Chapter 36 of 60 · 3732 words · ~19 min read

Part 36

John Geddie, sheriff-clerk of Fife, residing at Falkland--a prosperous sort of person, who had gathered some substance while acting as clerk to the committee of war during the king’s residence in Scotland, 1650-1--attracted attention at this time by a novel plan for the management of bees. He constructed a bee-house, of wainscot, with eight sides, about sixteen inches in height, and twenty-three inches in diameter; containing various divisions, designed to allow of the swarming of the industrious insects, and save the necessity of destroying any in order to obtain the result of their labours. In an age when men seem to have had no extra occupation but that of wrangling about abstract matters in which they could never hope to convince each other, it is pleasant to light upon even so simple an exercise of ingenuity and economic wisdom as the bee-house of John Geddie. The inventor succeeded in obtaining for his plan the approving notice of the Royal Society. The king, too, was induced to have a bee-house of Geddie’s construction erected at Spring Gardens, near Whitehall, and another at Windsor Castle, ‘where, for several years, his majesty did come to the places himself, and with delight behold them, and saw the honey in its season taken forth without troubling the bees, to his great satisfaction.’ His majesty likewise ‘willed and commanded another to be erected in his park of Falkland, in the ancient kingdom of Scotland, for the good and benefit of his whole subjects, rich and poor therein, in order to stir up noblemen and gentlemen to follow his example.’ That this might be duly effected, the king granted to Geddie twenty acres of marsh-land in the east end of the park of Falkland, ‘to be enclosed, trenched, and planted with such herbs, trees, &c., as is most suitable and convenient for the maintenance and food of an apifacture; and ordered a convenient house to be built therein for that purpose, and did ordain the treasurer and receivers of his majesty’s revenues to pay John Geddie the sum of £200 sterling for building and accomplishing the said apifacture.’ In April 1673, a patent was conferred on Geddie for his invention, for fourteen years. In 1679, the king further granted him power to buy the island of Inchkeith, probably with a view to its being employed in apiculture. But owing to troubles on account of oaths--John being a Presbyterian--it does not appear that he greatly benefited by the royal favour. He published a small treatise on the subject, of which a third edition appeared in 1697.--_Abbotsford Misc._

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A pleasant year as to weather, and a great crop--nothing better in either respect these sixty years past.--_Lam._

In October occurred a violent storm, which produced great damage at Dundee, both in the structure of the harbour and by loss of ships. An act of parliament was passed to encourage a voluntary contribution to repair these disasters.

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[Sidenote: 1669.

JUNE 4.]

One Mungo Murray was tried before the Court of Justiciary in Edinburgh, on a charge of having, on the 8th day of May preceding, committed an assault on Thomas Sydserf. The affair is only worthy of noting because it brings out the fact that there was at this time a theatre in the Canongate. Thomas Sydserf is the same person whom we have seen engaged in editing the _Mercurius Caledonius_. He had since turned his mind to dramatic literature, and written a play called _Tarugo’s Wiles_, which was acted with applause at the Duke of York’s Theatre in 1668, and on which the Earl of Dorset had written complimentary verses--representing Phœbus as saying to Scotland, with reference to such Scotsmen as Sydserf:

[Sidenote: 1669.]

‘On thee I will bestow my longest days, And crown thy sons with everlasting bays. My beams that reach thee shall employ their powers To ripen souls of men, not fruits and flowers, Let warmer climes my fading favours boast, Poets and stars shine brightest in the frost.’

Sydserf was now conducting a theatre in the Canongate, depending in all probability upon the yet unfaded spirit of cavalierism evoked at the Restoration, for a slender support which it was not in the nature of Scotland to give at ordinary times to such an establishment. It appeared that Mungo Murray broke into Sydserf’s theatre in time of rehearsal, and attacked him with his drawn sword, but was overpowered before he could inflict any hurt. He was found guilty, and sentenced to ask Sydserf’s pardon, and abstain from molesting him in future under pain of banishment from the city.[218]

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[Sidenote: JUNE 16.]

For several years after the Restoration, a very frequent entry in the record of the Privy Council is an application from a Scotsman of good family, resident abroad for a _borbrieff_ [birth-letter], or certificate of his lineage and family connections, to be drawn up and transmitted to him, that he might be enabled to appear in a proper light before the strangers amongst whom he lived. At the date noted, there is an application of this kind from a lady! ‘Maria Margaret Urrie, eldest lawful daughter of the deceased Sir John Urrie of that Ilk, being abroad in a strange country, where her birth and pedigree is not known, to the prejudice of her fortune in those parts,’ had ‘purchased a certificate of her pedigree under the hands of the Earl of Panmure and several other noblemen and gentlemen of quality;’ and she now petitioned for ‘a _borbrieff_ in her favours, conform to the said certificate.’--_P. C. R._ The requisite warrant for the Chancery was at once granted. We soon after (29th September 1670) hear of an application of the same nature from a lady of greater note, Elizabeth, Countess of Grammont, who states that she had obtained the needful ‘certificate of her descent and pedigree under the hand of the Earl of Lauderdale, his majesty’s High Commissioner; the Lord Duke of Hamilton, the Marquis of Douglas, the Earls Marischal, Argyle, and divers other noblemen.’ She was a descendant of the Abercorn family. Her brother’s Memoirs of her husband, have made the world generally acquainted with this elegant woman.

[Sidenote: 1669.]

Among applications for _borbrieffs_ was one in June 1670, from ‘Thomas Kirkpatrick, secretary to the king of France and Councillor Lord Duplosse in Dunua, in France, son lawful of Thomas Kirkpatrick, a Scotsman and sometime one of the twenty-five Scots gentlemen soldiers of the life-guard of the king of France.’ Another, in 1686, was from the celebrated Colbert, minister of Louis XIV. of France, in whose behalf an act of parliament was passed, authorising the required document. It stated the descent of the Sieur Colbert, Marquis of Seignelay, at seven removes from Edward Culbert, a son of Culbert or Cuthbert of Castlehill, near Inverness, a family of king’s barons who often represented their county in parliament, and whose connections spread through the best branches of the peerage.--_S. Acts._

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[Sidenote: AUG. 24.]

The marriage-day of the unfortunate _Bride of Baldoon_. The story of this lady has been related with all the graces of fiction in the tale of the _Bride of Lammermuir_; but in its actual circumstances it is sufficiently impressive. She was the Honourable Janet Dalrymple, daughter of the first Lord Stair, so distinguished as a lawyer and by the part he took in the politics of his day. While still in girlish years, the young lady contracted a passionate attachment to Lord Rutherford, the distant relative and heir of that noble champion, Andrew Rutherford, Earl of Teviot, who is alluded to so respectfully in this chronicle under 1663. The young nobleman returned this affection, and the pair plighted their troth in the usual manner, by parting a coin between them, and imprecating dismal evils upon whoever should withdraw from or violate the compact. But this alliance did not suit the views of the parents, whether from deficient fortune in the young lord, or from contrarious politics, does not appear. They favoured a new suitor who appeared in the person of David Dunbar, younger of Baldoon in Wigtonshire.

[Sidenote: 1669.]

On learning that Dunbar was advancing in his suit, Lord Rutherford wrote to his mistress to remind her of her engagement, but received an answer from her mother, to the effect that she was now sensible of the error she had committed in entering into an engagement unsanctioned by the parental authority; and this engagement it was not her intention to fulfil. The lover refused to take an answer which did not come directly from his mistress, and insisted on an interview. It took place, but in presence of the mother, a woman whom public report represented as master of her husband and whole family, and indebted for this influence to witchcraft, though for no reason that can be discerned beyond her uncommon talents and force of character. It may readily be supposed that even the resources of love would be of poor avail against the skill and resolution of such a person. When Rutherford was introduced, he found her ready to meet his arguments with what was then an unanswerable defence, a text of Scripture (_Numbers_ xxx., 2, 3, 4, 5), clearly absolving a woman from a bond entered into in her youth, if her father shall disallow her fulfilment of it, and promising that, in that case, ‘the Lord shall forgive her.’ The poor girl herself sat mute and overwhelmed, while the lover vainly pleaded against the application of this text; and the scene ended with her surrender of her portion of the broken coin, and his flying distracted from the house, after telling her that she would be a world’s wonder from what she had done and was yet to do.

The union with young Baldoon went on, but entirely under the management of the mother, for it is inconceivable that the young man could have pressed his suit, if he had known the extent to which the bride was under constraint. The wedding was celebrated, as was customary in those days, in the presence of the relatives of both parties, and with great festivity; but the bride remained like one lost in a reverie, and who only moves and acts mechanically. A younger brother lived long enough to state to a lady who communicated the fact to Sir Walter Scott, that he had the duty of carrying her on horseback behind him to church, and he remembered that the hand with which she clasped his waist was ‘cold and damp as marble.’ ‘Full of his new dress, and the part he acted in the procession, the circumstance, which he long afterwards remembered with bitter sorrow and compunction, made no impression on him at the time.’

[Sidenote: 1669.]

In the evening, the newly wedded pair retired to their chamber, while the merry-making still proceeded in the hall. The room had been locked, and the key taken possession of by the brideman, to prevent any of the unseemly frolics which, it would seem, were sometimes played off on such occasions. But, suddenly there was heard to proceed from the bridal-chamber a loud and piercing outcry, followed by dismal groans. On its being opened, the alarmed company found the bridegroom weltering in his blood on the threshold, and the bride cowering in a corner of the chimney, with no covering but her shift, and that dabbled in gore. She told them ‘to take up their bonny bridegroom.’ It was evident she was insane, and the general belief was that she had franticly stabbed her husband. From that moment, she made no other rational communications, but pined away and died in less than three weeks. Young Baldoon recovered, but would never enter into explanations regarding the tragic occurrence. Perhaps it is this mystery alone which has given rise to the favourite belief of the many descendants of Lord Stair,[219] that the wound was not inflicted by their unhappy relative, but by Lord Rutherford, who, they say, secreted himself in the chamber beforehand, and escaped afterwards by a window. This notion seems to us contrary to all probability, not merely because the conception of such an act was too gross for a man of rank even in that day, but because, had it been acted on, something must have come of it, either in the way of private revenge or of procedure before a criminal court. The idea was prevalent at the time; but it may be classed, we think, with another recorded by the credulous Law, that the poor bride was taken from her bed and _harled_ through the house by spirits.

David Dunbar is described in an elegy by Mr Andro Simpson, as a most respectable country gentleman, an agricultural improver,[220] and yet of studious habits. He died by a fall from his horse while riding between Leith and Edinburgh in 1682, and was interred in Holyrood Chapel. Andrew Lord Rutherford is stated in the Peerage to have died childless in 1685.

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[Sidenote: AUG. 24.]

An old man named George Wood, who died this day at the Grange above Elie in Fife, was interred at Kilconquhar in the evening of the next day, ‘his funerals being hastened for fear of arresting his corpse by his creditors.’--_Lam._

[Sidenote: 1669.]

This sufficiently shews that creditors were supposed in Scotland to have such a power by the law. In June 1677, it became a debate among the advocates in the Court of Session, whether a dead body could be arrested and stopped from interment on account of debt. What raised the question was the death of the Countess of Wemyss, and the clamour made by her numerous creditors among the merchants of Edinburgh, who feared that her husband, from whom she had been separated, would not own her obligations beyond her annuity of 6000 merks, all of which was already ‘fornailed.’ They talked seriously of arresting her ladyship’s body. Lord Fountainhall says that, though it is a custom in Holland and some other places, it is reprobated amongst us as a barbarity, and could in no way be done, except on an express supplication to the Lords of Session, or the Privy Council, ‘which would never be granted.’[221]

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[Sidenote: NOV.]

Robert Donaldson, of Birdstown in Campsie, being in Edinburgh on business, fell into the company of one Thomas Scott, an English borderer, who travelled in the equipage of a gentleman. Scott, learning that Donaldson possessed money, pretended an errand to Glasgow, and so accompanied him on his way home. The two dined at Falkirk together, and then set forward, Donaldson inviting Scott to spend the night with him at his house. Just as they were turned off the main road into that leading to Donaldson’s house, Scott gave his travelling companion a stab in the neck with his rapier, and thrust him to the ground, where he cut his throat. Donaldson was, it seems, a strong man, and might have defended himself, if he had not been taken by surprise and encumbered with his cloak, which was buttoned down and heavy with rain. Scott carried off the horse and money of his victim.

Donaldson’s servants went in search of the murderer, and had gone many miles in his track when they came up to a carrier wearing their master’s hood. Immediately the man was interrogated, and told that he had got the hood from a person now riding on in advance, near Haddington. They soon came up with the said rider, and laid hands on him. He being struck with a panic fear, confessed his guilt, for which he was soon after hanged in Edinburgh.--_Law._

[Sidenote: 1669.

NOV.]

After an interval of a few years, during which no witch-cases appear on the Privy Council Record, we find a considerable number in the autumn of this year, some at Aberdeen, some at Fogo in Berwickshire, some at Castle Tirrim in Inverness-shire. On the 11th of November, the Council issued a commission for the trial of Grizzel Jaffray, spouse of James Butchard, maltman, now prisoner in the Tolbooth of Dundee, on suspicion of ‘the horrid crime of witchcraft.’ The gentlemen of the commission were empowered to put her to the knowledge of an assize, ‘and if, by her own confession without any sort of torture or other indirect means used, it shall be found she hath renounced her baptism, entered into paction with the devil, or otherwise that malefices be legally proven against her, that then and no otherwise they cause the sentence of death to be execute upon her.’ It is believed that, notwithstanding these enlightened orders, Grizzel suffered incremation.

Tradition connects an affecting anecdote with the case of Grizzel Jaffray. It is stated that her only son, having been long absent at sea, returned in command of his vessel to Dundee, and entered the port at the very time that the execution of his mother was proceeding in the Sea-gate. On hearing the cause of the unusual bustle seen in the town, he set sail again, and was never more seen in Dundee.

On the 6th of January 1670, we find the Privy Council engaged in a new kind of proceeding regarding witchcraft. A woman called Mary M‘Donald, ‘being maliciously pursued by the captain of Clanranald and M‘Donald of Morar for the alleged crime of witchcraft,’ came before the Council for protection, being ‘in fear to be apprehended by the said persons,’ notwithstanding her having given caution to appear and underlie the law in June next. The desired protection was given.

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[Sidenote: 1669.]

Amidst the incessant religious troubles of the period, there were some symptoms of a disposition to mercantile enterprise. At the suggestion of sundry ‘expert merchants,’ a Society for Fishing was formed, with the design of prosecuting that employment around the coast, where it was notorious that the Dutch were driving a profitable trade. One of the considerations that weighed with the enterprisers was, that there were many poor people who would work cheaper than the Dutch, ‘and by this the country would get vent for their meal and beasts, which gave no price.’ No one was admitted who did not subscribe at least £100 sterling. The king subscribed £5000, and ‘obliged himself that all materials should be freed from custom and excise. Yet many gentlemen refused to enter, fearing that the merchants, who behoved to manage all, would cheat the other partners; and many merchants refused to enter a society where so many noblemen were engaged, by whom they were afraid to be overawed. Yet the stock did soon increase to £25,000 sterling.’[222]

Every mercantile design in that age was clogged by the spirit of monopoly. If a man proposed to set up a stage-coach, there must be no other stage-coaches but his upon the road. If a company designed to introduce the manufacture of glass, or soap, or any other article, they must have the exclusive right of making the article for a generation. The Royal Company, as it was called, began as usual by securing monopolies. ‘No others might import or export salt or fish for certain months of the year but only of that company.’ This ‘impoverished many families which traded that way,’ and ‘did occasion great grumbling among the people.’--_Law._

In 1677, the Royal Company passed an ordinance for strictly enforcing their exclusive right to fish around the Scottish shores, demanding that any other party fishing should take out a licence from them. They themselves being bound only to fish for the service of the country, and not to send any fish abroad, by this restriction, says Fountainhall, ‘many in Glasgow, Dunbar, &c., will be great losers, who, by the export of fish on their own private adventures, brought in above 400,000 merks yearly.’ ‘The remedy,’ he adds, ‘will be to enter into the said company; only, they _would be abler with £50 sterling alone to manage the said trade, than with £200 given in there_.’

We have here a curious complication of errors in political economy--private enterprise and fair competition checked, and foreign trade forbidden. One would think that the most ingenious contrivances of an enemy could scarcely have devised a state of things more harassingly detrimental to a country; and the wonder is that even selfishness should have been so blind as not to see that the free industry of all was calculated to give better results.

[Sidenote: 1669.]

There is so much in the religious troubles of this period to attract attention, that history takes little note of anything else. Yet there was also a complete suite of chronic evils arising from the little advancement made in the arts and economy of life. The king appropriated an exclusive right to make salt, though only to hand it over to a courtier; the salt was consequently bad and dear. In some districts--as Galloway, the west, and the Highlands--to which the native article could not be carried, salt was wholly wanting, and the people used salt-water instead, ‘by which many of them died as of a plague; others being forced to buy at intolerable rates, as sixteen shillings the boll, though they formerly had it for four.’ Another statesman, married to a niece of Lauderdale, had a control over the importation of brandy, and managed to make that liquor to some extent supersede both native ‘strong waters’ and Spanish wines. A third, Sir John Nicolson, was allowed to put a tax on tobacco. He was grandson of Sir William Dick, and it was thought by this means to repay in some measure the public debt incurred to that famous merchant in the time of the Civil War. Moralists of a loyal type tried to make out that it was well to check the use of ‘an unnecessary and expensive drug;’ but ‘custom had made tobacco as necessary as nature had made meat and drink, and consequently this imposition was as grievous as if bread or ale had been burdened.’[223] Add to these vexing imposts a coin debased for the profit of the mint-master--a brother of Lauderdale--and it will be seen that the evils of Scotland during this reign were not wholly of a sentimental nature.

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[Sidenote: 1670.

APR. 11.]

[Sidenote: 1670.]