blue and the fields
green, he could only learn from the descriptions of others. What he learned
from others he might combine variously, and by long familiai'ity wth the use oi
words, he might do so cowectly, but it was from memory alone that he di-ew his
materials. Imagination could not heighten his pictures by stores of any kind
but those supplied by his recollection of books. We wonder, indeed, at the ac-
curate aiTangement of the different parts in bis delineations, and that he should
ever have been led t'o peruse what he could not by any possibility understand —
how, for instance, he should have studied with ardour and delight such a work
as the " Seasons," the appreciation of whose beauties one Avould suppose to depend
almost entirely on an acquaintance with the visible forms of creation. But
when we consider how deeply he must have regretted the want of tlie most de-
lightful of our senses, it will appear most natural, that he should strive by every
means to repair the deficiency, and to be admitted to some shai'e of the pleasure
>vhich he Jiad heard that siglit conveys. From his constant endeavours to ar-
rive at some knowledge of the natui-e of visible objects, he obtained a full com-
mand of the language proper to them ; and the correct application of what he
thus learned, is all that can be claimed for the descriptive parts of his poetn.
These never present any picture absolutely original, however pleasing it may be,
and liowever much it may enhance the effect of the sentiment it is introduced to
assist.

Besides the earlier notices of Mr Gilbert Gordon, of Spence, and, we may
add, of Johnson, Blacklo(;k's life has been written by Mackenzie with great
elegan(;e, by Chalmers, and by Dr Anderson. The last biographer mentions
tliat " some memoirs of his life, written by himself, are now (1795) in the pos-
session of Dr Beattie." It is not improbable that this statement refers merely to
the " long letter" from Blacklock to Beattie, already alluded to. If other do-
cuments of this kind were in the hands of the latter in 1795, as he had not
thouglit proper to connnunicate them to any of Dr Blacklock's biogi'aphers, the
probability is, that he \vould have retained them till his death, and that they would
have appeared among his papers. Sir William Forbes, however, makes no mention
of any such discovery ; although, besides frequent allusions to him in the coui-se
of the life of Dr Beattie, he has, in the appendix to that w^ork, given a brief
sketch of that of Dr Blacklock. If such memoirs are, nevertheless, in existence,
and could be recovered, they would form a most interesting addition to our stoch
of autobiography.

BLACKWELL, Alexander and Elizabeth, husband and wife. The former
was brother to the more celebrated Dr Thomas Blaclvwell, the subject of the fol-
lowing article. His father, Thomas Blackwell, was at first minister of I'aisley,
whence he was removed, in 1700, to be one of the ministers of Aberdeen. He
was there appointed to be Proiessor of Divinity in the Marischal college, and
afterwards, in 1717, raised by the crown to the rank of Principal, which he
held till his death in 172S. Alexander, his son, exhibited at an early period
sudi symptoms of genius as induced his father to employ great personal care in
his education. At fifteen, he was a perfect Greek and Latin scholar, and he
afterwards distinguished himseK very highly at college. It would appear (Ijal

-43 ALEXANDER and ELIZABETH BLACKWELL.

liis uuiuii to Elizabeth Hlackwell, who \v.'u> the daughter of a merdiant at Aber-
decn, took place under «;Iaii»lcstiiie circumsUiiices, and w.is connected with a stt'j>
which gave a direction to ail liis future fortunes. Tliis w.is a secret eli»[>enienl
to London, ^\l^;ro lie arrived before any of liis friends knew where he was.
Hlackwell ajipi'ai-s to have been a man of nierciu-ial and adventurous teiiijiera-
nieiit ; possessiiig, with these <juaiities, exjicLly that degree of ability and aci-.oin-
idisliiiient, which li;u enabled si> iiiaiiy of his couiitrynien to prosecute a siicix'ss^
ful career in London. J lis lirsl eiu[>loyiiient w.is that of corrector <if the press to
ftlr Wilkins, an eiiiiiient printer. Afterwards, he was enabled to set up ;is a prin-
ter on his own account, and for this purpose he occupied a large house in the
Strand. Ikit he did not long pursue this Ijiisiness before an action was brought
against liini for not having served a regular apprenticeship to it. 'I'lie unsuo
cesstul dt'fenc^' of t!iis action ruined him, and one of his creditors threw him into
jail, where he r>uuained two years.

Hitherto we hear nothing of his wife — and, perhaps, but for the misfortunes
of the husband, the virtues of this noble woman might have only decorated a
private station, and never emerged into the light of publii; fame. Like the
liower, however, which blooms most by night, the better quality of woman's na-
ture is chielly developed under the cloud of sori'ow ; and it is only when the
powers of man h.ive been prostrated, or found of no avail, that her weakness
shines forth in its real cliaracter — latent strength. Elizabeth Blackwell hap-
pened to possess a taste for drawing flowei-s ; — a taste then so very rai'c, that
tiiere was hardly any engraved work in existence, containing representations of
this interesting department of creation. 'ITie acknowledged want of a good
herbal occurred to her as affording the means of exerting this gift in a useful
way ; and some of her first attempts being submitted to Sir Hans Sloane, Dr
3Iead, and other eminent physicians, she soon received sufficient encouragement to
proceed in her work, A document, attesting their satisfaction with iMi-s Black-
well's specimens, and recommending her contemplated work to public attention,
was signed by six eminent physicians, including these gentlemen, and bears
date, "October 1, 1735." By the advice of Mr Hand, an eminent apothecary,
demonstrator to the Company of Apothecaries in tlie Botanic Garden at Chelsea,
Mi-s Blackwell hired a house near that esta]>lisliinent, where she had an oppor-
tunity of receiving the necessary flo\vers and plants in a fresh state, as she
wanted them ; she also received great encouragement and assistance from Mr
Philip Miller, so well known for his publications connected with horticulture.

Mrs Blackwell not only made drawings of the flowers, but she also engraved
them on copper, and coloured the prints with her own hands. Her husband lent
all the aid in his power, by attaching the Latin names of the plants, together
with a short account of their principal chara<;ters and uses, chiefly taken, by per-
mission, from Millei-'s " Botanicum Officinale." The first volume of the work
appeared in 1737, in large folio, containing two hundred and fifty-two plates,
each of which is occupied by one distinct flower or plant ; and Avas dedicated to
Dr 31ead, with the following address ; " As the world is indebted to the en-
couragers of every public good, if the following undertaking should prove such,
it is but justice to decLare who have been the chief promoters of it ; and as you
WJis the first who advised its publication, and honoured it with your name, give
me leave to tell the readei"s how much they are in your debt for this work, and
to acknowledge the honour of your friendship." The second volume, complet-
ing the number of plates to five hundi-ed, appeared in 1739, and was inscribed
(o Mr Hand, in an address breathing as fervent a spirit of gi'atitude, and acknow-
ledging that, in her own ignoran(;e of Botany, she was entirely obliged to him |
iflr the completeness of the work, so far as it went. The di-awings are in gene-

ALEXANDER anp ELIZABETH BLACKWELL. 243

ral faitliful ; and if there is wanting that acciivacy wliich motlcrn improvements
have rendered necessary, in delineating the more minute parts, yet, upon the
whole, the figures are sufficiently distinctive of the subjects. The style of the
engravings is what would now he called hard, but it is fully on a level with the
prevailing taste of the age ; and, as a piece of labour, executed, it would ap-
pear, in the space of four years, by the hands of one woman, the ^vhole work is
entitled alike to our wonder and admiration. While Mrs Blackwell was pro-
ceeding in her task, she attracted the attention of many persons of eminent rank
and character, and also a great number of scientific persons, who visited her at
Chelsea, and afforded her many marks of kindness. On the completion of the
first vn'imie, she was pemiitted in person to present a copy to the College of
Physicians, who acknowledged her extraordinary merit by a handsome present,
as well as a testimonial, under the hands of the president and censors of the in-
stitution, characterising her work as " most useful," and recommending it to the
public. It seems to have been at this period of her labours, that, after having
all along supported her family by her own exertions, she was enabled to redeem
her husband from confinement.

BlackMell, after his release, lived for some time at Chelsea with his wife, and,
on her account, was much respected. He attempted to perfe(;t himself in the
study of physic, and also formed schemes for the improvement of waste lands.
This latter subject he studied to such a degree, as to be enabled to write an
agricultural treatise, which attracted some attention. Among his other occupa-
tions, for some time, was a prosecution which he entered into against some
printsellei's, for pirating his v/ife's botanical plates. By his success in this afi'air,
he revenged in some measure the persecution to whicii he had been subjected for
his inadvertent breach of another exclusive law. His agricultural knoivledge
gradually became known, and he ^vas often consulted on difficult points con-
nected with that science, and received handsome fees for his trouble. At one
time he was employed by the Duke of Chandos in superintending some agricul-
t'iral operations at Cannons. His work on agriculture, which was published at
this time, recoimnended him to the attention of a still higher patronage — the
Swedish ambassador, who, having transmitted a copy to his court, was directed
to engage the author, if possible, to go to Stockholm. Blackwell accepted this
engagement, and sailed for the Swedish capital, leaving his wife and one chi d
in England, with a promise that he \vould soon send for them. He was received
in the kindest manner at the court of Stockholm, was lodged in the house of
the Prime Minister, and was allowed a pension. The king of Sweden happen-
ing soon after to be taken dangerously ill, Blackwell was pci-mitted to prescribe
for him, and had the good fortune to effect a cure. He was consequently ap-
pointed one of the king's physicians, and styled Doctor, though it does nfit
appear that he ever took a degree in medicine. While enjoying all this good
fortune, he was not forgetful of his wife, but sent her several sums of money, and
she was on the point of sailing to join him at Stockholm, when all his prospects,
and life itself, were overwhelmed at one blow. It is probable, from the charac-
ter of his brother Thomas, that he was a fervent admirer of the principles of
civil liberty. Nothing, moreover, can be more probable than that a man, ac-
customed to all the freedom of speech Avhich is so harmlessly permitted in Bri-
tain, might not very readily accommodate himself to that prudence of the tongue
which is demanded from the subject of an arbitrary monarchy. It is at least
certain, that he was apprehended on suspicion of being connected with a plot,
which had been formed by one Count Tessin, for overturning the constitution of
the kingdom, and altering the line of svjccession. Being put to the torture, he
is alleged to have confessed a cnncern in t!sis conspiracy. Ever)' reader, how

244 THOMAS BLACKWRLL.

ever, will ackii(>\viu«l<;u, tli.il ronfessioiis uiitlvr tliu torliiru ronii liislorir^il tlocti-
niuiits (da very «jiiesli(»iiablo nature. Hoiiii.' trie<l lor liis siipiMiM'tl olltjiice bfldro
a royal coiiiiiiissiun, lie was sentenced to be br(»Uen alive on the wheel, and put
to tliu dealli ut' a traitor. In llio course of liis trial, scuue inii>utalions were
tliruwu u|*on his ISritannic 31a]osty, tor which, in conjinn-lion with odier circuni-
Btances, the Ih-itisli aiuha&sador w;u> recilled from Slockhohn. Tlie unl'ortunato
Blackwell was execnte<l, July 2yth, 17 17, but not, it wouUl aj»i)ear, with the
lortiMX's assigned by his sentence. On the scallbld, he protested to the people
his enlire innocence ol" tiic crimes laid to his charge, and, iis the best proof o(
what he stateil, pointed out his ulter want of all motive for enafagiufr in an at-
tempt a<j;ainsL tiie governmenl. He prayed vvilh i^reat devotion, but happeninijf
to lay his head \\r(^n■^ upon the blo«;k, he remarived gootUhiuuoureilly, that, as
this was his first experiment, no wonder he retjuired a little instruction. The
lite of Mis lilackwell's de;ith is not ascertained.' Her work was aftervvards re-
published on the continent.

HLACKW ELL, '1'homas, the restorer of Greek literature in the \(»rth of Scot-
land, and a learned writer of the eighteenth century, w.'is brother to the subject
of the preceding article. He w.as born at Aberdeen, August 4th, 1701, antl
after receiving the rtidiments ol liis education at the tn-annnar School of his na-
tive city," entered his academic;il course at the Marischal College, where he took
the degree of A. M. in 1718. A separate professorship of Greek had not ex-
isted in this seminary previous to 1700, and the best of the ancient languages
was ut that period very little cultivated in Scothind. Blackwell, having turned
his attention to Greek, was honoiu'ed, in 1723, when only twenty-two years of
age, with a crown appointment to this chair. He entered upon the discharge of
the duties of his office with the utmost ardour. It perfectly suited his inclination
I j and habits. He was an enthusiastic admirer of the language and literatiu-e of
Greece, and the whole bent of his studies was exclusively devoted to the cultiva-
tion of polite learning. He had the merit of rearing some very eminent Greek
scholars, anu>ng whom may be mentioned Principal George Campbell, Dr Alex-
ander Gerard, and Dr James Ueattie. The last has borne ample testimony to
the merit of his mastei', in liis "Essay on the Utility of Classical Learning,"
where he styles Principal Blackwell " a very learned author."

D" Blackwell lii-st appeared before the public, as an author, in 1737. His In-
quiry into the Life and Writings of Homer was published at London during the
coui-se of that year, but witliout his name. it has been positively affirmed

1 Soon iit'ier the deatli of Blackwell, appeared "a genuine copy of a letter from a mer-
chant ill Stockholm, to his correspondent in London, containing an impartial account of Dr
Alexander Blackwell, his plot, trial, character, and behaviour, both under examiiiaiioii and
at the place of execution, together with a copy of a paper delivered to a friend upon the
scaffold, in which he denied the crime imputed to him." This publication does nut appear
to have been genuine, and as it contains some particulars of the life of Blackwell totally at
variance with the above more aiilhentic and probable account, which is chiefly derived I'roin
a letter signed G. J. and dated from Bath, in the (Gentleman's ]\Iagazine for 1747, we have
entirely rejected it. This spurious work is, nevertheless, chiefly used by Mr Nichols, in an
account of Blackwell given in the Literary Anecdotes of the tiighteenth Century.

2 The history of the origin of what are technicilly, in Scotland, denominated Grammur
SclwoU, is involved in considerable obsciirit}-. The probability is, that they were in most
cases founded by generous individuals, whu wished well to the cause of literature, and who,
U) secure that proper care should be taken in the management of the funds by which the
es tablishment was supported, vested the money appropriated for that purpose in some public
body, or corporation. It does not admit of a doubt, that this took place in several of the piiii-
ei pal Scollisli burghs ; but it is very singular, that those schools were limited to the Latin
'a iigu!ige alone. This proceeded from the dread that there was a design in the founders of
such seminaries to supersede Universities, where Latin, Greek, and Hebiew were taught.
The Grammar School of Aberdeen was founded by Dr Patrick Dun, Principal of Mari-
schal College, who ^as a native of the city, and had resided at Padua, where he took hii
degree of Doctor of Medicine.

THOMAS BLACKWELL. 245

Avith what truth it is impossible to s.iy, that its being tinonyinous, was in imita«
tion of Lo»tl Shaftesbury, of >vliom he ^vas a warm admirer, and whose works
were published after that manner. Tlie style, also, is vitiated by a perpetual
ertbrt at the Shaftesburian vein, which is, perhaps, the principal fault in the
m-itings of Blackwell. A second edition of the work appeared in 174(5, and
sliortly after, "Proofs of the Inquiry into Homer's Life and Wi-itings." These
proofs chiefly consisted of a translation of the Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian,
and French notes subjoined to the original work. Tlie Inquiry contains a
threat deal of research, as well as a display of miscellaneous learning. Per-
haps its principal defect consists in the author's discovering an over anxiety
in I'egard to botli ; at least, he has not been sufficiently careful to guard
a<5-ainst the imputation of sometimes going out of his way to show what labour he
had bestowed in examining every source of information, both ancient and
modern, foreign and domeitic. Though the life of Homer has been writ-
ten by Herodotus, by Plutarcli, and by Suidas, among the Greeks, and by an
iiunimerable host of writers scattered through other nations, yet there is hardly
on*' point in his history about which they are agTeed, excepting the prodigious
merit of his poems, and the sophist Zoilus would not even grant this. How
great uncertainty prevailed respecting the time and place of his birth, abundantly
appears from seven Grecian cities contending in regard to the latter point.
VVlien the field was so extensive, and so great diversity of opinion prevailed, it
cannot fail to be perceived how arduous an enterprise Dr Blackwell had under-
taken. His criticisms on the poems themselves are always encomiastic, often
ingenious, and delivered in language that can give no reasonable ground of
offence. The work will be read \vith both pleasure and profit by all who are
pi-epared to enter upon such inquiries. It is generally esteemed tlie best of his
performances.

He published, in 1743, "Letters concerning Mythology," without his name
also. In the course of tlie same year, he was advanced to be principal of his
College, succeeding Dr John Osborne, who died upon the I'Jth of August.
Dr Blackwell, however, was not admitted to the exercise of his new office till the
subsequent 9th of November. The first object of his attention respected the dis-
cipline of the College. Gireat irregularities had crept into the institution, not in
his predecessor's time only, but probably almost from its foundation. Through
the poverty of the generality of the students in those days, their attendance,
short as the session ^vas allowed to be, \vas very partial ; to correct this, he con-
sidered to be indispensably necessai-y. Accordingly, about the middle of Octc-
ber, 1749, previous to the commencement of the session, an advertisement in the
public papers informed the students, that a more regular attendance was to be
required. This, it would appear, did not produce the intended eflect. Accord-
ingly, to show that the Principal and Professors were perfectly in earnest when
they gave this public notice, three of the Bursars who had not complied ^vith the
terms of the advertisement, were, on the 10th of November, expelled. This deci-
sion gave general satisfaction, and indeed deserved high commendation.

But, that the Professors themselves might be more alert and attentive to their
duty, he revived a practice which, it is likely, had at an early period been com-
mon, for evei-)' Professor in the University to deliver a discom-se in the public
school upon some subject connected with his profession. He himself set the ex-
ample, and delivered his first oration upon the 7th of February, 1749. When
Blackwell was promoted to the principality, instead of sinking in indolence, he
seems to have considered it rather as afibrding an excitement to exertion. In
February, 1750, he opened a class for the instruction of the students in ancient
history, geography, and chronology. Prelections on these branches of education,

24G ADAM BLACKWOOD.

lie ihoii^lit necessary to render nioi-c perfect llie course at Marisclial Tollesje. Tie,
therefore, himself undertook ihc task. '1 he (lesi-rn of his o|»enin<; flits <"lass evi-
dently w;is to j)a>-e the way for (he iiitiddiirlinn of a new jdan of teaching into
Marischal ("olleire, which. ac(Mirdiiinly, lie soon after accomidished. At the
coniinencement of the session ITSi, j»id)lic, notice was ^iveii that, "thelVm-
cij»al, I'rofessoiN, and >la.stei*s, havins^ loiiij had im<ler their considi'i-alion the
present nietlunl of academical eihication, the (dan of which, orii^iiially intro-
duced l)v the scholastic divines in tlie darkest limes, is more calculated for dis-
putes and wranijlin;; than to lit men for the duties of life, therefore have
resolved to intrcxUicc a new order in teachinjj the sciences." The order which
was then adopted, is what still continues in force in that University, 'J'hree
years afterwards, when the new plan had heen put to the trial for as many
sessions, tlie faculty of the colleue ordered an ac(;ount of the ]ilan of education
which was followed to be printed. This formed a pamjdilet of thirty-five pajres.
It concludes thus: — "They have already bejjun to experience the puidic ap-
probation by the increase of the number of their students." So that he had the
agi-eeable pleastire of witnessing the success of the plan he had proposed

In 1752 he took the degree of Doctor of Laws, and in the subsequent
year, was published, in quarto, the first volimie of " Memoirs of the Court of
Augustus." A second volimie appeared in 1755, and a third, which was posthu-
mous, and left unfinished by the author, was prepared for the press by .lohn
Mills, Esq. and published in 17G4. In this work, the author has endeavoured to
give an account of lloman literature as it appeared in the Augustan age, and he
has executed the task with no small share of success. Objections might easily be
started to some of his theories and opinions, but every classical scholar Avho is
fond of literary history will peruse the work with pleasure as ^vell as profit

Dr Blackwell died, at Edinburgh, upon the tith of 31 arch, 1757. He mhs
certainly a very extraordinary person, and like every man of acknowledged
talents, formed a very general subject of conversation. He was foi-nial, and even
pompous. His dress was after tlie fashion of the reign of Queen Anne. The
portly mien and dignified manner in which he stepped through the public school,
impressed all the students \vith a deep sense of his professional importance. He
was, nevertheless, kind and indulgent to them, and of a benevolent disposition.
He left a widow, but no children. Mi-s Blackwell, in 1793, founded a chemical
professorship in ]Marischal College, and appointed a premium often pounds sterling
to be annually bestowed on the person who should compose, and deliver, in the
En<rlish language, the best discourse upon a given literary subject

BLACKWOOD, Adam, a learaed writer of the sixteenth century, was born
"at Dunfermline, in 1539. He was descended from an ancient and respectable
family ; his father, William Blackwood, was slain in battle ere he was ten years
of aire, (probably at Pinkie-field): his mother, Helen Keid, who was niece to
Robert Keid, Bishop of Orkney, died soon after, of grief for the loss of her bus-
band. By his uncle, the Bishop, he was sent to the university of Paris, but was
soon oblig'ed to retm-n, on account of the death of his distinguished relation.
Scotland, at this time, was undergoing the agonies of the reformation, under the
regency of Mary of Lorrain. Blackwood found it no proper sphere for his edu-
cation ; and therefore soon returned to Paris, where, by the liberality of his
youthful sovereign, Queen Mary, then residing at the court of France, he was
enabled to complete his studies, and to go through a course of civil law at the
university of Thoulouse, Having now acquired some reputation for learning and
talent, he was patronized by James Beaton, the expatriated Archbishop of Glas-
gow, who recommended him very wanrdy to Queen Mary and her husband, the

ADAM BLACKWOOD. 24i

Diuiphin, by whose influence he Avas chosen a member of the parliament of Poi-
tiers, and afterwards appointed to be professor of civil law at tliat court.

Poitiers was henceforth the constant residence of Blackwood, and the scene of
all his literary exertions. His first work was one entitled, " De Vinculo Reli-
gionis et Imperii, Libri Duo," Paris, 1575, to which a third "book was added in
1612. The object of this work is to show the necessity under which rulers
are laid, of preserving the true — i. e. the Catholic, religion, from the innovations
of heretics, as all i-ebellions arise from that source. Blackwood, by the native
tone of his mind, the natiu-e of his education, and the \vhole train of his associa-
tions, was a faithful adlierent of the church of Rome, and of the principles of
monarchical government. His next work developed these professions in a more
perfect manner. It was entitled, '' Apologia pro Regibus," and professed to be
an answer to George Buchanan's worlv, " De Jure Regni apud Scotos." Both
of these works argue upon extreme and unfair principles. Buchanan seeks to
apply to the simple feudal government of Scotland — a monarchical ai'istocracy —
all the maxims of the Roman republicans. Blackwood, on the other hand, is a
slavishly devout advocate tbr the divine right of kings. In replying to one of
Buchanan's positions, the apologist of kings says, very g-ravely, that if one of
the scholars at St Leonard's College were to argue in that manner, he would
riclily deserve to be whipt. Both of the above works are in Latin. He next
published, in French, an account of the death of his benefactress. Queen Mary,
under the title, " Martyre de Maria Stuart, Reyne d'Escosse," Antwerp, Svo.,
15S8, This work is conceived in a tone of bitter resentment regarding the
event to which it refers. He addresses himself, in a vehement strain of passion,
to all the princes of Europe, to avenge her death ; declaring that they ai-e un-
worthy of royalty, if they are not roused on so interesting and pressing an occa-
sion. At the end of the volume, is a collection of poems in Latin, French, and
Italian, upon Mary and Elizabeth; in which the former princess is praised for
every excellence, while her mui-deress is characterised by every epithet expres-
sive of indignation and hate. An anagram was always a good Aveapon in those
days of conceit and false taste ; and one Avhich we find in this collection was no
doubt looked upon as a most poignant stab at the Queen of England :

Elizabeta Tkudera
Vade, Jezebel tetra.

In 159 3, Blackwood published a manual of devotions under the title, "Sanc-
tarum precationum proemia," Avhicli he dedicated to his venerable patron, the
Ai'chbisliop of Glasgow. The cause of his writin'g this book was, that by read-
ing much at night he had so weakened his eyes, as to be unable to distinguish
his own children at the distance of two or three yards : in the impossibility oi
employing himself in study, he was prevailed upon, by the advice of the Arch-
bishop, to betake himself to a custom of nocturnal prayer, and hence the com-
position of this book. In I6i)6, Blackwood publisiied a Latin poem on the
inauguration of James VI., as king of Great Britain. In 160!), appeared at
Poitiers, a complete collection of his Latin poems. He died, in 16 '23, in the
74th year of his age, leaving four sons (of whom one attained to his own sena-
torial dignity in the parliament of Poitiers), and seven daughters. He was most
splendidly intened in St Porcharius' church at Poitiers, where a marble monumen,
was reared to his memory, charged with a long panegyrical epitaph. In 1(544,
appeared his " Opera Omnia,'' in one volume 4to., edited by the leamed Naudeus,
Avho prefixes an elaborate eulogium upon the author. Blackwood was not only
a man of consunnnate learning and gi-eat genius, but is allowed to have also ful-
filled, in life, aU t!ie duties of a gocd man.

248 HENRY BLACKWOOD.— WILLIAM HLVCKWOOD.

BLACKWOOD, IIknuv, hrullier to tlie siil»jei;t of tin; j»n;c,('(liii!r article, aii'l
his senior by some years, w.is eJncaletl iiiuler nearly similar circiimstaiices, anil,
ill I 551, tall^llt jtliilcisopliy in the university of J'aris. llavin<; at'lerivarils ap-
jdicd himself to the study of niedicim!, he rose to be dean of that fairiilty at
i'aris, an oflioe of tlio very hiijhest dignity which could then be reached by a
member of the medical profession, lie appears to have been one of the earliest
modern pliysicians who gave a sanction to tlie j)racti<'* of letting blw)iL He
published various treatises on medicine, and also upon pliilosophy, of which a list
is preserved in iMackcnzio's Lives of Scots W'riters. lie acted at one time as
physician to the Duke of Longiieville, with a salary of two liindred pistoles. At
another time, when the plague prevailed at Paris, he remained in the c.ity, and
exerted hims;'lf so zealously in the cure of hii numerous patients, as to gain
nnivei-sal applause. Me died, in 1G1.3 or 1611, at a very advanc(Ml age

BLACKWOOD, William, an eminent publisher, and originator of the
mag<nzine which bears his name, was born in Edinburgh, November 20, 1776,
of parents who, though in humble tarcumstances, bore a respectable r.baraciei',
and were able to give this and their other cliildren an excellent elementary
education. At the age of fourteen, he connnenced an apprenticeship with
3Iessrs Bell and Bradfute, booksellers in his native city, with uliom he con-
tinued six years. During this time, he stored his mind with a large fund of
miscellaneous reading, which was of great service to him in after life. It is
probable thnt he at the same time manifested no connnon talents for business,
as, soon after the expiration of his apprenticeship, [1797,] he was selected by
3Iessrs .1. 31undell and Company, then carrying on an extensive publishing
business in the Scottish capital, to take the charge of a branch of their c<m<;ern
which they liad resolved to establish in Glasgow. Mr Blackwood acted as the
Glasgow agent of JMundell and Company for a year, during which time he im-
proved greatly as a man of business. Thrown in a great measure upon his own
resources, he here acquired habits of decision, such as are rarely formed at so
early an age, and which were afterwards of the gi-eatest importance to him.
Having also occasion to write frequently to his constituents, he formed a style
for connuercial correspondence, the excellence of whi«:h was a subject of lrt>-
quent remark in his later years.

At the end of the year, when the business he had conducted at Glasgow was
given up, Mr Blackwood returned to Messrs Bell and Bradfute, with whom he
continued about a year longer. He then (1800) entered into partnership
with Mr Robert Ross, a bookseller of some standing, who also acted as
avi auctioneer of books. Not long after, finding the line of business pursued
by Mr Ross uncongenial to his taste, he retired from the partnership, and, j>ro-
ceeding to London, placed himself, for improvement in the antiquarian depart-
ment of his trade, under Mr CuthilL Returning once more to Edinburgh in
1804, he set up on his own account in a shop in South Bridge street,
where for several years he confined his attention almost exclusively tt
the department just alluded to, in which he was allowed to have no rival
of superior intelligence in Scotland. 'I'he catalogue of old books which
he published in 1812, being the first of the kind in which the books
were classified, and which referred to a stock of unconunon richness and
variety, continues till the present day to be a standard authority for the prices
of old books. At this period of his career, I\lr Blackwood became agent for
several of the first London publishing houses, and also began to publish exten-
sively for himself. In 181(5, having resolved to throw a larger share of his
energies into the latter department of business, he sold off his stock of
old books, and removed to a shop in the New Town, soon to become one of
the most memorable localities connected with modern literary history.

"WILLIAM BLACKWOOD. 249

For a considerable time, Mr Blackwood had been of opinion that something
h'ke the same regenei-ation which the Edinburgh Review had given to
periodical criticism, might be communicated to that species of miscellaneous
literature which chiefly assumed the monthly form of publication. At this time,
the Scots Magazine of his native city, which had never pretended to any merit
above that of a correct register, was scarcely in any respect more flat and
insipid than the publications of the same kind in London. It was reserved for
the original and energeti<; mind of the subject of this memoir, to raise this
department of popular literature from the humble state in which it had hitherto
existed, or to which, when we recollect the laboui-s of Johnson and Goldsmith,
we may rather say it hud sunk, and to place it on the eminence for which it
was evidently fitted. The first number of Bla(:k\vood's Magazine appeared in
April, 1817, and, though bearing more resemblance to preceding publications
of the same kind than it afterwards assumed, the work was from the first acknow-
ledged by the public to possess superior merit. The publishers of the elder
magazines made an almost immediate, though indirect confession to this efiect, by
attempts to put new and more attractive faces upon their publications, and stimu-
late the lagging energies of those who conducted them. The two young men
who were chiefly engaged upon the work of Mr Blackwood, having disagreed with
him, were employed by 31 r Constable to take the charge of the Scots Magazine,
which he, like others in similar circumstances, was endeavouring to resuscitate
from the slumbers of a century. Mr Blackwood was already move than inde-
pendent of these gentlemen, in consequence of the aid which he was receiving
from other quarters ; but bitter feelings had nevertheless been engendered,
and these found vent, through the fancy of some of his new contributors, in the
celebrated article in the seventh number of his magazine, styled " Translation
of a Chaldee Manuscript." In this jeu d' esprit, the circumstances of the late
feud, and the eiforts of Mr Constable to repair the fortunes of his ancient
migazine, were thrown into a form the most burlesque that ever imagination
conceived, though certainly with very little of the ill nature which the article
unfortunately excited in the most of those who figured in it. In consequence
of the painful feelings to which it gave rise, Mr Blackwood cancelled it from
all the copies within his reach ; and it is now, consequently, very rarely to be
met with.

Blackwood's Magazine, as already hinted, had not been in progress for many
months, before it obtained the support of new and unexpected talent. Mr
John Wilson, already distinguished by his beautiful poetry, and Mr John
G. Lockhart, whose more regular, though perhaps less brilliant genius has since
found a fitting field in the management of the Quarterly Review, were at this
time young men endeavouring to make their way at the Scottish bar. Having
formed an attachment to Mr Blackwood, they threw into his literary repertory
the overflowing bounties of tvvo minds, such as rarely rise singly, and much
more rarely together; and soon enchained the attention of the public to a series
of articles not more remarkable for their ability, than for an almost unexampled
recklessness of humour and severity of sarcasm. It is not to be denied that much
offence was thus occasionally given to the feelings of individuals ; but, in ex-
tenuation of any charge which can be rested on such grounds, it may be pointed
out that, while Mr Blackwood had his own causes of complaint in the ungen-
erous hostility of several of his commercial brethren, the whimsical genius of his
contributors had unquestionably found a general provocation in the overweening
pretensions and ungracious deportment of several of their literary seniors, some
of whom had, in their own youth, manifested equal causticity, with certainly no
greater show of talent. To these excuses must be added the relative one of

250 "WUXIAM BLACKWOOD.

|)<)liti(a. Mr Blackwood fr(»iii the first took a stronp part with the existing
lory governiiieiit, which in lOilinhiirgh liail \hh'i\ jioucrriiily 8iij>|n>rle(l hereto-
fore in every manner except l)y llf |'"'", while the «)p|i(i8iti<>M had long pos-
sessed a literary orjjan of the higlicsl authority. In tre;iling, therefore, of srtnie
of the juvenile indisrielions of this cxiraonlinary work, and those <'.onnecled
with it, we must, if willing to preserve imparliality, r<M-,ollect the keenness with
which politics and piditical men were then discussfd.

In the nianngement of the magazMie, IMr Hlackwood at .ill times bore in his
own person the principal share. The selection of articles, the correspondence
with contributors, and other duties connected with editorship, were performed
by him during a period of seventeen years, with a degree of skill, on which it
is not too much to say that no small portion of the success of the work de-
pended. In its earlier years he contributed two or three articles himself; but
to this, as a practice, he had a decided objection, as he could easily perceive
that an editor, especially one like himself not trained to letters, is apt to be
biassed respecting his own compositions. It may easily be conceived, however,
that, in the management of the literary and mercantile concerns of such .a work,
there was sufHcient employment for even a man of his extraordinary energies.
.And no small praise must it ever be to the subject of this brief memoir, that,
during so long a period, he maintained in his work so nmch of the vivid spirit
with which it set out; kept up so unfailing a succession of brilliant articles in
general literature, altogether exclusive of the regular papers of 31r ^\ ilson, — as
if he were exhausting mind after n)ind among the literary men of his <;ountry,
and still at no loss to discover new ; and never, throughout his whole career,
varied in a single page from the political key-note which he had struck at the
commencement. To have done these things, and with so much apparent ease
to himself, and so little ostentation, — for these were features in his masterly
(iareer — argues in our opinion a character of unwonted vigour, as well as no
small share of intellectual power.

The magazine eventually reached a circulation not much short of ten thousand
copies, and, while reprinted in North America, found its way from the pub-
lislier's warehouse into every other part of the world where the English language
was spoken. Notwithstanding the great claims it made upon his time, Mr
Blackwood continued till his death to transact a large share of business as a
general publisher. Not long before that event, he completed the Edinburgh
Encyclopedia in eighteen volumes quarto, and, among his other more important
publications, may be reckoned Kerr's ('ollection of Voyages and Travels, in
eighteen volumes octavo. The chief distinct works of 31essrs Wilson, Lockhart,
Hogg, IMoir, (jalt, and other eminent persons connected with his masazine, and
some of the writings of Sir Walter Scott, were published by i\lr Blackwood.
He also continued till the close of his career to carry on an extensive trade in
retail bookselling.

Mr Blackwood died, September 16, 1834, after a painful illness of four
months. His disease, a tumour in the groin, had in that time exhausted his
physical energies, but left his temper calm and unruffled, and his intellect en-
lire and vigorous even to the last.

In the words of his obituarist, " No man ever conducted business in a
more direct and manly manner than Mr Blackwood. His opinion was on all
occasions distinctly expressed ; his questions were ever explicit; his answers
conclusive. His sincerity might sometimes be considered as rough, but no
human being ever accused him either of flattering or of shuffling ; and those
men of letters who were in frequent communication with him, soon conceived a
respect and confidence for him, which, save in a very few instances, ripened

HUGH BLAIR, D.D. 251

into cordial regard and friendship. The masculine steadiness, and impertur-
bable resolution of his character, were impressed on all his proceedings ; and it
will be allowed by those who watched him tiaough his career, as the publisher
of a literary and political miscellany, that these qualities were more than once
very severely tested. He dealt by parties exactly as he did by individuals.
U hether his principles were right or wrong, they were his, and he never «;om-
}>romised or complimented away one tittle of them. No changes, either of men
or of measures, ever dinuiied his eye, or checked his courage."

BIr Blackwood was twice a magistrate of his native city, and in that capacity
distinguished himself by an intrepid zeal in the reform of burgh management,
singularly in contrast with his avowed sentiments respecting constitutional
reform.

BLAIR, Hugh, D.D. one of the most eminent divines and cultivators of polite
literature, of the eighteenth century, was born at Edinbiu'gh, April 7, 1718.
His father, John Blair, a merchant of Edinburgh, and who at one time occupied
a respectable office in the magistracy, was gi-andson to Robert Blair, an eminent
divine of the seventeenth century, whose life is commemorated in its proper place
in this work. John Blair was thus cousin-german to the author of the Grave,
whose life follows, in the present work, that of his distinguished ancestor. John
Blair, having impaired his fortune by engaging in the South Sea scheme,
latterly held an office in the excise. He married Martha Ogston, and the first
child of this marriage was the subject of the following memoii*.

Hugh Blair was early remarked by his father to possess the seeds of genius.
For this reason, joined to a consideration, perhaps, of his delicate constitution, he
was educated for the chm-ch. He commenced his academic career at the univer-
sity of Edinburgh, October, 1730, and as his weakly health disabled him fi-om
enjoying the usual sports of boyhood, his application to study was very close.
Among the numerous testimonies to his proficiency, which were paid by his in-
structors, one deserves to be particularly mentioned, as, in his own opinion, it
determined the bent of his genius towards polite literature. x\n essay, Utot tos
K(x.Aou, that is, upon the Beautiful,^ ^vritten by him when a student of logic in
the usual coiu-se of academical exercises, had the good fortune to attract the
notice of professor Stevenson, and, with circumstances honourable to the author,
was appointed to be read in public at the conclusion of the session. This mark
of distinction, which occurred in his sixteenth year, made a deep impression on
his mind ; and the essay which merited it, he ever after recollected ^vith partial
atfection, and preserved to the day of his death, as the fii-st earnest of his fame.
At this time Dr Blair commenced a method of study, which contributed much
to the accuracy and extent of his knowledge, and which he continued to practise
occasionally even after his reputation was fully established. It consisted in mak-
ing abstracts of the most important works which he read, and in digesting them
according to the train of his own thoughts. History, in particular, he resolved
to study in this manner ; and in concert with some of his youthful associates, he
constructed a very comprehensive scheme of chronological tables, for receiving
into its proper place every important fact which should occur. The scheme de-
vised by this young student for his own private use was afterwards improved,
filled up, and given to the public, by his learned relative Dr John Blair, i^reben-
dary of 'Westminster, in his valuable work, " The Chronology and History of
the V/orld,"

' A technical Greek phrase, expressing the abstract idea of the perfection of beaut)
in objects of taste. A devotion to tlie " To kalon" in that nation, was similar to what th..
modems understand by a correct taste.

252 HUGH IJLAUl, D.D.

Ill 1739, on taking the ilegreo of Master of Arts, Hlair printed his thesis,
" ])f Kuntlaiuontis ct OlilifjatiKiic Legis Naltira-," \>hifh contains a brief outliiio
of iheso moral jtriiicijiU's alti-ruards tliivelojitd in his borinons, and displays the
first dawnings of that virtuous sonsihiiiiy, Ity At Inch he was at all p(M-iods (»f iiis
|)idjlic life so liigldy distinguished. On the 21st of ()c,tol)er, 1711, he \v!is
licensed as a preacher by liie presbytery of lulinbiirgli, and soon began, in the
usual nuinner, to exhibit himself *K:c;isi()nally in the pulpit, llcretofure, t!ie
oidy popular style of iireacliinp in Sc-otlatid wiis that ol the evangelical party,
which consiited chiefly in an impassioned address to the devotional feelings of the
audience. The iiiuderate party, wlio were of course least ]iopular had neither
lost the practice of indulging in tedious theol()gical disquisitions, n<ir acquired
that of expatiating on the moral duties. Ihe sermons of tiiis young licentiate,
wliich presented sound practical doctrines, in a style of language aim st un-
known in Scotland, struck tlie minds of the audience as sometliing quite
new. In the coui-se of a very few months, his fame had travelled far beyond
the bounds of his native city. A sermon which he preached in the West
Church, produced an extraordinary impression, and was spoken of in highly
favourable terms to the Earl of Leven. His lordship accordingly present'-
ed the preacher to tlie parish church of Colessie in Fife, which happened to be
then va<;ant. He was ordained to this charge, September 23, 1742, but was
not long permitted to labour in so confined a scene. In a few months, he was
brought forward by his friends as candidate for the second charge of the church
of Canongate, which may almost be considered a metropolitan situation, in the
popular election which followed, he was successful against a very formidable com-
petitor, 31j- Robert Walker, then a favourite preacher. He was inducted to this
charge, July 14, 1743, vvlien he had little more than completed his twenty-fifth
year. On the occasion of the insui-rection of 1745, Blair preached a sennon, in
the warmest strain of loyalty to the existing government, and Avhich he aftei-
wards printed. During tlie eleven years which he spent in the Canongate, his
sermons atti'acted large audieiKjes from the adjoining city, and were alike admir-
ed for their eloquence and piety. 'I'hey were composed with uncommon care ;
and, occupying a middle place between the di-y metaphysical discussion of one
class of preachers, and the loose incoherent declamation of the other, they blend-
ed together in the happiest manner the light of argument with the warmth of
exliortation, and exhibited captivating specuiiens of what had hitherto been rarely
neard in Scotland, the polished, well-compacted, and regular didactic oration.

On the 11th of October, 1754, he was called by the town council of Edin-
burgh to accept of one of the city charges, that of Lady Yester's church, and on
the I5tli of June, 1758, he was promoted by the same body to the highest
situation attainable l)y a Scottish clergymen, one of the charges of the High
Chur«".li. This latter removal took place, according to the records of the town-
council, " because they had it fully ascertained, that his translation would be
lu'glily acceptable to persons of tlie most distinguished character and eminent
rank in this country, who had seats in said church,'' In truth, this place of wor-
ship might have been styled, in the absence of an episcopal system, the metro-
poliian church of Scotland. In it sat the lords of Session, and all the other gi-eat
law and state ofiicers, besides the magistrates and council, and a large congrega-
tion of the most respectable inhabitants of the town. It might now, therefore,
be said, that the eloquence of Blair had at last reached a fit theatre for its dis-
play. In the year previous to this last translation, he had been honoured by
the university of St Andrews with the degree of D. D. which was tlien very rare
in Scotland.

Hitherto, Blair's attention seems to have been chiefly devoted to his profession.

HUGH BLAIB, D.D. 253

No production of his pen had yet been given to the world by himself, except
two sermons preached on particular occasions, some translations of passages of
Scripture, for the psalmody of the church, and the article on Hutcheson's system of
Moral Pliilosophy for the Edinburgh Review, a periodical work begun in 1755,
by Hume, Robertson, and others, and which only extended to two numbers.
Standing, as he now did, at the head of his profession, and released by the la-
bour of former years from the di'udgery of weekly preparation for the pidpit, lie
began to tliink seriously on a plan for teachingto others the ai-t which had contribut-
ed so nmch to his own fame. Some years before, Dr Adam Smith had delivered in
Edinburgh a series of lectures on rhetoric and elegant literature, which had been
well received. In 1759, Dr Blair coinnieiiced, with the approbation of the uni-
versity, a course upon the principles of literary composition. The most zealous
friends to this undertaking were David Hume and Lord Kanies, the latter of
Avhom had devoted nmch attention to the subject. The approbation bestowed
upon the lectm-es was so very high, and their fame became so generally ditiused,
that the town-council resolved to institute a rhetorical class in the university,
under his direction; and, in 1762, this professorship was taken under the pro-
tection of the crown, ivith a salary of seventy pounds a year. Dr Blair continu-
ed to deliver his lectures annually till 1783, when he published them for the
more extensive benefit of manldnd. They are not by any means, nor were they
ever pretended to be, a profound or original exposition of the laws of the belles
lettres. They are acknowledged to be a compilation from many diflerent sources,
and oidy designed to form a simple and intelligible code for the instruction of
youth in this department of knowledge. Regarded in this light, they are entitled
to very high praise, which has accordingly been liberally bestowed by the public.
These lectiu-es have been repeatedly printed, and still remain an indispensable
monitor in the study of every British scholar.

In 1763, Dr Blair made his first appearance before the world as an author or
critic. He had, in common with his friend John Home, taken a deep interest
in the exertions of Macpherson, for the recovery of the Highland traditionary
poeti-y. Relying without suspicion upon the faith of the collector, he prefixed
to the " Poems of Ossian '' a dissertation pointing out the beauties of those
compositions. The labour must of course be now pronomiced in a great mea-
sure useless ; but nevertheless it remains a conspicuous moimment of the taste of
Ur Blair.

It was not till 1777, that he could be prevailed upon to offer to the world any
of those sennons with which he had so long delighted a private congTegation.
We have his own authority for saying that it was his friend Lord Kames ^vho
was chiefly instrumental in prompting him to take this step. For a long period,
hardly any sennons published either in England or Scotland, had met with suc-
cess. The pubUc taste seemed to have contracted an aversion to this species of
composition. We are infonued by Boswell in his life of Johnson, that «lien
Blair transmitted a volume to Mr Strahan, the King's printer, that gentleman,
I fter letting it lie beside him for some time, returned a letter discouivaging the
I) ublication. It is probable that this opinion, which seems to have been given
only on general grounds, might have caused Dr Blair to abandon his intention ;
but fortunately, Mr Strahan had sent one of the sennons to Dr Johnson for his
opinion, and after his unfavoui-able letter to Dr Blair had been sent off", he i-e-
ceived from Johnson, on Christmas eve, 1776, a note, of which the following is
a paragraph : " I have read over Dr Blair's first sermon, with more than ap^ '•o-
bation; to say it is good is to say too little.'' Mr Strahan had very soon after
this time a convei-sation with Dr Johnson, concerning the sermons; and then he
very «;andidly wrote again to Dr Blair, enclosing Johnson's note, and agreeing

^Oi HUGH BLAIR. D.D.

to piirchase the volume, with IVIr radcll, fur one himdrod pounds. 'J lie sale wng
so rapid and extensive, and the appntl>atioii of the puldic, so liijfh, that, to tiieir
iionoin- be it recoixled, the proprietors made Dr lUair a present, first of one sum,
and afterwards of another, of lifty pounds; tliiis vcdunUirily doubling the stipu-
lated price. Perhaps, in no roiuitry, not even in his own, were these composi-
tions so highly appret;iate<l as in J*>nglan<l. 'i'here they were received with the
keenest relish, not only on account of tlieir abstract ex(;ellenre, but partly from
a kind of surprise as to the (juarter from which they came — no devotional work,
produced by Scotland, having ever before been found entill<;<l to much atten-
tion in the southern section of the island. The volume speedily fell under the
attention of (ieorge HI., and his virtuous consort, and was by them very highly
admired. His majesty, with that wise and sincere attention to the interests o)
religion and virtue, \\\udi has given to his reign a respectability above all th;.i
military or political glory (;an purchase, was graciously pleased to judge the au-
thor Avorthy of a public reward, liy a royal mandate to the exche(juer in Scot-
laud, dated July 25, 1780, a pension of £200 a-year, was bestowed on Ur
Blair. It is said that the sermons were first read in the royal closet, by the i:]arl
of 3Iansfield; and there is little reason to doubt that they were indebted in some
degree to the elocution of the " elegant Murray" for the impression which they
produced upon the royal family.

During the subsequent part of his life, Dr Blair published three other volumes
of sermons; and it might safely be said that each successive publication only
tended to deepen the impression produced by the first. These compositions,
which were translated into almost every language ki Eiu-ope, formed only a small
part of the discoui-ses which he prepared for the pulpit, 'llie number of those
which remained, was creditable to his professional charactei-, and exhibited a
convincing proof that his fame as a public teacher had been honourably pur-
chased, by the most unwearied application to the private and unseen labours of
his office. Out of his remaining manuscripts, he had prepared a fifth volume,
which appeared after his death ; the rest, according to an explicit injunction in
his will, were committed to the flames. The last sermon which he composed
was one in the fifth volume, " on a life of dissipation and pleasure." Though
written at the age of eighty-two, it is a dignified and eloquent discourse, and
may be regarded as his solemn parting admonition to a class of men whose con-
duct is highly important to the community, and whose reformation and virtue he
had long laboured most zealously to promote.

The Sermons of Blair, are not now, perhaps, to be criticised with that blind
admiration which ranked them, in their own time, amidst the classics of Englisii
literature. The present age is now generally sensible that they are deficient in
that religious unction which constitutes the better part of such compositions, and
are but little calculated to stir and rouse the heart to a sense of spiritual duty.
Every thing, however, must be considered more or less relatively. Blair's mind
was formed at a time when the fervours of evangelical divinity were left by the
informed classes generally, to the lowly and uninsli'ucted heails, which, after all,
are the great citadels of religion in every country. A certiiin order of the
clergy, towards the end of the eighteenth century, seemed to find it necessai-y,
in order to prevent an absolute revolt of the higher orders from the standards of
religion, to accommodate themselves to the prevailing taste, and only administer
moral discoui-ses, with an insinuated modicum of real piety, where their proper
purpose unquestionably is to maintain spiritual grace in the breasts of the people,
by all the means which the gospel has placed within their reach. Thus, as
Blair preached to the most I'efined congregation in Scotland, he could hardly
have failed to fall into this prevalent fashion ; arid he perhaps considered, with

HUGH BLAIR, D.D. 255

perfect sincerity, that he was justified by the precept of St Paul, which com-
mands the ministers ot religion to be "all things to all men." Religious feeling
is modified by time and place ; and I do not apprehend it to be impossible
that the mind of Hugh Blair, existing at the time of his celebrated ancestor,
miglit have exerted itself in maintaining the covenant, and inspiring the popu-
lace with the energy necessary for that purpose ; while the intellect and lieart of
his predecessor, if interchanged, might have spent their zeal in behalf of Henry
Viscount Melville, and in gently pleasing the minds of a set of modern indifTer-
ents, with one grain of the gospel dissolved into a large cooling-draught of moral
disquisition.

The remaining part of the life of Blair hardly affords a single additional inci-
dent. He had been maiTied, in 1748, to his cousin, Katherine Bannatyne,
daughter of the Kev James Bannatyne, one of the ministers of Edinburgh. By
this lady he had a son who died in infancy, and a daughter, who survived to her
twenty-first year, the pride of her parents, and adorned ^vith all the accomplish-
ments which belong to her age and sex. Mrs Blair, herself a woman of great
good sense and spirit, Avas also taken from him a few years before his death, after
she had shared «ith the tenderest aHection in all his fortunes, and contributed
nearly half a century to his happiness and comfort. The latter part of his life
was spent in the enjoyment of a degi=ee of public respect which falls to the lot
of few men, but which was eminently deserved by him, both on account of his
higli literary accomplishments, and the singular purity and benevolence of his
private character. He latterly was enabled, by the various sources of income
which he enjoyed, to set up a carnage ; a luxui-y enjoyed, perhaps, by no pre-
decessor in the Scottish church, and by very few of his successors. He also
maintained an elegant hospitality, both at his town and country residences,
which were much resorted to by strangers of distinction who happened to visit
Edinburgh.

It may be curious to know in Avhat manner those discourses were delivered
from the pulpit, Avhich have so highly charmed the world in print As might be
easily supposed, where there was so much merit of one kind, there could scarcely,
without a miracle, be any high degree of another and entirely different kind.
In truth, the elocution of Dr Blair, though accompanied by a dignified and im-
pressive manner, Mas not fit to be compared with his powers of composition.
His voice was deformed by a peculiarity which I know not how to express by
any other term than one almost too homely for modern composition, a burr, lie
also wanted all that charm which is to be derived from gesticulation, and, upon
the whole, might be characterized as a somenhat formal preacher.

In what is called church politics, Dr Blair was a strenuous moderate, but never
took an active share in the proceedings of the church. A constitutional delicacy
of organization unfitted him for any scene where men have to come into strong
and personal collision. In temporal politics, he was a devout admirer of the
existing constitution, and a zealous suppoi-ter of the tory government \vhich flour-
ished during the gi-eater part of the reign of George III. With Viscount Mel-
ville, to whose father he had dedicated his thesis in early youth, he maintained
a constant interchange of civilities. At the breaking out of the French revolu-
tion, he exerted himself in the most energetic manner to stop the tide of disaffec-
tion and irreligion, which at one particular crisis seemed to threaten all existing
institutions. He declai-ed in the pulpit that none but a good subject could be a
good Christian ; an expression so strongly akin to the ancient doctrines of pas-
sive obedience and non-resistance, that it can only be excused by the particular
circumstances of the time. The mind of Blair was too fastidiously exact and
elegant to display any thing of the majestic. Possessing more taste than genius.

256 JAMES BLAIR.

he never iistonislied in tronversatiun by any t)ri<jinal remark. In company, lie
made a far loss striking appearance Uian the hall-iiistnicicd peasant Uurns, w!io
nt his firet visit to Kdiiihurnh, was uannly patronized liy Dr Ulair. In Bomo
points of view, his mind bore an iinpropossessinfj aspecL He was content tr
rea«l, and weak en<iii};Ii to admire the wretched fictitious compositions which ap
>eared in tliat age under tlie «leiiomination of novels. He would talk profusely
: the furniture of the room in \vhich he \vas sittinij, criticising every object with
a sincere and well-weighed attention, which would not have been ill-bestowed
upon the most solemn subjects. In his dress, and in almost all points of mere
exteme and ceremonial form, he was minutely fastidious. H* was also so fond
of the approbation of his fellow-creatures — in moderation, a most useful feature
of character — that even very marked flattery was received by him not only with-
out dis