4 r 4 ^w

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

LIVES

THE LINDSAYS,

VOL II.

mtits of tt>e atntrsaes ;

A MEMOIR OF THE HOUSES

CRAWFORD AND BALCARRES,

LORD LINDSAY.

TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
EXTRACTS FROM THE OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE OF
ALEX. SIXTH EARL OP BALCARRES,
DURING THE MAROON WAR ;
TOGETHER WITH
PERSONAL NARRATIVES BY HIS BROTHERS,
THE HON. ROBERT, COLIN, JAMES, JOHN,
AND HUGH LINDSAY.

VOL. II.

WIGAN:
PRINTED BY C. S. SIMMS.
1840.

A%'^'-'

9\ 2

CONTENTS.

Chap. XII. Sect. I. Colin, earl of Balcarres, goes to court at
the age of sixteen — marries Mauritia de Nassau— her sad fate ;
attachment to, and eventual marriage with. Lady Jean Carnegie
— is forbid the court in consequence — and resides at Balcarres
till the death of his wife six years afterwards. Sect. II. Suf
ferings of the Presbyterians : — John, earl of Ci'awford-Lind-
say's retirement and death-^ attachment of his family to the
Scottish Kirk — Anne, duchess of Rothes, his daughter, &c. —
Lady Sophia and Lady Henrietta Lindsay, sisters of Earl Colin,
their character.-^ The Test — condemnation of Argyle, who
escapes out of Edinburgh castle, disguised as Lady Sophia's
page — his invasion in concert with the Duke of Monmouth —
his capture — and execution. Subsequent fortunes of his widow
and her daughters. Sect. III. National discontents — arrival
of William, prince of Orange — mission of Earl Colin from the
secret council -^his interviews with James and William — returns
to Scotland with his friend Dundee— their project of calling a
parliament at Stirling defeated — Dundee escapes to the High
lands ; Colin arrested and imprisoned — defeat at Killicrankie —
suppression of the Jacobites — release of Lord Balcarres. Sect.
IV. Engages in Skelmorly's plot — quits the kingdom on its
discovery — his reception at St. Germain's — presents his me-

VI CONTENTS.
moirs to King James — letters of John, earl of Perth, during
his exile — is permitted to return to Scotland in 1700— death of
William III. Sect. V. Attends court on the accession of Queen
Anne— supports the union. His younger son, James (afterwards
earl of Balcarres), goes to sea — returning' to Scotland, finds his
father on the eve of joining the Chevalier — opposes his wishes,
but, finding him inflexible, will not desert him — father and son
both pardoned, Earl Colin by the interest of the duke of Marl
borough, and James by that of his aunt. Lady Stair. — Last
seven years of Earl Colin's life — dies at Balcarres, 1722 . .page 1
Chap. XIII. Sect. I. Alexander, fourth earl of Balcarres — his
character — his services — dying letter to his friend. Lord Pre
sident Forbes, 1736. James, fifth earl of Balcarres — corres
pondence with his sister during the war in Germany — death "
of the latter immediately after his return to Scotland — quits the
army after the battle of Fontenoy — his character by his
daughter. Lady Anne Barnard^his marriage. Sect. IL John,
eighteenth earl of Crawford — his brief but brilliant career —
serves against the Turks — is wounded at the battle of Krotska —
voyage up the Danube —his presence of mind on the morning
before the battle of Roucoux — death, 1748 — and character. —
Sect. III. Retirement of James, earl of Balcarres — his agricul
tural pursuits— letter to his daughters — writes his memoirs— his
death, 1768  98
Chap. XIV. Sect. I. The family circle, seventy years ago — Lady
Dalrymple, Sir Adolphus Oughton, Mrs. Cockburn, Mrs. A.
Murray Keith, Sophy Johnstone, &c. — Lady Anne Lindsay,
by marriage Barnard— origin of " Auld Robin Gray" — Lady
Margaret Fordyce— her beauty and talents -Alexander, sixth
earl of Balcarres — his military services in America — Colin
Lindsay — John, Hyder All's prisoner in Seringapatam — James,
killed at Cuddalore. Lord Balcarres's speech in favour of the
restoration of the forfeited estates — his appointment as gover
nor of Jamaica, and suppression of the Maroon rebellion-
returns to England, and settles at Haigh in Lancashire, having

CONTENTS. VU
sold his Scottish property to his brother Robert — generous con
duct of the latter. Sect. II. Latter days of the Countess
Dowager of Balcarres — her happiness — her death, set. 93 —
her character. Sect. III. Lady Anne Barnard — her writings —
her correspondence with Sir Walter Scott on the subject of
" Auld Robin Gray" — her death. Conclusion  181
APPENDIX.
VII. Extracts from the Diary of Lady Henrietta Lindsay, wife of
Sir Duncan Campbell, Bart., of Auchinbreck  page 271
VIII. Mrs. Murray Keith. Extract from " Probation," by the
" Authoress of Selwyn "  284
IX. " Auld Robin Gray," and Continuation, by Lady Aune
Barnard  287
X. Versions from the German, by Lady Margaret Fordyce. .297

LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS,
&c.

CHAPTER XII.

' Balcarres, who his king as life held dear."
Tennant.

SECT. I.

When Earl Colin had attained the age of sixteen, he
went to court, and was presented to King Charles by
his cousin the duke of Lauderdale. Colin was extremely
handsome ; the king was pleased with his countenance,
said he had loved his father, and would be a father to
him himself ; and, as an earnest of his favour, gave him
the command of a select troop of horse, composed of one
hundred loyal gentlemen who had been reduced to po
verty during the recent troubles.*
A few days after he had been with the king, Colin
* They had half a crown a day. — Earl James's Memoirs.
VOL. II. B

/^

2 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
fell dangerously ill at his uncle and guardian Sir Robert
Moray's house, when there came hourly a messenger
from Mademoiselle Mauritia de Nassau, (then residing
with her sister Lady Arlington, wife of the prime minis
ter,) to enquire after his health. These ladies, with their
sister Isabella, wife of the gallant earl of Ossory, were
daughters of Louis de Nassau, count of Beverwaert and
Auverquerque in Holland,* by Elizabeth countess of
Hom. The young Mauritia had fallen in love with
Colin at his first presentation at court ; on his recovery.
Sir Robert sent him to pay his acknowledgments to her,
and ere long the day was fixed for their marriage. The
prince of Orange, afterwards William the Third, pre
sented his fair kinswoman on this joyful occasion with a
pair of magnificent emerald ear-rings, as his wedding-
gift. The day arrived, the noble party were assembled
in the church, and the bride was at the altar; but, to the
dismay of the company, no bridegroom appeared ! The
volatile Colin had forgotten the day of his marriage, and
was discovered in his night-gowm and slippers, quietly
eating his breakfast ! — Thus far the tale is told with a
smile on the lip, but many a tear was shed at the con
clusion. Colin hurried to the church, but in his haste
left the ring in his writing-case ; — a friend in the com
pany gave him one, — the ceremony went on, and, with
out looking at it, he placed it on the finger of his fair
young bride : — it was a mourning ring, with the mort-
* Natural son of Maurice prince of Orange.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 3
head and crossed bones ; — on perceiving it at the close
of the ceremony, she fainted away, and the evil omen
had made such an impression on her mind that, on re
covering, she declared she should die within the year,
and her presentiment was too truly fulfilled.
In a packet of old papers, crumbling to decay, I found
the following billet, addressed by Lady Balcarres to her
husband's mother soon after her nuptials : —
" Madame : —
Je ne sais en quels termes vous rendre
tr^s humbles graces de la bont^ que vous avez eu de
m' ecrire une lettre si obligeante ; je vous assure, Ma
dame, que j' en ai la reconnoissance que je dois, et que
MUord Balcarres n'aurait pu epouser une personne qui
tacheraplus queje ferai, kchercher les occasions de vai-
riter votre amitie, et k vous t^moigner en toute sorte de
rencontre avec combien de respect et de soumission je
suis, Madame, Votre tres humble et obeissante fiUe et servante,
Maurisce de Balcarres."
It is a mere letter of compliment — ^for the correspond
ents had never, I believe, seen each other ; but, finding it,
as I did, buried among marriage-settlements and wills,
in whose voluminous pages I found no other trace of her
having lived, loved, and died, — it was with feelings of no
common interest that I perused the only relic that time
b2

LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.

has spared of one who might have been our ancestress
— the young and ill-fated Mauritia.
It was in the joy of seeing Colin established, to all ap
pearance, so happily for life, that his mother addressed
him an admirable letter of advice, moral, religious, poli
tical, and domestic, a few extracts from which will not,
I trust, prove unacceptable to her young descendants.
No subject is left untouched, of which a mother would
be anxious to impress right ideas on a son. As we love
our homes the more because they were those of our an
cestors, " So," she says, " I expect that what I say to
you will the more affect you, because 'tis from your mo
ther that loves you, wishes you well, and desires rather
to see you a truly honest and virtuous man, fearing God,
than possessor of all the riches the world can give. —
There are some that have power and riches : much to be
pitied are such lovers of pleasures — they come to that,
at last, they are troubled to hear any thing that is
serious, and which does not flatter them, though their
actions merit reproof. But I am resolved neither to
praise you, though I wish you may deserve it from
others, nor reprove what I think amiss in you ; only will
give you a motherly and hearty advice.
" Because the interest of the soul is preferable to that
of the body, I shall, first, desire you be serious in your
religion, worshipping your God, and let your dependance
be constantly upon Him for all things : the first step in
it is, to believe in God, that He made and upholds the
universe in wisdom, in goodness, and in justice, — that

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. .5
we must adore, obey Him, and approve of all He does.
The fear of God, says Solomon, is the beginning of know
ledge ; He is ane buckler to all that walk uprightly.
Dedicate some certain time every day for the service of
your glorious Maker and Redeemer; in that, take a
survey of your life, shorter or longer, as the time will
permit : thank Him for making you what you are, for
redeeming you, giving you His word and spirit, and
that you live under the Gospel, — ^for all the faculties of
your soul and body, — that you was descended of Christian
parents, — for your provisions, — for all you have in pos
session. Read — pray : — consider the life and death of
your blessed Saviour and Lord, and your heart will be
warmed with that love that is beyond expression, that
meekness and humility that endured the contradiction of
sinners against Himself; — strive to be conform to Him ;
no fraud, no guile, nor evil-speaking was found with Him,
for all the injustice and wicked backbiting He met with ;
He was kind, doing always good, He forgave, was patient
in enduring injuries, was charitable. My dear son, the
great work to which we are called, is to be partakers of
His holy harmless nature ; true religion stands in imi
tating of Him and converse with Him. ' Truly,' says
the apostle John, ' our fellowship is with the Father and
the Son.' — David says, ' Evening and morning and mid
day will I pray to Thee.' We have directions and exam
ples in the holy word for what we should do ; we are
told to watch and pray that we be not led into tempta
tion, (they are oft most afraid of them that are most
b3

6 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
resolved and best acquainted to resist them,) — to implore
His help for supply of grace or strength or of what we
need ; and to encourage us to it. He says none shall seek
His face in vain. — He gives us His holy word, that we
may daily read out of it divine lessons ; it is a lanthorn
to our feet to walk cleanly, and sure it is for instruction
and direction in righteousness :* read often of the life
and death of your Saviour, — read the books of Psalms,
Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes, — often the Epistles, not
neglecting the other Scriptures ; for other books I would
have you read those most that will make you know the
Scriptures and your duty ; and yourself must make con
science of your duty to your particular relations."
To his prince she inculcates loyalty and reverence,
to his country love and protection, reminding him,
however, that pubhc characters are unhappy except
in such times when virtue is loved for its own sake.
" Strive", says she, " to enrich your mind with virtue,
and let it be attended with the golden chain of know
ledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kind
ness, and charity; — though you were bereft of all the

* " My Lord's word," as her daughter Henrietta calls it — " that has
been often as life from the dead, my food that the world knows not of,
my treasure hid in the field, my light in darkness, my strength in weak
ness, my support in the weary and thorny wilderness of fears and dis
couragement, my health in sickness, my song in the house of my pil
grimage, my hope in the day of my distress, even the joy and rejoicing
of my heart ; my best fence against Satan's accusations, and the best
weapon to fight with in this evil day." — Diary, 1686.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 7
world can give you or take from you, you are justly to
be accounted happy."
Friendship she holds up as the choicest earthly bless^
ing, but entreats her son to be wary whom he admits to
intimacy. " Nothing," says she, " delights the heart of
any man more than faithful and trusty friendship, — to
have one to whom we may safely impart our mind,
whose counsels may advise us, whose cheerfulness may
qualify our cares, who is free of covetousness and
known vice ; for where the fear of God is not, and the
practice of christian virtues, that friendship cannot
stand long : there is certainly a secret curse on that
friendship whereof God is not the foundation and the
end. Let not the least jealousy of your faithful friend
enter into your mind, but, whatever he do, think it was
well intended ; in some cases, it's better be deceived
than distrust."*
Yet, " though friendship be the greatest solace of life,
it proves not always firm enough to repose the soul ab
solutely upon. The fixedness of all things here below
depends on God, who would have us to fix all our peace
and contentment, even this we enjoy in the creatures,
on Himself. There is great reason for it. It's much if
* " Reserve will wound it, and distrust destroy.
— First on thy friend deliberate with thyself ;
Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice.
Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix ;
Judge before friendship, then confide till death," Young.
b4

8 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
our friend's judgment, affection, and interest long agree ;
if there be but a difference in any of these, it doth much
to mar all, the one being constrained to love that the
other loves not : one of you may have a friend, whose
favour may make great breaches, an Achitophel or a
Ziba : our Saviour had those who followed him for in
terest, that did soon forsake him, and tumed his betray
ers and enemies. If one of you be calmer nor the other,
and allows not all the other does out of humour, this
causes mistakes ; — as a man is, so is his strength. — A
virtuous faithful friend, whose ways are ordered by God,
who is of a sweet, equal, cheerful humour, not jealous,
nor easily made to break the friendship he hath made
on good grounds, which is understood to be kindled
from heaven, is certainly the greatest jewel on earth.
But if God so dispose of it that your friends, though the
nearest relations on earth, change to you, strive to be
constant to them, and to overcome all with patience.
Let meekness smooth over all their passions, espouse
their interest, pursue them with kindness and service-
ableness of all kinds, seek reconciliation on any terms,
amend what they think amiss. Let ingenuity be in all
your words and actions ; put on charity, which is the
bond of perfection, which suffereth long, is kind, envieth
not ; — forbear upbraiding or repeating what you have
done to oblige them, but look on what you do for your
friends, and their accepting of it, as that, wherefore you
are most indebted to them ; from those you are engaged
to in friendship, strive to be content with frowns as well

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 9
as smiles; bear all their infirmities, considering they
must bear yours."
To regard his wife as the dearest friend of his bosom, —
to protect his sisters with the love their father had shewn
them, — to preserve family unity, — to educate his chil
dren in the fear and love of God, in truth and knowledge,
telling them "of the virtues of those who have been before
them, that they may do nothing base or unworthy that
looks like degenerating from them," — to maintain an
orderly and religious household, shunning whisperers
and flatterers, " that sail with all winds," — to be kind to
his servants in their vigour, and careful of them in age
and sickness, — ^to love, rather than hate, his enemies, —
{" Memory," says one of his descendants,* " cannot too
soon lose its sense of injuries,") — and to extend his cha
rity beyond the external duties of a Christian towards the
poor and afflicted, to the regulation of his opinions with
regard to others, questioning his own rather than their
judgment, learning of his Saviour to be meek, and re
membering that " God was not in the thunder, or the
fire, but in the calm still voice," — to be modest in society
abroad, — and to look on the careful management of his
affairs at home as a duty — these and many other inci
dental duties are enforced with affection as earnest, and
in language as energetic, as the passages I have already
quoted. " You will thus," she adds, " by carrying your
self aright towards God and man and your relations,
* Lady Anne Barnard.

10 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
make all that are related to you, or that wish you and
your family well, and those that are about you, rejoice,
and their satisfaction, I am sure, will be a great addition
to your own. The great pleasure of making others
happy, and seeing them live comfortably by your means,
will give you a peace and joy beyond any you can have
from others, were it either to make you more honourable
or rich. This will make you both, leading to the land
of uprightness, where there are durable riches."
After the loss of his wife. Earl Colin " made a cam
paign at sea with the duke of York, was with him in the
well-fought battle of Solebay, 28 May, 1672, and en
joyed a great share of his highness's confidence."* " It
was then," says Colin's grand-daughter, " that the friend
ship was probably cemented with which at a later period
he had it in his power to soothe his royal master."
On his return home, Colin appears to have become
attached to Lady Jean Carnegie, eldest daughter of
David earl of Northesk, and one of the beauties of the
day. The king took an active interest in promoting his
suit, and wrote in his favour expressly, and wdth his own
hand, to Lord Northesk. — " I am so much concemed,"
says he, " in my Lord Balcarres, that, heareing he is in
suite of one of your daughters, I must lett you know you
cannot bestow her upon a person of whose worth and
fidelity I have a better esteeme, which moves me hastily
* Earl James's Memoirs.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 11
to recommend to you and your lady your franck com
pliance with his designe, and as I do really intend to be
very kinde to him, and so to do him good, as occasion
offers, as well for his father's sake as his owne, — so, if
you and your lady condescends to his pretention, and
use him kindly in it, I shall take it very kindly at your
hands, and reckon it to be done upon the accounte of
Your affectionate frinde,
Charles Rex."
Lady Jean, it would appear, refused to accept of a
husband at the royal recommendation : she declined the
proposal, and Lauderdale, by the king's command, sig
nified to her father that, as his majesty " did recommend
that marriage, supposing that it was acceptable to both
parties, so he did not intend to lay any constraint upon
him, and therefore left him to dispose of his daughter as
he pleased."*
The match being thus, to all appearance, at an end, his
majesty, " wishing," says Earl James, " to do some good
to a family that had deserved so highly of him, spoke to
a Mr. De Foy, one ofthe grooms of his bed-chamber, and
guardian to a niece who had £100,000 left her by
her father ; he said he would oblige him if he could
make Colin, as he always called him, acceptable to his
niece." The king having taken such a personal interest

* The letters are printed in the Gentleman's Magazine, for January,
1794.

12 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
in this affair, Colin could not but be passive ; the lady
found it no hardship to become the wife of one of the
handsomest, gayest, and most agreeable men of his time,
and their union was considered as a settled thing. The
lady, however, being a ward in chancery, some months
of delay were necessary to make her of age. In the in
terim Colin was sent on an extraordinary mission into
Scotland, where he discovered that, the royal influence
being withdrawn. Lady Jean was willing to receive him
as her husband on the ground of his own merits. The
impetuous youth instantly married her, was, in conse
quence, forbid the court, " and lived for some years with
his wife in the country, where he employed his time in
acquiring languages and knowledge ; and to repair what
was wanting in his education. These years," says his son,
" he often said were the happiest part of his life, as he
loved his wife, and lived cheerfully and in plenty with
his friends." " And with youth and love," adds his
grand-daughter, " can a crust be brown ? Not even an
oaten cake !"
After six years passed in retirement, his wife died,
leaving an only surviving child. Lady Anne Lindsay,
successively the widow of Alexander earl of Kellie and
James Viscount Kingston, attainted after the rebellion
of 1715. — Colin had now leave to retum to court. " He
was received with great kindness by the king, who could
not help asking him how he could commit such a folly
as to act both in opposition to his faith and his fortune ?
All he could say for himself was, that, if his majesty had

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD-LINDSAY. 13
seen the woman he married, he would have forgiven him
sooner. ' Odsfish !' said the king, ' that is true, they
make us all play the fool.' "*

SECT. II.
Long before this period the cup of presbyterian suf
fering had run over. — I must now sketch in few words
the policy of the English court towards Scotland since
the restoration.
When General Monk marched for London, the pres-
byterians appointed the well known James Sharpe to
attend his army, and protect the interests of the kirk
"in any revolution which should take place in conse
quence of the general's expedition." The restoration
was evidently what they anticipated, and, in that case,
Crawford-Lindsay and Lauderdale, who had suffered so
much in their sovereign's cause, and were now released
from prison through the new influence exerted by Monk
on the parliament, were the men they looked to for
support. Douglas, one of their leading ministers, wrote
on the 20th March, 1660, to the former of these noble
men, congratulating him on his liberation, compliment
ing him on his firm adherence, through tribulation and
suffering, to his principles, (for, as Bishop Burnet tells
us, "he continued still a zealous presbyterian,") and
exhorting him to unite with Lauderdale in supporting
* Earl James's Memoirs.

14 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
the kirk and country, and in influencing their friends
to forsake the cabals of private faction for unanimous
efforts in the common cause.*
Crawford was true to their cause ; Lauderdale and
Sharpe were not. — " Sincere but weak, passionate and
indiscreet," is the character Burnet has drawn of Craw
ford-Lindsay ; with what justice weakness is imputed to
him you will judge for yourselves on the review of his
public life, which appears to me, on the contrary, to
have proceeded on steady consistent principle from first
to last.

* Wodrow's Hist, ofthe suft'erings of the church of Scotland, i. 12,
8vo. ed.
The state of parties in Scotland is vividly displayed in a letter
from the same clergyman to Sharpe in London, bearing date March,
1660. " A party," says he, " have sprung up, who have never known
the work of reformation, and hate the covenant. 'Tis matter of admi
ration that they are unwilling that Crawford and Lauderdale, (being
upon the place, and having given such proof of their honest and loyal
afiections,) should be employed in matters of that concernment ; but
those worthy noblemen may be assured that the affections of all honest
men are upon them. There are three parties here, who have all of them
their own fears in this great crisis ; the protesters " (or strict anti-
Engagement covenanters) " fear that the king come in, — those above-
mentioned, that, if he come in upon the covenant terms, they be disap
pointed, — and those who love religion and the liberty of the nation,
that if he come not in upon the terms of the league and covenant, his
coming in will be disadvantageous to religion — and the liberty of the
three nations ; therefore I exhort Crawford, Lauderdale, and yourself
to deal with all earnestness that the league and covenant be settled as
the only basis of the security and happiness of these nations."

JOHN EARL OP CRAWFORD-LINDSAY. 15
It was to StUl the public mind, troubled at this mo
ment like a settling ocean — to confirm the nation in the
belief of the king's attachment to the protestant faith —
and thus prepare the way for his reception, that the
French letters to which Baxter alludes in his character
of Lady Balcarres, were procured through her and Sir
Robert Moray's instrumentality, and circulated through
the country.*
Monk's open declaration in his favour was soon followed
by his landing in England on the 29th of May, 1660.
The first rejoicings at the restoration were scarcely
over, when it was discovered that presbyterianism had
few friends at court. The king disliked it, and his coun
cillors attributed the whole train of evils that had be
fallen the royal family and the country to its original
influence. Lauderdale, caring little about the question,
and considering it in a political, rather than a religious
light, wisely advised the king to leave his countrymen
unmolested in their faith. His opponents, on the con
trary, maintained that, while nothing could contribute
more to the king's security than the restoration of epis
copacy, it might be easily substituted for presbyterian
ism amidst the universal satisfaction of the nation at the
late revolution. The arguments of the latter party pre
vailed, and Middleton, the Scottish High Commissioner,
received full power from Charles to adopt whatever
means he might deem necessary to this end.
* They are printed in the Phoenix, vol. i. p. 554, sqq.

16 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Presbyterianism was accordingly annulled and episco
pacy re-established by act of parliament; and Sharpe,
the very man to whom the Scottish church had en
trusted the protection of its rights and liberties, returned
to Scotland, archbishop of St. Andrews.
Matters were now carried on with the most reckless
haste by Middleton and his friends.* An order of coun
cil was issued, commanding " that all ministers who had
not received presentation from lay-patrons, and spiritual
induction into their livings from the prelates, should be
removed from them by force, if necessary. All their
parishioners were discharged from attending upon the
ministry of such non-conformists or acknowledging them
as clergymen. This " (observes Sir Walter Scott) " was
at one stroke displacing all presbyterian ministers who
might scruple at once to turn episcopahans." Near four
hundred ministers at once resigned their charges.
A similar test of conscience was brought into parlia
ment, and appointed to be taken by all in public trust.
Middleton, who had been unsuccessful in his previous
attacks on Crawford, (made with the double object of
* Fines were imposed on many who had supported the covenant. The
laird of Edzell was amerced in aSSOOO, and Lindsay of Fairgirth' in
£600.— Wodrow.

» The Lindsays of Fairgirth had been settled in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright since
the reign of James III. A cluster of small families, bearing the designations of
Carsleuch, Sergerth, Auchinskeoch, Rascarrol, and the Mains, grew up under their
shadow, but are now, I believe, all extinct.

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD-LINDSAY. 17
getting the treasurership for himself, and of weakening
the presbyterian interest,)* gained by it one of his ends,
(and that, probably, which he was least anxious about,)
in Crawford's reftisal of the test, and resignation of the
white staff, which was put into the hands of his son-
in-law, Rothes. -f- — The following year, Crawford gave
up his place of Extraordinary Lord of Session, and re
tired from public affairs, living the rest of his life at his
country-seat, where he was " held in great esteem by
all parties, as he well deserved, for he was a man of
great virtue and very good parts, and of an exemplary
life in all respects."^ He died in 1678, in his eighty-.
first year, leaving a large family by Lady Margaret,
daughter of James marquis of Hamilton by Anne,
daughter of James earl of Glencairn.|l

* For Lord Crawford's steady and wise conduct during these three
years, see Burnet, i. 214, 231—4, 264, 270. Clar. ed.
t Wodrow, i. 378. Burnet.
I Crawford's OflScers of State, p. 419.
II His younger son, Patrick, " a gentleman of great parts, but of far
greater virtues, as I have been informed," says Crawford, " from some
who knew him very particularly," married Margaret Crawford, the se
cond daughter and coheiress of Sir John of Kilbirnie, in Ayrshire. They
both died in the course of the same week — Margaret on the 12th and
Patrick on the 15th of October, 1680. " The Sabbath before," says
Law, " they were at the celebration of the Lord's Supper at the
kirk of Beath. The death of thir spouses was much lamented by all
sorts of people. They left seven children behind thera ; — within a few
days after, the Lady Blackball, her sister, being infected with the same
disease, (for it was a pestilential fever,) and coming to Kilbirnie to wait
VOL. II. c

18 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Little did the promoters of these impolitic measures
know of human nature ; little had they profited by exr
perience. The compulsory resignation of the ministers
added enthusiasm to the fervour of the presbyterians in
the cause of their religion. Conventicles were hence
forward held in secluded places among the hills and in
the wild glens with which Scotland abounds; sentries
were posted to give notice in case the military bands,
whose duty it was to disperse such assemblages, should
appear. The mere sense of insecurity heightened their
ardour. Ladies attended these meetings and drank in
the impassioned exhortations of their persecuted minis
ters, while beside them were piled the weapons which
their stronger companions were ready, should need be,
to wield against the oppressors.
Their sufferings have been delineated with a master's
pencil in one of the most beautiful chapters of the Tales
of a Grandfather; it is needless, therefore, to dilate
upon them here. Many ladies of the highest rank, even
on the funerals, she also dies there. — Also it is remarkable," conti
nues the superstitious annalist, " that in the day of the sickening of the
Laird and Lady Kilbirnie, whereof they shortly died, his dogs went into
the close, and an unco (strange) dog coming in amongst them, they all
set up a barking, with their faces up to heaven, howling, yelling, and
youphing (barking) , and when the laird called upon them, they would
not come to him as in former times when he called on them, — the same
day they sickened." — Law's Memorials, p. 224,
Their son Patrick was created Viscount Garnock, in 1703, and was
grandfather of George Viscount Garnock, who, in 1 749, succeeded John
the eighteenth earl of Crawford.

MARY COUNTESS OF CRAWFORD. 19
among the court families, took an anxious interest in
their favour, and their influence, says Wodrow, " was,
under Providence, one of the great means of softening
the rigour of the persecution." Lady Anne Lindsay,
duchess of Rothes, and daughter of the late treasurer —
"a discreet, wise, virtuous, and good lady"* — was a
distinguished instance of this ; and a presbyterian min-
ister-f- has recorded the "conversion" of Lady Mary
Johnstone, wife of William Lord Parbroath, afterwards
" the great and good earl of Crawford " (as Veitch calls
him), her brother. She had attended a meeting held at
Duraquhair, near Cupar in Fife, close to her house, where
Mr. Welsh, a minister of great reputation and talent,
preached to a congregation of eight thousand men.
His eloquence made an impression upon her that was
never forgotten, " and evinced itself," says Blackader,
" by much fruit of piety, which shone forth in all her
walk as a christian and dutiful yokefellow to her lord,
whom she benefitted by her conversation and a report
she made of that day. This she told me," says Mr.
Blackader, " with great majesty and seriousness in pre
sence of her lord, who since has carried more stedfastly
in the path of righteousness and cause of reformation,
keeping at distance from all the steps of defection. After
the day of this lady's conversion," (he continues) " she
could never be induced by all the insinuations and
threats of her noble relations to go back to the prelates'

Law. t Memoirs of the Rev. John Blackader, p. 183.
c2

20 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
preachings, or countenance any of their assemblies ; but
frequented all the persecuted meetings she could win
at. She lived and died endeavouring to adorn her sta
tion and profession by a conversation becoming the
Gospel."*

* My " most dutiful, most affectionate, and singularly good wife,"
as Lord Crawford calls her in a curious letter printed in the Appendix
to Dr. Burns' edition of Wodrow. A pleasing tribute to her memory,
and to that of Crawford's mother and grandmother, occurs in the dedi
cation to his lordship prefixed, in 1682, by an anonymous editor, to the
Reverend James Durham's sermons on the 53d chapter of Isaiah.
" I am," says the writer, "the more easily encouraged to address
the dedication of these sermons to your lordship, when I remember the
unfeigned faith that first dwelt in your grandmother, as another Lois,
and in your mother as another Eunice, and more lately in your own
choice lady, who, as another beloved Persis, laboured much in the Lord :
and though she had but a very short christian race, (in which she was
much encouraged by coming into your noble father's family, and her
beholding how hard your blessed mother did run and press toward the
mark, even when in the last stage, and tuming in a manner the last
stoop of her christian course), yet it was a very swift one, wherein she
did quite outrun many that were in Christ long before her ; — all three
ladies of honour, almost (if I need to say almost) without parallels in
their times," &c.
Earl William's mother, here spoken of, was Lady Margaret Hamil
ton, daughter of tke second marquis, and sister of the first duke of
Hamilton — King Charles the First's friend. — I know not whether,
by his grandmother, be meant his mother's mother. Lady Anne Cun
ningham, marchioness of Hamilton, or his father's mother. Lady Chris
tian Hamilton, daughter of the celebrated Thomas earl of Haddington.
The marchioness evinced her zeal (at least) in the presbyterian cause,
by riding down to Leith, on the arrival of her son's fleet, 1639, in the

EARL COLIN S SISTERS. 21
Nor were Earl Colin's sisters. Lady Sophia and Lady
Henrietta Lindsay, less disposed to sympathise with the
unfortunate presbyterians. Widely different in charac
ter, the one being as gentle and retiring as the other
was energetic and enterprising, they were united in one
faith — one love, to their Saviour, their widowed parent,
and each other. In her diary, still preserved, Henri
etta, the younger, ascribes to the cheerful piety of her
mother's servants, as well as to that mother's early
instruction, the love of religion which sprang up in
her childish heart, and, at sixteen years of age, induced
her solemnly to dedicate herself, after her best endea
vour, to the service of her Redeemer. For many
weeks afterwards, she says, it was one of her chief
enjoyments to sing the forty-fifth psalm, while walking
in the retired plantations at Balcarres. — Solitude and
firth of Forth — with pistols in her girdle, vowing that she would shoot
him with her own hand if he dared to set a traitor's foot on Scottish
earth. — Of Lady Lindsay a more pleasing memorial survives in a letter
addressed, on her decease, to her daughter, Helen Lindsay, (wife of Sir
William Scott of Ardross,) by the celebrated minister, Samuel Ruther
ford, and printed among his correspondence."

» Some of the expressions in this letter are striking.— " It hath seemed good, as I
hear, to Him who hath appointed the bounds for the number of our months, to gather
a sheaf of ripe corn (in the death of jour Christian mother) into his garner. It is the
more evident that winter is near, when apples, without evidence of wind, do of their
own accord fall off the tree. She is now above the winter, with a little change of
place, not of a Saviour. I grant death is to her a new thing, and heaven is a new
thing . . but so as the first summer rose, or as a new paradise to the traveller broken
down and out of breath with the sad occurrences of a long and dreary way." &c.
c3

22 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
retirement — in which she could commune with her own
heart and be still — had ever a peculiar charm for her. —
Her sister, on the contrary, was a woman of the bright
est faculties, cheerful and witty, and endowed with that
presence of mind in the hour of need, which is justly
denominated heroism. An instance of her playful viva
city is recorded by a son of Mr. Blackader, who had
been shut up in Stirling Castle, for refusing to sign the
Black Bond, one of the numerous tests by which the
consciences of the presbyterians were probed about
1674. "While I was in prison," says he, " the earl of
Argyle's daughters-in-law, Lady Sophia and Lady Hen
rietta, and Lady Jean, his own daughter, did me the
honour and came to see me, where I remember Lady
Sophia stood up on a bench and arraigned before her
the provost of Stirling, — then sentenced and condemned
him to be hanged for keeping me in prison ; which
highly enraged the poor fool provost, though it was but
a harmless frolic. It seems he complained to the coun
cil of it, for which the good earl was hke to have been
brought to much trouble about it."* — Lady Sophia
married the honourable Charles Campbell, a younger
son of MacCallum-more, and her sister. Sir Duncan
Campbell of Auchinbreck, chieftain of an ancient branch
of the " children of Diarmid."-|-
* Blackader's Memoirs, p. 330.
t In 1678 ? About a year afterwards, with her husband and their
new -bom child, she paid a visit to Inverary, where their " little Jamie "
was nursed by " his grandmother with the greatest affection and tender-

WILLIAM SIXTEENTH EARL OF CRAWFORD. 23
Meanwhile, the presbyterians had split into two sects,
nearly as inimical to each other as to their common ene
mies, the episcopalians. The moderate yet firm party,
to whom the earl of Crawford belonged, were branded as
ness," — a visit which Lady Henrietta ever looked back to with tender
reminiscence. " Oh how may this be an instance of the instability and
uncertainty of created comforts and the imperfection of them, when it's
remembered the satisfaction that was then in the mutual affection, sym
pathy, and concord that was among us at this time, as is affecting still
to call to mind ! But as the pleasantest flowers after their blooming-
time do fade, so is the instability of our comforts to be seen after the
primest season of them, witnessing abundantly the vanity of placing our
affections inordinately on what is but mortal ; from which oh to be
loosed, — from the dead as well as the living !"
Such a reunion was only once afterwards enjoyed by them in this life,
— when, shortly before Argyle's unjust condemnation and escape to
Holland, " most of the late earl's family and my mother's, being a nu
merous company, had a cheerful meeting at Cantyre, the sacrament
being administered there two days following together. . . . And in
deed as this meal was doubled to many, so there wanted not a long
journey to many to go in the strength of it,"— it being the last they
enjoyed for many weary days, — " the growing desolation and trouble
daily encreasing, to the putting a further restraint on ministers and
people, many of whom were imprisoned, harassed, chased to the hazard
of their lives, violating the consciences of others, and to the fearful
bloodshed of many ; retrenching our liberties, so that it was made a
crime to meet or' convene to the worship of the living God except in
such a manner as our nation was solemnly sworn against, — laying bonds
on ministers not to preach or people to hear, under such and such- pe
nalties, fines, hazards, as were endless to rehearse ; things running to
such a height to the introducing of popery itself, if the Lord had not
prevented, that no thinking persons but mostly were under the dread
and fear of this approaching judgment." c 4

24 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Erastians and deserters of the pure faith of their fathers,
by the Cameronians or rigid fanatics, who declared they
would own no king save one who acknowledged and
governed by the covenant of 1640. The harsh mea
sures adopted for the coercion of these malcontents, and
the severity of the agents, the principal of whom was
Graham of Claverhouse, the hero of Killicrankie, in
spired the whole West of Scotland, where the presby
terian interest chiefly lay, with more and more hatred to
the existing government. In Fife, Archbishop Sharpe
was murdered by a band of these enthusiasts,* a few of

* A singular string of dreams which this remarkable person is said
to have had when a youth at college in St. Andrews, was supposed by
the presbyterians of that day to have foreshadowed his life, death, and
everlasting doom. They are strikingly described by Kirkton. — " There
goes a story of him which I have many time heard before his miserable
death, that while he was a scholar in the college, lying in one bed with
his comrade, one night in his sleep and dream befell into a loud laugh
ter, and therein continued a pretty time, till his bedfellow thought fit
to awake him, and ask him what the matter was, and why he was so
merry. He answered, he had been dreaming the earl of Crawford had
made him parson of Crail, which was a great matter in his eyes at that
time. Another night, in bed with the same bedfellow, he fell asleep,
and in his sleep a laughing, which made his comrade wonder what the
matter was, for he laughed a great deal louder than at the first ; so his
comrade thought fit to wake him again, with which he was very much
offended, for (said he to his bedfellow) I thought I was in a paradise,
because the king had made me archbishop of St. Andrews. Then
said his comrade, I hope ye will remember old friends. Afterward he
fell a dreaming once more, and in his dream a weeping, and wept most
lamentably for a long time. His comrade thought he should not be

ARGYLE S CONDEMNATION. 2.5
whom escaping to the west country, excited an insur
rection which was speedily put down by the duke of
Monmouth. A new oath, called (emphatically) the Test,
was then proffered to the acceptance of the Scottish no
bility ; an oath, by which, while the juror professed the
confession of faith agreed to at the commencement of
the reign of King James VI., he also acknowledged the
king as supreme head of the church, an admission in
compatible ^ith the former. When this oath was ten
dered to Argyle, as a member of the privy council, he
declared that he took it " so far as it was consistent with
itself and with the protestant religion," — a qualification
for which he was cast into prison, tried, found guilty of
treason and lese-majesty, and sentenced to death and
forfeiture. This was that amiable and unfortunate earl of Argyle,
who some years before had married the dowager Lady
Balcarres, and whose disposition bore in some respects
a strong resemblance to that of the husband of her
youth. Earl Alexander. A royalist on the Highland

blamed any more for interruptions, and so suffered him to continue a
long time ; at length he awoke, and when his comrade told him he had
changed his tune, and asked what the matter was, he answered he had
been dreaming a -very sad dream, and that was, that he was driving in
a coach to hell, and that very fast. What way he drove," (adds Kirk
ton) " I shall not say, but all the country knew he drove most fiercely
to his death that day he was killed, though he choosed by-paths, because
of some warnings he had that morning at Kennaway, where he had
lodged," — Secret and True History of the Church of Scotland, SfC, p. 82.

26 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
hiUs in 1653, Argyle had disengaged himself, after the
restoration, " as much as possible from all public affairs,
except those which related to his religious profession.
To that," says Mr. Lodge,* " through the whole of his
life, he devoted himself with a consistency and earnest
ness so pure, as almost totally to reject the usual alloy
of political party-spirit, and thus his affection to monar
chy, and the regularity of his allegiance, remained un
disturbed;" — and even his present treatment did not
shake it, so long as a protestant prince sat on the
British throne.
But I must not anticipate : . . He was lying a pri
soner in Edinburgh Castle in daily expectation of the
order arriving for his execution, when woman's wit inter
vened to save him, and he owed his life to the affection
of his favourite step-daughter, the sprightly Lady Sophia,
who, about eight o'clock in the evening of Tuesday, the
20th of December, 1681, effected his escape in the fol
lowing manner, as related to Lady Anne Lindsay, by her
father. Earl James, Lady Sophia's nephew.
— " Having obtained permission to pay him a visit of
one half-hour, she contrived to bring as her page a tall,
awkward, country clown, with a fair wig procured for
the occasion, who had apparently been engaged in a
fray, having his head tied up. On entering, she made
them immediately change clothes ; they did so, and on
the expiration of the half-hour, she, in a flood of tears.

* " Portraits and Memoirs of illustrious personages of Great Britain."

argyle's escape* 27
bade farewell to her supposed father, and walked out of
the prison with the most perfect dignity, and with a slow
pace. The sentinel at the draw-bridge, a sly Highlander,
eyed her father hard, but her presence" of mind did not
desert her ; she twitched her train of embroidery, car
ried in those days by the page, out of his hand, and
dropping it in the mud, ' Varlet,' cried she, in a fury,
dashing it across his face, ' take that — ^and that too,'
adding a box on the ear, ' for knowing no better how to
carry your lady's garment.' Her ill-treatment of him,
and the dirt with which she had besmeared his face, so
confounded the sentinel, that he let them pass the draw
bridge unquestioned."* Having passed through all the
guards, attended by a gentleman from the castle. Lady
Sophia entered her carriage, which was in waiting for
her ; " the earl," says a cotemporary annalist, " steps
up on the hinder part of the coach as her lackey, and,
coming foregainst the weighhouse, slips off and shifts
for himself. "-|-
He was conducted by a clergyman of the name of
Veitch, through unfrequented roads, to London, where
* " In his agitation, Argyle dropped the lady's gown when about to
pass the sentinel at the Castle-gate ; but she, with admirable presence
of mind, snatched up her train from the mud, and, in a pretended rage,
threw it in Argyle's face, with many reproaches of ' careless loon,' &c.,
which so besmeared him that his features were not recognised.' — Notes
to Law's Memorials. — " One of the guard suspected him, and took him
by the arm rudely enough." — Wodrow, iii. 337.
t Law's Memorials.

28 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
he lay concealed,* till he found means of escape to
Holland, where he resided the rest of King Charles's
reign. He beguiled some of the leisure hours of his
concealment by writing a poetical epistle to Lady So
phia, which has been preserved by Wodrow, but is
only remarkable for the affection and gratitude it
breathes towards his fair preserver.-f — She, it appears,
narrowly escaped a public whipping through the streets
of Edinburgh, which some of the council were inclined
to give her, till the duke of York interposed to protect
her, " saying they were not used to deal so cruelly with
ladies in his country. "|
On the accession of James the second, the general dis
content of those who distrusted the king's views with
regard to religion, and the enmity to the government
which the sufferings of the Scottish presbyterians were
supposed to have engendered, encouraged Argyle and
Monmouth to invade Britain, in hopes of shaking off the
* " King Charles, it is said, had the generosity not to enquire after
the place of his retreat ; and Dr. Campbell relates, from private in
formation of undoubted credit, that when a note was put into his hand
signifying where Argyle was to be found, he tore it in pieces, saying,
' Pooh, pooh, hunt a hunted partridge ? Fye for shame !' "
t " Daughter as dear as dearest child can be.
Lady Sophia, ever dear to me !" &c.
It is printed by Mr. Kirkpatrick Sharpe in his edition of Law's Me
morials, from a MS. volume in the hand- writing of Wodrow, preserved
in the Advocates' Library.
X King James's Memoirs, ii. 710. He was then High Commissioner
in Scotland.

¦ARGYLE S INVASION. 29
yoke of a Roman Catholic sovereign. The enterprise,
both in Scotland and England, turned out an utter fail
ure. Monmouth was taken prisoner and executed ;
Argyle was equally unfortunate in Scotland, — his forces
dispersed, "and he was left alone and unattended save by
one follower. He was attacked by two troopers, who
were ignorant of his quality, till the exclamation, " Un
fortunate Argyle!" uttered as he fell, betrayed him.*
He was conveyed to Edinburgh and condemned to death
on the old score of having qualified the Test-oath. His
recent invasion had rendered him amenable to the pains
of treason, but this his enemies would not bring forward,
lest they should acknowledge the former sentence illegal.
He prepared for death with christian resignation. —
His wife, meanwhile, who, with her daughters, was
residing at Stirling when the rumour of the invasion
reached Scotland, had been immediately taken prisoner
* "The clan ofthe Riddells," says Dr. Burns, the recent editor of
Wodrow, " have taken the honour or the disgrace of having furnished
one of these two militiamen. A person of this name from Lochwin-
noch, within forty years ago, had gone to the Balloch fair, near Dum
barton, in the capacity of a horse-dealer. The Campbells from Argyle
shire heard his hated name, which called up to their imaginations one
of the principal murderers of their chief, and raised the latent ire which
had been smothered for a hundred years, and they were preparing them
selves for a feudal clan battle ; when the companions of the Lowlander
interposed and prevented bloodshed by a cunning device or ruse de
guerre, transforming his name from Riddell to Ridet." — " Tbe spot
where Argyle was taken is marked out by a stone, which passes among
the country-people by the name of ' Argyle's Stone.' "

30 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
by order of the council, and committed to Edinburgh
Castle,* and Lady Sophia, (whose husband was in his
father's company,) to the Tolbooth.-|- Lady Henrietta
had a few days afterwards the pain of parting with her
husband. Sir Duncan, whose love for his chief and at
tachment to the protestant cause equally urged his join
ing him. In a few days, the news arriving that all was
lost, she started forthwith for Edinburgh in the greatest
anxiety about him — at Falkirk she came up with Argyle,
who was thus far on his road to Edinburgh as a prisoner,
(" a mournful sight," she says, " for one who bore him
so great affection,") but being in deep disguise, she dared
not approach him. She kept up with him however in
the rear, till her horse failed. The foUowiug morning
she reached Edinburgh, and in the course of that day
was reheved by hearing of her husband's safety. " I
was then," she says, " more enabled to make enquiry
after my dear afflicted mother, who was harshly treated;
and seeing her under so great affliction by the approach
ing suffering of such an endeared husband, (and had no
access to him till eight days after this fatal stroke,) this
did again renew a very mournful prospect of matters,
which at this time had a very strange aspect, so that if
the Lord of life had not supported, we had sunk under
the trouble."
" The day," she proceeds, and I shall transcribe the

* 17 May, 1685. Fountainhall's Diary, i. 167. Bann. ed.
t Fountainhall, i. 189.

ARGYLE IN PRISON. 31
whole passage verbatim — " the day being appointed for
his suffering, she had access to him, and, though under
deep distress, was encouraged by seeing the bounty and
graciousness of the Lord to him, in enabling him, with
great courage and patience, to undergo what he was to
meet with ; the Lord helping him to much fervency in
supplication, and nearness in pouring out his heart with
enlargedness of affection, contrition and resignation,
which did strangely fortify and embolden him to main
tain his integrity before his merciless enemies ; and by
this he was helped at times to great cheerfulness, and
fortified under his trial and the testimony he was to give
of his zeal and fervour to that righteous cause he was
honoured to suffer for.
" In that morning that his dear life was to be surren
dered to the God that gave it, he uttered great evidences
of joy that the Lord had blessed him with the time he
had in Holland as the sweetest time of his life, and the
mercifulness of his escape to that end.* But rejoiced
more in that complete escape he was to have that day
from sin and sorrow. Yet in a little fell into some damp.

* " From several persons who were witnesses to the earl of Argyle's
conversation in Holland, I am assured that his walk was singularly
pious and religious. . . He spent much time in private religious exer
cises and preparation for death, which he reckoned not to be far off.
He was a close searcher of the Scriptures, pleasant and prudent in his
conversation, and frequently checked looseness in principles and jesting
with sacred things, which were but too common at this time." — Wod
row, iv. 283.

32 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
and in parting with my mother was observed to have
more concern than in any other circumstance formerly,
— which to her was a bitter parting, to be taken from
him whom she loved so dearly ; but in a little time after
he recovered a little, and as the time of his death drew
near, which was some hours after, the Lord was pleased
wonderfully to shine on him to the dispelling of clouds
and fears, and to the admitting him to a more clear and
evident persuasion of His blessed favour, and the cer
tainty of his being so soon happy, of which he expressed
his sense in his last letter to my dear mother, which
could not but sweeten her lot in her greatest sorrow,
and was ground of greatest thankfulness that the Lord
helped him to the last to carry with such magnanimity,
resolution, contentment of mind, and true valour, under
this darklike providence, to endless blessedness. And
though the loss of so great a protestant was grief of mind
to any that had any tender heart, and which to friends
was an universal, inexpressible, breaking-like dispensa
tion, yet in so far as he was enabled under cruel suffer
ing to such tranquillity, peace and comfort, this was to
them ground of praises and an answer to their request ;
but to others, that were enemies, was shame and confu
sion, as appeared after to many that had the least hand
in his first sentence. — He laid down his dear life, June
30, 1685. This morning, liberty at length was obtained
for my seeing him, but not till he was brought to the
Council-house, where I was enabled to go to him, where

ARGYLE S PARTING LETTERS. 33
he had a composed, edifying carriage, and after endear
ing expressions, said ' we must not part like those not to
meet again ;' and he went from thence with the greatest
assurance."* To complete this sad story, I must have recourse to
the historian Wodrow, — you will easily combine the two
narratives, neither of which I am willing to alter.
" The time came when the earl must for ever leave the
Castle, and go out to his execution, and he was accompa
nied with several of his friends down the street to the
Laigh Council-house, where he was ordered to be car
ried before his execution. Here I find the earl writing
his last letter to his dear and excellent lady, which is so
valuable a remain of this dying saint that I should wrong
the reader not to insert it : —
' Edinburgh, Laigh Council-house.
' Dear heart !
As God is himself unchangeable, so He hath
been always good and gracious to me, and no place al
ters it ; only I acknowledge I am sometimes less capable
of a due sense of it ; but now, above all my life, I thank
God, I am sensible of His presence with me, with great
assurance of His fkvour through Jesus Christ, and I
doubt not it will continue till I be in glory.
Forgive me all my faults, and now comfort thyself in
* Some further extracts from Lady Henrietta's diary will be found in
the Appendix, No. VII.

34 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS,
Him, in whom only true comfort is to be found. The
Lord be with thee, bless thee, and comfort thee, my
dearest ! Adieu, my dear 1
Thy faithful and loving husband, Argyle.'
" Whether it was at that time, or some former part
of this day, that he wrote the following letter to his
daughter-in-law. Lady Sophia, I cannot be positive. The
earl had an extraordinary value and affection for her,
and the two letters generally go together in the copies
I have seen, so I am apt to think they are written at the
same time. Sure it deserves a room here.
' My dear Lady Sophia, —
What shall I say in this great day of the Lord,
wherein, in the midst of a cloud, I find a fair sunshine f
I can wish no more for you, but that the Lord may com
fort you and shine upon you as He doth upon me, and
give you the same sense of His love in staying in the
world, as I have in going out of it.
Adieu ! Argyle.
P. S. My blessing to dear earl of Balcarres : the
Lord touch his heart, and incline him to His fear ! '
" This day, and probably at this very time, the earl
wrote a letter to another of his dear relations, Lady

argyle s execution. 35
Henrietta Campbell, sister to the former, and lady to
Sir Duncan Campbell of Auchinbreck. This excellent
and singularly religious person being yet alive, should I
say but a little of what I might and could say of her, it
would offend, and her excessive modesty forbids me ; —
and therefore, without saying more, I shall add it
here : — "June 30, 1685.
' Dear Lady Henrietta : —
I pray God to sanctify and bless this lot to
you. Our concerns are strangely mixed, — the Lord
look on them ! I know all shall turn to good to them
that fear God and hope in His mercy. So I know you
do, and that you may still do it more and more is my
wish for you. The Lord comfort you ! I am
Your loving father and servant, Argyle.' "
After writing these letters,* he proceeded to the place

* Another, written before leaving the castle, to his second son, (father
of John, fourth duke of Argyle,) has lately been discovered ; it runs as
follows : — "Edinburgh Castle, June 30, 1685.
" Dear John, We parted suddenly, but I hope shall meet happily
in heaven. I pray God bless you, and if you seek Him, He will be found
of you. My wife will say all to you ; pray love and respect her. I am
Your loving father,
Argyle."
d2

36 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
of execution. On reaching " the midst of the scaffold,"
he " took leave of his friends, heartily embracing some
of them in his arms, and taking others by the hand. He
delivered some tokens to the Lord Maitland, to be given
to his lady and children ; then he stripped himself of his
clothes and delivered them to his friends, and being
ready to go to the block, he desired the executioner might
not be permitted to do his office till he gave the sign by
his hand ; and, falling down on his knees upon the stool,
embraced the maiden, (as the instrument of beheading is
called,) very pleasantly, and with great composure he
said, ' It was the sweetest maiden ever he kissed, it
being a mean to finish his sin and misery, and his inlet to
glory, for which he longed.' And in that posture, having
prayed a little space within himself, he uttered these
words three times, ' Lord Jesus ! receive me into thy
glory !' and then gave the sign by lifting up his hand,
and the executioner did his work, and his head was
separated from his body.
" Thus died this excellent and truly great and good
man." — " When this nobleman's death," observes Sir
Walter Scott, " is considered as the consequence of a
sentence passed against him for presuming to comment
upon and explain an oath which was self-contradictory,
it can only be termed a judicial murder."
I add his epitaph, written by himself in prison, the
night before his execution.
" Thou passenger, that shalt have so much time
To view my grave, and ask — what was my crime ?

LADY HENRIETTA. 37
No stain of error, no black vice's brand
Was that which chased me from my native land :
Love to my country (sentenced twice to die)
Constrained my hands forgotten arms to try.
More by friends' frauds my fall proceeded hath
Than foes, though now they thrice decreed my death.
On my attempt though Providence did frown.
His oppressed people God at length shall own.
Another hand, by more successful speed.
Shall raise the remnant, bruise the serpent's head.
Though my head fall, that is no tragic story,
Since, going hence, I enter endless glory."*
A few words more ere I quit the subject of presbyte
rian suffering. Lady Argyle, on being released from
prison, immediately started for England with her daugh-
* " Thus fell that tall and mighty cedar in our Lebanon, the last of
an ancient and honourable family, who rose to their greatness in King
Robert the Bruce's time, by their constant adherence to the king, being
then knights of Lochow, with his other three companions, the Seyton,
Lyle, and the Lauder ; and continued doing good services to their king
and country till this man's father proved disloyal; and, ever since, state
policy required the humbling of it, being turned too formidable in the
Highlands, with their vast jurisdictions and regalities." — Fountainhall,
p. 194. Bann. ed.
" About the time of Argyle's execution," says the same writer, " one
of his grandchildren, a son of Lom's, threw himself, being six or seven
years old, over a window in Lethington, three stories high, and was
not the worse ; from which miracle this inference was made, that the
said family and estate would yet again recover and overcome this sour
blast."— p. 196.
The gossips were right. This child lived to be the illustrious John
duke of Argyle and Greenwich.
d3

38 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
ter Henrietta, whose husband. Sir Duncan, had escaped
to Dantzig; they spent nine months at Windsor and
London, in attendance on the court, " endeavouring,"
says Henrietta, " any favour that could be obtained for
him, both as to liberty and maintenance, when seques
trate as to our fortune." Finding it in vain. Lady
Henrietta, (bidding farewell to her mother, who re
turned to Scotland,) crossed to Holland, where she met
her husband. A few months afterwards she returned to
Scotland to fetch over her only child, "and to look
after our little concerns, that had then a very ruined-like
aspect. The times being troublesome, this obliged me,"
says she, "to come in disguise to a dear friend, Mr.
Alexander Moncrief, his house, where I had much kind
welcome and sympathy from some who are now in
glory, and others of them yet alive, whose sympathy and
undeserved concern is desired to be bom in mind with
much gratitude. But any uncertain abode I had was
with my dear mother at Stirling, whose tender care and
affection has been greatly evidenced to all hers, and
particularly to such as desire to have more of the sense
thereof than can be expressed as the bound duty of
such; and I cannot but reckon it among my greatest
earthly blessings to have been so trysted, having early
lost my dear father, eminent in his day, when insensible
of this stroke ; and when so young, not two years old,
and deprived of his fatherly instruction, it may justly
be ground of acknowledgment that the blessed Father
of the fatherless, in whose care I was left, did preserve

LADY SOPHIA. 39
SO tender-hearted a mother, whose worth and exem-
plariness in many respects may be witness against us,
if undutiful or unthankful to the great Giver of our
mercies." After her return to Holland, Sir Duncan and Lady
Henrietta resided at Rotterdam till the revolution — in
difficulties certainly, but cheered in their distresses by
the substantial kindness of Mary princess of Orange and
her husband.
Lady Argyle survived these events for many years —
years, however, still of sorrow and anxiety, the revolu
tion that restored her daughter to her arms having de
prived her of her son. Earl Colin. In 1700, on his being
permitted to return from exile, she was still living at
Stirhng, in extreme old age — ofthe precise period of her
death I am ignorant. Few lots in life have been so
chequered as hers, and few doubtless ever laid down
their head on the pillow of death with more heart-felt
satisfaction. Lady Sophia, meanwhile, had had her own afflictions
to bear up under, her husband having been taken pri
soner, while ill of a fever, by the marquis of Athol, who,
in virtue of his justiciary power, resolved to hang him
in that condition at his father's gate at Inverary. The
privy council, however, at the intercession of several
ladies, stopped the execution, and ordered him to be
carried prisoner to Edinburgh. He was brought before
the justiciary court, 21 August, 1685, forfeited on his
own confession, and sentenced to banishment, never to
d4

40 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
return on pain of death. His forfeiture, like that of Sir
Duncan, and the rest of Argyle's adherents, was of
course rescinded at the revolution.

SECT. III.
On the accession of King James, Earl Colin — whom I
must now introduce to you as an episcopalian, and a
firm adherent to his unfortunate friend and master —
continued in high favour ; he had, for some time past,
been a privy-councillor,* and was then appointed one of
the Council of Six, or Commissioners of the Treasury,
in whom the Scottish administration was lodged.-f-
It is at this period that the historical memoir, which
Earl Colin presented to King James at St. Germains,
after the revolution, commences. " I do not pretend
this," says he, " to be an exact relation of all that passed
in these few unhappy years, my design being only to let
you know the reasons were made use of by your enemies
for appearing so violently against you, shaking off the
allegiance they owed you, and overturning the govern
ment, so well established both in church and state ; and,
likewise, to give you an account, true and impartial, of
the actions both of your friends and enemies, that, being
all laid before your majesty, you may the better judge.

* Admitted a councillor, 3 June, 1680. — Wodrow,
t Appointed a commissioner of the treasury, 3 Aug., 1686. — Foun
tainhall,

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 41
when it pleases God to put you in a way and capacity to
assert your just right, how to shun those rocks your
government has split upon. — Neither attachment to one
party, nor hard usage from the other, shall make me say
any thing to your majesty but what is consistent with
my own knowledge, and verified by the most concerned
in these transactions. I know there are many of your
subjects capable to have given you an account of your
affairs in a better dress than I can pretend to, but, hav
ing had the honour to be trusted so much by your ma
jesty before these unhappy revolutions, and having been
since so deeply concerned in all the unsuccessful attempts
for your service, I have the vanity, to think there is none
of my nation you will trust to more, or that can give you
a view of your affairs more justly, or with more zeal for
your royal person, than myself."
I need not dwell upon the progressive steps that led
to James's ruin. The rescission of the penal laws, the
repeal of the oaths of supremacy and the test, the estab
lishment of the court of high commission, the imprison
ment of the bishops — these inroads on liberty and reli
gion, and, still more, the birth of James prince of Wales,
in June, 1688, caused the discontented party to look
oftener and more impatiently to William prince of
Orange, who, during these commotions, had neither
sided with nor against his father-in-law, but lay passively
waiting till the crown should devolve on his wife at her
father's death. The unexpected birth of the prince
dispelled his apathy. The young stranger stood between

42 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
hiin and the succession, but the English, presuming that
the child would be educated in the principles of the pa
rent, were well disposed at once to acknowledge William
as their sovereign. The latter finding it necessary to
take his party, declared openly against his father-in-law.
James, sensible of his danger, attempted to retract his
measures, but it was too late.
" When the prince of Orange's invasion became cer
tain," says Earl James of Balcarres, " Colin and his
friend the earl of Cromarty consulted upon what could
be done in Scotland to defend the king ; the chancellor.
Lord Perth, having been ordered to do nothing without
their advice. They were of opinion that much was in
their power. There was, from unusual economy, above
ninety thousand pounds in the exchequer ; with this they
proposed to levy ten battalions of foot, to form a body of
four or five thousand men from the Highlands, to raise
the Arriire Van, and to select about twelve hundred
horse out of them, and with these and between three or
four thousand regular troops commanded by General
Douglas and Lord Dundee," (forming an army of about
fifteen thousand men,) " to march to York, and keep all
the northern counties in order. This plan was sent by
an express to Lord Melfort, sole secretary of state, and
ever at variance with Colin, who always said the king
intended him to succeed Melfort, being even then
convinced that men of that religion were incapable to
serve him. This scheme would have been too honour
able for Colin, therefore Melfort, (found afterwards to

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 43
have been advised by Sir James Stewart, his under
secretary, who valued himself for having done so after
the revolution,) writ to the privy council, disapproving
of the scheme as expensive and unnecessary, and sent
order for the small army on foot instantly to begin their
march into England, to reinforce the English army." —
" The order," says Earl Colin, " was positive, and short ;
advised by Mr. James Stewart at a supper, and writ
upon the back of a plate, and an express immediately
despatched therewith : — ^with a sorrowful heart to all
your servants, your orders were obeyed, and, about the
beginning of October, they began their march — three
thousand effective vigorous young men, well disciplined
and clothed, and, to a man, hearty in your cause, and
willing, out of principle as well as duty, to hazard their
lives for the support of the government as then estab
lished both in church and state."
When the news of William's arrival in London reached
Edinburgh, Lord Balcarres was sent express by his col
leagues of the Secret Council to receive his majesty's
instructions.* James had, at first, behaved with con-
* " The council," proceeds Earl Colin, " after their departure, or
dered the modelled militia to be brought together about Edinburgh,
and some of them to be quartered in the Canongate, but these new-
raised men, that would soon have been disciplined and brought into
order if mixed with the regular troops, signified little to keep up the
face of authority, nor was their commander. Sir George Munro, (named
by the council until your orders were known,) much better of the trade
than these new-raised men, having lost, by age and being long out
of service, any thing he had learned in Charles Gustavus' days except

44 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
siderable spirit ; he joined his army at Salisbury, and
resolved on a vigorous resistance. He could gaze with
the rudeness and austerity of that service. The presbyterian and dis
contented party seeing themselves now at liberty and the government
abandoned, took their opportunity, and Edinburgh was filled with them
from all quarters of the nation ; they then took off their mask, and
formed several clubs, where they deliberated upon what was to be done
as freely as if allowed by authority. The council and Secret Committee
knew from spies amongst them all that passed, yet were obliged to shut
their eyes at what they had not power to suppress.
" The chiefs of these meetings were the earls of Glencairn, Crawford,
and Tarras, Lord Ross and Mersington (a few months before put into
the session to oblige the presbyterians,) Sir James Montgomery," &c.
"The presbyterian ministers did not attend their public meetings, but,
according to their ancient custom, nothing was determined without
their consulting them, and that they approved. One of the first things
taken into consideration was how to hinder all correspondence between
your majesty and council, which Sir James Montgomery undertook and
performed so effectually that few packets, coming or going, escaped
him ; and the rising of the northern counties of England under the earl
of Derby and Lord Lumley, who had the same design, put a stop to
correspondence, and prevented all knowledge of what was doing in
England. Some few flying packets got through from the earl of Mel
fort to his brother, but in them the truth disguised and the facts quite
different from what the viscount of Dundee wrote to me. At last one
got through with the news of the prince of Orange his landing. To
know the truth of what was doing, and receive your commands. Lord
Chancellor and the Secret Committee thought fit to send a merchant,
one Mr. Brand, being most likely, upon the pretext of his trade, to pass
through ; but he went straight to the prince of Orange, was introduced
to him by Dr. Burnet, and pretended he was sent by his highness'
friends to his service. When it was known at Edinburgh that Mr.
Brand had acted so contrary to his commission, the viscount of Tarbat

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 45
a Stuart's eye on the ranks of his enemies, but he had
not, alas ! calculated on the ingratitude of friends ; he
had not looked for the desertion of those who owed him
fortune, rank, power — nay, even life itself. At the news
of every fresh defection, his son-in-law. Prince George
of Denmark, exclaimed, " Est-il possible ? " — and when
the unfortunate monarch was one morning awaked
with the tidings that he too had fqllowed the general
example, he merely observed, " What ! is ' Est-il possible'
gone too ? "
— But when his daughters deserted him, the agony of
the father put to flight the resolution of the monarch ;
with keener pangs than Caesar's, he muffled up his face
in despair, and muttering "God help me! my own
children abandon me ! " sank powerless at the feet of
an enemy whom he had never injured.
"The bursting of a blood-vessel in the head," says
Lady Anne Lindsay, on her father's authority, "was
the consequence of these agitations and sorrows, and
Earl Colin never from that period thought him pos-

was most unjustly suspected, for at that time none was more apprehen
sive of the prince of Orange's coming over, considering his declaration
for Scotland, by which it was evident he intended to sacrifice all to
satisfy the presbyterians and those who came over with him, — who were
for the most part his personal enemies. This way failing of having
your commands, the council ordered three of their number to attend
your majesty, the viscount of Tarbat, Sir George Lockhart, lord presi
dent, and myself; these two excused themselves, not being able to ride
post, so I was sent alone."

46 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
sessed of firmness of mind or nerve to carry through
any purpose, or even to feel with much sensibility."
In the meanwhile, the Scottish army, under Dundee
and General Douglas, had advanced into England. The
king appointed Dundee, and those officers on whom he
knew he could depend, to meet him at Uxbridge, to
concert measures for encountering the prince of Orange.
They arrived there, but leamt that the king had fled,
and received orders to disband their forces. Dundee,
Linlithgow, and Dunmore, wept with disappointment.
Whatever were James's faults — (and they were crimes
in the king of Britain), — few, it is to be hoped, will
now refuse pity to his misfortunes. Deserted, like the
Persian, " in his utmost need.
By those his former bounty fed,"
without a friend to counsel him, virtually childless, and
alone among his enemies, he gave himself up to despair.
"In every person he met," says Sir John Dalrymple,
" he suspected an enemy or a betrayer, and from every
look he gathered reasons for confirming the suspicions
he had formed. Distance or approach were equally
uneasy to him, for he imputed the one to a conscious
ness of guilt, and the other to a desire of concealing it."
He fled to the sea-coast, intending to embark for France,
but was arrested at Feversham, and brutally treated by the
mob. The council, informed of his danger, sent a body
of the life-guards to attend him, offering him his choice

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 47
" either to retire abroad or to return." He preferred the
latter alternative, and, on the 16th December, re-entered
London. " As it is natural," observes Sir John, " for the hu
man mind to forget past injuries upon the sight of
present misfortunes, and in violent passions to run from
one extreme to another, the populace attended his entry
into London with universal expressions of joy for his
return. The women, standing still, prayed for him and
wept as he passed; the men followed his coach with
shouts till it stopped at Whitehall." — If such a welcome
revived the king's hopes for the moment, they were soon
depressed again.
A day or two after his return. Earl Colin and his
friend Dundee waited on his majesty. Colin had been
in town but three or four days, which he had employed
in endeavours to unite his majesty's friends in his in
terest. " He was received affectionately," says his son,
" but observed that there were none with the king but
some of the gentlemen of his bed-chamber. L  *
came in, one of the generals of his army disbanded
about a fortnight before. He informed the king, that
most of his generals and colonels of his guards had
assembled that morning upon observing the univer
sal joy of the city upon his return ; that the result of
their meeting was to appoint him to tell his majesty
that still much was in their power to serve and defend
* Probably Linlithgow.

48 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
him ; that most part of the army disbanded was either
in London or near it ; and that, if he would order them
to beat their drums, they were confident twenty thousand
men could be got together before the end of next day. —
' My lord,' says the king, ' I know you to be my friend,
sincere and honourable ; the men who sent you are not
so, and I expect nothing from them.' — He then said it
was a fine day — he would take a walk. None attended
him but Colin and Lord Dundee. When he was in the
Mall, he stopped and looked at them, and asked how
they came to be with him, when all the world had for
saken him and gone to the prince of Orange ? — Colin
said their fidelity to so good a master would ever be the
same ; they had nothing to do with the prince of Orange,
— Lord Dundee made the strongest professions of duty ;
— ' Will you two, as gentlemen, say you have still at
tachment to me ?' — ' Sir, we do.' — ' Will you give me
your hands upon it, as men of honour ?' they did so, —
' Well, I see you are the men I always took you to be ;
you shall know all my intentions. I can no longer re
main here but as a cypher, or be a prisoner to the prince
of Orange, and you know there is but a small distance
between the prisons and the graves of kings ; therefore
I go for France immediately ; when there, you shall have
my instructions, — you. Lord Balcarres, shall have a com
mission to manage my civil affairs, and you. Lord Dun
dee, to command my troops in Scotland.'
"After the king was gone, Colin waited upon the
prince of Orange, to whom he was well known, having

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 49
been married to Mademoiselle Beverwaert, his cousin,
whom he valued, and he had been often at their house,
when in suit of the Princess Mary. He declared his fa
vour to Colin, and that he doubted not of his attachment
to him at the convention. Colin owned that, though he
had the utmost respect to his highness, yet that he could
have no hand in turning out his king, who had been a
kind master to him, although imprudent in many things.
The prince, perhaps, valued him the more for this, and
twice thereafter spoke to him upon the same subject ;
[but] at last told him to beware how he behaved himself,
for if he transgressed the law, he should be left to it."
This was a plain hint to be gone ; the prince had been
equally unsuccessful with Dundee, and it tells highly for
him that he took no measures to prevent their departure.
Having concerted their plans, and despatched their con
fidential agent, Mr. David Lindsay,* with notice of their
intentions and letters to his majesty, the two friends
* The subsequent fate of this unfortunate gentleman was very sad.
After several years of exile, he returned to Scotland, where he had a
small estate, to take the benefit of Queen Anne's pardon, and was
there declared by the privy council to be comprehended within the
terms of the act of indemnity. The English government were at this
moment occupied with an alleged conspiracy of the Jacobites, trumped
up by the notorious Simon Eraser, afterwards Lord Lovat. Lindsay,
having every reason to believe himself secure under the queen's protec
tion, came to England to see his wife and children ; he was taken up
by the government, who, finding he had been in France, condemned
him to death, notwithstanding his being a Scotsman, and pardoned by
her majesty as sovereign of that kingdom. — " He protested he knew of

50 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
set off for Scotland with a guard of about twenty-four
troopers; and arrived safely in Edinburgh towards the
end of February, 1689. " They employed their endea
vours," says Smollett, "to preserve union among the
individuals of their party, to confirm the duke of Gor
don, who began to waver in his attachment to their
sovereign, and to manage their intrigues in such a man
ner as to derive some advantage to their cause from
the transactions of the ensuing session."
no designs against the queen or her govemment, and that he did not
believe she would ever receive the least injury or molestation from the
court of St. Germains. He was sentenced to die for having corresponded
with France, and was given to understand he had nothing to expect un
less he would discover the conspiracy. He persisted " (continues Smol
lett) '* in denying all knowledge of any such conspiracy, and scorned to
save his life by giving false information." — He was carried to Tyburn,
the rope about his neck, the sheriff telling him he could expect no mercy
unless he would acknowledge his crime and discover (which was the
one thing needful) who were concerned in the Scots conspiracy ; thus
" tempting him," says Lockhart, " to save himself by charging others
with what he knew they were innocent of ; but he (to his immortal
honour be it said) answered he was willing to die rather than save his
life on such terms; whereupon the sheriff ordered the cart to drive
on, but finding he was resolved to stand it out as became a good
christian and worthy gentleman, produced Queen Anne's reprieve,
suspending the execution. And Lindsay having thus, by his heroic
behaviour, disappointed the designs of those who hoped by this severe
method to force a confession (true or false all was one) out of him to
justify their proceedings, was remitted close prisoner to Newgate, where
he remained in a miserable starving condition for three or four years,
and was then banished out of Britain, and died in Holland for want of
necessary food and raiment."

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 51
For the proceedings of the adverse parties till the de
termination of the Jacobites to quit Edinburgh and call
a new convention at Stirling, (for which Colin, Dundee,
and the archbishop of St. Andrews had received a com
mission from King James,) I refer you to the memoir
already quoted. — All being prepared for starting, pro
ceeds Lord Balcarres, " the marquis of Athol sent to
your friends to entreat one day's further delay, which, to
satisfy him, they consented to, considering how necessary
he was to them upon that occasion. To be the less re
markable, they resolved once more to go to the house.
After a general meeting of your friends was over, the
viscount of Dundee came there, expecting immediately
to be gone, and not informed of the marquis's delay and
your friends going again to the house. He was much
surprised at this new resolution, and told me that, not
withstanding, he would go before, and that if any got
out of the town, he would wait for them. It was so evi
dent his departure would give the alarm, and break all
the measures taken, that I used all the power I had with
him to stay another day, and go with the rest of your
friends ; but he, having appointed many to meet him at
a house near the town, thought himself obliged not to
disappoint them, so went off with about fifty horse. His
road to Stirling was by the bottom of the castle of Edin
burgh, where the duke of Gordon was, in a manner,
blocked up by the western rabble. The duke made
signs he desired to speak with him, which he got done
with great difficulty, the roc^ there being extremely
e2

52 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
steep.* The viscount told the duke the resolution of
your friends to quit Edinburgh and set up the king's
standard at Stirling, and that their first work should be
to relieve him. While they conferred, some of those
employed to blockade the castle perceived them, and ran
* This was the famous interview, so stirringly described by Sir Walter
Scott, in his glorious ballad of " Bonnie Dundee."
— " The Gordon has asked of him whither he goes ?
' Wherever shall guide me the spirit of Montrose !
Your grace in short space shall have tidings of me,
Or that low lies the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee !
' There's lauds beyond Pentland, and hiUs beyond Forth,
If there's lords in the South-land, there's chiefs in the North,
And wild dunnie-wassels three thousand times three,
Will cry hoigh ! for the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee !
' Away to the hills, to the woods, to the rocks —
Ere I own an usurper I'll couch with the fox ;
So, tremble, false Whigs, though triumphant ye be,
For yo've not seen the last of my bonnet or me!'
He waved his proud arm aud the trumpets were blown,
The kettle-drums clashed, and the horsemen rode on.
Till by Ravelstou craigs and ou Clermistou-lea
Died away the wild war note of Bonnie Dundee.
— ' Come fill np my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle my horses and call up my men,
Fling all your gates open and let me go free.
For it's up with the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee !' "
I cannot refrain from the hint how admirably this ballad might be
sung to the beautiful air known by the words adapted to it by Bishop
Heber, beginning, "I see them on their winding way,"— but originally,
I believe, simply imitative of the march of an army through a town, as
heard in advance, passage, and departure, by a lady at her lattice.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 53
to the convention and told there was a great body of
horse assembled, and the viscount of Dundee talking
with the duke of Gordon, which was thought a crime of
the highest nature after they had outlawed him. Their
fears encreased the belief that some general design was
formed against them. The duke of Hamilton had
hitherto behaved himself with temper and equality, but,
like smothered fire, his natural temper, upon this occa
sion, appeared in all its violence. He told the conven
tion that now it was high time to look to themselves,
since papists and enemies to the settling of the govern
ment were so bold as to assemble in a hostile manner ;
and since he doubted not there was several sitting
amongst them were in the same design, therefore it was
his opinion the doors should be locked, and the keys
laid upon the table, and some of their number sent out
to beat drums and assemble all the well affected to reli
gion and liberty ; — that, apprehending such designs of
their enemies, he had brought some foot from the west
ern shires, which he offered to employ in the public
cause. What he said was approved by all parties, —
several others likewise bragged of men they had brought
to town, and magnified their numbers ; the earl of Leven
was appointed to assemble them, which when done,
never was seen so contemptible a rabble, nor was it
to be doubted if your friends had known their own
strength, or had not judged their enemies far more
considerable than they were, but they might easily
have accomplished their designs in declaring for your
E 3

54 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
majesty, and put themselves out of hazard from their
enemies. " Such of your friends as were locked up in the house,
and guarded by the most violent of the party, looked
upon themselves as undone, nor did anything save them
but the irresolution and disagreement of your enemies,
as I was informed. The duke of Hamilton and his party
— (for now I call it so, having never declared himself
before that day), having the most considerable part of
your friends in their power, and finding the viscount of
Dundee became no stronger, and that he was marched
off, ordered one Major Buntin to follow him with such
horse as he could bring together, and, thinking them
selves out of all hazard, the duke dismissed the conven
tion, to the great satisfaction of your friends, httle
expecting to come off so well. Thus all the noise
and apprehensions of both sides ended, and likewise
ended all the hopes of setting up another convention at
Stirling." — Athol, Mar, and Annandale now went over
to the whigs, who became all-powerful in the con
vention. " Being now," continues Colin, " freed of most of
those who obstructed their designs of settling the go
vernment as the duke and his party had undertaken,
they fell heartily to work with the affair for which they
were called by the prince of Orange, but fearing he
might think them proceeding too slowly, they sent up
the Lord Ross with the reasons of their delay and assu
rances of speedily settling all things to his satisfaction,

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 55
as they were now rid of those who had opposed it. They
appointed a committee for settling the government, and
another for considering the present state of affairs; —
what was done or said in these committees I pass over,
being one of the first who left the house, and observing
both parties too much incensed to have an impartial
account from either of them."
Great disputes ensued " as to the manner of declaring
the crown vacant. Some were for abdication, as had
been done in England; but that could not pass, as
the most violent could not pretend you had abdicated
Scotland ; others were for making use of an old obsolete
word, ' for-letting,' used for a bird's forsaking her nest,
— ^but Sir John Dalrymple ended the controversy by
giving such reasons against both, that they went into
his proposition, which was, to have it declared that, by
doing acts contrary to law, you had forfeited your right
to the crown ; not that they intended to forfeit your
majesty as a criminal, but that you, of yourself, had for
feited, which would render the whole clear, and likewise
remove any right the prince of Wales might afterwards
pretend to."
The vote was carried the next day, and William and
Mary were proclaimed king and queen of Scotland.
This having been done, and three commissioners des
patched to offer the crown to the prince, they adjourned
the parliament for a few days, after passing an act to
enable their president, the duke of Hamilton, to imprison
any one whom he might suspect of disaffection, during
E 4

56 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
the recess. — " This power was given to him," says Colin,
" fearing, if lodged in many hands, some might be partial
to their friends and relations ; — he had given such proofs
of his zeal and inclination, that all the different factions
arisen amongst themselves agreed to put this power into
his hands."
The first that felt the effect of it were Dundee and
Colin. Some letters to them from the king having been
intercepted, two detachments of infantry were des
patched to apprehend them. Dundee, living farther
north, escaped, but Colin was taken prisoner and thrown
into the common gaol. " For some days," says he, " I
had the liberty to see my friends, until the first meeting
of the convention ; then, letters, directed to me by the
earl of Melfort, were read, wherein, after full assurance
of speedy and considerable relief, he was pleased to ex
press himself in these terms, — that he wished some had
been cut off that he and I had often spoke of, and then
these things had never come to the pass they were now
at, ' but, when we get the power, we will make these
men hewers of wood and drawers of water.' The duke
of Hamilton conceived these words as meant to him
self. — What the earl of Mehbrt's design was in using
these expressions to one he then knew was in the hands
of your enemies, I will not determine, but, for his lord
ship's justification and my own, although I be now out
of the reach of all my enemies, i declare before god
and your majesty, I never heard him use any such ex
pressions, nor ever heard of any such propositions.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 57
" But, whatever he intended by these expressions, no
thing at that time could be more to the prejudice of your
affairs and to my particular hurt ; it was proclaiming
fairly — nothing was to be expected upon your return but
cruelty and barbarity. These letters were printed both
in Scotland and England, and had near their designed
effect upon me."
On the reading of them, the duke of Glueensberry de
fended Lord Balcarres, "which," says Colin, "was the
more generous that, before the invasion, and till I saw his
firmness in your service, being of different parties, we
were in very ill terms." — The duke expressed his convic
tion that Melfort had written the letters on purpose to
injure Lord Balcarres, arguing that, " if letters coming
to one without direction should be made criminal, it was
in the power of every man's enemies to undo him." —
" Although," says Colin, " what the duke of Queensberry
said shewed his good will, yet it did not allay their heat.
Duke Hamilton told him he had as little reason as any
to defend me, for he doubted not but he was likewise
comprehended, as did almost the whole house think
themselves meant by the ' hewers of wood and drawers
of water.' So I was voted close prisoner, and kept four
months until the surrender of Edinburgh Castle." He
was then removed to that fortress.
Dundee, in the mean while, had raised the standard
of the Stuarts in the Highlands. With the enthusiasm
of the cavaliers grafted on the proverbial gallantry of

58 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
the Grahams,* he left nothing untried that might ad
vance the interests of his sovereign, and his victory at
Killicrankie might even then have changed the fortunes
of Britain, had Providence permitted the master-spirit
of the day to survive his success. -f-

* — "The gallant Grahames
That aye were true to royalty !"
The simple enumeration of Sir John Graham, the " fidus Achates''
of Wallace — of the heroic Montrose — of Dundee — of the veteran lord
Lynedoch, will vindicate the propriety of this popular epithet. The very
spirit of the Grahams, I may add, breathes through the beautiful song
of Graham of Gartmore, printed in the Border Minstrelsy, " If doughty
deeds my lady please," &c.
t Earl Colin's account of the battle of Killicrankie is clear and in
teresting. " The viscount of Dundee encamped upon a heath the night before
the battle, and was desirous before so bold an undertaking to have
symptoms that his Highlanders (after so long peace) still retained the
courage of their ancestors, so manifest upon former occasions. For this
end, while his men slept in their plaids, near the break of day, he caused
a loud alarm be made the enemy was at hand. The Highlanders in
stantly were roused, threw away their plaids, seized their arms, and ran
to the front of their camp, drew up in order — then calmly stood ex
pecting the enemy. When the viscount perceived this, and that not a
man of them had retired, with full assurance he instantly began his
march to meet the enemy. When he came to a height that overlooked
the place where MacKay was, he was much pleased to observe them
drawn up but in one line, and without any reserve,— he assured his men
they should beat them if they observed his orders. The posture of the
enemy made him change the order of his battle; he formed his small

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 59
" The victory," says Earl Colin, " was complete, but
army, of near two thousand, into three divisions, deep in file, with large
intervals between them, that he might not be outflanked by MacKay,
who was more than double his number, and of veteran troops. — Having
completed his disposition, which took up time, in the afternoon he
marched down to the attack. The Highlanders suffered their fire with
courage, — then, when nearer them, delivered their own, and with sword
and targe rapidly broke through their line and fell upon their flanks and
rear ; so that, in a moment, the whole intervals of this extended front
gave way and fled. The viscount put himself at the head of his small
body of horse — Sir William Wallace had produced a commission from
your majesty that morning, to command them, to the great mortification
of the earl of Dunfermeline, and even of others who thought themselves
injured, yet had that respect for your service that no dispute was made
at so critical a time. The viscount advanced to attack their cannon,
but thought Sir William advanced too slowly ; he called to them to
march, but Sir William not being so forward, the earl of Dunfermeline
and some others left their ranks and followed the viscount ; with these
he took their cannon before the rest came up. When he observed the
foot beaten and horse fled, he rode towards a body of the MacDonalds
in the rear, intending to make use of them to attack the regiments of
Ha,stings and Leven, who were retiring unbroken from not being
fronted, but unhappily, while doing this, he was, by a distant shot,
mortally wounded, — he attempted to return, but fell from his horse. —
Although the Highlanders had acted with order and intrepidity, yet
unluckily, when they came to the enemies' baggage, it stopped their
pursuit, and lost them part of the fruits of their victory, for MacKay
and those regiments got off, — yet many of them were killed next day
by the Athol men, as they were repassing at Killicrankie. General
MacKay fled to Stirling, and arrived next day with not above two
hundred of his army; he had two thousand men killed upon the field,
and near five hundred made prisoners.
" The victory was complete," &c.

60 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
I, must own your majesty's affairs were undone by the
irreparable loss of the viscount of Dundee. Your friends
who knew him best were in doubt if his civil or military
capacities were most eminent. None of this nation so
well knew the different interests, tempers, and inclina
tions of the men most capable to serve you ; none had
more the ability to insinuate and persuade : he was ex
tremely affable, and, although a good manager of his
private fortune, yet had no reserve when your service
and his own reputation required him to be liberal, which
gained him the hearts of all who followed him, and
brought him into such reputation that, had he survived
that day, in all probability he had given such a tum to
your affairs that the prince of Orange could neither
have gone nor sent into Ireland, so your majesty had
been entirely master of that kingdom, and in a condi
tion to have landed, with what forces you pleased, in
Scotland, which of all things your friends most desired."
"After the battle of Killicrankie," says the accom
plished editor of Law's Memorials, " where fell the last
hope of James in the viscount of Dundee, the ghost of
that hero is said to have appeared about day-break to
his confidential friend Lord Balcarres, then confined to
Edinburgh Castle. The spectre, drawing aside the cur
tain of the bed, looked very stedfastly upon the earl,
after which it moved towards the mantle-piece, remained
there for some time in a leaning posture, and then
walked out of the chamber without uttering one word.
Lord Balcarres, in great surprise, though not suspecting

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 61
that which he saw to be an apparition, called out re
peatedly to his friend to stop, but received no answer,
and subsequently learnt that at the very moment this
shadow stood before him, Dundee had breathed his last
near the field of KiUicrankie."*
" Never," says Earl Colin, "were men in such a con
sternation as Duke Hamilton and the rest of the parlia
ment at Edinburgh, when they knew from those that
fled of the defeat of MacKay. Some were for retiring
to England, others to the westem shires of Scotland ;
this they only delayed till the viscount of Dundee ap
proached them, for they knew not he was slain. Then
they considered whether to set at hberty aU the prison
ers, or make them more close ; the last was resolved,
and we were all locked up and debarred from seeing our
friends, but never had so many visits from our enemies,
all making apologies for what had past, protesting they
always wished us well, as we should see whenever they
had opportunity." The death of Dundee was however
conjectured by those who knew him, and were certain
that had he survived, his arrival would have given the
first intimation of his victory.
The general's baton was wielded for awhile, though
with a timid and inexperienced hand, by Colonel
Cannon, who succeeded to the command of Dundee's
army ; he was unequal to the task, and was baffled in
his first enterprise ; his successor, Buchan, was equally
* Law's Memorials, Note.

62 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
unfortunate ; the war soon died out, the hopes of the
Jacobites seemed crushed, and Lord Balcarres was re
leased from prison.*

* Alas ! the while, for the lawn and the liturgy ! The episcopalians,
almost to a man, adhering to King James, the presbyterians were the
only party William had to depend on in Scotland. They, with Lord
Crawford as their leader, (now president of the council and one of the
commissioners of the treasury,) zealously urged the purification of the
church ; and, though anxious to procure toleration for episcopacy,
William was obliged to comply with their demands and sanction a
test by which the clergy were forced explicitly to abjure prelacy or
vacate their charges.
Presbyterianism, however, has never been so popular in the High
lands as in the low country, and in the district of Glenorchy and
Inishail, the parish of the Reverend Dougal Lindsay, it seems to have
been regarded with peculiar distaste. This good man's memory was
long cherished in the glens, and his history is a pleasing exception to
the general severities exercised on his order. " Mr. Lindsay," says
the author of the Statistical Account of Scotland, " would not conform.
Pressed by the synod of Argyle, the noble proprietor of the country "
(Lord Breadalbane) " reluctantly wrote a letter of invitation to a presby
terian probationer in the shire of Perth, to be minister of Glenorchy.
He accepted, came on the close of a week to the parish, but could find
no house to receive him or person to make him welcome. In his dis
tress he was driven to the house of the man whom he came to supplant,
and was welcomed with a cordiality and kindness becoming a minister
of the Gospel. Over the whole parish there was a strong ferment.
People of all ages and conditions assembled from all quarters in the
churchyard on the Sabbath, long before tbe usual hour of worship. At
the appearance of the stranger, accompanied by their own pastor, there
was a general murmur of indignation. Twelve armed men, with drawn
swords, surrounded the astonished intruder. Two bagpipes sounded
the ' march of death.' Unmoved by the tears and remonstrances of Mr.
Lindsay, in this hostile and awful form they proceeded with their pri-

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 63

SECT. IV.
No sooner had Colin regained his liberty, than he en
gaged deeply in a plot for the king's restoration, set on
soner to the boundary of the parish and of the country. There, on his
bended knees, he solemnly engaged never more to enter the parish, or
trouble any person for the occurrences of that day. He was allowed to
depart in peace, and he kept his promise. The synod of Argyle were
much incensed — time cooled their anger. The proprietor was indul
gent, Mr. Lindsay deserving, the people loved him. He continued in
the undisturbed possession of his charge till his death, more than thirty
years after the aforesaid event."
Dougal Lindsay was the last episcopal minister of Glenorchy. — His
name is associated also with one of those beautiful legends that attach
themselves to every bush and bower, craig or cave, in the Highland
glens, — streaming, like gossamer threads, on the breeze of tradition.
" It is yet remembered," says the author of the " Stuart Tales," that
he was one evening " leaning on the dyke of his churchyard in the twi
light, and suddenly saw two little red lights rise from the ground, cross
the girth, and glide along the lane towards the river. He followed,
and saw them pass the ferry where the bridge of Urcha now stands,
and, ascending the hill, vanish among the cottars' houses on Aiden-
donich. In a few moments they reappeared, but seemed larger than at
first, and, as they approached, the clergyman discovered that the two
small lights were accompanied by a larger. They returned by the same
way to the churchyard, and disappeared where they had risen. In the
morning, Mr. Lindsay went to the place and discovered that it was the
burying-place of the MacNichols in Aidendonich, of whom the last in
terred were two infant children of a man who, with all his family, was
in good health. Not long after, however, the minister was called to
attend his sick-bed, and he died, and was buried beside his children on
the spot where the lights had risen and disappeared."
He had seen the corpse-candles.

64 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
foot by Sir James Montgomery of Skelmorly,* on the
discovery of which, in 1690, he thought it advisable to
* " This plot," says Earl James, " where[in] the duke of Argyle,
marquis of Annandale, Lord Ross, Sir James Montgomery, and many
other whigs who made the revolution, were concerned, in order to re
store King James, was in consequence of the same measure taken by
the heads of the whole whig party in England ; — the very men who
formed the plan of the revolution agreed to bring back the king they
had turned out, and this from their being disappointed in all the in
terested schemes they had formed. After the prince of Orange became
their king, he was under a necessity of employing only the tories in
the administration, being much the majority in parliament and the
whole actors in the change. The whigs having at last got a majority
in parliament, were resolved to satisfy their ambition and revenge,
which they might have accomplished if contrary winds had not pre
vented the French fleet, then master of the sea, from landing thirty
thousand men, embarked at La Hogue. The Dutch fleet, having joined
the English, became superior, and beat the French fleet, which put an
end to the plot in Britain. — When King William came to be informed
of the measures of the whigs, by the advice of Lord Sunderland, he
not only forgave, but put them in possession of all the great offices, as
believing they had acted from ambition rather than from disaffection to
him, — which fully thereafter appeared to be so. This account by Colin,
which is not mentioned in history, was thereafter fully confirmed to me
by Lord Stair and Lord Bolingbroke, with the further circumstance
that Sunderland was sent by the king with the seals of secretary of
state to the duke of Shrewsbury, head of the party, who told him the
king was fully informed of all he had been doing, yet not only forgave
him, but had sent him the seals as secretary of state. He declined ac
cepting them till he had consulted his friends ; he was told there was
no time for hesitation ; he was either to accept of them instantly, or a
colonel of the guards attended to carry him to the Tower — the last he
did not choose."

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 65
leave the country, expecting no favour from William.
He landed at Hamburgh, and from thence, on his road
to France, " went," says his grand-daughter, " by Hol
land, that he might take the opportunity of paying a
visit to the relations of the first Lady Balcarres. He ap
peared before them with that mitigated mildness of well-
bred sorrow, which, after a lapse of fifteen or twenty
years, and two or three wives in the interim, was not
supposed to be very lively. They were all grown old,
but the circumstances attending the whole remaining
fresh in their minds from having less to think of than
he had had, they presumed that he would have a melan
choly pleasure in looking at the picture of his wife. He
replied, ' that her picture was unnecessary to recal fea
tures he never could forget — there she was ! ' — (looking
at a painting well appointed as to frame, and honourably
stationed over the chimney-piece) — ' her manner — her
air ! ' — The honest vrow smiled ; it was one of the four
seasons I"
From Holland he proceeded through Flanders in a
coach with some friends. "As he ever found health
and pleasure by walking," says his son, " he chose to go
on foot with a guide through a wood to the next stage ;
he met with a party of banditti, who seized and robbed
him, and were going to kill him, but he had presence of
mind enough to tell them they had better let him live,
and he would pay them a good ransom, — but how could
he pay them ? He remembered the Jesuits had a college

66 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
at Douay ; — they, he said, would pay it. They agreed
for one hundred pistoles, but were thirty miles from
Douay : they gave him his choice, either to walk with
boots, or with his hands tied behind his back ; he chose
the latter, but found the first best; he walked afore-
tight with them ; they took his oath never to discover
them ; the money was paid, and he got his liberty, and
went to the college. The famous Father Petre was then
there : they received and treated him in the best manner,
got him clothes, and lent him money upon his bills, but
the father could not help making great complaints against
the king, that, if he would have taken his advice, all his
misfortunes might have been prevented. This Cohn re
peated to some of his friends, when he came to St. Ger
mains ; it was carried to the king, and the consequences
became hurtful to Colin. The king received him with
the utmost affection ; the queen no less so, having ever
been favourable to him ; and both acknowledged his zeal
and activity in their service."
It was then and there that Earl Colin presented to his
majesty the curious memoir from which I have made so
many extracts, and which, says Sir Walter Scott, " as he
was chiefly trusted by King James in his civU affairs, has
always been accounted a valuable historical document,
containing many particulars of the causes and effects of
the revolution in Scotland, not to be elsewhere found."*
* Somers' Tracts, xi. p. 487.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 67
It has twice been published, though from miserably cor
rupted and interpolated manuscripts.*
" Colin," says Earl James, " was still of opinion that
much might be done for the king's restoration, and twice
offered him schemes for that end ; when he presented a
third to him, he owned that what he had formerly writ
was specious, but that there was an error in all his views;
that his foundation of them was wrong, as he relied upon
the assistance of France for his restoration, which neither
he nor his family would ever obtain ; — that France would
ever find their advantage in the confusions of Britain,
and its being ruled over by kings who had not its true
interests at heart, and that he hoped nothing from them.
— Colin often said that this unhappy king (except in af
fairs where religion was concerned) was a wise and good
man. Bishop Burnet, in his memoirs, says no less, al
though one of his most zealous enemies."
After passing " six months at St. Germains, in great
familiarity with the king, Colin came to be thought too
much in favour by Melfort and the priests ; they artfully
forged a calumny against him, and he was forbid the
court. He retired to the South of France, and writ an
expostulatory letter to the king, of which he kept a copy;
* In general, I may say, whenever an illiberal reflection, (such as that
on Lord Mersington, protested against by Sir Walter Scott in the " Pro
vincial Antiquities," — that on Sir George Munro, — on the conduct of
the MacDonalds at Killicrankie, &c.) is met with in the printed book,
one may be pretty sure of finding a different or at least a gentlemanly
statement in the original work. r2

68 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
when he came home, he found a letter from his father
writ to King Charles the Second upon a like occasion,
and almost every word the same as his, and the senti
ments likewise. He had, by means of Lord Clarendon,
been forbid the court, but soon was invited back again.
So likewise was Colin, by a letter from the king, writ
with great goodness, owning that he had been imposed
upon. He was made sensible of this by James Malcolm,
who had been commissary-general of the army, and bro
ther of Lord Lochor of the session ; both had owed their
fortunes to Colin.* James would not leave the court to
go with Colin till justice was done him, yet Colin would
never return, as his enemies governed all. He passed a
year in France, returned to Brussells, then to Utrecht,
and sent for his wife and family from Scotland. He
passed there some years with tranquillity, in society
with Bayle, Leclerc, and other learned and agreeable
men." I insert here a few interesting letters that have
escaped the general wreck of Earl Colin's correspond
ence — ^from his near relation and hereditary friend, John
Drummond earl of Perth, chancellor of Scotland during
King James's prosperity, and his faithful adherent in ad
versity. Besides some curious " notes of the time," they
give a more pleasing and, probably, a juster impres
sion of the writer's character, than that which he is
remembered by in history. The two last, it will be
* Conf. Fountainhall's Diary, passim.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 69
observed, are addressed to Earl Cohn at St. Ger
mains, which seems to imply that he did pay a second
visit — probably a very short one — to the court of the
banished Stuarts.
John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
" My dearest lord : . . . .
I forgot to tell you in my last that the fathers
Jesuits of Liege had sent your money to Dinant, but the
messenger was stopped within the lines at Liege, so they
writ to me that they feared you might be in distress for
want of money, but that they could not hit upon any way
to help you ; and now, by yours of the third, I find it is
but too true. Woe's me for your severe sufferings ; I'll
swear I could have far more easily borne a share with
you in them than reflected on them so much as I have
done since I got your letter : — ^but I hope your welcome
has made up all again, and that now you are brisk and
hearty. If you be as well as I wish, I am sure you shall
have little to wish for yourself
For God's sake, write often, for I entirely depend upon
your friendship and tenderest affection ; and you know
you have a faithful retum. Hold to [God] ; all your
unlucky accidents may move you to  how to
love and serve that benign Being, [whose] protection
extricates you out of all your troubles. My dearest
friend, adieu ! " f3

70 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.

John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
" My dearest lord : —
Before this comes to your hands, you will have
had mine of the 26 July, and that makes that I shall say
the less now. It was most friendly and obligingly done
to see my lads at Douay. I'm glad they have so much
of your good opinion ; if they were not glad to see you,
they have not much of their father's inclinations. You
may write as freely hither as you do to Paris, for all
comes safe. My letters from Venice did not so, for I
lost two pacquets. I had the honour to receive Earl
Middleton's most obliging answer to a letter I writ to
him, and he may be sure of my service upon all occasions ;
I told I would write often to him, but I wait for your
advice. — Mr. Sec. Caryll* does me justice when he has
some kindness for me, for I have a great deal for him,
and, if any body be my enemy upon my brother' s-f" ac
count, I hope never to augment their ill will by any thing
done willingly by myself, and if they continue to be un
just, let them see to that, for I am not to blame.
As for your news of Scotland, Father Lesly, of the
Scottish college here, is better informed than any body ;
he tells me that the parliament there have given 120,000
pounds sterling, what by cess, what by poll-money ; that
old Stairs is pursued for bribery, and Sir John, his son,
* John Caryll, Esq., secretary to the queen. f Melfort.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 71
for accession to the order for the massacre of Glencoan ;
that earl Wigtoun, my son, and Meldrum, are cited
over to Edinburgh, to depose who is at St. Germains, in
order to forfault them, — but I hope they will have such
regard to their honour and to justice, as to preserve
themselves from being evidences, and none, save such
people as we have to deal with, would put men of qua
lity upon such hard locks.
Your Aix-la-Chapelle friend gives you her faithful
service. . . . You know that you are to dispose of me,
so I add no more. Adieu."
John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
" I have been very glad to receive your letters, but
never any of them gave me the joy this I have just now
got brings me. I hope in God your health shall be good
after this severe bout. Take care of it, if you have any
love for me ; but you have many better motives ; however,
let this come in for one. — You tell me you were not
too satisfied with your old friend in that short interview.
I'm sure, of all men, I have least ground to be pleased
with him, but I forgive him ; I'm sure I shall not be too
frank to trust him a second time, for he has dealt barba
rously with me, while I trusted him most entirely. Give
my duty to your best friends ; and remember all you
have to say there, when you have health and leisure. I
shall add no more now ; you shall hear more afterwards ;
this night I am in haste. Continue to love me ; I hope

72 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
I shall convince you that Italy does not corrupt all your
friends, for I have my head very much that way, — for now
I have no home ; I have no leave to go where I would,
— that's too great a happiness for me to hope for ; and I
know my friend has made all his relations odious, so at
Rome I may lurk, and end my days quietly.
Your friend here receives your remembrance with
all affection and respect, and was more sorry than you
will beUeve for your illness. Let me know if you got aU
my letters. Adieu."
" For E. Coll."

John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
"Antwerp: 15 July, 1694.
" My dearest lord.
You must find out some way how we may
write by other names, and then we shall correspond
more freely. I have yours of the 9th, (as I guess, for it
has no date,) and I'm heartily glad of your safe arrival.
If the young man love you as well as his father does, he'll
deserve your favour. You may entirely confide in Mr.
Innes,* and Jo : Wall, and, for Jo : Menzies, he's your
own : as I'm sure he's kind to me, which is as much as
he's capable of, and that says much, for he's as capable
as any I ever knew.
* Father Innes, president of the Scots college at Paris, and secretary
of state for Scotland in the exiled king's cabinet.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 73
The treatment you have met with from your old
friend and his lady is very odd. God forgive him, for
he does hurt to what I'm persuaded he wishes well to ;
but when people are entirely devoted to themselves, (as
it is said his lady makes him,) it blinds exceedingly.
You do most generously in taking no notice of it.
My heart has not been capable of any joy like what
yours must feel, now when you are to see our K : and Q :
— I'm sure it must be such a one as to me is unconceiv
able at present. I'm told from home, that there's no de
fence against the forfalture of my family. I thank God, I
have never been tempted to wish it might subsist upon
any other terms than to be serviceable to my dearest
master ; if things go well with him, I need not fear ; and
if not, should I beg a morsel of bread, I hope I shall
never complain. Give him and his lady my duty, and
kiss our young master his hand for me ; I have no long
ing but to see them all together, and I must confess I
languish for that happiness. I'm sure if some-body have
any thing, you will not want, so you may call for it until
your own money arrives. I'm going to Bruxelles for
eight days ; there I hope to hear from you. Your friend
you were so well wdth at Aix salutes you cordially, and
speaks often most kindly of you with great esteem.
Continue to love, my dearest lord, yours entirely, &c."
"A Mr. M. Du Gat ; cbez Mons. Lucas,
Marchand Libraire a la
Bible d' or,
Rue de la Harpc, Paris."

74 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
" Rotterdam, 23 Aug., 1694.
" My dearest lord : —
Since my leaving of Ghent, I had not the good
luck to meet with a post-day until now that I'm here,
where I found yours of the date of August, but without
any day ; however, I guess by it, it is about the 9th. I
heartily thank God for your recovery, and, to tell you my
very sincerest thoughts, few things in this world could
have moved me so very much as your sickness has done ; I
was afraid while it lasted to such a degree that I trembled
to open any letter from your quarters ; and your recovery
gives me a joy suitable to the fright I was in ; and, both
proceeding from my love to you, it is no wonder they
are excessive. Dear earl, for God's sake, mind your
health, and remember you owe some regard to your
friends in the matter ; do not believe your health such
as cannot be ruined, but manage it so as to be useful to
your master, to your family, and to your friends.
In the next place, let me beg you to fuid some way,
how we may correspond under other names ; this shall
be my last with either name or title, so, using the ad
dress you gave me, conclude aU you get written in my
hand is for you. Do not you say any thing to me that
looks like title either, but let us tell our tale, and there's
an end.
I hear that the affairs of your family, where you are.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 75
are in a very bad state, God help them ! I hope your
endeavours will help to bring them to such a strain of
reason and moderation as may give reputation to your
proceedings ; for the most part, trade is carried on by
credit, and a good reputation goes a great way. Ra
tional sober methods, such as may be feasible, is what I
ever liked in my own affairs, and I like well to hear that
your friends are inclining that way. I could say a great
deal, but must delay it for a reason you shall know.
As to your stay where you are, I doubt not but you
will soon be at a point, and, I hope, to all our satisfac
tions. Meanwhile mind your health, for there, at pre
sent, lies my chief care, — and poor Florio too has been
very ill, and another dear friend Ukeways, whose love to
me is most tender, has been ill ; it is almost fatal to have
any kindness for me. Sir Ad. B. said true of D. Q. — he
was very ill, and much dejected, as you know sickness
is apt to make him, but he's better, and may come
through ; but I hardly think he'll live long. Your friend
says she'll never fail you ; a thousand times she says she
admires how she did not know you much sooner, but she
promises to redeem the time.
I have now gone through all your most welcome let
ter ; I need add no more this bout. God knows how
faithfully I love you, and what joy it is to me that Mr.
Innes and you are so good friends. I wish the continu
ance of it, and of all other felicities, (for certainly it is
no small one to have such a friend,) to my dearest lord !
Adieu !"

76 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
" 27 Sept. 1694.
" Dearest sir ; 
The letter you sent me in your last was a cor
dial that had its full effect in giving me a joy that cannot
be expressed. And I must tell you for your comfort,
that none alive could have a more just esteem of your
carriage than I find marked in that letter, so you have
but to go on, and you will procure honour to your friend
by answering his character of you, and favour to your
self for your capacity, and the well employing of it 
The young man is very proud of your kind remembrance;
there's nothing yet done as to his security, nor can there,
until it come from home : — he is your faithful servant.
Pray write fully, but not too plain ; for, although nothing
of consequence can be betwixt us, yet here they make
mountains of mole-hills.
I do not much covet Sir K"''* conversion. If it be,
God grant it be sincere, and then he'll cheat nobody ;
for to be catholic indeed, is not to change an opinion
only, but to become conform to what God requires of
such to whom He has revealed what they are to believe
of Him, and what they must do to please Him. K he
be thus converted, there will be joy in heaven for it, and
all true catholics will not need to blush at their receiving
him into their society : but now you wdll begin to think
I'm going to preach ; — there's only you and Jo : Florio

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 77
(where you are) that I would fain preach to ; and I have
hitherto had so small success, that it is a wonder I'm not
rebutted ; but I shall never give over.
The enclosed is for the person who writ under your
cover last ; I hope you will be as good as my promise
for you ; I were unworthy of your friendship, if I had
any doubt upon that head. Let me know all your news,
and believe I'm as much yours as I can be. Adieu !
My friend and yours salutes you with the wonted affec
tion and familiarity ; when we know where we are to
winter, we will write about the lady upon the Elbe.
Adieu !" "A.M. M. Fonteuay le Jeune,
Banquier a Paris."
John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
"Rome; 10 May, 1695.
" My dearest lord : —
Many a time I have been vexed at the heart
for what related to you, but never for what came from
you before ; can my own dearest lord fancy me capable
of the villainy of failing to him without any apparent
ground ? Since I saw you, I have passed through Ger
many, but am not yet so tainted with that air as to lose
my senses by the fumes of old hock to the degree of
making a querelle d'Almagne with one of the persons
breathing I love and honour the most. Since I left Hol
land, I have two of yours, but both were here before me.

78 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
SO that, until yesterday, I saw neither ; and, on the road,
(except I had had a style florid enough to have outdone
Scuderi, Balzac, Voiture, &c., in giving you a description
of the odd romantic situations on the banks of the Rhine,
and the other knight-errant adventures of a distressed
lady and a banished cavalier,) I had nothing worthy your
trouble to send towards you. Indeed from Venice I
ventured two letters — (although that state be now very
indifferently affectionate towards our interest, and con
sequently letters going towards France with diSiculty
enough,) to Mr. Innes, to tell him I was got that length,
but I reserved to write to your lordship from hence,
where I hope I may adventure to write more freely ; —
and from you (notwithstanding you say you write often)
I have not one syllable but the two I have got within
these twenty-four hours. Mr. Innes tells me he has
writ several s too, biit all have miscarried save two I got
at Venice, one at Modena, and those I found here.
I confess both yours and mine, and the concerns of all
such as have no resource save what you call their own
little baggage, are to be pitied, but what shall we do ?
Duty calls upon us to suffer ; want is a grievous burden;
and to be unjust loses all ! For me, I see no remedy save
patience ; and even this virtue must be supported by a
great deal of faith, God help us ! — My son applied to
P. O. without my concurrence (for I had rather have lost
my life than done what he has done), but he had reason
to believe he had ground for it, although indeed he
had none. This may seem a mystery, but many things

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 79
must be such until we meet, and then, if I be put in mind
by you, I will clear all.
I believe no people are more jealous, envious, and
peevish, than such as have not the possibility of making
any fortune by those they serve ; for, where the interest
cannot carry men on in their duty, mere virtue will scarce
do the feat without a great deal of the grace of God. But
to be so well with those you serve is a support that is a
counterpoise to very many other inconveniencies. I be
lieve both my companion and you are weary of travelling ;
I'm sure she is to a very strange degree ; but we must
follow our destiny. This is to let your lordship know
my thoughts upon reading your first letter, which is of
the 20 of March : — now to the next. I find you are half
jealous that some influence from where you now are may
have made me less yours than formerly ; but God knows
how ill grounded any such suspicion is, far less from the
hand you imagine than from any other, — for my brother
has so far taken pet at me, (although I be not in the
wrong to him,) that, since I left Rotterdam, I have not
one word from him. So, my dearest lord, conclude that
I'm more proof now against all the world in your con
cerns than ever I was. Although I do not profess to be
indifferent for my wife, yet we have never pretended to
be led by one another, — ^however, an adroit turn or dis
course may hurt or help one in any person's opinion, —
this temptation makes me always most upon my guard
with those I love best, — and, some time ago, I had this to
fear in your lordship's case ; you were not very inti-

80 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
mately known to my wife, and many of her friends, as I
told you, had wrestled much to have her no friend of
yours ; but, since our being at Aix, I dare say that you
have not a friend loves you better, or has a more just
esteem of your merit than she has. This being, what's
next to be doubted ? and even this is nothing, were it as
at the worst ; for I know you, others do not. This is the
first post-day after my arrival ; my next letter shall be
fuller ; meanwhile believe that I'm fully and entirely
your own, and nothing shall ever alter me. My wife is
your servant. Adieu !
Give my faithful service to dear Earl Middleton. I'll
write to him by next post. You have reason to believe
Mr. Innes your friend ; believe me, he'll never make a
profession of friendship that is not sincere, and I know
he loves you."
" For the £. of Balcarres,
at St. Germain's."
John earl of Perth to Colin earl of Balcarres.
"Rome, 26 July, 1695.
" My dearest lord : —
Yours of the 15 June has been with me more
than a fortnight, but I have been indisposed ten days
of it. I make no doubt but that St. Germains is, as all
courts are, full of jealousy and envy, and the more that
there's little to give, and many that want ; and even
those that do not ask are hated because they may come
to ask ; and, if every one had what he imagines he de-

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 81
serves, the three kingdoms would not suffice ; and much
of all that's the ground of jars with you is chimeras and
goukrie : but, amidst all this, I rejoice that you keep
yourself free of siding, and that nobody has your clatter
to pursue. For my part, I would be as soon angry at
Cromwell's porter in bedlam, as with the poor diseased
folks who rave against one another upon none or very
small grounds ; but you do well, and I am satisfied ; and,
seeing you are good friends with one of my best friends,
good worthy Mr. Innes, I have enough. They are happy
who serve so just and so discerning a master and mistress
as we do. They will not receive a tale, without it can
be made out, nor discredit any body until it be more
than deserved ; for my owti part, I have troubles and
difficulties more than you can imagine, but to serve
such masters sweetens all.
My brother does ill to push to return ; for my part,
had I twice his parts, and were I vain to a degree to
believe myself useful to the king's service, I could ne
ver be brought to fancy that I could be worth maintain
ing against many, or to be put in the balance against
those who must do the great work, or it must be un
done. Now I'm glad you are satisfied that you were in the
wrong in believing me unkind, — I'm sure you shall never
have reason ; and you do my wife justice when you be
lieve her your servant. She dates your friendship with
her from Aix-la-Chapelle, and defies all the world to find
a flaw in it since that time ; — and, except three letters, I

82 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
had none from my brother since I saw you, two of which
I got since I came to Italy, but he never names any body
in particular, although in general he is not pleased with
those who he thinks occasion his absence from the court,
but I never enter into that subject, for, in my judgment,
I am not for his desiring to return, and every truth is
not acceptable, so I say nothing.
I am glad my lady is returned, for I was not for her
stay in Holland or Flanders ; the expense was great and
very useless ; if she had been wdth you, well ; but to be
keeping two distinct equipages, little as they are, takes
money. Except the P. of O. be very successful this cam
paign, I do not believe the Scottish pretended parliament
will dare to forfault any body, for here (where people
see far enough, and are fond enough of him too,) his af
fairs are not looked upon as very fixed ; and although in
Scotland they are fool enough and wood-headed to boot,
and ruled by Johnston, who has nothing to lose, yet, I
fancy, they will have some reserve in forfaulting, lest a
sauce for a goose come to serve a gander.
As to your hopes of somewhat now, I should be glad
to know the grounds ; for really, (to write as to my
friend,) I do not see the least probability. The passage
stopped, — no forces to spare, — no solid correspondence
at home, — many engaged on the other side by w^hat's ow
ing to them, by new honours, by present gain, by hatred
to us, by fear of punishment, or, at least, reproach,
and a multitude of other reasons; and for the mob,
good God ! who would have to do with them that were

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 83
not absolutely able to keep them in awe ? Our Spaniards
here will have France swallowed this year up like a
poached egg. Casall does not please them as to the
treaty, for France offered more than this to the Pope,
Venetians, and Great Duke, three full years since : how
ever, Flanders is the hopes ; they make no doubt but
that P. O. will quarter in the Fr. country this winter,
and then, they say, England will give more than ever :
but, as you would advise our folks very justly not to di
vide the bear's skin before he's caught, so they must de
feat the French before they share his country. Our good
old man here loves the K. and will do him what kindness
he can, if it come once to a treaty, and most people here
look on this as the last campaign of this war.
I have not heard from Jo : Menzies since I left Ant
werp. I writ to Earl Middleton, and had the honour of
a letter from him ; if it were not to trouble him, I would
write often, no man having more esteem of him or sin
cere inclination to serve him than I have, so let me know
if I shall write frequently, and I'll do it ; for nothing but
respect restrains me. Be pleased to give his lordship
my service. My wife gives you hers. She bears the
heat better than I do.
Dearest earl, for this bout, adieu ! "
" For the earl of Balcarres,
St. Germains."
Some years previous to this period. Earl Colin had
married a third wife. Lady Jean Ker, paternally Drum
mond, only daughter of William earl of Roxburgh,
g2

84 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
youngest son of John earl of Perth, and cousin of the
friend whose letters you have just perused. By this
lady, he was father of Colin master of Balcarres, who
died unmarried in 1708, while aid-de-camp to his fa
ther's old friend, the duke of Marlborough, — and Lady
Margaret Lindsay, who married John earl of Wigton,
and had one daughter married to Sir Archibald Prim
rose. Of Jean Lady Balcarres there are no descend
ants, but those of Lady Margaret Campbell, Colin's
fourth and last wife, are very numerous. This worthy
lady, who survived her husband many years, was daugh
ter of James second earl of Loudoun, by Lady Margaret
Montgomery, paternally Seyton, daughter of Hugh se
venth earl of Eglintoun. She bore him several children,
of whom four survived him ; Alexander and James, suc
cessively earls of Balcarres, — Lady Eleanor, wife of
James Eraser of Lonmay, third son of William eleventh
Lord Saltoun, — and Lady Elizabeth, or, as she was
commonly called in the familiar style of that day. Lady
Betty Lindsay.
As Colin had ever been careless of his fortune, his
long exile brought his affairs in Scotland into great dis
order. His pension had been stopped at the revolution,
and the difficulties incident to the homeless life of a pro
scribed Jacobite, had burdened him with five thousand
pounds of debt. Many applications were made to King
William to permit him to come home. The duke of
Glueensberry says, in a letter to Carstairs, (secretary of
state for Scotland,) " I have now fully discoursed the

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 8,')
kuig's servants about Lord Balcarres ; they express all of
them a compassion towai'ds him, and a trouble for the
sufferings of his family, but are of opinion that the favour
which his majesty intends him should be delayed till after
the parhament. For my ow ii part, I see no danger or
inconvenience in letting him come over immediately.
He is an instance of the foUy of Jacobitism, and, when
he comes, the party may see in him the fate of their ex
travagances ; wherefore, I am so far fi-om opposing the
king's intended goodness to that lord, that I wdsh his
majesty would allow it in such a frank way as that he
should be obliged by it."
Carstairs had already influenced his master in Colin's
favour. " This man," says Earl James, " had merit, and
the direction of all Scots affairs. Colin had walked on
foot, as usual, to the Hague, to sohcit his favour ; Car
stairs told the king, a man he had once favoured was in
so low" a condition that he had footed it from Utrecht
that morning to desire him to speak for him. ' If that
be the case,' savs he, ' let him go home ; he has suffered
enough.' " Lord Balcarres accordingly returned to Scot
land towai-ds the end of 1 700, after ten years' exile, —
and his mother, as I have already intimated, had thus the
happiness of once more embracing him before her death.
Colin had scarcely reached home before the new s ar
rived of King James's decease at St. Germains. " Hap
py," says Lady Anne Lindsay, " is the man who, on
closing a life of error and misfortune, can lay down his
head on the pillow of death, conscious that pm"e mean-
G 3

86 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
ings at least have guided him in all his acts. — Short-lived
are the triumphs of greatness in this world. William
survived his father-in-law but a few months. As he was
his opposite in every thing, one might have expected a
better character of him from our historian than that he
gives him, — it only proves that the reverse of a fault is
not always stamped as a virtue : — ' a fatalist in religion,
indefatigable in war, enterprising in politics, dead to all
the warm and generous emotions of the human heart, a
cold relation, an indifferent husband, a disagreeable
man, an ungracious prince, and an imperious sove
reign.' " SECT. V.
On Queen Anne's accession Lord Balcarres went to
court to wait on her majesty. Macky describes him at
this period of his life as " a gentleman of very good na
tural parts, hath abundance of application, handsome in
his person, very fair, and towards sixty years old."* The
duke of Marlborough, " with whom," says Earl James,
" he had an early friendship, and who often said he was
the pleasantest companion he ever knew, got him a rent-
charge of £500 a year, for ten years, upon the crovm-
lands of Orkney, as he had lost his pension of £1000 a
year at the revolution. This gift enabled him to live
cheerfully with his friends and neighbours, his vivacity,
* In appearance,— for he was not in reality more than fifty.

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 87
knowledge, and experience, rendering him agreeable to
all men."
Ere the ten years, however, had elapsed, his necessi
ties compelled him to sell, for a mess of pottage, even
this small compensation for his birthright ; and, at the
close of those ten years, I find him addressing the fol
lowing affecting memorial to the last of the royal Stuarts
that filled the throne of her ancestors, the good Queen
Anne : — Belisarius never begged his obol with more
dignity. " May it please your majesty : —
Since the beginning of our little family, my
forefathers and I have constantly been in the interest of
the royal family, have served our kings in prosperity,
and followed their fortunes in adversity, nor have we
ever thought of making any other estate but their favour.
On the other side, they were ever so kind, gracious, and
bountiful to us, that, either with royal donatives or good
employments, they kept us in condition, though with a
small estate, to live up with any of our rank they had
been pleased to advance us to. My father waited on
your royal uncle in all his misfortunes, and died the year
of his happy restoration, just when in view of reaping
the fruits of all his labours ; but his majesty was so gra
cious as to provide for his widow and children, and
settled one thousand pounds a-year on her and the
longest liver of her two sons, which I enjoyed until the
revolution. I do not complain at its being stopped all
G 4

88 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
the reign of King William, since, by following an interest
which in gratitude I thought I was obliged to do, I put
myself out of capacity of having any favour from him :
but, since your majesty's happy accession to the crown,
all your servants will do me the justice to let you know
I never failed in going along wdth them in every thing
was judged for your interest. I have likeways tasted of
your royal bounty, but now, my two sons being men,
and their employment bearing no proportion to their ex
pense, and having two daughters unprovided for, makes
my circumstances very hard ; which obliges me to beg
of your majesty that you will be pleased to continue this
pension I have for life, or any part of it your goodness
will be pleased to bestow ; that I may pay my debts,
provide for my children, and taste in my old age a little
ease and quiet ; which will oblige me more, if possible,
so long as I live, to pray for your long life and pros
perity." Scotland, at the commencement of the eighteenth
century, was politically divided between the whigs, Ja
cobites, and country party, which professed indifference
as to the succession to the crown after Queen Anne's de
cease, provided the independence and interests of their
country were secured. The next heirs were the prince
of Wales and the elector of Hanover, the nearest pro
testant relation of Queen Anne. The Jacobites, behev-
ing that her majesty was favourable to her brother's

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 89
claims, were willing to submit to her for the present and
" bide their time."
The union of the sister kingdoms took place in 1707,
a measure of which the experience of a century has
proved the wisdom, though nothing could be bitterer
than the opposition offered against it at the time from
every quarter of the country. It was long indeed before
the advantages that accrued from this treaty to both
kingdoms were felt and acknowledged. Earl James,
though his father — like his kinsmen Crawford and Gar
nock — ^had approved of and supported the measure,
could never, to his death, think or speak of it without
indignation.*
* In a poetical epistle to his wife, written forty-four years after the
union, and in which he represents himself sitting
" As whilom miserable Jews
Upon Euphrates' banks,"
vainly lamenting Zion lost, this feeling bursts out in a few rough and
nervous lines of indignation at the Squadrone —
" Surely condemned in everlasting flames
To howl their penitence and country's praise !" —
and lamentation over his country,
" Bound and delivered to her worst of foes
By traitor sons,
And ravished under wedlock's sacred name !"
" The song," he proceeds, (alluding to the well-known scoff of Find-
later,) — " The song
Shall never die while men and letters live !
Still shall be sung how the great Fergus conquered,
And how his valourous progeny maintained

90 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Colin master of Balcarres died, as I have already men
tioned, in 1708. Of Alexander, the second son, after
wards earl of Balcarres, I shall speak more hereafter.
James, his only surviving brother, preferring the naval
to the military service, went to sea at the age of thir
teen. " He got the queen's letter," says he of him
self, " on board the Ipswich, commanded by Captam
Robert Kirktoun, who owed his preferment to Sir
George Rook, the ablest marine admiral of his time ;
and he appeared to have deserved his power by many
brave and successful actions, which acquired him a
great fortune, which he generously and genteelly used.
He had been riotous in his youth, but was become
sober, studious, and regular ; although without edu
cation, his excellent judgment and memory acquired
him an universal knowledge in what was most valu
able among men; his zeal for liberty, his virtue and

This hardy soil, by social arts and well
Conducted armies ; Rome's rapid eagles here,
Repelled, could soar no more —
The Intrepid Normans, Saxons, Danes,
Invincible in every other clime,
Here nothing gained but graves, ennobling
Our chiefs of families and clans
For ages past resplendent ! Alas! how now
Obscured, degenerate !
. . . When liberty departs
Fair virtue is no longer heard nor seen !
***** When young, I boldly drew my sword
In our sold country's cause, and now in age,
Unable to relieve, lament, deplore ! "

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 91
capacity, and the beauty of his manners, made him loved
and esteemed by all who had merit. James was so happy
as to get into favour with this excellent man, who treated
him as a kind father during the five years he passed with
him ; the last three, he lived with him inseparably, at sea
and on shore, as a friend. If there was any merit in his
future life, it was owing to the precepts and example of
this accomplished friend, who died, to his great misfor
tune, at the time he was involved in the disorders of our
country in the year 1715. It was by his means James
was made lieutenant of the Portland : in this ship he un
derwent all manner of hardships for near three years,
went late in the year to Archangel, and was twice in
Sweden, where the plague had raged : this obliged him
to two quarantines in winter. He lost his health in the
last voyage, which he did not for many years fully reco
ver ; this obliged him to uncommon temperance, which
he came to love, and persevered in it to the end of his
days." The following anecdote of Earl James's early career
was related to me by one of his sons, and shews the folly
of puppyism, and the contempt in which it is held by the
wise and experienced in the naval, as well as every other
profession. Like most other gay and handsome young
men, he was fond of shewing off his natural graces to the
best advantage, and on the day appointed for his exami
nation as lieutenant, waited upon his judges in a rich suit
of clothes, with red silk stockings, and pink heels to his
shoes ; his examiners were a set of rough seamen in

92 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
sailors' jackets, who abhorred dandyism ; they deter
mined not to let him pass, and sent him back to sea for
six months. At the expiration of that time, he reappeared
before the nautical tribunal, a wiser man — in a sailor's
dress, w ith a quid of tobacco in his cheek, — passed a
most rigid examination with great credit, and was dis
missed with the assurance that he had acquitted himself
equally to their satisfaction six months before, — " but we
were determined," said they, " not to pass you till you
were cured of your puppyism, which will not do for a
sailor." James's ship being paid off at the peace, want of
health and the desire of seeing his friends brought him,
then a youth of twenty-five, to Scotland. He found
his father engaged with Lord Mar in measures for the
insurrection of 1715. Earl Colin's affection for the
Stuarts had not chilled beneath the snows of more than
sixty winters ; he thought his example might induce
others to join the prince's standard, and the venerable
enthusiast was prepared to hazard once more, and on
this last cast, the life he had so long devoted to the
Stuarts' cause ; and " those," to use the words of his
grand-daughter, " those who know the manner in which
a Scotsman's heart leaps at the sound of the trumpet,
when it calls him into the field to assert his monarch's
hereditary right, will know how impossible it was for
Colin to resist its impulse."
" It was with grief," proceeds our well remembered
relative, " that James saw his father plunging himself

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 93
deeply in a cause, which his own heart would have rushed
forward to join, had he conceived there was any hope of
success. Every habit of his infancy, every prejudice of
his nature, attached him to a family, under which his
own had been so much advanced, but he saw in the
Chevalier St. George (as he wished himself to be called),
a prince so unsupported by friends, allies, resources, or
experience, either in politics or war, that he augured ill
of the attempt, and, like Cassandra, he spoke his pro
phecies in vain." — " As, however", to use his own
words, "he found his father inflexible, he would not
desert htm, especially as our poor country was recently
betrayed and sold, — its liberty and independency, so
nobly defended for ten ages, given up to a nation who
were never our friends, and this done by a parliament,
in opposition to the general voice and petitions of every
town and county in the whole nation ; this rebellion,
then, seemed to him as the only means left to recover
our lost liberty." " In good men," continues Lady
Anne, " a love of their country is a principle congenial
with their nature, but with my father it was a passion
which took the lead of all others : — applying himself to
this chance with every exertion of his powers, nothing
was left untried." " He and his friend the master of
Sinclair, with the help of others, levied three troops of
gentlemen, who acted as common soldiers ; he was one
of the three captains of this body ; they acted as soldiers
at the battle of Sheriffmuir, — five squadrons of dragoons
ran away before three squadrons of them ; they kept

94 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
together and in order, acting with the greatest gallantry,
and, when the Highlanders returned from the pursuit,
upon the left wing being beat, they had these squadrons
to rally to ; this saved the army, and Lord Marischal, by
order of the earl of Mar, came to their front, and
thanked the whole body for their behaviour."
All was at last undone ; the prince fled the country,
and almost every family which had joined in the insur
rection was ruined. " Here," says Lady Anne, after
mentioning the prince's flight, "before we land him
safely in France, let me say one word in favour of the
Scots nation, of poverty, and of human nature. Though
£100,000 had been offered for the head of this young
prince, taken dead or alive, no Highlander or Low-
lander could be found so greedy, poor as they were, as
to betray the unfortunate chevalier, w^ho passed on to the
sea-side through bands of people, all of whom knew him,
and had but to lay hold of him to be protected and en
riched. — Of his companions in arms, some were par
doned, though of these the numbers were very few,
some banished, and their estates forfeited ; others were
executed, in spite of the tears and entreaties of their
wives and families ; and some, the objects of particular
resentment, had their heads posted up with ferocious
policy at Temple-bar, to mark to the citizens of London,
as they passed under them, the fate of rebels, — ^for they
had not then Adam Smith, that enlightened philosopher,
to define the word ' rebel ' to be one of those poor de
vils who happen to have taken the losing side."

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 95
All hope being over, and Colin's head being in danger
through his share in the insurrection, the duke of Marl
borough, without any solicitation, wrote to General
Cadogan to do whatever was in his power to save his
old friend. The duke of Argyle, to whose father Colin
had been of service in the low estate into which he had
fallen in King James the Second's time, was also favour
ably disposed. After Argyle's execution in 1685, and
the ruin of his family, his son, the duke's father, was in
London, and in extreme want, when Colin, interceding
with King James, had procured him a pension of £800
a-year. "A good tum," says the proverb, "is never
lost." The duke, by whose exertions the late rebellion
had in great measure been suppressed, and who was
eager to do what he could for his father's friend, agreed
with Marlborough, that on Lofd Balcarres's surrendering
himself, they should send him to his own house, with a
single dragoon to attend him, on which understanding
he gave himself up, and remained at Balcarres till the
indemnity. " My father,* on the other hand," says Lady Anne,
" felt no anxiety respecting results, but left his interest
in the hands of his partial aunt. Lady Stair, who was at

* " When all was undone, James was concealed till he could find
means to go abroad. His aunt, the countess of Stair, who loved him,
represented him to General Cadogan as one who was in arms only upon
account of his father. Cadogan sent her a remission to James, got by
his and Lord Stanhope's request to the king." — Earl James's Memoirs.

96 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
court, and solicited a remission for him, under the plea
of his having been in some degree constrained to fol
low his father in the rebellion ; which remission being
granted," (accompanied with a lieutenant's commission
in the Royal North British Dragoons, or Scots Greys,
commanded by his uncle. Sir James Campbell,) " all
was supposed to be forgiven and forgotten."
Earl Colin spent the rest of his days at Balcarres.
" The night-gown and slippers," says his grand-daugh
ter, "which formed the first jest of his married life,
formed the solace of his old age ; he never wore any
other dress, but gave himself up to the love of letters,
and added to his library." Sibbald, in 1710, describes
Balcarres as " a large and fine house, with gardens, great
enclosures, and much planting. He " (Earl Colin) " has
a great bibliotheck here ; he has caused build a hand
some village below his house, which is named after him
self, Colinsburgh." — Sixty years had elapsed between his
residence as a boy at Balcarres in CromweU's time, and
his return thither in that of George the First : he had
survived the oppressor of his childhood, the benefactor
of his youth ; the memory of Charles and his gay court,
to which the " light Lindsay" had once been such a dis
tinguished ornament, seemed as a dream to the aged and
" decourted" statesman ; Lauderdale, Sir Robert Moray,
James and his queen, Argyle, Dundee — all were gone ;
WiUiam of Orange, his private friend and political enemy,
was gone too ; Mary and Anne were dead and forgot
ten, — he had flourished and fallen with the house of

COLIN EARL OF BALCARRES. 97
Stuart, and withered under that of Hanover ; after
seven years of tranquillity, and preparation, I trust, for
eternity, he died in 1722, "much lamented by his chil
dren and friends, who passionately loved him,"* — and
was buried with his fathers in the chapel of Balcarres.
" One of the handsomest and most accomplished men
of his time, a man of letters, but fond of pleasure, and
pleasure's favourite,"-f~ such was Colin Lindsay, "the
elegant and learned Balcarres."]:

* Earl James's Memoirs. f Lady Anne Barnard.
j Chambers.

98 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.

CHAPTER XIII.

" When young, I boldly drew my sword
In my sold country's cause, and now in age,
Unable to relieve, lament — deplore." James earl or Balcarres.
" A memorable age.
Which did to him assign a pensive lot,
To linger 'mid the last of those bright clouds
That on the steady breeze of honour sailed
In long procession, calm and beautiful." Wordsworth.

SECT. I.

Earl Colin was succeeded by his eldest surviving son,
Alexander master of Balcarres, described in his brother's
memoirs as " tall and strong, beautiful and indefatigable,
of a cheerful and benevolent spirit, — ^he seemed to love,
and was justly beloved by all men for his integrity, vi
vacity, and goodness. He had entered the army at an
early age, and served in Lord Orkney's regiment in

ALEX. FOURTH EARL OF BALCARRES. 99
Flanders from 1707 to the end of the war, was in all the
battles and most of the sieges during that time, was
wounded at the siege of St. Venant, and was looked upon
by all as an active, iijtrepid, and skilful officer.* He was
in Ireland with his regiment," continues Earl James,
" at the time his father and brother were in the rebelhon,
which made him lose all hope of favour or preferment
in the army ; he came home, and married Miss Elizabeth
Scott, daughter of Scottstarvet, — a woman of uncommon
merit and virtue, who loved him and his family, and was
beneficent to it even after he was dead."
The only one of his letters (with the exception of the
last he ever penned) that I have been fortunate enough to
discover, affords an instance of the affection with which
she concurred with her husband in comforting his aged
parent on some occasion when his mind had been pain
fully agitated by. the difiiculties that loyalty had entailed
on his family. " It was heavy to me," he writes, " to see
my dear father so uneasy when I parted with you ; let
me beg of you that you'll be a little easier, and be per
suaded that there is nothing in my power shall be want
ing to contribute to your ease and quiet, and that it wdll
be the greatest pleasure of my life to make yours as
* A spirited reply of his is still remembered and cited in illustration
of his character. A portion of the British army, in which he had a
command, besieging a town in Flanders, was in its turn threatened by
a superior force. Voting under these circumstances for perseverance
in the siege, he was asked, " What, then, have we to retreat upon ?" —
" Upon heaven !" — was his reply — and they ultimately took the town.
h2

100 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
agreeable as I can, which both nature and gratitude
oblige me to." — He proceeds to entreat him, when in
want of money during his absence, to apply to his wife
for it as readily as he would to himself, and to spare his
shyness by communicating his wishes (which she was
prepared to comply with) through " the bishop," — a re
verend friend, then domiciled at Balcarres, whose sacred
character would, alone, have ensured him a welcome in
those days of persecution. — " For God's sake, my dear
father," he concludes, " take care of yourself, as you re
gard the satisfaction of your children — and I may with
safety say never son had more kindness for a father, or
[with] more reason, than I have : — all the blessings of
heaven and earth be with my dear father !"
Earl Alexander needed the philosophy of a christian to
lighten the difficulties into which the reverses of former
years had plunged his family. His estate yielded little,
and, preferment in the army being closed agamst the
son and brother of a rebel, it was not till the year 1 732
that he attained the highest military rank he ever en
joyed, a company in the foot-guards. Two years after
wards he was chosen one of the sixteen representatives
of the Scottish peerage, an honour he did not long
live to enjoy, being called from this world to a better in
1736. He too had a friend — one whom his father's mother
would have deemed worthy of that sacred title— one
whose name is associated with aU that is exceUent and
amiable— Duncan Forbes of CuUoden, the well-known

ALEX. FOURTH EARL OF BALCARRES. 101
lord president of the Court of Session,* by whom the
following letters were received shortly after his friend's
* " Duncan Forbes," says Lord Woodhouselee, " was in all respects
one ofthe most eminent men of his time. His learning was extensive and
profound, reaching even to the oriental languages ;" and he had that
acuteness and subtilty of parts which is peculiarly fitted to the nice dis
criminations of the law, but which was always regulated in him by the
prevailing principles of his nature, probity, candour, and a strong sense
of the beauty of virtue and moral excellence. . . In the eloquence of
the bar, Forbes outshone all his cotemporaries ; for he united to great
knowledge of jurisprudence, a quickness of comprehension that disco
vered to him at once the strong ground of argument which he was to
press, or the weakness of the doctrine which he wished to assail. When
raised to the presidency of the court, the vigour of his intellect, his pa
tience in the hearing of causes, his promptitude in the dispatch of bnsi
ness, the dignity of his deportment, and, above all, the known probity
and integrity of his mind, gave the highest weight to the decisions of
that tribunal over which he presided. When to these qualifications we
add an extensive acquaintance with human nature, acquired and im
proved in a most active public life, and uniformly directed to the great
ends of promoting the welfare and prosperity of his fellow-citizens, and
discharging his duty to God and to his country, we shall have some
faint idea of the character of Duncan Forbes."
" In his person," says the editor of the Culloden Papers, " Mr.
Forbes was elegant and well formed. . . As a husband, father, and
brother, he was exemplary ; and as a master, affable and indulgent. . .
No man was in society more divested of care, or merrier, ' within the
limits of becoming mirth.' . . In his friendships he was sincere and
very steady ; and those of any merit, with whom he had in the early
part of his life been intimate, never found that his elevation to fortune
or office occasioned the smallest coolness or distance in him. . . To his

i" He is said to have read the Bible in Hebrew eight times over.
h3

102 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
decease ; the former written by Lord Balcarres on his
death-bed, the latter from the house of mourning by his
successor. " My dear lord, —
I know upon these occasions it's imagined by
some people something should be said, but, as I know
friendship the first families were often indebted for advice and assist
ance ; and not a few confided to his integrity the care of their children.
His knowledge of mankind was deep and extensive ; and no man
had studied with more success the peculiar character, and motives for
action, of the Highlanders ; which gave him great weight among them.
This was increased by his boundless generosity. . . He was a sincere
believer in, and defender of, the Scriptures, and the doctrines of Christi
anity ; from which he derived a steady incentive to that virtue which
he loved and practised throughout life, and rays of comfort in the hour
of death."
Such was Duncan Forbes, " one of the greatest men," says Bishop
Warburton, "which Scotland ever bred; both as ajudge, a patriot,
and a christian."
" The last words which the lord president delivered to his son, who
had been sent for from England on his father's illness, were written
down in a book at the time. The memorandum is still preserved and
is as follows : — "Edin. 10 Dec. 1747.
" My father entered into the everlasting life of God, trusting, hoping,
and believing, through the blood of Christ, eternal life and happiness.
When I first saw my father upon the bed of death, his blessing and
prayer to me was, ' My dear John, you have just come in time to see
your poor father die. . . May the great God of heaven and earth bless
and preserve you ! I trust in the blood of Christ. Be always religious;
fear and love God. You may go ; you can be of no use to me here.' "
— CuUoden Papers, Introd. xxxviii, sqq.

ALEX. FOURTH EARL OF BALCARRES. 103
both our sentiments upon this subject, I let it alone.
With my latest prayers I pray to God preserve you and
yours, and that every thing that is happy may attend
you. I return you my sincerest acknowledgments for
all your favours and goodness to me since the first day of
our acquaintance.
I go out of the world quite undisturbed ; that's a satis
faction they cannot deprive me of. Only one thing dis
turbs me, the situation of my family in so straightened a
way. — Let me, my dear lord, recommend to your pro
tection my wife and my brother ; I know I need say no
more to you upon this subject. May the blessings of
heaven and earth ever attend you, my dear lord !
Adieu ! "
" My lord,—
I have lost my loved and worthy brother, and-
you, my lord, have lost a sincere and faithful friend. He
preserved his understanding to the last, and left the
world wdth a mind clear, easy, and undisturbed, the ef
fects of a life honestly and honourably spent.
Four days before he left us, he took his farewell of all
his friends, then caused raise him up in his bed, and
wdth his feeble hands, writ a letter to you, full of love,
gratitude and esteem, recommending his family to your
protection, — then called for me, and spoke of you with
the utmost tenderness, and desired me to seek your
friendship as the most valuable thing he could leave me.
This, my lord, is a legacy can give you nothing but
h4

104 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
trouble, and yet I am persuaded you have generosity
enough to accept of it.
I have not a heart to offer you of near his value, but,
such as I am, allow me to be
Your devoted," &c.
The legacy, I need scarce say, was acknowledged, as
it deserved to be, in a kind letter from the good presi
dent : — " No man," says he, " feels more sensibly than I
do the loss which you, his friends, his family, and in
deed the whole country, have made by the death of your
poor brother ; the value he put on my friendship in
thinking it worth bequeathing to you, is honourable to
me, though the request, with respect to you, was un
necessary, because you had possession of it long ago, by
an undoubted title, your confessed worth."
Lord Balcarres having left no children, his brother
succeeded to the family inheritance, still embarrassed by
Jacobite debt. Blessed, however, with resources in him
self, that rendered him independent of the world, and
with a guardian angel in his beloved sister. Lady Eliza
beth, he was fairly to be accounted happy. A man of
deep and ardent feeling, the love that he had shared be
tween his brother and his sister, became concentrated
on her after that brother's death ; both indeed being in
valids, they loved each other wdth a degree of tenderness
more resembling that which we may suppose the spi
rits of " the just made perfect " feel for each other in
heaven, than the commonplace affection of busy mortals

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 105
on earth : they lived each in the other's heart, and were
all the world to each other. The following letters,
(which no one, I believe, but myself, has perused since
the death of the correspondents,) will, I think, be inter
esting to the descendants of the one and the collateral
relatives of the other, who traditionally reverence the
brother as the last of the old knights of chivalry, the
sister as the model of all that is amiable and excellent in
woman. The remembrance of the year " fifteen," I must pre
mise, was a constant bar to Earl James's promotion ; and
when he quitted the army after thirty years of hard ser
vice and hope deferred, neither the good-will of Sir
Robert Walpole, nor the interest of his two uncles. Lord
Stair* and Sir James Campbell,-^- then at the head of the
army, had availed to advance him beyond the rank of a
subordinate officer.

* John, the second and celebrated earl of Stair. He married Lady
Eleanor Campbell, youngest daughter of James second earl of Loudoun,
and sister of Earl Colin's last wife. She was the widow of James first
Viscount Primrose, and died at Edinburgh, 21 November, 1759.
t The gallant Sir James Campbell, third son of James second earl of
Loudoun, — Lady Balcarres's brother, — and grandfather of the present
dowager marchioness of Hastings, in her own right countess of Loudoun.

106 lives of the lindsays.
Letters, 1738—39.
To James earl of Balcarres.
"Edin. Jan. 14, [1738.]
" My dear brother : —
I had yours from Stilton, but how sadly was I
disappointed to find you have disagreed so much with
the coach in which I had so much comfort with the
thoughts of its easiness and the brigadier's* care of you ;
I heard, after you was gone, that he carried up his coach
for no other end but your conveniency. I shall be very
unhappy till I hear you are at London, and weU. As for
your affairs, they give me no disturbance ; I make no
doubt but you will be provided for ; your life and health
are all my cares ; and indeed I have no hopes nor fears
in this world but about you, nor is there any other idol
in my heart now but yourself, so that you can do me no
other good but by taking care of yourself. There is no
occasion for my advice as to sobriety and regularity, — I
wish you did not find those virtues so necessary ; but I
must entreat you not to be uneasy about your circum
stances and affairs ; the bad consequences anxiety had
with our dear friend that is gone-|" makes me mention
this to you, who may think you have the same reason
* Sir James Campbell. f Earl Alexander.

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 107
for it ; but a serene mind being the chief cordial of
life, it's best to make sure first of that, however other
things may go.
My mother has been iU with the cold, but is now bet
ter. I wish you may remember to write to Lady Stair ;
you know she was always very fond of you. . . Sister
Kingston;}: is stiU very bad, loaded in body and spirit.
. . May all blessings be ever with my dear ! Adieu ! "
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay, at the countess of Balcarres^
— Canongate, Edinburgh. "Feb. 22, [1738.]
" I should write oftener to you, if I had more spi
rits, but they are often oppressed, and thinking becomes
troublesome to me. I can't say I am any worse than I
was, but am loath to write to any of you without being
able to tell you I am better, or that there is any altera
tion in affairs. Till two or three battles more are fought
in the House of Commons, nothing will be minded. I
was at one of them last night, till eight o'clock ; the
patriots had a mind to reduce part of the army, which
the other side did not think convenient. All the first
speakers opened, and with full animosity on both sides ;
I suppose they hated one another at least as much as
X Lady Anne Lindsay, Colin's only surviving child by his second wife.
Lady Jean Carnegie, — widow of Alexander fourth earl of Kellie, and
James Seyton, third Viscount Kingston, attainted in 1715.

108 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
they loved the public. There will be yet a warmer con
test on Monday ; they have a mind to have the same
settlements made on the prince that the king possessed
while he was so ; this is a subject that may give many
uneasiness. I shall be glad to get away from this busy scene as
soon as possible, for none can have less pleasure in it. I
have no reason yet but to expect things will be tolerably
well ; if not, it will give me no great pain. I observe no
study forms a philosopher so well as infirmities, — they
cure us of all the passions that disturb the world ; they
put us in mind daily that we are men, and make us think
of futurity ; they fill the mind with humanity, and make us
sensible of the ills of others as well as our own, — could
men think when they are in health as they do when they
want it, they would be the best folks to make bishops of
I don't know why I write this to you, who have ever
been the same, and who seem to have no imperfection
but too eager a desire to be better than, I believe, is ex
pected from human nature, — ^but I write to you what
ever comes uppermost. — Adieu."
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
" London, June 28, [l738.]
" I had my dear sister's ; you will be longing to
hear from me, and as yet I have nothing to tell you can
satisfy your curiosity, but that I think I am rather some
thing better in point of health, and I believe the world

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 109
wUl make no great alteration upon me, go how it will ;
the men who are most intimate with L. I.* tell me there
is nobody more in his favour, and that he has a sincere
intention to do me good, and it's all my hopes. — My
brother's friends have barely shewn me common civility
since I came here, nor did I expect more from them
than he met with. The court is now gone to Richmond,
and will be in ten or twelve days at Hampton Court ;
when they are there, I intend to pass a while wdth our
agent, who has a little house and famUy hard by it, and
will now see what I have to expect from them.
You wonder how I get sillar to live here, — ^your won
der will cease if you consider me as a well-drest hermit ;
I have past more of my time alone this winter than ever
I did in my life, and, far from feeling any uneasiness by
it, I think I have seldom been in more tranquillity, when
not disturbed by indisposition. I have a single friend
here, who lives with the same abstinence as I have done
of late ; we eat milk, and laugh at the follies of the
world, without ill-nature.
I am going to the country with L. I. in a day or two,
but shall not stay. Make my compliments to sister
Kingston ; I am glad she is recovered : and say to our
other friends whatever is fit for me to say. — Adieu ! "
* Lord Hay, brother and successor of John Duke of Argyle.

110 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.

To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay. [1738.]
" My dear Betty : —
I had yours last post, — it would have given me
great pleasure, if you could have told me you were well.
It's long since we had any correspondence together ; I
beUeve it has not proceeded from any great diversions we
have met with ; I fancy neither of us have met wdth any
body since we parted we like more than each other. It's
as troublesome to me as it can be to you that ^^e have
not met ; it was thought necessary I should attend here,
and yet it's very possible I had as good have been ab
sent, for there is no more appearance of any thing's being
done than there was, and it may possibly continue so till
the next session of parliament.
This place is now quite without company ; one may
be as much a hermit in it as in a desert, yet I never find
myself at a loss in the disposal of my time. I commonly
ride in the forenoon, dine alone upon mUk and vegeta^
bles, free from the noise and tumult of taverns, and find
the sentiments of the dead much more instructive and
entertaining than the fellowship of most of the living ;
yet, when I have a little spirit, I do not decline that
neither ; I have many coffee-house friends, and several
families where I am always welcome.
I am glad to hear Willie* does well, but hope my
* His nephew, William Fraser.

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. HI
mother will not keep him longer in Edinburgh than is
fit. I am afraid the ladies, as well as the earl* are not
so wise as they ought to be ; it's inconceivable how any
one who has common sense can make themselves feel
poverty in the country ; it's vanity that seems to make
most men unhappy, — almost every one wants to make a
figure that neither fortune or nature intended them.
I am thinking to leave London some time next
month . . ." [Rest torn off.]
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
"London, April 6, 1739.
" I have long suspected my dear sister was worse than
they told me ; your last lets me see my fears were too well
grounded, and nothing could touch my heart nearer,
for I have but few attachments to the world left, and you
are one of the strongest. Our distempers are so much
aUke, and I have so often thought I was at the brink of
the last stage, and yet have mended, that I would fain
hope a better air and warmer weather may yet reUeve you.
I am uncertain yet of the time I shall get away from
this place. It will be as soon as I can ; if I cannot get
them to do something that's honourable for me, it will
be my choice to quit all expectations from them ; as there
is nothing vacant at present, I do not think fit to hurry
them in what they propose for me.
* Of Kellie.

112 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
It surprises me to see you write with so much spirit,
and yet in so low a condition ; when I go out of tune,
my spirits are always much oppressed. I would imitate
you at present in your style, and yet I shall have no real
cheerfulness tiU I hear you are mended, which God
grant, though I believe it's a prayer more for the benefit
of your friends than your own. — My dear Betty, adieu !
My duty to my mother, and services to friends."

Letters, 1742 — 44.
To James earl of Balcarres.
" Edinburgh, April 27, [1742.]
" My dear brother, —
I see you have got none of our letters but that
my mother wrote last ; it is no matter, — you can hear
nothing from me but discontent, trouble, and dread of
your going abroad. I thought it a good providence
Lord Stair was gone before you got to London, I hope
God will disappoint every project you can have of leav
ing your own country. I have lived upon the hopes of
General Campbell's not suffering you to do it ; all the
world will condemn him if he do, but I'm afraid some
folks think only for themselves — I wish you would do so
too. I always thought, till now, you had believed the
character of being a wise man preferable to any other ;

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 113
can any be thought wise enough that does not consider
what they are able for ? You write to my mother to
make herself easy with the thoughts of your being in
the last war without being hurt, — had you the youth,
health, and strength, of those days, the argument would
be good, but now it is none, for it is your want of those
things that makes me miserable. — My earnest desire of
keeping you may appear selfish, because, without you,
I'm destitute of any comfort or support from this world;
but though I was sure of dying to-morrow, I would have
the same sentiments. All your friends at Newliston* are
of my mind, as every body must be that knows how you
live. You never tell us how you are in your health just
now, — I know it too well, for I have observed you, for
some time past, alwfays worst in summer. May God
overrule you in all things, and take care of you, for it
does not appear you have many friends — if you had any,
they would shew themselves at this time,- — but I hope
God will do all, and bless and preserve you.
My mother is in the same way you left her, — there is '
nothing else to be expected now. Do not neglect to
write, though I'm afraid of every letter; nothing can
make me easy except I hear you are not to go abroad.
I'm pretty sure none of your generals would stir a step,
were they in no better health than you are. I can never
be reconciled with your doing a thing that no other
mortal would do were they in your case. I could write
* Lord Stair's.

114 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
by hours upon this subject, and you know too well all I
say is true. May God direct you — Adieu ! "
To James earl of Balcarres.
"Edinburgh, May 4, [1742.]
" My dear brother, —
I had yours last post ; this is the third time I
have wrote, — I would do it every day, could my letters
be of any use. You judge rightly in thinking I have been
iU, nor can I ever be better till I hear you are not going
abroad, for that torments me night and day. Every body
here thinks it impossible a man of your sense can be ca
pable of such a thought, except you had better health
than you have known these many years. You teU me
you must try if you be able, — do you not find every day
that you are scarce able to live at home, with aU the care
and abstinence that's possible ? Can you endure the fa
tigue that other men do, without being able to eat and
drink as they do ? Had you health, and was in a station
any way suitable to your age and rank in the world, I
would not be so unhappy. For God's sake, think on these
things, and take care of a life so dear to your friends and
so necessary to your family. You desire me to submit to
the wiU of heaven, — that's what we all ought and must
do when once we know it, but none could persuade me
I was obliged to go a journey when I found myself not
able to walk, nor can I beUeve it's the will of God you
should do a thing you find yourself so unfit for. Had

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 115
your great folks some of the infirmities that others feel,
they would be more humane. I see a high station makes
great alterations in some people's way of thinking — this
war, that was thought so bad a thing last year, is now
approved of; I'm indifferent what they think or do,
— if they would order you home, I should forgive them
for aU other things. I hope God wdU send you back in
peace, disappoint my fears, and give us a soon and happy
meeting. Adieu, my dear ! "
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
" Gravesend, July 21, 1742.
" I writ to my mother before I left London. We
came here yesterday, and immediately got our whole
regiment aboard, without any accident. The general
embarks in one of the king's yachts, — I shaU go in my
transport, with my troop, thinking, as Csesar, that it's
better to be first in a village than the second in Rome.
I have better health than for the most part of the time I
was at London, and find no pain in this work but the
trouble it wdll give you, and that will soon have an end,
for it's doubtful that we take the field this year, — if we
do, I am hopeful I shall get about Lord Stair. Lord
Loudoun* goes to him from this, and offers to propose it

* John fourth earl of Loudoun, son of the third earl by Lady Marga
ret Dalrymple, Lord Stair's sister. — He died, unmarried, in April, 1770.
i2

116 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
to him. I seem to be well enough again with our
friends, though I thought I had reason not to be well
pleased. The wind is fair, and, if it continues, we shall
not be above a day in going to Ostend. Be easy, and I
hope all will be well. — We are in continual hurry here,
so, my dear, adieu ! "
To James earl of Balcarres.
"Edinburgh, 24 July, [1742.]
" I wrote to my dear brother, Tuesday last, but,
after having got yours, I did not send it, because I see
you are fully determined to go, — all that you can say to
make me easy has no effect ; nothing less than a miracle
that would give you the health you have so long wanted,
can make me content with your absence. I should be
sorry you knew how heavy my heart is, a weight too
much for so weak a body. You say you will endeavour
to get out of the army when you are abroad, but I'm
afraid you will do as little that way when there as you
have done at London. I see little good the grandeur of
our relations has done you, except the trusting to them
may have made you neglect to make friends that might
have been of use to you. I have given over writing to your
general ; he gives me no occasion for gratitude or thank
fulness, but puts me upon the more difficult virtues of
suffering and forgiveness, the last of which, I'm afraid,
I shall not attain to till I see you. — You do not tell us
what day you are to go, so I thought you might get this

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 117
ere you leave London. My end in giving you this is, to
beg and entreat you, by all the love and affection you
have for us, and for God's sake, give over thoughts of
staying in the army ; you say it's so right and honour
able to go — I must say no more, but I am sure it will be
more wise and just to yourself and family to come back :
— as for the opinion of the world in general, I think no
more of it than of the wind that changes every hour.
Mr. Scott told me you were still troubled with that deaf
ness which you had when you left us ; had you no other
infirmity, that alone would make you unfit for the hurry
and noise of the world. Your uncle has given his word
that, if you are not well when abroad, he will send you
immediately back ; I do not expect that fatigue and all
the inconveniencies that people in your way must meet
wdth, wUl do you good, so, for God's sake, come back
before winter. I earnestly entreat you, write often,
since it will be all the comfort I have in this world to
live upon. May the blessing of almighty God be ever
with you, as my heart and prayers is for your preser
vation. Adieu !
You needed not have given yourself any trouble about
the watch ; I neither care for it nor any thing else, ex
cept you had brought it with you."
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
"Audenarde, Aug. 30, O. S. [1742.]
" I have not neglected to write to my mother, nor
i3

118 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
my dear sister, since I was here, — this is the fourth, but,
except one I had from you, which you expected would
reach me before I left London, I have had no letters
from Scotland, and it makes me uneasy, considering
your poor state of health and the uneasiness of your
mind, — ^which indeed was unreasonable upon my account,
since I have held out very well, and been as active in
the care of the regiment as any one ; but, in spite of all
we can do, we have many of our men sick of fever and
agues, and, I think, entirely owing to the love of brandy
and drinking, which has so miserably taken possession
of the whole commons of Britain. We have, by severe
and repeated punishments, got it stopt, and our men
begin to recover ; of the officers of the two regiments
none have been ill. We are still as uncertain as ever of
the time of taking the field, and ofthe views when there ;
they are reasonable and wise men who govern, so we
have jiothing to do but be easy and obey.
Our town is as poor and as quiet as Cupar, and [wdth]
as little to divert a stranger. We saw two poor nuns
yesterday take the vows, with all the ceremony, music,
and dress, of a marriage ; you will not pity them, who
have felt so much of the iUs of life, and so little of its
pleasures ; it seems to me a heinous crime to persuade
any one to quit the world who is capable of sincerely
renouncing it.
I shaU not be easy tiU I hear from you. . . Make my
compliments to our friends, and hope we shaU meet
again ere it be long. Adieu ! "

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 119
To James earl of Balcarres.
"Edinburgh, Sept. 2, [1742.]
" My dear brother, —
I got yours last week, of the sixth, — long, long
was I thinking for it ! . . I thank God you have held
out so well, and I thank you for teUing me so. Was
your body equal to your spirit, I should not have so
many fears, for though you have had strength to do all
this in the good weather, it would not do in bad. . . I
think myself obliged to your princes for diverting you,
and to the nuns for singing to you, and to every creature
that does you any good. I believe the princes with you
are as poor as the nobles wdth us, but the nuns, I fancy,
live better, and are merrier than I have been for most
part of my Ufe. . . Sister Kingston is Ul again, and sees
nobody. My mother had yours, last post, of the 20th, — .
she gives her blessing to you ; may God bless you, and
bring you home in health and in peace ! Adieu ! —
0 write often ! " . .
To James earl of Balcarres.
"Edinburgh, 5 Oct. [1742.]
" My dear brother, —
I am always very unhappy when we are long
without hearing from you, — we have had no letter since
one dated the 30th of August, and, though you said then
l4

120 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
you was weU, yet, I'm stiU afraid you say more of that
than is true, in compassion to the weakness of my mind
and body. I wonder you had got none of our letters ;
my mother has wrote often, and I have done it thrice,
for I know you are always pleased to see that I am
not dead; it wiU contribute much to my Uving, if you
wiU now be thinking of coming home again, — it is very
strange to hear of your taking the field at. this time of
the year, when every body is taking their beasts from
it, that they have any care about.
You say you have wise governors : I pray God their
wisdom may appear,— as yet it is a mystery, and, though
we must beUeve mysteries and receive them from heaven
as good, because we have no capacity to understand
them in this life, [still,] as to the affairs of this world,
we think it a bad sign of any thing when it must be a
secret. I should have little concern in aU their pro
jects if you was from amongst them. Your great ones
have great hopes, good health, and good pay, and are in
no danger but the fate of war, but you have many
hazards from your bad constitution, fatigue, and bad
weather ; for God's sake, be thinking of these things be
fore the winter come on. Lord Stair is now so great a
man, it will be easy for him to do a small favour for a
friend, and get you off handsomely. . . Sister Kingston
is bad of her old illness. The girls have been all summer
in the South with their uncle Harden,* — he is very kind
* Mary and Anne Scott, the children of John Scott, Esq., of Harden,

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 12]
to them. . . My mother continues pretty w ell ; she gives
her blessing to you. May all blessings be ever with my
dear brother !
Adieu ! " To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
"Ghent, Nov. 9, 1742.
" My dear sister, —
I have just now got my mother's, of the 23d
last, and have no pleasure equal to hearing that you live,
and the hopes of meeting again. I observe your letters
come more regularly here than mine to you, for I think
I have not been a week without writing to you or my
mother. I writ to my sister ere I left Audenarde, for I
have been here near a fortnight. I came to see Lord
Stair, and to know what I could expect from him ; he has
a multitude of affairs upon his hands, and never without
a crowd about him. I was with him some days ago, be
fore he was out of bed, and complained to him of the

by Lady Jean Erskine, Lady Betty's niece. Their father died in 1734,
and was succeeded by his uncle Walter, whose kindness is alluded to in
the text — the grandfather of the present venerable Lord Polwarth.
Mary Scott was popularly called "the Flower of Yarrow," a title
originally bestowed on her beautiful ancestress, the wife of the re
nowned " Wat of Harden," in the sixteenth century. See the Lay of
the Last Minstrel, Canto 4, Note 11, and Marmion, Canto 2, Note 3.
— A full-length portrait of the second Flower of Yarrow is said to be
preserved at Hamilton Palace.

122 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
treatment I had met with from the ministers his friends;
I told him I believed he had some good- wdll to me, that
I was tired with acting in a low station, and unable to
bear the drudgeries of it, and, if he could not get me
into a better, begged him to help me out of the army ;
he said, he thought it would be the best thing for me. —
We were interrupted by some of the generals, and I
have not yet spoke to him of the manner of getting it
done. It would have saved me a great deal of trouble and
expense, if this had been done before I left Scotland, but
a little pride is the last thing we get rid of, and I thought
something was to be done for the honour of our family
and myself before I had done with the world, and could
not but hope the power of our relations would be of
some use to us. You will be better pleased as it is than
otherwise, and it gives me no pain. Some time in winter
I hope to be in London with General Campbell, and to
get home in the spring.
My dear Betty, adieu ! "
To James earl of Balcarres.
"Edinburgh, March 10, 1743.
" My dear brother, —
I had both yours, one dated the 2d of Febmary,
from Ghent, and one of the 13th from Tongres; itis
good in you to write often, since it is aU the comfort I
have in this life in your absence to hear that you are to-

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 123
lerably well, — that you are perfectly so is, I am afraid,
more than you can say. You know every foot you have
gone from this has been against my will, and still, the
farther you go, I am the more dissatisfied and dis
content. I am afraid all our letters, giving you the accounts of
poor sister Kingston's death, have miscarried ; she died
the fourth of February, in a manner most comfortable to
herself and all about her ; it might have convinced an
infidel to have seen her, for you know she was all her
life terrified for death in every shape, but, when it came,
she was perfectly satisfied and easy ; all her lowness of
spirits and former complaints left her, for which she
was very thankful, and left this world full of faith and
hope. My mother gives her blessing to you — may all the
blessings of heaven and earth be with you ! I no sooner
get one letter from you than I long for another. . . Mrs.
Sharpe gives her blessing and her service to you. . .
Mr. Hunter blesses you — may almighty God do it!
Adieu." The countess dowager of Balcarres to her son, Earl James.
"Edinburgh, April 18, 1743.
" My dearest son, —
I got yours of the 6th of April, two days ago,
which I was longing prodigiously for, not having heard
from you since that you writ to my daughter Bai-

124 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Carres ;* and what doubles my anxiety is, I find you have
not been well, which makes me beg you, for God's sake,
that you would think of coming home, for you have not
a body fit for the army.
As for poor Betty, her health has been but very in
different ; I believe her anxiety about you adds to her
illness, and I find myself weaker than I use to be, which
is no wonder at my time of life, but I pray almighty
God preserve you, who is the support of us all, — whom
I may justly say my life is bound up in. So, praying
God that we may have a soon and happy meeting, and
that all blessings may ever attend you, I shall now say
no more, — so, adieu, my dearest son ! "
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
" Hock's Camp, near Frankfort,
May 20, O. S., 1743.
" I writ to my dear sister the day before we left
Aix, and likewise to my Lady Balcarres. I was not then
well, — the hurry of the march (which was sooner than I
expected) had disordered me ; I mended on the road.
General Campbell led us, and offered me his coach, but
I had no occasion to use her. From very bad weather
we stepped in at once to summer, and marched most of
the way through a very fine country, and are now en
camped on one of the most delightful spots of ground I
* Widow of Earl Alexander.

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 125
ever saw, the sides of the river Maine being all covered
with vineyards and fruit-trees. I have lain in my tent
near a week, and find yet no harm in it. Lord Stair and
General Campbell are in good houses four miles distant
upon our right ; I seldom see either of them, and find no
great want in it, as with some of the other generals and
my companions I find myself as well as I can wish, and
possibly may be again so with them too.
I could not write to you sooner, having been upon
duty these five days past. Yesterday I crossed the river
with the command of a hundred horse, and had Lord
Stair and all the generals under my potent protection ;
they went to mark out the ground for laying bridges
aud forming a camp on the other side of the river, and
we cross it in two days, and the whole army will be as
sembled in ten or twelve. We expect the king is to
come to us from Hanover, and then we shall begin to
see what is our aim ; at present we know as little as you
do. The Austrians have had some considerable advan
tages lately in Bavaria, and the French army near us
have detached a large party of their army to stop their
progress ; this may induce us to move nearer them, as
soon as our army is joined. Our greatest difficulty is our
subsistence, as the French have magazines and we none ;
but the goodness of our troops and the skiU of our ge
nerals will, I hope, remedy all things.
You have been much against all my miUtary steps I
have yet made, but I hope the conclusion wiU be better
than you expect, and though otherwise, no conclusion

126 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
can be bad to one who does his duty and endeavours to
be well with his Maker, — it's my only wish, and, whUe I
do live, to live with some honour.
I got yours some days ago here, and kissed it with
that kind of spirit folks have here when they meet with
some famed relic, — only with more reason, as being sure
it contained but good sense and affection to me. You
think this twelvemonth past I have been deceiving you,
— I did not. When I came to London, I thought, and
reasonably, as my two uncles were at the head of the
army, they would either get me preferred to a station
where the duty was easier, in the army, or, from my ill
health, have helped me out of it ; at the end of the cam
paign, I hope I shall be able to make out the one or the
other, even though I have no aid from my relations, and
I hope I shall be able to go through with it.
Give my affectionate duty to my mother ; I am afraid
she is not well, — not from the words of her letters, but
her hand is changed.
I am in plenty here, though I have five servants, ten
horses, a cart, and variety of fine clothes ; a sutler feeds
the whole officers, and there is a cheerfulness and viva
city in camps that supplies the want of politer conver
sation. I have scribbled out all my paper — my dear,
adieu ! "

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 127

To Lady Elisabeth Lindsay.
" Camp at Hanau, July 4, N. S.
" My dear sister, —
I hope my letter to Lady Balcarres, the day
after our scuffie,* will come to hand. . . I have stood
out all this hard work with the sturdiest ; no one yet
has done an hour's duty for me, and I have often for
others ; it will, I think, be of no other use to me but to
be pleased with myself, which I never could be but
when in comparison with others.
I enquired after Sir J. Sharp,-|~ (the regiment had
marched,) — ^he was rid over by a musquetaire, but not
hurt. Charles Colvin, your friend,:}: is well too. Frank
Stuart is shot through the body, but out of danger.
Captain Campbell of Monzie died yesterday. Peter
Lindsay's son is well. The president's son, a cornet,
when the regiment was running away, would not move,
and called them villains for leaving the king's standard. ||

* TJie battle of Dettingen, 16 June, 1743.
t Sir James Sharpe, of Stonyhill, Bart. ?
X Charles Colville, second son of Alexander (by right) sixth Lord
Colville of Culross, by Mary daughter of Sir Charles Erskine, of Cambo,
Bart., sister of the second and third earls of Kellie. He died at Edin
burgh in 1775, in his 86th year.
II John Forbes, afterwards laird of Culloden, " a sensible and honour
able man, and a very brave officer of cavalry." — Culloden Papers,
Introd.

128 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Lord Crawford* behaved nobly and wisely; he had
a ball pierced within an inch of the sound leg. All
lament Clayton ; the success of the day was much owing
to him. Young Jamie Ross-f- escaped narrowly ; he was
mistaken and shot through the crown of the head by
the Austrians, — he is quite well again.
My services to all friends, and my kind duty to my
mother. I shall not neglect writing as often as I can,
which is seldom, as our regiment is always on the right
of the line. Doubt not but we shall meet again. Adieu !"
To James earl of Balcarres. " Edinburgh, July 17.
" My dear brother, —
The anguish of soul I suffered can only be
known by those who have felt the like, from Monday
the 27th last, the day on which we heard of your
battle ; I sat like one dreading a sentence of death,
(though I always had hope, on which I lived,) till Sa
turday, that I saw, by yours to Lady Balcarres, that
you was safe, and had made a narrow escape, — for
which I will ever thank God, and trust in Him that He
will preserve you-, as in time past. The only thing
in which I desire to have the preference to you is, that

* The gallant John eighteenth earl of Crawford.
t Grandson, probably, of George Ross of Galston and Lady Christian
Campbell, sister of the aged countess of Balcarres.

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 129
I may get out of the world before you, which would be
a desert to me, without a friend and without comfort ;
may I never be in such a state !
We have it in this town to-day that the French have
left you, — I heartily wish you would leave them too,
and let those have the glory of these achievements, who
think a great name will make them happy. I'm sure
you think they have a better [chance] for being so, who
seek it in peace and a quiet mind, which a wise man
may attain without hardship and the hazard of your
lives. Much are you wanted to your own poor family, —
as for me, I can have nothing without you, so that it
takes a great deal of my Christianity to pray God to for
give them that suffered you to go. You will think
I am full of discontent, — it is my profession to be so,
while you are in a low station, fatigues, and dangers.
Mr. Hunter alway blesses you and prays for your
retum, — oh that it may be soon ! Lady Balcarres
shewed much concern about you after we heard of your
battle till we knew you was well, which endeared her
much to me. My mother gives her blessing to you,—
may all the blessings of heaven and earth be with you ! "
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
" Hanau Camp, July 19, O. S.
" I had my dear sister's, of the 19th last, with the
same pleasure they always give me. I writ since to my
mother. We have continued here since the French left

130 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
US in great tranquiUity, and are in no danger but from
luxury and intemperance, which are enemies that will
not hurt me. We have had a great deal of rainy and
bad weather, — now it's better ; a canvas house, at such
times, is but a bad habitation, yet I have not lain out of
one since we crossed the Rhine. I but rarely leave the
camp except to go to Crawford, who quarters in a viUage
near me, and is much my friend ; but his wound has
again broke open, and makes his reputation and fortune
of little value to him. . . I was at court two days ago
to see Prince Charles of Lorraine, Kevenhuler, and some
of the Austrian generals who have got so great a reputa
tion by their indefatigable industry and wise conduct;
I believe they came here to persuade us into an invasion
of France in conjunction with their army they left about
forty miles from us ; it is generaUy thought they have
not succeeded, and, in that case, it's probable our troops
will, ere long, repass the Rhine, with the few laurels our
country has paid so dear for. I am almost of opinion a
well-drest field of wheat is preferable to a wood of them,
even after all our labours.
I have but just time to tell you I am well, and to bid
you, if you can to be well, — and farewell ! "
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
" Camp near Mentz, 7 Aug., O. S., 1743.
" I was longing much to hear from my dear sister,
and got yours yesterday, of the 17th last. — How can you

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 131
throw away so many soft words upon me ? I wish
you had full health, and that so much tenderness were
more naturally employed, if one could be found to de
serve it, — till then we must e'en continue to love one
another. If battles cost us no more than the last, we need not
care how many of them we are in. I am mistaken if, in
all my letters, I did not tell you our regiment was not
engaged ; we had two lieutenant-generals at our head,
who did not think fit to stir from the ground where we
were posted, with two other regiments of dragoons ; all
the other British horse and dragoons were unskilfully led
up and repulsed, yet soon were in order again, and it is
certain, after the enemy gave way, their whole army must
have been lost, if they had been well followed. There is
a great deal of chance in all military affairs, and a weak
ness often attending the wisest heads to bring about the
ends of Providence.
I had my mother's, and a very kind letter from my
sister Bai. You will tell her how much I was pleased
with her concern for me. Be now easy about me ; I
doubt not but ere long you wUl hear of our moving
again towards Flanders. Take care of yourself, and I
doubt not ere long we shall have the pleasure to meet
again. My compliments to our friends and, my dear,
adieu ! "

k2

132 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
[James earl of Balcarres to John earl of Crawford.
From Mayence, Sept. 13, 1743.
— " I am undetermined what to do — ^probably to em
bark from Rotterdam for Scotland, and afterwards to try
to get leave to sell my commission, though it will be a
hard choice, — but as our family has hitherto produced
none but men of worth and honour, I can no longer bear
being treated as if I were without either, and drudge on
a captain, after having been thirty-seven years an officer,
and lived in peace and war without reproach.
I do not know whether General Campbell wiU think it
fit to ask the king leave for my going to Aix ; if he has,
when you casually speak to the king, as I see you do it
with freedom, may you not mention me to him as having
been once your lieutenant, and the length of my services,
and, as I believe you can answer for me, my fideUty and
zeal for his service ? I shall not resolve to quit the army
till I consult you, who I look upon as my most real
friend. I suppose you will take the air where you now are till
your retreat to Flanders ; if you had any thing to do, I
should die with sorrow from being unable at present to
have a share in it. I have tired you with the length
of my letter, but you would forgive a greater trouble
from one who is from the heart your affectionate and
devoted servant, Balcarres."]

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 133

To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
(From Aix-la-ChapeUe, after a severe illness, —
25th October.)
. ..." I live here with no company but books ;
my philosopher, I told you I was so fond of, is gone for
Italy ; he has a good estate, goes there every winter, and
keeps, he says, as near the sun and the best company as
he can, and as far from care. I have still in the house
an old general, worn out but still sensible and wise ; his
wife the remains of a beauty, and seems to have been
always a good friend to his aid-de-camps ; she will have
me to be in love from walking so much, being so lean,
and talking so much upon the subject ; if I was younger,
I beUeve she would undertake to be my physician.
My duty to my mother, and, my dear, adieu ! "
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
" Aix, 2 November, 1743.
" I have been here now more than two months ;
the first letter I wrote was to desire you to write to
me here ; I have writ either to you or my mother four
times, and I have had no return, and begin to doubt if
my dear sister still lives, — I am sure I could not well live
wdthout you. I had one from my mother some days ago,
of the 29th September, and was glad of it, for it's the
k3

134 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
only one I have had these three months ; the different
movements of the army, I suppose, has made you un
certain how to direct letters.
Our army has now all passed by here in their way to
their winter-quarters ; these long marches and late cam
paigns are yet more ruinous to armies than battles. I
intended, when I first came here, to have gone soon di
rectly for Scotland, but could not go to Britain without
leave, and I got it not t'ill General Honeywood past here;
it's now too much winter for so long a voyage, and
seems likewise more reasonable, since I intend to leave
the army, to be in London to make the most of my
commission. We shall have enough to do our business,
if we can get folly out of our heads, but alas ! how diffi
cult to part wdth folly, the amusement, the darling, the
joy of our little lives ! How heavily do the wheels of
time move without her ! a mistress once fond of we
can never entirely forsake, but we may change her dress
and her manners for one more suitable to a country life,
and' try to reconcile the lady to peace and innocence.*
You wdll not wonder I write to you in this strain when
* The praise of folly was a favourite theme with Earl James. — " I for
get," says he, in the conclusion of a letter to his wife many years after
wards — " I forget what author makes it a question whether mankind
are more miserable or ridiculous ; he determines upon the last, and
justly. Old age needs little more than innocence and peace, yet passion
or folly attends us to our last moments. I shall never part with the
charming folly, if I can help it ; she makes us love ourselves, — it is the
reverse of her, dear Annie, that makes me love you."

JAMES EARL OP BALCARRES. 135
I tell you I have read over a collection of ten volumes of
French novels since here ; these good people seem to
make the best of the 'foresaid lady, and, of all nations, to
dress up their amours and other pleasures with the most
delicacy, and yet we were aU almost enraged we did not
near exterminate them this campaign, when so much
was in our power.
I think I shall not be much longer here ; I should
have marched wdth General Campbell, but the place, the
waters, and Lord Crawfoi;'d made me stay. The general
has behaved in a very kind manner to me ever since
our battle, — ^had he not sent me into Mayence, I think I
should have ended ; he loves and esteems you — write to
him a few words to Ghent where he commands ; he is in
better esteem with the army than any of our other gene
rals, — it is not saying a great deal. — My kind duty to
my mother, &c." To James earl of Balcarres.
" Edinburgh, Nov. 25.
" My dear brother : —
Well might you think I was dead since you
say you have been three months without hearing from
me ; nothing but a total incapacity could have made
'that my fault : many a long scrawl have I wrote to you ;
— ^base must they be that have kept my letters to you,
since the hearing from you has been the only solace of
my comfortless life since we parted. The first I had
k4

136 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
from you from Aix I answered next day ; I was too full
of passions to be silent at that time, — of sorrow to see
how ill you had been, of fears you might grow worse,
and joy to find you alive and so much better. You gave
me hopes then, that you would have been with us ere
now, but, by your letters after, I saw you would go to
London ; I believe you are in the right, — I shaU not
grudge that, nor any thing else that can facilitate your
getting quit of the army. I thought never to have
troubled General Campbell any more with my letters,
but, since you desire me, I shall write to him when I
hear you are come to Britain ; till then, I will not be in
good enough humour to do it. You say nothing to me
in your last about your health ; I hope you are tolerably
well, because you write of folly with some taste. I be
lieve she does little harm to those that are wise enough
to see her ; her votaries still believe her wisdom, when
wdth them.
I shall long much till I hear you are come to London;
wherever you are, may God be always with you, to direct
and preserve you ! Adieu, my dear brother ; my mo
ther gives her blessing to you — may all blessings be
with you ! " To James earl of Balcarres.
" Edinburgh, 10 Jan., 1744.
— " I take it very kindly that you thought I was
dead rather than believe me capable of being for months

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 137
without writing to you after the many kind and merciful
letters you have wrote, — for we have had seven from
you since you have been at Aix."
To Lady Elizabeth Lindsay.
"Aix-la-Chapelle, Jan. 7, N. S., 1744.
" My dear sister, —
The weather has been so extremely bad this
fortnight past, that I have not yet been able to begin
my journey, and deferred writing to you from day to
day, till I could teU you I was set out. I have got a
chaise to carry me to-morrow to Maestricht ; three days
more wiU bring me to Rotterdam, and I hope the packet-
boat to London, where, I believe, my only aim will be to
have a Uttle tranquillity at home, and free of the many
different cares we have had since parting.
I cannot express how painful it is to me to have heard
nothing of you nor my mother since I was here ; though
my motions were uncertain, I remember I desired twice
to you and my mother to write to me here, and, consi
dering your low condition, I have many fears I shall hear
from you no more. Were it not for this uneasiness, I
believe I should have staid some weeks longer here,
being weU lodged, and with my friend Crawford, and
averse to be in London without any other view but the
poor one of selling a little commission after the many
campaigns I have made. I find myself the better of
having used the waters here, and hope still to have some

138 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
spirit left, in whatever situation it pleases Heaven to
place me.
You will not neglect to write to me to London, as soon
as you get this, and to give my duty to my mother, and
my services to our friends.
My dear, adieu ! "
To James earl of Balcarres. " Edinburgh, Jan. 26.
" My dear brother, —
I got yours two days ago ; my mother would
write then, but I must do it now, for I'm sure it would
give you some pleasure, if you knew the satisfying quiet
your return to Britain gives to my anxious mind, a satis
faction I have never known since we parted. It is won
derful how almighty God has brought you through so
much hardship, sickness, and difficulties, and convinced
you how unfit you are for that way of life ; whUe I live,
I shall be thankful for your preservation ! . . When you
write to Mr. Hunter, I beg you may return him thanks
for his friendship to me, and for the great concern he
has always had for yourself in your absence, — so much it
was, that, when I made him read your letter giving me
account of your progress from the time of your leaving
the army to your coming to Aix-la-ChapeUe, he wept
like a child for you ; his wife says she shall pray always
for you till your return. . . I never have nor wiU yet
tell my dear brother how I ha[ve  ] since you

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 139
left me ; I will give y[ou no] such welcome in my first
letter. Farewell ! May aU happiness ever attend you ! My
mother gives her blessing to you."

They met again, I believe, but it was to part for ever ;
within two months after he received her last letter, his
beloved sister was no more. Yet her token surely was,
Uke Christiana's, " an arrow sharpened with love," — the
God she trusted in spared her tUl her brother's retum
to close her eyes in peace and thankfulness. " She died,"
says Earl James, " unmarried, although extremely hand
some, with the completest merit. She had a long tract
of ill health, yet ever serene and cheerful, always enter
taining from wisdom and the brightest imagination, yet
never known in word or deed offensive to any one, as
piety and goodness regulated her whole Ufe. She ap
peared to the author as the most perfect pattern of agree
able virtue he ever knew among mankind."
And now he stood alone on his hearth — by the death
of the last Lindsay of Edzell, the chief of his clan, but
the last of his race. He, probably, found little difficulty
in reconciUng himself to the necessity of making another
campaign, before he could get quit of the army. He
succeeded at last in effecting his escape from this thank
less servitude, but not till after the battle of Fontenoy,
in which his gallant uncle. Sir James Campbell, received

140 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
a mortal wound. After the field of Dettingen, he had
been represented to the king as a man deserving a higher
rank, but " the meanness of the man on this occasion
got the better of the dignity of the monarch : he fell into
a passion, and told the minister that he had occasion to
know before that no person, who had ever drawn his
sword in the Stuart cause, should ever rise to command,
and that it was best to tell Lord Balcarres so at once.*
There," observes his daughter, "he was right, but he
ought in justice to have told him many years sooner.
This, and other mortifications, the suite of early transac
tions, disgusted his mind with kings and courts, without
diminishing its sweetness towards mankind in a body.
" The price of his commission," continues Lady Anne,
" and some thousand pounds bequeathed him by the son
of his aunt Lady Henrietta, enabled him to pay off a
debt of £5000, left by Colin on his family estate, the un
avoidable consequence of the multiplied reverses which
his fortunes had sustained. This act of love and duty per
formed, — tired out with fruitless service, with thwarted
ambition, with vague hopes, he retired to the soUtude of
Balcarres ; — there, with a few trusty domestics who had
accompanied his fortunes, the old library of books,
which had made chymists and philosophers of all the
* His own account of this application and its result is very simple ; —
" He was represented to the king, by some of the generals, as deserving
a better rank, but it was then remembered he had carried arms against
him in the rebellion. Finding this irremissible to him, as it had been
to all others, he resolved to quit the army as soon as possible." '

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 141
moths in the castle, and a mind so replete with ideas
as to fear nothing from vacancy, he quietly reposed
himself. " Had the honest people, who composed his society,
possessed discernment to know the treasure they ac
quired, they would have blessed the illiberality of George,
who had refused him that rank, which many years of
faithful service then entitled him to.
"The accomplished gentleman, the reasoning philo
sopher, the ardent soldier, the judicious farmer, and the
warm partizan, my father argued on every thing, dis
cussed every thing, with fire and ability ; but concluded
every subject with the beauty and wrongs of the fair
Mary queen of Scots, and with the base union of the
two crowns, which had left the peers of Scotland with
out parliament and without consequence.
"These were topics of inexhaustible disapprobation.
No guest escaped from his table without his sentiments
being sounded, and, whether opposed or not. Lord Bal
carres always ended in a passion, and was sorry for it
till he sinned again. That which made his greatest
difficulty was the old attachment of a Jacobite amidst
the habits of a whig ; his blue and white as a seaman,
his scarlet and yellow as a soldier, shut up his lips from
abusing the reigning government, though the old Jaco
bite adage, ' when war is at hand, though it were a
shame to be on any side save one, it were more shame
to be idle than to be on the worst side, though blacker
than rebellion could make it,' had justified his conduct

142 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
in all its line. Certain it is, that, while he fought over
again the battles of George the First, his eye kindled
when the year fifteen was mentioned, with an expression
that shewed his heart to be a faithfiil subject yet to the
old tory cause.
" He had not long remained in this retirement before
he found that there was something wanting which he
could not define. ' It is not good for- man to be alone,'
says the great Judge of all things. His neighbours,
though well educated for country gentlemen, as most of
the Scotch are, had no ammunition to bring into the
field against such a man as my father. Past occurrences
had left his fancy full of animated recollections, but they
were the same day after day ; some new source of satis
faction was wanting, and, willing to discover what it
could be, he left Balcarres to drink the waters of Moffat
at about fifty miles distant.
" It was there that he met with Miss Dalrymple, and
her charms made him soon forget every pursuit but that
of love.
" She was fair, blooming, and Uvely ; her beauty and
enbonpoint charmed my dear, tall, lean, majestic father.
At sixty he began to love with the enthusiasm of twenty-
five, but he loved in Miss Dalrymple not the woman she
really was, but the woman he thought every female
ought to be ; and with this pattern of ideal excellence he
invariably associated the remembrance of his favourite
sister Lady Elizabeth, who had died ages* before that
* Five years only.

JAMES EARL OP BALCARRES. 143
period, but, though dead, she still continued his model
of perfection ; her picture was looked up to as the relic
of a saint, and her gentleness, mildness, and indulgence
so lived in his heart and fancy as indispensable' to what
was charming, that he never supposed it possible that
Miss Dalrymple should not be equally tender, accom
plished, and complying. His extreme deafness, perhaps,
might have aided his mistake ; he saw with the eyes of
his heart, and listened with the ears of his imagination ;
but, though the excellent Miss Dalrymple had no resem
blance in mind or manners to Lady Elizabeth, she had
a set of sterling quaUties mqre fitted to the situation
into which my father wished to draw her.
" She had worth, honour, activity, good sense, good
spirits, economy, justice, friendship, generosity — every
thing but softness. Fortunate it was for him that this
was wanting, for, had she possessed as much of feminine
gentleness as she did of vivacity, she would not have
been found by him at the waters of Moffat, with her
heart free, and her hand unsolicited.
" Lord Balcarres had now discovered what it was
that he stood in need of; that it was the society of a
charming princess to add to that of his books, — a prin
cess less unfortunate and more alive than our old friend
Queen Mary.
" But though Miss Dalrymple respected and looked
up to him, she was not disposed to pass the bounds of
gratitude for his marked admiration of her. Lord Bal
carres was almost sixty, and what was worse, the world

144 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
reckoned him eighty! Though his aspect was noble,
and his air and deportment shewed him at once a man
of rank, yet there was no denying that a degree of sin
gularity attended his appearance. To his large briga
dier wig, which hung down with three taUs, he generaUy
added a few curls of his own application, which, I sus
pect, would not have been reckoned quite orthodox by
the trade. His shoe, which resembled nothing so much
as a little boat with a cabin at the end of it, was slashed
with his penknife for the benefit of giving ease to his
honest toes ; — here — there — ^he slashed it where he chose
to slash, without an idea that the world or its fashions
had the smallest right to smile at his shoe; had they
smiled, he would have smiled too, and probably said,
' Odsfish ! I believe it is not Uke other people's, but
as to that, look, d'ye see ? what matters it whether so
old a fellow as myself wears a shoe or a slipper ? '
" The charms of his company and conversation car
ried with them a powerful attraction to the fair prin
cesses whom he delighted to draw round him, — ^for I
ought to have mentioned that my father's passion for
Queen Mary gave royalty to the sex, in order to account
for a phrase I have often repeated, while his total want
of knowledge of the world, in which he had never lived,
might have laid him too open to the arts of those prin
cesses, had not Providence directed his choice.
" This, however, was a character which could only be
taken in the aggregate. Lord Balcarres had proposed,
— Miss Dalrymple had not courage to accept ; she re-

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD. 145
fused him, — fully, frankly, finally, refused him. It hurt
him deeply, — he fell sick, — his life was despaired of.
Every man of sense may know that a fever is the best
oratory a lover can use ; a man of address would have
fevered upon plan, but the fever of my simple-hearted
father was as real as his disappointment. Though
grieved, he had no resentment ; he settled upon her the
half of his estate — she leamt this from his man of
business, — ^he recovered, though slowly, — and in one of
those emotions of gratitude, so virtuous at the moment,
but which sometimes hurry the heart beyond its calmer
impulse — she married him."
" She brought him," says he — and this testimony it
would be unjust to both to give in other than his own
words — " an approved merit, with all the ornaments of
beauty. She gave him a numerous offspring and all
other blessings. Possessed of the rational and natural
felicities so overlooked in this vain world, he became
thankful to his Maker for his disappointments in the
visionary aims that so disturb the minds of men."
SECT. II.
Two months after this happy marriage. Lord Balcarres
had the misfortune to lose the friend and feUow-soldier,
so kindly mentioned in the preceding correspondence,
John, sir-named the Gallant Earl of Crawford — in his
day one ofthe most distinguished soldiers in Europe, and
whose brief but brilliant career marks by the strongest

146 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
contrast the political difference established between
whig and tory, Hanoverian and Jacobite, during the
earlier half of the eighteenth century.
While Earl James is settling into a domestic character
at Balcarres, you will not, I think, be uninterested by a
slight sketch of the fortunes of his celebrated kinsman
and cotemporary.
John, earl of Crawford and Lindsay, was grandson of
Earl William, who flourished at the revolution, and
great-grandson of John Lord Lindsay of the Byres, who
succeeded to the earldom on the forfeiture of Montrose's
friend. Earl Ludovic.
Losing his mother in infancy, and his father* in child
hood, the charge of his youth devolved on his grand-
aunt, the duchess dowager of Argyle, at whose house in
the Highlands he resided, under the superintendence, of
a private tutor, till of age for the university of Glasgow.
His military predisposition soon evinced itself; Quintus
Curtius and Csesar were his favourite authors ; " nor
could any one," says Earl James, " have more the spirit
or application fit for a soldier, — and this with a most
amiable and beautiful person, that was beloved by all
who knew him."
After two years' study at the military academy of
Vaudeuil, in Paris, he returned to England, and, in
1726, was appointed to a company in one of the ad-
* John, seventeenth earl of Crawford, died a lieutenant-general in
the army, in December, 1713.

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD. 147
ditional troops of the Scots Greys, commanded by Lord
Balcarres's uncle, Sir James CampbeU, who bore him an
almost paternal affection ever afterwards till his death at
Fontenoy. From this epoch, too, his friendship wdth
Lord Balcarres probably dated.
He was now looked upon as one of the most accom
plished gentlemen of the age. " He was not tall," says
his biographer, "but graceful, strong, and active ; a fine
shooter, a masterly fencer,* an expert rider, and an ele
gant dancer," — in which last character he was noted for
his noble way of performing the " Makinorsair," or an
cient Highland war-dance, " habited in that dress, and
flourishing a naked broad-sword to the evolutions of the
body," a dance which has now completely disappeared.
" So celebrated was he for his performance, that he was
requested to dance it before his Britannic majesty, which
* " As to fencing, it was his delight, because it continually furnished
him with military ideas ; but he never exercised his sword in a real
private engagement, for he thought duelling the most execrable custom
that ever was introduced among society. He had as much personal
bravery as any man, and he was fond of shewing it in a glorious man
ner, — that is, in the plain open shock of battle, where he sought for
honour and where he declined no manner of danger; but he found there
was something so rash and barbarous, so impious and inhuman, in the
fashionable and pernicious practice of determining trivial points of
honour by duelling, that he held it incompatible with true bravery, and
inconsistent with the character of a soldier, whose sword should be de
voted to the honour of his king, and whose blood should stream only
for the service of his country." — Bolt's Life of John Earl of Crawford,
p. 90,4to., 1753.— Repd. 8vo., 1769. 12

148 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
he did at a numerous court, to the great satisfaction of
the king and company. He afterwards performed it,"
— (and for the last time, being a little, before the battle
of Krotska,) — " at the request of General Linden, before
a grand assembly of illustrious persons at Comorra, in
Hungary, habited in the dress of that country, which
became the dance exceedingly well."
After a campaign, as volunteer, with the imperial army
under Prince Eugene,* succeeded, as it had been pre
ceded, by two years of hard study, he sailed for Peters-
burgh in April, 1 738, with the intention of serving as a
volunteer against the Turks, — a warfare in which he
seems to have sincerely considered himself a crusader in
the cause of Christianity. His name and character were
already well known in Russia ; the Czarina Anne Iwan-
owna, niece of the great Peter, received him with much
kindness, and offered him a regiment of horse and the
rank of lieutenant-general in her sei-vice, which he de
cline d.-j~
*¦ On the morning of the battle of Claussen, (17 October, 1735,) his
young and dear friend. Count Nassau, hearing he had gone on a recon
noitring party, galloped after him, and, just as he was coming up, was
mortally wounded by a musket-ball in the forehead, within a few yards
of him. During the action that ensued, he lay in great agony in a cot
tage to which he had been removed, on an eminence overlooking the
field of battle ; at his desire, his servant watched the battle from the
window, and described its vicissitudes ; —the young warrior, less fortu
nate than Ivanhoe, died the next day.
t He there bought his favourite Spanish barb, killed under him at
Krotska.

JOHN EARL OP CRAWFORD. 149
He Started for the army about the middle of May, and
after a fatiguing and dangerous ride of nearly a thou
sand miles, across a country almost impassable,* reached,
though with much difficulty. General Munich's quarters.
Three actions rewarded his enterprise, in the last of
which, (fought on the 28th July, on the Dniester,) he
accompanied the Calmucks, with whose khan, Donduc
Ombo, and his son, Goldonarmi, he had struck up an
intimate friendship, his skill in horsemanship at once
proving a passport to their esteem. " In this last en
gagement," says Mr. Rolt, " he shewed as much agility
in charging and retreating as if he had been educated
among the Tartar nation ; he sabred one of the enemy,
whom he stripped of his arms, and brought his bow,
together with his quiver full of arrows, with him to
England. He acquired great reputation among the Cal
mucks, and became thoroughly acquainted with their
singular manner of fighting."
All this was not mere adventure ; he sought for mili
tary wisdom and found it every where ; nothing in the
field escaped his eye, and every interval of rest was spent
in study and in writing his observations on the campaigns
he served. Had Providence spared or given him an op
portunity of bringing his theories into practice in the
service of his country, he would have introduced the
* The diary of this journey, dictated by Lord Crawford and corrected
by his own hand, a large folio, is now in my possession, with various
other journals and military MSS. — the bequest of my kind relative
Lady Mary Lindsay Crawford, sister of the last earl of Crawford.
1,3

150 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
same system of rapid marches and sudden attacks by
surprise, to which Bonaparte, in after years, principally
owed his success. He was constantly projecting and
contriving methods for facilitating such marches and
simplifying the incumbrances of the soldiers, it being his
firm opinion that a change in the system, as then estab
lished, would, at least for a time, give a decided advan
tage to the army which adopted it.
To his Calmuck experience is perhaps to be referred
a desire equally decided for the partial reintroduction of
archery, which, he thought, would go far to restore the
ancient superiority of the English arms.
The season being now far spent, and the Turks too
strongly entrenched on the opposite bank of the Dnies
ter to admit of the Russians' passage. Marshal Munich
retreated to Kiow, and Crawford, after accompanying
him for three weeks, finding that nothing more was to
be undertaken, parted with him and rejoined his old
friends, the imperialists, riding post through Moldavia
and Hungary to Belgrade. On the army going into
winter quarters, he attended Prince Eugene to Comorra,
where, and at Vienna, he passed the winter very agree
ably between the society of his friends and his private
military studies.*
But the day was at hand when this gallant eagle was
to be brought down from his pride of place. He rose
often on the wing afterwards — his eye was bright to the
* Life, pp. 429—32.

JOHN EARL OP CRAWFORD. 151
last, looking to the sun, but the arrow was in his side,
drinking his life-blood. — I allude to the wound at the
battle of Krotska, which, after many years of excessive,
though intermittent suffering, at last carried him off in
the prime of life.
He had rejoined the army, under Marshal Wallis, at
Peterwaradin, in the spring, particularly attaching him
self to his old acquaintance. Prince Waldeck, Ueutenant-
general of the infantry. They marched in the highest spi
rits towards Krotska,* and were approaching the enemy's
outposts about three o'clock in the morning, when Lord
Crawford, who had reconnoitered the ground the night
before, rode up to the commander of the vanguard,
(composed of Rascians and hussars,) and, warning him
of their near neighbourhood to the enemy, advised the
maintenance of strict silence during the rest of the
march. They had scarce advanced fifty yards, before a
body of Turks attacked them wdth musketry from a
wood that overhung both sides of the defile they were
entering into. The whole body of Rascians, except ten
or twelve men, instantly fled. Crawford, shouting their
war-cry, " Heide, heide !" put himself at the head of the
handful that remained firm ; they stood but a moment,
*Lord Crawford's account of the battle of Krotska, with the sequel
ofthe campaign, &c., is printed in Mr. Rolfs work, p. 179 — 230.
" He was so beloved and esteemed by our soldiers," says another ac
count of this campaign, " that they thought no danger could happen
where he led ; for they had as high an opinion of his prudence as of his
valour, which was almost too much." l4

152 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
and looking back and seeing their companions hi flight,
foUowed their example, throwing Lord Crawford's groom
into a dry ditch, as they mshed past him. The last of
them having retreated, Crawford, believing his servant
was kiUed, returned through the defile and joined Palfi's
cuirassiers, who were at that moment advancing to the
attack. The defile being carried and the armies meeting be
yond it, he was charging the Turks like an old paladin of
romance, when, in the thickest of the fray, his gaUant
and beautiful Spanish charger (a loss he never forgot)
was kiUed under him;* an officer supplied him with
another, but he was immediately afterwards desperately
wounded by a musket-ball, which, entering on the out
side of the left thigh, about three inches below the hip-
joint, entirely broke the thigh-bone, the strong resistance
of which flattened and cut off a part of the bullet.
Falling to the ground, his friend Count Lucchesi had
him carried off by some grenadiers, who set him on a
horse, and led him out of the immediate scene of the
* " As he was a most excellent horseman, so his love for horses was
exceeding great ; he always lamented the death of his beautiful and
generous Spaniard."
" It was a beautiful black horse, whose noble behaviour in the field
was afterwards frequently commended by his lordship, who used to say,
that he was of opinion, if his Spaniard had not been killed, he might
have escaped the wound he received ; and when any of his acquaintance
mentioned the Spaniard to his lordship, he generously regretted him by
saying, ' Oh my beautiful Spaniard ! he was a fine soldier's horse in
deed!' " — Life, SfC.

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD. 153
battle, — in which condition his servant found him about
eight o'clock, holding the mane of his horse with both
his hands, without his hat, and deadly pale. " The
groom," says Mr. Rolt, " instantly leapt from his horse
and ran to his lordship, who seemed agreeably siu-prised
to see him again, — though he appeared to be in great
agony as they conducted him tow^ards the defile, where
he had been deserted by the Rascians early in tlie morn
ing, and where some of the imperial army were yet
mai'ching up to the engagement."
Prince Hilberghausen's body-surgeon passing by, and
knowing Lord Crawford, examined his wound as he sat
on horseback ; he hastUy bomid it up, put a bandage on
it, and hurried off in seai'ch of the prince who had sent
for him. The servant foUowed to ask his opinion con
cerning his master's wound ; " He wUl not Uve three
houre," was the answer.
Lord Crawrford w as then conducted a little farther up
the defile, till the plaister was washed off by the great
effusion of blood ; they met another surgeon, who again
bomid up the wound, and seeing his lordship very
weak through loss of blood, gave him a little brandy to
strengthen him.
" His lordship," continues Mr. Rolt, " endured inex
pressible torment by the whole weight of the leg hang
mg only by the muscles, which was aggravated by the
motion of the horse, whereby the shattered bones,
lodged up and down in the fleshy part of the thigh,
grew so very painfid as to make Mm entreat Ms servant

154 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
to lay him down any where on the ground, and let Mm
die in peace ; but, as they had not all tMs time made
above four or five hundred paces from the seat of action,
and bemg in a narrow defile where it was impossible to
get out on either side, besides the imperial troops coming
constantly along — the servant persuaded his lordsMp, if
possible, to have patience tUl they came to the least open
ing where they might quit the road and sit dowoi ; wMch
his lordship endeavoured to do, — ^but, as he repeated his
former desire, Ms servant obeyed and laid Mm down on
the bank of the defile ; when Count Lucchesi's servant
wanted to retum to his master, but, through persuasion,
stayed a Uttle longer, and pemaitted a man to ride the
horse Ms lordship had been on, to the camp, with an
order for his sleepmg-waggon to come up immediately.
" In the meantime Dr. Pratti, an Irish gentleman, and
proto-medicus of the army, came past ; who knew his
lordship, pitied Ms misfortune, cut open his boots and
breeches to examme the wound, and put fresh plaisters
on it, giving Mm good hopes of recovery, wMch pro
ceeded more from friendship than from Ms real senti
ments. As a great many of the wounded came by his
lordsMp, and gave information that the imperiaUsts were
giving way, the doctor persuaded Mm to get out of this
hollow road, for fear of being trampled to death, if the
forces were obliged to retreat ; at which time the prince
of Waldeck's black running footman, with one of his
hussars, w^ho was riding a Turkish horse he had made
booty of, and leading his own, very fortunately came by,

JOHN EARL OP CRAWFORD. 155
who readily offered their assistance to their master's fa
vourite friend ; upon which the officer's servant was dis
missed, and his lordship was remounted on horseback,
his own servant and the running footman walking on
each side of him, and the hussar rode before leading the
horse, while Dr. Pratti went on to the field of battle.
" They had scarcely advanced two hundred paces with
his lordship, when some cavalry came up. His lord
sMp's servant kept on the side of the horse next to
them, and earnestly entreated they would not ride too
near ; but having fresh orders to march up as fast as
possible, they came rushing so violently by, as to push
away the servant ; and thrustiug back his lordship's
sound leg, they tumbled him off his horse, when he feU
upon his belly to the ground ; but as the troops had then
the humanity to stop till he was remounted again, he
discovered a painful smUiug countenance, as if it was at
their barbarity in occasioning this fall, and also at the
heap of misfortunes w hich sm-rounded him in one day, —
though he gave no utterance to the least angry word ;
but as the principal officers of both the mfantry and
cavalry passed by, wdth most of w hom his lordship was
acquainted, they would cry out, ' My dear lord ! I am
heartUy soriy for your misfortune!' to wMch he re
pUed, with a brisk voice, ' I thank you, and wish you
better success ! '
" To prevent the Uke misfortune again, the footman
mounted behind liis lordship, and held him in his arms
about one hundred paces ftuther, when they came to a

156 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
rising ground, where they found a little opening to the
right, and conducted his lordship out of the defile about
twenty paces from the road, where they took him off his
horse, and seated him in the lap of his own servant,
who waited for the sleeping- waggon, which the prince of
Waldeck's servant was to order to that place.
" In this situation his lordship continued only with his
servant about an hour, when Prince Waldeck's French
cook rode by, who was desired by the servant to look
out for his lordship's sleeping-waggon, and order it im
mediately there. During this time, the wounded were
carried off this way in great numbers, some of whom the
servant asked how the day went, who gave Mm but a
melancholy account of it, saying that their people were
retiring ; but in this terrible condition, his lordship stiU
expressed the native bravery of his heart ; for, observing
one of the wounded soldiers smoking his pipe, as he was
carried along, his lordship shewed a smUe, and said, ' I
warrant him a brave fellow.'
" It was now about ten o'clock, when they heard some
scattered shot on their side, and the defile about the
valley became filled up with imperialists, from which his
lordship could judge no otherwise than that they were
so far repulsed by the enemy ; whereupon, seeing ano
ther scene of danger likely to open, and no appearance
of the sleeping-waggon, his lordsMp gave his gold re
peating watch, and his purse fuU of gold, to his servant,
saying, ' Dear Kopp, take these ; go, save your life, and
let me die here in peace.' ' No, my dear lord,' replied

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD. 157
the servant, ' I am resolved to share the hard fate of this
day along with you !' His lordship several times repeated
his desire, which his faithful servant as nobly refused.*
" About eleven o'clock, the defile cleared up again,
except that the train of wounded frequently passed, and
scattered troops returned to the field of battle ; but the
firing had been so near his lordship, that a Franciscan
friar belonging to one ofthe regiments, who stood nearer
the road to officiate to such of the wounded as desired a
priest, received a musket-shot through his body ; his
lordship observing this, again desired his servant to fly
and save his life, but he still persisted in his resolution of
continuing with his lordship, who, with a smiling coun
tenance, turned his head about to look at him, and
pressed his hand without saying any thing, for his grati
tude was too strong for words ; while the poor Francis
can expired with terrible groans about noon, when the
sleeping-waggon came up, together with his lordship's
valet-de-chambre, a groom on horseback with a led
horse, besides the coachman and postillion, who informed

* This gallant fellow, a German, I believe, by birth, had been recom
mended to Lord Crawford by the duke of Hamilton, " on account of his
fidelity and his knowledge of the German countries." — " The following
sheets," says Mr. Rolt, in the dedication of his work to the duke. " are
compiled through the encouragement of many illustrious personages of
several nations, as a small tribute to the memory of an illustrious sol
dier, and also intended as a benefit to a faithful domestic, well known
to your grace, who attended him in all his military expeditions, and
who participated of all his dangers."

158 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Ms lordship that Prince Waldeck's French cook had
given them the first intelligence of his disaster. They
immediately endeavoured to get his lordship into the
sleeping-waggon, which, notwithstanding aU the gentle
means they used, gave him excessive pains, as his blood,
by this time, was growdng a little cool ; however, they
got him in, and his two principal servants seated them
selves on each side of him, in which manner they pro
ceeded directly to Belgrade, and when they arrived
within a league of the city, the groom of the horse went
on before to acquaint the commandant. General Suckoff,
of his lordship's misfortune, and to desire him to recom
mend the best surgeon and doctor that could be got ;
who readily promised all the assistance in his power."
Lord Crawford entered Belgrade about four o'clock in
the afternoon, — three days afterwards, the fortress was
invested by the Turks. For some weeks he lay in agony
and danger, bombs, shells, and cannon-shot constantly
falling around Mm, splmters continually coining away
from his wound, and fresh incisions being repeatedly in-
fficted by the lancet, all of which he bore wdth unvary
ing patience and good humour. After his friend Prince
Waldeck's departure, his only amusement was hearing a
soldier play a few marches on a violin, and his servant
read aloud Quintus Curtius.*

* The groom " accidentally began to read that part of the ninth book,
where Alexander answers Craterus, Ptolemy, and the other generals
who solicited his return from India to Greece, by saying, ' the most

JOHN EARL OP CRAWFORD. 159
The fever at length left him, though in a very reduced
state, and on the 27th of October he was carried on
board a small transport vessel, in which he ascended
the Danube to Vienna. The boat, says the journal of
the voyage, kept under his direction, was " about sixty
feet long and about twenty broad, with a flat bottom,
pointed fore and aft; but as these vessels are scarcely
ever brought up the Danube, on account of its rapidity,
they are very slightly built, and the wood is sold for
firmg or builduig. The outside of this vessel was only
some planks nailed on small cross trees, and the Uttle
openings were stopped up with moss. The inside, on
account of its having brought grain, was all Uned with
rough boards, covered with the same, and pointed like
the roof of a house. It was separated into four divisions ;
the soldiers and boatmen were in the steerage ; next to
tMs was Ms lordship's room, double-lined with boards,
which were covered with blue cloth, having a stove in
it, and two little windows ; the third part contained all
his family, and the fourth was made use of for a kitchen."
In this primitive conveyance, on the 27th of Decem
ber, exactly two months after Ms embarkation at Bel
grade, Lord Crawford arrived at Comorra, where the
principal part of the buUet was extracted. He re-

cowardly souls and the greatest lovers of ease, that place their only hsCp-
piness in a long life, are frequently disappointed and cut off, as well as
others, by untimely and painful deaths ;' at which his lordship seemed
highly delighted, saying ' It was very true.' "—The surgeon, however,
forbade the repetition of this entertainment, as too exciting.

160 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
embarked on the 28th of April, 1739, and arrived on the
7th of May, at Vienna, lying aU the wMle in a recum
bent posture, splinters constantly coming away from his
wound, as they did for many years afterwards. From
Vienna he proceeded to the baths of Baden, where he
resided nearly a year, and where he recovered so far as
to attend the meeting of the burgher marksmen, win the
two best prizes, and entertain the whole company a few
days afterwards with a grand shooting-match and colla
tion. From Baden he proceeded through Presburg,
Vienna, and Leipsic, to Hanover, and, after waiting on
George II. at Hamelin, returned to England.
He had not been neglected at home during these busy
years. In 1739, he obtained the rank of adjutant-
general, and, the same year, was appointed to the com
mand of the Black- Watch, famous in modern history
as the " Gallant Forty-second " — then first united into a
regiment, and called " Lord Crawford-Lindsay's High
landers." Speaking the language, fond of the dress,
and attached to the manners and character of the Gael,
he " was dearly loved by them," says General Stewart,
" for his chivalric and heroic spirit."* He was made
colonel ofthe second troop of grenadier-guards, in 1740,
and, three years afterwards, colonel of the Scottish
horse-guards, disbanded in 1746. In May, 1745, he
was gazetted major-general. In September, 1747, he
was appointed to the command of the Scots Greys, and
died a lieutenant-general. * Sketches of the Highlanders.

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD. 161
After a year's residence at Bareges and in Italy, he
joined the British army under Marshal Stair, in May,
1743, where he sigain met his old friend Lord Balcarres,
whose commendation of his " noble and wise " conduct
at the battle of Dettingen you have already read — con
duct which was acknowdedged by the king the following
day in the emphatic words of welcome, " Here comes
my champion ! "
At Fontenoy, two years afterwards, he behaved with
his usual gallantry, covering the retreat in excellent
order, whUe his brave Highlanders, as he says in his ac
count of the battle, " fought like heroes, and acted, each
man, with the skill and conduct of a general."*
* For his spirited account of the battle of Fontenoy, (" essential,"
says Andreossi, " in the history of the war,") see his Life. — " All,"
says he, that " we were permitted to do, we did, and that was to retire
in tolerable order, after meriting success."
" The earl of Crawford," says his biographer, " behaved with the
greatest intrepidity and composure of mind, during the whole action ;
and when his lordship saw the troops retiring in broken parties, he
faced about and said, ' Gentlemen, mind the word of command, and
you shall gain immortal honour;' upon which he ordered his brigade
to rein back their horses, and keep a front to the enemy, who, by this
prudent disposition of his lordship, were intimidated from approaching
within a quarter of a mile. In this retreat, his lordship observed a
broken party of infantry retiring on his right-hand, when he spoke to
them, saying, ' Gentlemen, if there are any brave volunteers, who will
face about, and give the enemy a fire, I will give them twenty ducats."
Whereupon a part of them faced about, and gave one volley, for which
his lordship gave them the money. After this, his lordship conducted
the retreat in excellent order, till his troops came to the pass where he

162 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
On the breaking out of the rebellion that year, he
was summoned to Scotland to command six thousand
Hessians, who secured the passes into the Lowlands,
wMle the duke of Cumberland went north after the in
surgents.— In June, 1746, he rejoined the army in the
Netherlands, and on the morning that preceded the
battle of Roucoux, (October 1,) exhibited a singular
instance of presence of mind. He had ridden out be
fore day — with his aid-de-camp, some volunteers, and
two orderly dragoons — to reconnoitre the enemy, and
feU in with one of their advanced guards. " The ser
geant who commanded it, immediately turned out his
men, and their pieces were presented when the earl first
perceived them. Without betraying the least mark of
disorder, he rode up to the sergeant, and assummg the
character of a French general, told Mm in that language
that there was no occasion for such ceremony. Then
he asked if they had perceived any of the enemy's
party, and being answered in the negative, ' very well,'
said he, ' be upon your guard, and if you should be
ordered them to file off from the right ; when he pulled off his hat, and
returned them thanks, saying ' they had acquired as much honour in
covering so great a retreat, as if they had gained the battle.' Indeed,
his lordship's quickness in contriving, and skill and address in executing
this retreat, was highly commended by the whole army, and when se
veral officers complimented General Ligonier the next day upon this
fine retreat, he answered, with great generosity and candour, ' that if it
was praise -worthy, no part of it belonged to him, for it was contrived,
as well as executed, by Lord Crawford.' " — Life, S,c. p. 411.

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD. 163
attacked, I will take care that you shall be supported.'
So saying, he and his company retired before the ser
geant could recollect himself from the surprise occa
sioned by this unexpected address. In all probability
he was soon sensible of the mistake, for the incident was
that very day publicly mentioned in the French army.
The prince de Tingray, an officer in the Austrian service,
having been taken prisoner in the battle that ensued,
dined with Marshal Saxe, who discharged him on his
parole, and desired he would charge himself with a fa
cetious compUment to his old friend, the earl of Craw
ford : — ' He wished his lordship joy of being a French
general, and said he could not help being displeased
with the sergeant, as he had not procured him the ho
nour of his lordship's company at dinner.' "*
The following winter he returned to Scotland to marry
Lady Jean Murray, with whom he had fallen in love,
and she with him, during his hurried visit in the
" Forty-five." They returned to Flanders, and at the
conclusion of the campaign, settled at Aix-la-Chapelle,
for the benefit of the baths. Lord Crawford's wound,
always troublesome, having broken open again in con
sequence of his rapid journey to Scotland. He was con
fined to his bed, when a fever attacking his beloved and
amiable wife, carried her off in four days, before she had
completed her twentieth year! — The next campaign, how
ever, again found him in the field, and he continued with

* Smollett's Hist, of England.
M 2

164 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
the duke of Cumberland tiU the conclusion of the peace
of Aix-la-ChapeUe. — Receiving letters from the duchess
of Athol, his mother-in-law, who was then very ill, and
expressed her anxiety to see him once more, he hurried
to London, but was too late — she had expired two days
before his arrival. His wound broke open again through
the fatigue of the journey, but as soon as he could move,
he rejoined the army, " and finished his last campaign as
he had begun the first, with the greatest reputation
among all the officers and with the greatest affection of
the soldiers." He commanded the last embarkation of
the British troops at Williamstadt, February 1749, and
then returned to London, where his wound breaking out
once more, for the twenty-ninth and last time,* after
sufferings of exquisite torture, the sword having at length
completely worn through the scabbard, he expired on
Christmas-day, 1749, aged only forty-seven. His body
was conveyed to Scotland, and laid, at his own request,
by the side of his late wife, in the family vault at Ceres.
" John earl of Crawford," says his biographer, " had a
truly martial soul ; he was bom a soldier, and it was his
ambition to die as such in the field of battle. His per
son was middle-sized, well shaped, finely proportioned,
and very strong ; his personal courage was never ex
ceeded ; his generosity was equal to his bravery ; his
charity infinitely greater than his fortune, wMch many
distressed widows of officers frequently experienced.
* Gentleman's Magazine, 1749.

JOHN EARL OF CRAWFORD. 165
His temper was serene and dispassionate, his judgment
strong, his discernment penetrating, and his diligence in
the application of things extraordinary." — Splendid in
his retinue, he was temperate at his table, and his ele
gant manners were long remembered by his country
men, who fondly believed him, in the words of a
modern writer, " the most generous, the most gallant,
the bravest, and the finest nobleman of his time."*
A fine full-length portrait of Lord Crawford is in the
possession of the Miss Campbells of Newfield, the de
scendants of his sister. Lady Mary. — He left no children,
and the earldom devolved on his cousin, George fourth
Viscount Garnock, on the death of whose son, George
twentieth earl of Crawford, in 1808, the male line of
John Lord Lindsay of the Byres, Earl Ludovic's suc
cessor, became extinct.-j-

* Chambers' Traditions of Edinburgh.
t George Lord Garnock, like his gallant predecessor, had served as
a volunteer abroad, and was one of the reconnoitring party who owed
their lives to Lord Crawford's presence of mind on the morning before
the battle of Roucoux. He was afterwards an ofl5.cer in Lord Drumlan-
rig's regiment in the service of Holland, and marrying Jean, daughter
and heiress of Rob. Hamilton, Esq., of Bourtreehill, settled at Kilbirnie,
in Ayrshire, his family inheritance as representative, in the female line,
of the Crawfords of that designation. He repaired and ornamented
the old castle, and was residing there, with his family, in April, 1757,
when, one fine Sunday evening, a servant, going to the stables, saw
smoke issuing from the roof, and gave the alarm of fire ; in a few mi
nutes the castle was in flames. Lord Crawford ran to his wife's room,
and catching up his infant daughter, Lady Jean Lindsay, afterwards
M 3

166 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.

SECT. III.

I return to Earl James and the fire -side of Balcarres,
— which perhaps he might not have been then enjoying,
had he joined the rebellion in the ' Forty-five,' a step
countess of Eglintoun, hm-ried with her into the open air. They took
refuge in the manse, and afterwards removed to Bourtreehill. The
cause of the fire was long involved in mystery, and legends are still
floating in the neighbourhood which throw an air of romance over the
destruction of this ancient residence. It was never rebuilt, and the
ruins present a melancholy contrast to its former splendour.
On the death of George, twentieth earl of Crawford, (a major-general
in the army, and lord-lieutenant of Fifeshire,) in 1808, his sister. Lady
Mary Lindsay Crawford, succeeded to tbe property, as the only sur
viving child of her father. To omit mention of this remarkable lady
were ungrateful in one who has experienced so much kindness at her
hand as the author of these "Lives." In youth she was extremely
handsome, and retained her good looks to an advanced period of life.
Her mind was of a masculine order, her spirit high and independent,
her temper haughty to those who did not understand, or presumed to
contradict her prejudices- — yet kind and considerate to her dependants,
who were devotedly attached to her, and whom she had had around her
for years. Living (at least while in Britain) in almost entire seclusion,
her affections found vent on a curious assemblage of dumb favourites ;
dogs of every description, birds — and even a tame fox, formed part of
her establishment. Her brother's charger, long the object of her care,
survived her, and in her will were found minute directions how and
when it should be put to death, so that the cessation of its existence
might be attended with the least possible pain, — it was to be shot
sleeping. A tame deer, of great age, was a peculiar favourite ; she
compounded its mess of bread and milk daily with her own hands, —

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 167
which his sense of honour and military allegiance would,
I am satisfied, have restrained him from, even though
his known affection for the Stuarts had not occasioned
a guard to be set over him to prevent his joining the
prince's army.
The events of that memorable year are indeed written
in blood. I will not dilate upon them. The savage
pasha of Acre had no justor claim to the title of Djezzar
The predominant feature in her character was a religious reverence for
feudal times and the memory of her ancestors — a reverence which she
indulged in the erection of Crawford Priory, near Struthers, the ruined
castle of the Lindsays of the Byres, in Fifeshire. — It was in the gothic
hall of this edifice that the funeral service of the church of England was
read over her remains, in December, 1833. It was a day of alternate
cloud and sunshine, but mild and still. About the middle of the ser
vice, the sun-rays suddenly streamed through the painted glass, on
the groined roof, on the trophies of ancient armour disposed round
the walls — and lighted up the very pall of death with the gules and
azure of the Lindsay arms emblazoned on the window — and then died
away again. — The service over, the procession moved slowly from the
priory door, ascending, by a winding road cut for the occasion, through
a wood of firs, to the mausoleum on the summit of a lofty eminence,
where the late Lord Crawford was buried. Numbers of the tenantry
attended, and the hills were covered with groups of spectators. A more
impressive scene I never witnessed. And thus, amid a general subdued
silence, we committed to the dust the last of the Lindsays of the Byres,
the last of a line of five hundred years.
I possess various valued remembrances of Lady Maiy, especially her
own portrait by Watson, and that of her lovely but short-lived sister,
Lady Eglintoun, by Sir J. Reynolds — specially bequeathed to me, "in
consideration of the friendship and aflection which has subsisted be
tween the families of Crawford and Balcarres."

168 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
than William duke of Cumberland might have asserted
to the corresponding epithet in English. At a county
meeting held in Colinsburgh shortly afterwards, a whig
gentleman proposed Ms health ; Bethune of Kilconquhar
(great-grandfather, I believe, of the present Sir Henry)
drank it, and then rose and gave as his toast, the health
of one Sibbald, the butcher of Colinsburgh ; the whig
demurred — " Sir ! " cried Kilconquhar, " I've dxmikyour
butcher, and, by heaven, sir ! you drink mine, or out you
go by the window ! "
— Nor wdll I dwell upon the causes which tended to
prolong for so many years the reign of Jacobitism in
Scotland. . . George the Third adopted a milder, juster,
wiser policy than his predecessors. Times were changed,
and though many looked with an eye of lingering affec
tion to Prince Charles's little court in Italy, the virtues
of their actual and truly British monarch gradually re
conciled them to his occupancy of the " Stuarts' chair."
The oppressive enactments of timid policy were abo
lished. The Highlanders, marshalled under the banners
of George the Third and their native chieftains, won for
themselves the highest reputation for honour, worth, and
bravery. " I sought for merit," said Lord Chatham,
" and I found it in the mountains of the North. I there
found a hardy race of men, able to do their country
service, but labouring under a proscription. I called
them forth to her aid, and sent them to fight her
battles. They did not disappoint my expectations, for
their fidelity could be equalled only by their valour.

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 169
which signalised their own and their country's renown
aU over the world." — The jacobite estates. Highland and
Lowland, were restored, as we shall find hereafter, to the
descendants of those by whom they had been forfeited.
Whig and tory, protestant and Roman catholic, every
sect and every party, blessed, or ought to have blessed,
the generous, the christian monarch, whose bounty sup
ported the last claimant of his throne in age and poverty ;
and in our own times the spirit of party-hatred has at
least so far subsided, that the descendants of the bitter
est enemies of the old tory cause would scarce refuse a
tear to the memory of " Auld lang syne," when gazing
on the tomb where slumber in a foreign land the last
relics of the royal race of Stuart.
After Earl James's marriage, the old family chateau
again became the cheerful residence of a domestic circle,
and was repeopled with a youthful tribe who have since
become the venerable patriarchs of numerous families.
Happy in his home, in the love of his family, and in the
friendship of the leamed and the good, living in the past
rather than present times, and in his retirement meeting
wdth little of worldly selfishness to shock the chivalry
that moulded his every thought and deed, the evening of
our great-grandsire's days glided on in tranquillity, like
a mountain-stream, emerging from the rocks and the
ravine, and peacefully stealing through green meadows
to the ocean. Happiness smUed around him ; convert
ing his sword into a sickle, the retired soldier forsook
the worship of Mars for that of Ceres, and introduced

170 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
those agricultural improvements into the north, which
he had long studied and admired while quartered in the
richest districts of the south. He is described by one
who knew him well, as a nobleman distinguished by the
benevolence of his heart, the liberality of his sentiments,
the uncommon extent of his knowledge, particularly in
history and agriculture, and as the first who brought
farming to any degree of perfection in Ms native county.
" If our letters on this subject," — says he, in one to
his friend Lady Loudoun,* accompanying his System

* Lady Margaret Dalrymple, only daughter of John first earl of Stair,
married Hugh second earl of Loudoun, in 1 700. " Besides her personal
charms, which were very considerable, she had acquired a large portion
of those mental and liberal accomplishments which so much adorned
the brilliant court of Queen Anne : and possessed, moreover, in a high
degree, that dignity of character and deportment, and that vigorous and
active spirit, by which her gallant brother was so eminently distin
guished. In 1727, her ladyship fixed her residence at Sorn Castle, in
Ayrshire, the vicinity of which was in a very uncultivated state, and
the whole aspect of the country dreary and comfortless. In a soil and
clitnate where roads and shelter were peculiarly necessary, not a single
road or hedge, and very few trees were to be seen. Not discouraged
by these unfavourable circumstances, she determined to create a scene
more congenial to her own taste, and more like those to which she had
been accustomed in a better country. Accordingly her skill and acti
vity gradually produced an agreeable change. Besides enlarging the
garden and orchard, she subdivided an extensive farm which she occu
pied herself, inclosed it with hedges and hedge-rows, interspersed with
belts and clumps of planting. Through the whole extent of her farm,
she likewise adorned the banks of the river and of the rivulets, with
walks and plantations. These operations she herself carefully super-

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 171
of Agriculture, wMch, at her request, he had committed
to wTiting, and sent her iu the beginning of 1761, —
" are intercepted and fall into the hands of a ^drtuoso,
wiU he not think that, at our time of life, to be aiming at
improvements in agriculture, we must needs be a couple
of Chinese philosophers? You know the foundation
of their reUgion is, that a veneration for the Deity,
and a benevolence to mankind, expressed by having
children, improving fields, and planting trees, are surely
rewarded by paradise. The reward, I am certain, is
even to be found here, as the rational and natural plea
sures wdU ever excel the artificial ones, wMch neither
give feUcity here nor hereafter."*
intended, and many, both of the fruit and forest trees, were actually
planted and pruned with her own hands, and still remain pleasing mo
numents of her laudable industry. These her useful labours did not
pEiss unrewarded. When she first settled in that country, her constitu
tion and health appeared to be entirely broken ; but, in the course of
her rural occupations, they were gradually re-established, insomuch
that, during the last thirty years of her life, she enjoyed an uncommon
degree of health and cheerfulness. After an illness of a few days, she
died on the 3d of April, 17 77, in the hundredth year of her age, re
gretted by her friends and the industrious poor, to whom she had so
long been a benefactress." — Stat. Ace. of Scotland.
* The following anecdote is still told in Fife. Walking one day in
a field of turnips, on which he particularly prided himself, he surprised
an old woman, a pensioner of the family, busily employed in filling a
sack with his favourites. After heartily scolding her— to which she
onlv replied by the sDent eloquence of repeated curtseys, he was walk
ing awav, when the poor woman called after him, " Eh, my lord, it's
unco heavy ! wad ve no be sae kind as help me on wi't ?" — which he
immediately did, and, with many thanks, she decamped.

172 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
It has been said traly, " II ne plait pas long temps qui
n'a qu'un genre d'esprit." That variety of pursmts is
essential to the happiness of the individual, however, en
thusiastically devoted to the master-passion that " like
Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest " within him, might
be affirmed with equal trath. Happy is the man who
can, like Earl James, enjoy existence and redeem his
time, equally without and within doors, — though to Mm,
unfortunately, wisdom at one entrance was almost shut
out. The death of his brother, to whom, as I have al
ready intimated, he was devotedly attached, had so ner
vously affected him, " that it suddenly took from Mm the
use of his hearing, which was never tolerably restored.
Books, therefore," says his daughter, " were his constant
resources ; his taste was just, but unfettered, nor could
any one form any idea of what Lord Balcarres's opinion
was to be on any subject he was considering. Criti
cisms on the authors, however, that fell in his way, came
with so much justice and imagination from his tongue,
abridged and amended, that no one could enjoy my fa
ther's conversation, and be ignorant."*

* " To my mother Lord Balcarres gave up the entire management of
the family and of the children ; he knew her prudence, and rarely inter
fered in her jurisdiction, except when he found little misdemeanors
punished as crimes, and then I have heard him say, ' Odsfish, madam !
you will break the spirits of my young troops, — I will not have it so !'
— But while the tearing of clothes or fracturing of teacups might be
too rigorously chastised, or while needless privations might be im
posed on us to fit us ' for the hardships of life,' let us not forget that

JAMES EARL OP BALCARRES. 173
— " When we are unweU," he writes to his daughters,
Anne and Margaret, " and our spirits oppressed, think
ing and writing becomes troublesome, otherwise you
should sooner have had an answer to both your letters
wMch are now before me.
" I did not think my dear Annie had been so good^a
flatterer ; you make me a desirable, useful, and agree
able companion to men of the best taste, but indeed, my
Annie, your father is now no more than the ruin of an
old buUding that never had much beauty in it, but still
most affectionate to my children and friends ; and you
seem to think so when you say you would wUlingly part
with your ears to cure my deafness, — but how unnatural
would it not be in me to accept them? Many years
have passed since I heard soft sounds from a pair of fine
lips, the sweetest of all music ; it is only bestowed upon
youth, — you may Ukely hear a good deal of it, and even
from the wdse and agreeable, if you can confirm their
inclinations by being good and mild, cheerful and com
placent. Men love such companions as can help to make
them gay and easy ; for this end fair nymphs should
provide chains as well as nets, to secure as well as ac
quire captives ; you must have the Muses as well as the
Graces to aid and assist Nature — which has been very
good both to you and my dear Peg !

from Lady Balcarres's conversation and practice we learnt those general
rules of equity and honour, of independence of mind and truth, which
have through life, I am convinced, governed the mind of many a bro
ther." — Lady Anne Barnard.

174 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
" I doubt not but you have already had applause from
Strange and Doria, but you should hear Madame, and
have lessons from her, if she performs weU ; it is the
manner and expression of the passions that makes the
beauty of music, — to excel, you should understand the
ItaUan. So much for the Graces, — the love of the
Muses is not so easily gained, but there is a long and
lasting pleasure to be found in the pursmt of their fa
vour ; they will acquire you friends that will soften all
the iUs of life, and the helps of knowledge and virtue
will make even distress and disappointment easy to you.
For these ends you must have books, both to instruct and
entertain you ; they are said to be the best of friends, as
they advise without flattery, and reprove without anger ;*
it would make my letter too long to recommend authors,
— Doctor Anne Keith will advise you. Real religion is
taught in few words, and is, as you well know, the foun
dation that makes us live and die in peace and hope.
History will shew both the good and the ill of the best
and worst of men, and is the best help to think justly of
all things. Poetry will cheer you, and as much of pM-
losophy as concerns the moral virtues will help to make
you happy, even if condemned to be old maids ; if you
become wives, be amiable, — 'tis the best instrument to
have power, as your husband wdll have more pleasure in

* " Hi sunt magistri qui nos instruunt sine vergis et feruli, sine ver
bis et colera, sine pane et pecunia." — De Bury, quoted by Clarke, Biblio
graphical Dictionary.

JAMES KARL OP BALCARRES. 175
pleasing you than himself. We ha^ e had two ladies in
our house w ith aU the >drtues I recommend to you, my
aunt, Lady SopMa, and my sister. Lady Betty, whom I
wish to embrace you kindly in another world when you
have had enough of this."
It was at tMs period that, surrounded by his Ubrary
aud Ms friends. Lord Balcarres commenced those me
moirs of his fanuly, which I have so repeatedly quoted
in the preceding pages.
" ]\Ien," says he, " leave the pictures of their frail and
transitory persons to their famiUes, — some lineaments of
their minds were a better legacy, and would make them
more known to posterity." On this principle, he had, a
few" years before, transcribed, as a bequest to Ms children,
the agricultural treatise I have already mentioned as
addressed to Lady Loudoim, and a poetical epistie — " my
first," he says. '¦ and probably last essay m poeti-y" —
addressed, on the sudden inspiration of Thomson" s Sea
sons, to his wife,
" The harmoniser of my latter days.
Who brine"? forth fiiculties before unknown.""*
" There is Uttie of value in them," he says. " but by
* I have quoted a few lines from it in a preceding page. . . " My
best entertainment at present,'" he writes, " is Thomson's Seasons ; you
left them in tout room when vou went to Edinburgh. I lived a winter
with the man at Bath; he had nothing amiable in his conversation, and
I expected little from his writings, and never had before read them ; yet
his Seasons are tmlv poetic, — his descriptions beautiful, reflections
wise."

176 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
the first, you will see I was a good farmer, ever esteemed
by the polite nations as among the best of all occupa
tions ; by the second, you will see I loved your mother,
and much desire you will do so too. I lament in it our
nation's becoming a province, and its liberty and inde
pendency, so nobly defended for ten ages, lost in my
days. You, my children, are born after the union, when
Scotland is no more, and likely never to revive. Na
tions have their beginning, progress, and decay, as men
and all other earthly things, — such is the will of heaven.
It is now your business and duty to comply with the
situation you are placed in, and to be honest and grate
ful to those who employ you, and to the friends who do
you good."
It happily occurred to him that many circumstances
in the history of his family, not unworthy of remem
brance, would be forgotten after his death, unless re
corded by himself. His plan embraced not only the
recent but the ancient history of the leading branches
of his race ; that part of it, however, devoted to Ms
more immediate family is, as might be expected, the
most interesting.
"Almost the first recollection," says Lady Anne,
" which gleams on my memory, is seeing my father oc
cupied with dusty papers sent him in a tartan plaid hy
the old laird of MacFarlane, the ugliest chieftain, with
the reddest nose, I had ever, at that time, beheld. I
afterwards learnt that, being a famous genealogist and
antiquarian, my father had appUed to him for some in-

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 177
formation to complete the pedigree of his famUy. The
laird, delighted to be employed on a subject he was so
perfectly master of, sent him much useful information,
and procured him many important vouchers. . . Mean
time, my father, possessed of the necessary papers,
pursued his work with delight, while I, a little girl,
watched his pen, and rejoiced in seeing him appear
so well amused. I was rewarded from time to time
with a few sugar plums, from the children's drawer of
sweetmeats, for the attention I showed, which flowed
from my heart, independent of all views on the crusted
almonds. " This account of our family, drawn up by my father's
own pen, and necessarily connected with many other
families of distinction, has since been resorted to as a
record to be depended upon. It is written in the old
spelling of Ms day, and has, I believe, many grammati
cal errors in it, as the education of men in his youth was
not so much attended to as it has been since, and my
father's early entrance into the navy precluded a classi
cal education. He afterwards stocked his ardent mind
and lively fancy with all that books could teach, but
having had no Doctor Johnson in his infancy to drUl his
orthography, his manuscript speaks the age in which he
Uved as clearly as its discoloured paper tells the ill usage
it has met with in its warfare through life. That life
was nearly brought to a close by the want of good^faith
in our governess, whose brother, being a herald in the
office of the Lord Lion of Scotland, found my father's

178 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
book SO useful to him, that he got his sister to lend it
him, probably unknown to the family, as it was never
reclaimed. She was married, her brother died, and his
books were sold when our family were dispersed over
the world ; and my father's honoured work, the amuse
ment of his old age, being extremely ill-bound, was sold
with old lumber, lions, unicorns, &c., and was discovered
many years afterwards (as I was informed) on a stall by
a person who purchased it for a shilling, and sent it to
one of the family as a gem that could never have been
there unless by some unaccountable accident.
" I have arranged all," says Lady Anne, in her pre
face to her father's work, " as well as its state permit
ted, but altered nothing. Every thing marks the fire of
our dear father's animated mind, even at the age of
seventy-seven, when he closed his innocent life, sur
rounded by his children, and attended by his stUl beau
tiful wife, our mother, then scarcely forty years of age.
To promote the cultivation of talents in the minds of his
young descendants, to have them applied to worthy
purposes, and their ambition directed to right objects,
seemed to be the first wish of Ms heart."
May the words wdth which our revered patriarch
closed his memoirs sink deep into our hearts !
" The above short abstract is only intended for your
use, my dear children, and to help and advise you, that,
without pride, you may endeavour to be like your ances
tors, who were many of them wise and good, learned and
humane, affable and obliging to their friends, brave and

JAMES EARL OF BALCARRES. 179
resolute in maintaining the honour and welfare of their
country. By these qualities they became rich and aUied
to almost all the great families of Scotland ; by these,
they became the favourites of many of our best kings,
who gave them great estates, and, twice, their daughters
in marriage. Make yourselves worthy of your name
and family, my dear children I Labour to get know
ledge,— it will teach you to love and adore your Maker.
Pray to Him, and He wUl help you to be honest and
honourable, kind and affable to your friends, charitable
and just to all men : Be so — and you will be esteemed
and loved by all, and live and die far more happily than
even the most successful of men who are not good."
He died, " old and satisfied with days," on the 20th
February, 1768, and was buried in the chapel of Bal
carres. Earl James's was an eventful lifetime. Born during
the straggles of Earl Colin and Dundee the year after the
abdication of King James, he survived for above twenty
years the last effort of the Stuarts to regain their here
ditary kingdom. Chivalrous in thought, word, and
deed, of the most distinguished personal address and
finished manners, he was one of the last representatives
of the ancient nobility of Scotland, as they existed be
fore the union. Branch after branch had been shorn
away from his family, till, at the time when the marriage
was contracted to which we owe our existence, he was
the last of his race. With him, therefore, closes what
we may consider as the ancient history of our family.
n2

180 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
For its more recent fortunes, and for a far more interest
ing description than I can give my young readers of the
family circle of dear relatives and friends, whose head
quarters, till near the close of the last century, were at
Balcarres, I must refer you to those who then formed
its junior members, and who wdll introduce you famih-
arly to those beloved friends of " auld lang syne," whose
memory is still fondly and faithfully cherished among
us. — With a brief sketch, therefore, of the fortunes of
that generation, whose mother, after surviving her hus
band above half a century, died but a few short years
since under the patriarchal roof of Balcarres, the present
memoir will close.

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 181

CHAPTER XIV.

'¦ Her children arise up and call her blessed." — Prov. xxxi. 28.

SECT. I.

Lady Anne Barnard has sketched in her lively manner
the principal members of the family circle, as it existed
three score and ten years ago in Fife and Edinburgh.
One of the most loved and honoured of these was her
grandmother. Lady Dalrymple, daughter of Sir William
Cuninghame of Caprington, — who had lived almost
constantly at Balcarres during Earl James's lifetime, and
settled after his death in Edinburgh, where her house
was always a home to her young descendants. Lady
Anne recollected her as " a placid, quiet, pleasing old
woman, whose indolence had benevolence in it, and
whose sense was replete with indolence, as she was at
all times of the party for letting things alone." " I now
remember with a smile the different evolutions that
grandmama's daily fidgets had to perform, though, at
n3

182 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
the time, they plagued me a little. Good woman ! she
had a right to exercise her own troops as she pleased,
but no major of cavalry had a greater variety of ma
noeuvres to go through than she had every day, — and
why ? if she chanced to do any tMng on Monday that
was new to her, she thought it right to do it on Tues
day, and all the future days of her life.
" At ten, she came down stairs, always a little out of
humour till she had had her breakfast. In her left hand
were her mitts and her snuff-box, wMch contained a
certain number of pinches ; she stopped on the seven
teenth spot of the carpet, and coughed three times ; she
then looked at the weather-glass, approached the tea-
table, put her right hand in her pocket for the key of
the tea-chest, and, not finding it there, sent me up stairs
to look for it in her own room, charging me not to fall
on the stairs.
" ' Look,' said she, ' Annie ! upon my little table, —
there you will find a pair of gloves, but the key is not
there ; after you have taken up the gloves, you wUl see
yesterday's newspaper, but you will not find it below
that, so you need not touch it ; pass on from the news
paper to my black fan, beside it there lie three apples —
(don't eat my apples, Annie ! mark that !) — take up the
letter that is beyond the apples, and there you will find'
— ' But is not that the key in your left hand over your
Uttle finger ? ' — ' No, Annie, it cannot be so, for I always
carry it on my right,' — That is, you intend to do so, my
dear grandmama, but you know you always carry it in

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 183
your left.'—' WeU, weU, child I I beUeve I do, but what
then ? is the tea made ? put in one spoonful for every
person, and one over — Annie, do you mark me ? '
" Thus, every morning, grandmama smelt three times
at her apple, came down stairs testy, coughed on the
seventeenth spot, lost her key, had it detected in her left
hand, and, the mommg's parade being over, tiU the even
ing's nap arrived, (when she had a new set of manoeu
vres,) she was a pleasing, entertaining, talkative, mild
old woman. I should love her, for she loved me ; I was
her god-daughter, and her sworn friend." — " She was
the mildest," adds Lady Anne, many years afterwards,
" and most innocent of beings, and would have been pos
sessed of considerable powers of mind and conversation,
had she not been so afraid of being made to feel, that,
from system, she took pains, as poor Sheriff Cross said,
''to accomplish herself up to the height of inutility.' In
one moment she was released from every worldly infir
mity and sent into the presence of her Maker, not un
prepared, and therefore not to be deeply regretted."*
* The following anecdote of David Hume, the historian, whom Lady
Dalrymple had known from a child, occm-s in a letter of Lady Anne to
her sister Margaret, from her grandmother's house in Edinburgh.
" Dinners," she says, "go on as usual, which, being monopolised by
the divines, wits, and writers of the present day, are not unjustly called
the Dinners of the Eaterati by Lord Kellie," who laughs at his own pun
till his face is purple.

* Thomas Alexander Erskine, the sixth and musical earl of Kellie.
n4

184 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
In the neighbourhood of Edinburgh was the country-
house of Sir Adolphus Oughton, Lady Balcarres's con-
" Our friend David Hume, along with his friend. Principal Robertson,
continue to maintain their ground at these convivial meetings. To see the
lion and the lamb lying down together, the deist and the doctor, is ex
traordinary ; it makes one hope that some day Hume will say to him,
' thou almost persuadest me to be a christian.' He is a constant morn
ing visitor of ours. My mother jested him lately on a circumstance
which had a good deal of character in it.
" When we were very young girls, too young to remember the scene,
there happened to be a good many clever people at Balcarres at Christ
mas, and as a gambol of the season they agreed to write each his own
character, to give them to Hume, and make him shew them to my
father, as extracts he had taken from the pope's library at Rome.
" He did : — my father said, ' I don't know who the rest of your fine
fellows and charming princesses are, Hume ; but if you had not told
me where you got this character, I should have said it was that of my
wife.' " ' I was pleased,' said my mother, ' with my lord's answer ; it
shewed that at least I had been an honest woman.'
" ' Hume's character of himself,' said she, ' was well drawn and full
of candour ; he spoke of himself as he ought, but added what surprised
us all, that, plain as his manners were, and apparently careless of atten
tion, vanity was his predominant weakness. That vanity led him to
publish his essays, which he grieved over, not that he had changed his
opinions, but that he thought he had injured society by disseminating
them. — ' Do you remember the sequel of that affair ?' said Hume ; ' Yes,
I do,' replied my mother, laughing, ' you told me that, although I
thought your character a sincere one, it was not so, — there was a par
ticular feature omitted, that we were still ignorant of, and that you
would add it; like a fool, I gave you the MS., and you thrust it into
the fire, adding, ' Oh ! what an idiot I had nearly proved myself to be,
to leave such a document in the hands of a parcel of women ! '

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 185
nection by marriage, and at that time commander-in-
•chief in Scotland — " where some of the happiest days,"
" ' Villain !' said my mother, laughing and shaking her head at him.
" ' Do you remember, all this, my little woman ? ' said Hume to me.
' I was too young,' said I, ' to think of it at the time.' — ' How's this ?
have not you and I grown up together ?' — I looked surprised, — ' Yes,'
added he, ' you have grown tall, and I have grown broad.' "
The visit to Balcarres was probably subsequent to the date of the two
following letters— from the historian and from Patrick Lord Elibank,"
to whom Lord Balcarres owed his acquaintance.
" Edinburgh, 17 December, 1754.
" My lord, I did really intend to have paid my respects to
your lordship this harvest ; but I have got into such a recluse, studious
habit, that I believe myself only fit to converse with books, and, how
ever I may pretend to be acquainted with dead kings, shall become
quite unsuitable for my friends and cotemporaries. Besides, the great
gulph that is fixed between us terrifies me. I am not only very sick
at sea, but often can scarce get over the sickness for some days.
I am very proud that my history, even upon second thoughts, appears
to have something tolerable in your lordship's eyes. It has been very
much canvassed and read here in town, as I am told ; and it has full as
many inveterate enemies as partial defenders. The misfortune of a
book, says Boileau, is not the being ill spoke of, but the not being
spoken of at all. The sale has been very considerable here, about 450
in five weeks. How it has succeeded in London, I cannot precisely tell.
Only, I observe that some of the weekly papers have been busy with
me. I am as great an atheist as Bolingbroke ; as great a Jacobite as

« The " clever I<ord Elibanlf," as he was usually called in the Scottish society of last
century— one in whose company Dr. Johnson confessed he had never been without
learning something.

186 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
says Lady Anne, " have been spent by us, wMch fate
ever portioned out in her distribution of pleasures." —
Csirte ; I cannot write English, &c. I do indeed obsei-ve that the book
is in general rather more agreeable to those they call tories ; and, I
believe, chiefly for this reason, that, having no places to bestow, they
are naturally more moderate in their expectations from a writer. A
whig, who can give hundreds a year, will not be contented with small
sacrifices of truth ; and most authors are willing to purchase favour at
so reasonable a price.
I wish it were in my power to pass this Christmas at Balcarres. I
should be glad to accompany your lordship in your rural improvements,
and return thence to relish with pleasure the comforts of your fireside.
You enjoy peace and contentment, my lord, which all the power and
wealth of the nation cannot give to our rulers. The whole ministry,
they say, is by the ears. This quarrel, I hope, they will fight out among
themselves, and not expect to draw us in, as formerly, by pretending it
is for our good. We will not be the dupes twice in our life.
I have the honour to be, my lord.
Your lordship's most obedient and most humble servant,
David Hume."
" My dear lord.
My name is Murray, and your lordship knows I
must be vain. Your kind letter has gratified my weakness most tho
roughly. Do not think I flatter when I assure your lordship I am
prouder of your approbation and friendship than of any other man's on
earth, and, if it was not for the mortifying reflection that I sincerely
think myself unworthy of it, yours would make me completely happy.
As it was reasonable in me to have an eye to your entertainment
as well as my own, I proposed to bring my friend, David Hume,
along with me; a former engagement, which he tried to get free
of, but could not, disappointed him of an honour he was most ambi
tious of. Sir Alexander Dick intends to wait upon your lordship with

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 18/
" Sir Adolphus w as the mildest, the best of huuinn
beings ; his benevolence, information, simplicity of
heai't, and variety of talents and accoinplishments, ren
dered him the honoured delight of society, Avhile his
agre'metis and social mirth were all so chastened and
harmonised by a degree of unaffected aitless piety, as to
shed rays almost of glory round the man, w hose worthy
heart was at the same time crossed w ith a star and red
ribband, and who w as loaded w ith the scarlet and gold
of his triple embroidered uniform as commander-in-
chief." — Au eulogy corroborated as to his " sweetness of
temper," "suavity of manners," "extensive information,"
" boundless curiosity and unw earied diligence," by the
united testimony of Johnson, Boswell, and the venerable
Lord Stowell.
Lady Oughton " was w hat may be called in one word,
an excellent woman ; her stories w ere long, but she was
affectionate and kind to us." Her sister. Miss Ross, is
well remembered as one ofthe dear friends of our grand-
sires' youth.
Another family friend of that day, was Mrs. Cock
burn, whose song of the " Flowers of the Forest " w iU
never wither. Lady Balcarres looked upon her " as a
second mother ; she was ten years her senior, but her
me, but cannot till the week after next. Lady Elibank join; in our sin
cerest compliments to my lady nnd family, and T am with zeal, my dear
lord, your really affectionate, humble servant, Elibank.
Balincrief, Julv 5, 17;')5."

188 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
mind was so gay," "enthusiastic and ardent," "her
visions were for ever decked with such powers of fancy,
and such infinite goodness of heart," " her manners to
young people were so conciliatory, and her tenets so
mild, though plentifully Utopian, that she was an inva
luable friend between the mother and the daughters."
But, of all her society, Mrs. Anne Murray Keith, Lady
Balcarres's first cousin, was her dearest friend through
life ; a constant and ever welcome visitor at Balcarres
during her husband's lifetime, — her constant companion
during the many years she resided in Edinburgh after her
cMldren had all embarked on their several professions,
— and, latterly, the cherished guest of your grandfather,
after her aged friend and herself had become too depend
ent on the attentions due from youth to age to be allowed
to reside any longer under their own roof. Many an an
cient Scottish legend did Sir Walter Scott glean from
"Annie Keith :" — " D'ye think I dinna ken my aiu groats
amang ither folks' kail ?" was a phrase she often playfuUy
used in vindication of the certainty she always expressed
of his identity with the unknown author of Waverley.*
Sir Robert, or "Ambassador Keith," as he was com
monly called, and Sir Basil, the brothers of this accom-
* " You will be sorry to hear," writes Sir Walter Scott, (April 30,
1818,) " that we have lost our excellent old friend, Mrs. Murray Keith.
She enjoyed all her spirits and excellent faculties till within two days
of her death, when she was seized with a feverish complaint, which
eighty-two years were not calculated to resist. Much tradition, and of
the very best kind, has died with this excellent old lady ; one of the

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 189
plished lady ; Sir Alexander Dick of Prestonfield, great-
uncle ofthe young tribe of Balcarres, and still remembered
as one ofthe worthiest, kindest, and most intellectual men
of his day ;* Sir Robert and the Anstruthers of Balcaskie,
our neighbours and near and valued relations ; the Dal-
rymples of all denominations ; the family of Dr. John
Rutherford, grandfather of Sir Walter Scott — whom even
then his aunt, " Jeanie Rutherford," remarked to Lady
Anne, " had more mind and more genius than any crea-

few persons whose spirits and cleanliness, and freshness of mind and
body, made old age lovely and desirable." — Life, iv., p. 139.
For a description of her person and residence, extracted from " Pro
bation," by her niece, " the authoress of Selwyn," see the Appendix,
No. VIII.
* By birth a Cuninghame, ofthe Caprington family, and then president
of the Scottish College of Physicians. Alexander Chalmers draws his
character in the following high but just terms : — " While steady in the
pursuit of every object which engaged his attention, his conduct in every
transaction throughout life was marked with the strictest honour and in
tegrity. This disposition and this conduct not only led him to be con
stant and warm in his friendship to those with whom he lived in habits
of intimacy, but also procured him the love and esteem of all who really
knew him. Notwithstanding the keenness and activity of his temper,
yet its striking features were mildness and sweetness. He was naturally
disposed to put the most favourable construction on the conduct and
actions of others, which was both productive of much happiness to him
self and of general benevolence to mankind. And that serenity and
cheerfulness which accompanied his conduct through life were the at
tendants even of his last moments, for on November 10, 1785, he died
with a smile upon his countenance, lamented as a great loss to society."
— Biogr, Diet.

190 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
ture of his age she had ever seen," — these, and other
families less intimate, formed part of Lady Balcarres's
society, either in Fife or Edinburgh ; I have not space
to enter into particulars respecting them, but should be
sorry indeed were the remembrance of these old friend-
sMps to be lost.
— " You cannot be more pleased than I am," voites
Sir Walter Scott to Lady Anne Barnard, on their re
newing their early acquaintance more than half a cen
tury after the period I am now dwelling upon — " to have
so many recollections of former life recalled as your
ladyship's letter forced at once on my memory, and of
which the sweeping course of time has now left so few
living witnesses. I remember all the locale of Hynd-
ford's Close perfectly, even to the Indian screen with
Harlequin and Columbine, and the harpsichord, though
I never had the pleasure to hear Lady Anne play on
it. I suppose the Close, once too clean to soil the hem
of your ladyship's garment, is now a resort for the
lowest mechanics — and so wears the world away. The
authoress of ' Robin Gray ' cannot but remember the
last verse of an old song, lamenting the changes ' which
fleeting time procureth ;'
' For many a place stands in hard case
Where blythe folks kenned na sorrow.
With Humes that dwelt on Leader Haughs,
And Scotts wha lived on Yarrow.'
— " It is, to be sure, more picturesque to lament the deso-

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 191
lation of towers on hills and haughs, than the degrada
tion of an Edinburgh close, but I cannot help thinking
on the simple and cosie retreats where worth and talent,
and elegance to boot, were often nestled, and which now
are the resort of misery, filth, poverty, and vice.
" I believe I must set as much modesty as near thirty
years of the law have left me entirely aside, and plead
guUty to being the little boy whom my aunt Jeanie's par
tiality may have mentioned to your ladyship, though I
owed my studious disposition in no small degree to early
lameness, which prevented my romping much with other
boys, though, thank God ! it has left me activity enough
to take a great deal of exercise in the course of my life.
Your ladysMp's recollections, awakening my own, lead
me naturally to reverse the telescope on my past life,
and to see myself sitting at the further end of a long
perspective of years gone by — a little spoiled chatter
ing boy, whom every body was kind ^to, perhaps be
cause they sympathised with his infirmities."*
*" You will imagine, then, my dear Lady Anne," continues Sir
Walter, " how much I value the great kindness which has awakened
so many melancholy and yet pleasing reflections. The generations of
Rutherfords, in whom your ladyship was interested, are all past away.
My mother, my uncle. Miss Christy, the youngest daughter of Mrs.
Russell, died by a strange fatality within a week of each other, though
of such different ages. Mrs. Russell's eldest son and two daughters
alone survive out of a family so numerous. The former is in India, a
most distinguished officer. The two daughters are abroad, trying what
climate and foreign baths will do to restore the [mother] , whose grief
at the successive calamities amongst our friends had a paralytic effect

192 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
I close this gallery of portraits with that of Sophy
Johnstone, for many years a constant intimate of Bai-
on her constitution. Of twelve or thirteen children of my father, I
only survive ; and, when I look at two sons and two daughters, fine
young fellows, and pretty women, though I say it that should not, I have
only to hope that their flourish may come to maturer fruit than was
the lot of their predecessors."
The train of feeling with which this letter closes, is resumed in a
subsequent one, of December 3, 1823.
" Sir Coutts Trotter has always been my good and kind friend ; and
with his lady I am, as Sir Toby says in Twelfth Night, consanguineous,
besides that the late Lady Dumfries and my mother were always dear
friends, which is rather better than seventh cousins. The swelling of
the waters of Tweed and Ettrick prevented our getting through to pay
our respects to Mr. and Mrs. Lindsay when at Yair this summer, which
I regretted much. The distance is not above three miles, when the
river-gods will permit, but I never saw them so long in real bad hu
mour as this last season, and I have given over- the task of swimming
drumly fords, at which I was once dexterous enough, to my young
hussar, whom your ladyship kindly enquires after. — I am much obliged
to my constant friend. Sir Coutts Trotter, for speaking so kindly of my
young folks. I was at some pains to train them for their several pro
fessions, to which they early shewed a distinct predilection. I think
I may almost say with an old ballad, which I dare say your ladyship
remembers, ' I have leai-ned my gay goss-hawk
Right weel to hack a steed;
And sae hae I my tnrtle-doo
As weel to write and read.
' And I hae learnt my gay goss-hawk
To wield baith gun and sword ;
And sae hae I my turtle-doo
To read the Latin word.'
" Please God to spare them to me, I have every reason to think that

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 193
carres, and one of the most extraordinary originals of a
day when character seems to have been stamped vrith a
they will be comforts to me. My eldest daughter, who is generally
thought one of our best ballad-singers, is married to a young man of
very uncommon talent and amiable disposition, named Lockhart, who
adds a most agreeable addition to our patriarchal fire-side, together
with a babbling brat of a grand-child, which I like rather better than I
should do. I expect them all, except Charles, to assemble about a
Christmas log at Abbotsford, where we go to spend the recess of the
Court of Session ; for I have the honour to be a slave, neither of the
lamp nor of the ring, but of their lordships' clerks' table — a good com
fortable situation, which unites a handsome income with moderate la
bour and little responsibility."
Of a different character, but equally interesting, are the following
remarks on Lord Byron's character, which few understood so well.
(14 Sept., 1824.)
" Fletcher's account of poor Byron is extremely interesting. I had
always a strong attachinent to that unfortunate, though most richly
gifted man, because I thought I saw that his virtues (and he had many)
were his own, and his eccentricities the result of an irritable tempera
ment, which sometimes approached nearly to mental disease. Those
who are gifted with strong nerves, a regular temper, and habitual self-
command, are not perhaps aware how much of what they may think
virtue they owe to constitution ; and such are but too severe judges of
men like Bvron, whose mind, like a day of alternate storm and sun
shine, is all dark shades and stray gleams of light, instead of the
twilight gray which illuminates happier though less distinguished
mortals. I always thought-that when a moral proposition was placed
plainly before Lord Byron, his mind yielded a pleased and willing as
sent to it ; but, if there was any side-view given in the way of raillery
or otherwise, he was willing enough to evade conviction. . . It augurs ill
for the cause of Greece that this master spirit should have been with
drawn from their assistance just as he was obtaining a complete ascen-

194 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
bolder die, or at least to have opposed more resistance
to attrition than it now does. " Her father," says Lady
Anne, " Was what is commonly called an odd dog ; her
mother that unencroaching sort of existence, so univer
sally termed ' a good sort of woman.' One day after
dinner, the squire, having a mind to reason over Ms
bottle, turned the conversation on the ' folly of educa
tion.' The wife said, she had always understood it was
a good thing for young people to know a little, to keep
Jthem out of harm's way. The husband said, education
was all nonsense, for that a child who was left to nature
had ten times more sense, and all that sort of thing,
when it grew up, than those whose heads were filled full
of gimcracks and learning out of books.
" Like Mrs. Shandy, she gave up the point,' and, as
he stoutly maintained his argument, they both agreed to
make the experiment on the chUd she was ready to pro
duce, and mutually swore an oath that it never should
be taught any thing from the hour of its birth, or ever
have its spirit broken by contradiction.
" This child proved to be Miss Sophy Johnstone. . . I
scarce think that any system of education could have
dancy over their councils. I have seen several letters from the Ionian
islands, all of which unite in speaking in the highest praise of the wis
dom and temperance of his counsels, and the ascendancy he was obtain
ing over the turbulent and ferocious chiefs of the. insurgents. I have
some verses written by him on his last birth- day ; they breathe a spirit
of affection towards his wife, and a desire of dying in battle, which
seems like an anticipation of his approaching fate.''

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 195
made this woman one of the fair sex. Her taste led her
to hunt with her brothers, to wrestle with the stable-
boys, and to saw wood with the carpenter. She worked
well in iron, could shoe a horse quicker than the smith,
made excellent trunks, played well on the fiddle, sung
a man's song in a bass voice, and was by many people
suspected of being one. She learnt to write of the butler
at her own request, and had a taste for reading which
she greatly improved. She was a droll ingenious fellow;
her talents for mimicry made her enemies, and the vio
lence of her attachments to those she called her favour
ites secured her a few warm friends. She came to spend
a few months with my mother soon after her marriage,
and, at the time I am speaking of, had been with her
thirteen years, making Balcarres her head-quarters, de
voting herself to the youngest child, whichever it was,
deserting him when he got into breeches, and regularly
constant to no one but me. She had a little forge fitted
up in her closet, to wMch I was very often mvited."
It was for a beautiful old Scottish melody, sung by
this amazonian dame, that Lady Anne, the eldest of the
youthful tribe of Balcarres, wrote the ballad of " Auld
Robin Gray," in 1771, soon after her sister's marriage
and consequent departure for England. " Residing,"
says she, " in the solitude of the country, without other
sources of entertainment than what I could draw from
myself, I used to mount up to my little closet in the high
winding staircase, which commanded the sea, the lake,
the rock, the birds, the beach — and, with my pen in my
o2

196 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
hand, and a few envelopes of old letters (w hich too often
vanished afterwEirds), scribble away poetically aud in
prose, tiU I made myself an artificial happiness, wMch
did very weU ' pour passer le temps,' though far better
would my attempts have been, had I had Margaret's
judgment to correct them."
" Never," she continues, after relating some anecdotes
of the ballad, wMch w ill be found repeated in a letter to
Sir Walter Scott towards the close of these memoirs,
"never having shewn it to any one except Lady Bal
carres, who was greatly pleased with it, aud with the
share Elizabeth had in the calamities, (N. B., she was
fond of talents of a Ught sort, and, though w ithout in
vention, had a good discriminating taste on many occa
sions,) it would never have been suspected as mme, had
it not been that, at Dalkeith, Lady Jane Scott, a sen
sible pleasant sister of the duke's, said, ' You sing
that song in a way that makes me sm'e it is your own
writing.' I blushed scarlet and denied it, 'Dont do
so,' said she, — ' I will betray you unless you give me a
copy of it.' To convince her I was not the author, I
gave it, entreating her not to let any one have it, wMch
she promised, — but somehow it got into the world ; old
ladies remembered it in their nurseries, with inventive
rather than retentive memories, and old-song books, all
of a later date than 1771, stocked with ancient ditties,
wfere brought forward to prove that if I ventured to caU
the song mine, (which no one had ever heard me do,)
I told a story."

LADY MARGARET FORDYCE. 197
And thus for many a long year, whUe all agreed in ad-
mirmg " Auld Robin," few or none were agreed on the
subject of its antiquity. Perhaps the simplest evidence
of its popularity, and of the interest taken in the question
of its date, may be found in the words with which the
authoress closed an impertinent cross-examination, to
which the secretary of some Antiquarian Society, deputed
to enquire into the matter, had subjected her. " The
ballad in question," said she, " has in my opimon met
with attentions beyond its deserts. It set off with having
a very fine tune put to it by a doctor of music, was sung
by youth and beauty for five years and more, had a ro
mance composed from it by a man of eminence, was the
subject of a play, of an opera, and of a pantomime, was
sung by the united armies in America, acted by Punch,
and afterwards danced by dogs in the street — ^but never
more honoured than by the present investigation."*
Lady Margaret and Lady Anne Lindsay were at
tached to each other through life by unusually warm
feelings of sisterly affection. Of Lady Margaret's per
sonal charms and mental accompUshments, the recorded
admiration of her cotemporaries, and many beautiful
poems, original or translated from the German,-f- are
surviving proofs. " Beauty and grace," says Lady
* The genuine text of " Auld Robin Gray," with the Continuation,
will be found in the Appendix, No. IX.
t A few specimens of these, including her translation of Burger's
Lenora, will be found (printed for the first time) in the Appendix,
No. X. o 3

198 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
Anne, " formed her figure ; feminine mildness and dig
nity her manners. Her conversation was as gay as it
was enlightened, and had often so much of the brilliancy
of harmless wit in it, that nothing could have saved her
from the envy which pursues it, but the softness of her
manner, which so blunted, or rather veiled its point,
that the listener went away, charmed with her as a beau
tiful woman, without having found out that her capacity
was even superior to her beauty. Her eyes were dark
blue, and, though small, were full of animation when
she smiled, though softness was their character ; but it
was the eye-lids which gave to them that singular ex
pression of beatitude which involuntarily suggested the
word ' angel ' to the gazer on whom those mild rays
fell. Her hair was auburn inclining to red, her nose
Greek approaching to aqmline ; her mouth might be
supposed a little too wide, but it was surrounded with
smiles which shewed a set of teeth so pure and fine, that
it was impossible to have wished the house smaller that
lodged such tenants. Her general form and stature had
the fulness in it of youth's first bloom, while her skin
and complexion had all its lustre and delicacy, — but the
turn of her face and throat — it was Grecian beauty's own
self! Never have I heard any voice in singing so me
lodious ; it had that perfect affinity with her appearance
which lent and borrowed from it additional charms ; it
possessed that natural affettuoso which often surprised
tears from the listener he knew not why. Affectionate,
pious, and benevolent was her mind ; her abilities were

LADY MARGARET FORDYCE. 199
admirable, although disregarded, and almost unknown
to herself" — " With such a figure for a partner, with
such a friend to my heart, I entered life, nor is that tie
dissolved, nor is that form escaped to its sky, — all, all
remains unimpaired, except by the ravages of the cruel
scythe, wMch mows down every flower and every charm,
to make us think of that spot where they will fade no
more ! "
Such was Lady Margaret Fordyce, whose youthful
beauty inspired Richard Brinsley Sheridan with those
weU-known lines, which alone have survived the poem
they appeared in : —
" Marked you her eye of heavenly blue,
Marked you her cheek of rosy hue.
That eye in liquid circles roving.
That cheek abashed at man's approving.
The one Love's arrows darting round.
The other blushing at the wound ! "
She is more truly described — ^her character, at least,
which bore much resemblance to that of her aunt. Lady
Elizabeth,* in the words of Haller's monody on his wife,
translated by herself : —
" One who ne'er felt the pride of human will.
But meekly bent beneath the will of God ;
Cheerful, sedate, zealous, yet calm and still.
The patient victim of misfortune's rod.''
* " Always sweet, always entertaining, always instructive, she re
minded me of the character drawn by my father, in his memoirs, of his
sister. Lady Elizabeth." — Lady A. Barnard. o4

200 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
— " But she was happy at last, though short was its pe
riod, two years only ! Let me add this, in justice to
Sir James's kind attentions," — Sir James Burgess, well
known in literature, her second, deserving, and kind
husband. In the meanwhile, the domestic circle was rapidly di
minished by the successive embarkation of its junior
members on the stream of active life. Well might Lady
Anne speak of her family having been dispersed over
the world, — each followed his own course, and, in a few
years, there was scarce a quarter of the world of wMch
a Lindsay was not a denizen. Those who hovered nearest
home, were Lady Margaret ; Lady Elizabeth, countess of
Hardwicke,* and mother of your fair cousins of Mex
borough, Caledon, Stuart de Rothesay, and Eastnor •,'\-
and Charles Dalrymple Lindsay, bishop of Kildare, the re-
* Lady Hardwicke's beautiful translation of Tasso will be printed,
by her special permission, in a volume uniform with these memorials
of her Scottish kindred.
t The melancholy fate of the gifted Lord Viscount Royston, whose
" Remains" have recently been given to the public, throws a deep in
terest over the following lines addressed to him by his mother on his
birth-day, and sent to him at Harrow, in May, 1796 — lines which I
acknowledge with gratitude the permission of inserting here.
Again the jocund month of May,
With all its blossoms fresh and gay.
Returning, brings the happy raoru
On which my child, my son was horn.
With what delight thy mother smiled.
Thy father wept and kissed his child ;

FAMILY DISPERSION. 201
vered and beloved sire of a numerous tribe of Lindsays in
And first, he thanked indulgent heaven
For all the blessings it had given,
And next, his secret prayer began
To make his son an homest man.
" An honest man !" I hear you call,
" In truth the boon he asked was small !
Why sure, mama, 't were strange belief
To think that I could be a thief;
To rob another of his gains
Indeed were little worth my pains, —
And honesty, besides, 1 know,
Consists in paying what I owe."
Does it, my child t — no more I ask ;
Nor think thy debt an easy task.
Wilt thou repay thy parents' care.
Their earliest thought, their latest prayer ?
Wilt thou repay thy sisters' love,
A faithful, fond protector prove I
Wilt thou repay the talents lent
By nature, in their fall extent T
Repay thy friends their feelings kind,
By best affections of the mind ?
And e'en to fortune pay thy part,
" With open hand and liberal heart?"
— Nor even here thy task will cease.
For every hour thy debts increase ;
Think not thy filial duty done, —
Britannia claims thee as her son,
And bids thee guard, with pious awe,
Her ting, her altar, and her law.
Thus pay — if ei-ring mortals can —
The debt imposed by God on man.
Is then, dear boy, the boon so small ?
Ah ! strive, my child, to pay it all ;
And let it be thy anxious care
To second well thy father's prayer —
Fulfil the wish that he began,
And be, like him — an honest man !
It was reserved for his affectionate aunt. Lady Margaret, to sing his

202 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
Ireland. The rest of the family were for many years
almost strangers in Europe. Two brothers fought in
dirge — in the following beautiful lines, commencing with a translation
of his Greek verses inscribed in the album at the Falls of Trolhatte, in
Sweden, and sent to England after his decease : —
" Nature her wondrous gifts with liberal hand
Has scattered round to deck the smiling land ;
Her hidden treasures in earth, sea, or sky.
Impervious are to the neglectful eye.
For wisdom's daughter opes not nature's store
To sloth or ignorance; but crowns the lore
Of him, whose ardent gaze and onward course
Follow untired and seek her at her source.
Ou him the goddess smiles with gentlest air,
And binds the deathless laurel round his hair.
In ease immersed, these eyes had ne'er surveyed
These sacred caves where smiling Naiads played.
" Waves of Trolhatte, wondrous to behold.
Rocks, which the dawning sunbeam tips with gold.
Forests, to brightest beams impervious yet.
Your varied charms I never can forget ! "

Thus sang the youth, almost a parting strain.
The matchless youth, for whom we mourn in vain.
No flimsy freight he purposed to import
Of each vain trifle from the vainer court ;
Far from his native laud, in keen pursuit
Of science only and of wisdom's fruit,
Where arts, or laws, or poetry, were found.
There lay his course, through wild or cultured ground,
Mine, mountain, city that deserved renown.
Or classic ground forgot, or horde unknown.
No danger stopped him — vain prima3val snow.
Vain parching plains, where noxious vapours blow.
Onward he pressed, and, like the industrious bee.
Knowledge he drew from weed, or flower, or tree.
Oh precious honey ! what had been the store
Of him, whose cruel fate we now deplore.

FAMILY DISPERSION. 203
India, two in America; your grandfather resided at
Sylhet, on the borders of the Burmese empire ; Captain
Had heaven restored him to our vows alive,
With all his sweets to deck his parent hive !
***?«*
Thine was the eye that, blessed with ray divine,
Saw at a glance aud made all nature thine ;
'Gainst thee in vain had language power to bar
Thy steady way with momentary war, —
WhUe yet the unmeaning sounds still mocked thine ear,
That rapid ray had taught thee how to hear: —
Though blessed with youth, health, beauty, rank, and power
All that could gild or could ensnare the hour.
With even purpose, like the sapient king,
Knowledge thou sought'st, upborne on eagle's wing;
While other youths pursued the chace, the dance,
The flute, the goblet, led by whim or chance.
Thy comprehensive powers and buoyan t mind
In tender youth left wondering age behind.
Witness Cassandra, prophetess of Ul,
Obscure by fate, yet lucid by thy skill;"—
Nor had gay Fancy on thy favoured head
Forgot her motley flowers to twine or shed ;
Oft have I seen thee in the social hour
Lead with thy chosen few the mirthful power,—
Thy playful verse sprang instant at thy will,
In brilliant bubbles sparkling as they fell.
Ah ! hadst thou reached once more thy native soil.
Fraught with the treasures of thy generous toil.

' Lord Royston's translation of Lycophron's " Cassandra," which, " independent of
its merits as a poem, evinces a knowledge of history and mythology, a profundity of
research, and a combination of taste and leaming altogether astonishing in so young a
writer," was originally privately printed, at Cambridge, in 4to., 1806, and has now
been published, for the first time, in the volume of " Remains," &c., edited by the
Rev. Henry Pepys. His letters to his father, (the late accomplished and excellent
earl of Hardwicke,) descriptive of the scenes of his last wanderings, precede the " Cas
sandra," and are as remarkable for the varied information they convey as for their
agreeable and lucid style as compositions.

204 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
Hugh Lindsay, (lately chairman of the East India Com
pany,) divided his time between London and Canton,*
and the authoress of " Auld Robin Gray " accompanied
her husband to the Cape of Good Hope, when he went
out as colonial secretary under Lord Macartney.
General Stewart, in his " Sketches ofthe Highlanders,"
has described Earl James's children as " a family of sol
diers." The late Lord Balcarres and his brothers Cohn,
James, and John Lindsay were all in the army. Lord
Balcarres's capacities, says his sister, "w^ere exceUent,
his heart good, and even tender, his affections sincere
and efforts generous ; but abilities, affections, and feel
ings, all were alike so veiled and marred by that self-
diffidence, which, to use a vulgar but an apposite term, I

How had the hearts exulted that now sink
In sorrow's wave immersed ! Yet, whUe they drink
The bitter cup ordained e'en to the lees.
They bend to Him who past and future sees,
Who brings to nought the justest pride of man
At His blest will — and who that wiU shaU scan ?
Yet is it nought, mother with grief undone !
That thou hast borne and fostered such a son ?
Father, who bleed'st like her at every vein.
Who gavest him life, is't nothing that in vain
Thou didst not toil to form from thine his heart
For that blest country where we never part,
Where no dire storms destroy the hope of years.
And drown the parent's heart iu endless tears ?
Pure shall ye meet in spirit, freed from pain.
And knowledge bloom on life's fair tree again.
* For an interesting Chinese adventure, contributed some years ago
by Mr. Hugh Lindsay to the family archives, see Vol. IV. of these
" Lives."

ALEXANDER SIXTH EARL OF BALCARRES. 205
must call false shame, that he shrunk behind himself when
it was necessary in the great world for him to assert his
powers, in order to obtain what he was more than worthy
of, with a figure so distinguished, manners so simple,
and noble abiUties as a soldier and a statesman so con
siderable." — ^A character which, in the one point of self-
diffidence, I must explain as applicable only to his re
serve in asserting the importance of those services for
which the country was primarily indebted to a peremp
tory decision of character, which few persons have pos
sessed — at least in union with such clear foresight and
calm judgment — in a more remarkable degree.
After attaining his captaincy in the Forty-Second, he
served also in the 53d and 7lst, and was, in 1789, ap
pomted to the colonelcy of the 63d, which he held till
his death. During the American war, he accompanied
General Burgoyne in his unfortunate expedition from
Canada, and was severely wounded at the battle of
Ticonteraga, where he stormed and carried the lines of
Huberton, at the head of his regiment of Ught infantry.
The ball passed through his thigh, and, at the close of
the action, it was found that nine others had passed
through his clothes, and that the barrel of his fuzil had
been shot through, and the lock of his piece shot off in
his hand. " After the severe contest at Freeman's Farm,
Lord Balcarres, apprehensive of the^ issue of the cam
paign, erected a strong redoubt, on the plea of accustom
ing the light infantry to that kind of work. General
Arnold, after carrying every other point, was brought

206 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
up by this redoubt on the 7th October. He was obliged
to attack it, but was repulsed by his lordsMp, and hy
this success the British army was saved on that day."
The joy of victory was, however, saddened by the
death of the gallant General Frazer, the commandant
of Lord Balcarres, who succeeded him in the command
of the brave Highlanders of the 7 1st. Lord Balcarres
shared the fate of Burgoyne's army in consequence of
his convention with Gates at Saratoga, on the 13th of
October, 1777- He was sent into New York as an ex
changed officer, but, finding it not perfected, would not
accept his liberty " at the expence," as he expressed it,
" of the pleasure he felt in sharing the unhappy fpte of
the regiment he had the honour to command."
Colin Lindsay, and his brothers James and John, were
officers in the 73d Highlanders. " Cohn," says his sister,
" was, perhaps, one of the most amiable young men that
ever lived ; animated in his countenance, elegant in his
figure, noble yet modest in his manners ; his sense of
honour was high, almost to singularity,* his temper
sweet in the extreme ; he was generous, affectionate, ac
complished, and sincere — a word inadequate to express
the beauty of a 'mind which was the very soul of truth
in its unvarnished simplicity." After his retum from
America, he was appointed major to his regiment in
1780, and served in that capacity at Gibraltar during
the celebrated siege of that fortress. -f-
* He was commonly called Don Quixote.
t " Some account of the assault on Gibraltar, in 1782, in a letter to

COLIN, JAMES, AND JOHN LINDSAY. 207
John Lindsay, " unUke to all the others," says his sis
ter of him as a child, yet the character was true through
life, " but pleasant and eccentric, was a being it was not
easy to calculate on ; his spirit was unfettered and free,
fertUe in project and daring in execution." He was ap
pointed to a company in the second battaUon of the 73d
—serving in India — the same year that his brother Colin
became major to the first, which ran its cotemporary
career of glory in America and Europe. Accompanying
Colonel Fletcher and the troops detached to the support
of Colonel BailUe, on Hyder AU's memorable invasion of
the Carnatic, he was taken prisoner at the battle of Con-
jeveram, 10 Sept. 1780, after having been wounded in
four places, and was confined for three years and ten
months at Seringapatam, suffering the greatest priva
tions, and even debarred the assistance of a surgeon.
His journal of this long captivity — one of the most af
fecting and instructive narratives extant — will be found
in the tMrd volume of these memoirs.
During John Lindsay's imprisonment, his brother
James fell in storming the redoubts of Cuddalore, on the
13th June, 1783. "He was wounded," says his friend,
Captain Menzies, " by a grape-shot, which entered be-
the earl of Balcarres," and an interesting narrative of the occupation
and defence ofthe island of S. Lucia against the French, in 1779, —
originally appended to his " Extracts from Colonel Templehoffe's His
tory of the Seven Years' War," &c., translated from the German, and
published in two vols. 8vo., 1793, for the benefit of a school for soldiers'
children — will be found reprinted in the third volume of these " Lives."

208 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
low Ms left knee, found its way between the two bones
of his leg, and broke the large one; he received his
wound about three o'clock," but, refusing to permit his
men to carry him off the field, lay there till near six,
when a French officer got him a surgeon, who laid open
the wound, and he was then carried prisoner into the
fort. " He was carried," says Lady Anne, " to the
French hospital, was there humanely treated, and ampu
tation was not esteemed necessary." " Though in vast
agony," continues his friend, " he bore it, as well as the
want of many comforts and conveniences, with the
greatest philosophy and good humour." " The ninth
day," says his sister, " he felt himself so well, that he
said he should like to try his old ' savoir faire ' on the
fiddle, and sent to borrow one from a French officer ;
but it had hardly reached him when he said, ' I am ill
— all is over ;' the mortification had taken place, wMch
is rapid in such climates, and in a few hours he was no
more." — He was decently buried on the 22d in the
evening. " The brave young man who fell tMs day," says Gene
ral Stewart, " gave great promise of talent and eminence
in his profession. Being of a generous open character,
which captivated the soldiers, he secured their attach
ment by the gallantry with which he led them on, on
every occasion." — " I have a few sUght sketches of his,"
says his sister, — "reUcs of a genius universal and en
lightened." They are most masterly — and an unfinished

ALEXANDER EARL OF BALCARRES. 209
journal of the campaign in the Carnatic, in which he
fell, is preserved in our famUy repositories.*
At the conclusion ofthe peace, in March, 1784, John
Lindsay and his feUow-prisoners were released, and
rejoined their regiments. When General Stewart pub
lished his " Sketches of the Highlanders," Colonel Lind
say and Sir David Baird were the only survivors of the
two hundred men of the flank companies of the 73d,
who had fought under BaiUie's command at Conjeveram.
At the general election of 1784, Lord Balcarres was
chosen one of the sixteen representatives of the Scot
tish peerage. The bill, introduced into the House of
Lords that year, for restoring the forfeited Jacobite
estates, experienced his warm support. Forty years, he
reminded the house, had elapsed feince the unfortunate
era, which it was the purpose of this bill to bury in
oblivion. — It was no easy matter, he observed, — forcibly
as the principles of the revolution might have influenced
the more civilized parts of Britain, to carry conviction
into a country almost impassable but to the inhabitants
themselves, who were equally unacquainted with the
customs and language of England. Government had
surely felt the force of these considerations, when, after
1746, they made inlets and roads through the Highlands,
endeavoured to introduce the English language, and a
knowledge of the laws of their country among the inha-
* Part of it will be inserted in Vol. IV.
VOL. II. p

210 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
bitants, and did them the justice to point out to them
those lines on which they were expected to form their
future conduct. This was the duty of government, and
this duty they discharged. — " How," asked his lordsMp,
" did the Highlanders receive it ? In less than a period
of twelve years, we see armies mshing from those moun
tains under the happy auspices of that great statesman,
the earl of Chatham, every man of them vicing with Ms
neighbour in showing his attachment to his sovereign,
and to mark their respect for those laws, which from their
great natural disadvantages, they had been taught to
depreciate and to disregard."
In answer to a query of Lord Chancellor Thurlow,
where the proposed grantees had resided, and what
services they had been engaged in since the rebellions
for which their ancestors had suffered. Lord Balcarres
replied, that he felt himself authorised to speak boldly
and securely upon those points. — " Banished their coun
try," said he, " their properties confiscated, and impover
ished in every thing but their national spirit, they offered
their services to foreign princes, in whose armies they
were promoted to important commands and trusts, which
they discharged with fidelity ; but, the moment they saw
a prospect of retum to their friends, and restoration to
the bosom of their country, there was not a man of them
that hesitated ; they resigned those high stations, and,
from being general officers and colonels, accepted com
panies, and some even subaltern commissions, in our
service. They were indeed retumed to their friends,

ALEXANDER EARL OF BALCARRES. 211
and received with open arms, nor, in the course of those
twelve years, was there a man who had abandoned his
chief because he was poor, or had deserted him because
the heavy hand of adversity hung over his head. — A few
years more promoted them to commands in the British
service, and, at the beginning of the late war, we again
see armies rushing from the Highlands, but not with the
same ideas that formerly animated them ; they had al
ready fully established their attachment to their sove
reign, and a due regard to the laws of their country ;
they had repeatedly received the thanks of their king,
and of the two houses of parliament ; but they now found
themselves impelled by a further motive, — they saw
themselves commanded by their former chieftains, — they
hoped that, by the effusion of their blood, by the extra
ordinary ardour and zeal they would shew in the service,
they should one day see their leaders legally re-estab
lished in their paternal esta-tes, and be enabled to receive
from them those kindnesses and attentions, which they
had so generously bestowed upon them in their adver
sity. It was this hope, and these ideas only, that put a
stop to those emigrations which had almost depopulated
the northern parts of the kingdom.
"The noble lord," proceeded Lord Balcarres, "has
accounted for the mode in which General Frazer got
back his estate, and has very justly stated his services in
raising two thousand men in Scotland. My lords, it is
here I take up the first name that presents itself on the
face of this bill, — which is that of Lord MacLeod, who
p 2

212 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
was a major-general in Sweden, and invested with the
order of merit by his Swedish majesty. It was no sooner
reported that Lord MacLeod was to return to his coun
try, than two thousand five hundred MacKenzies offered
their services, provided his majesty would appoint Lord
MacLeod to be their colonel. The king was pleased
with the generosity of the offer, and granted their re
quest. They were immediately embodied. One battaUon
of them were sent to the East Indies, — and we had late
accounts of the poor shattered remains of that corps,
worn down by repeated campaigns in that noxious cli
mate, with the same ardour and unabated zeal, storming
the lines of Cuddalore. The other battalion went to
Gibraltar, under the command of Colonel MacKenzie,
brother to Lord MacLeod. I am not going to make a
panegyric on that battalion, — your lordships have made
it before me ; they received the thanks of every branch
of the legislature, and, when they landed at Portsmouth,
were received with the acclamations of the people for
the distinguished defence they made of Gibraltar, under
those brave veterans. Generals Elliot and Boyd.
" I will not fatigue your lordships with going through
the names which are the subjects of our debate. I shaU
briefly observe, that the clan of MacDonalds performed
equal services under Colonel MacDonald. — My lords,
before I sit down, I cannot refrain from mentioning an
anecdote which now occurs to my memory. The learned
lord has observed that the Perth estate is more in value
than all the rest put together. This estate was forfeited

ALEXANDER EARL OF BALCARRES. 213
by the Drummonds in the year 1745, for opposing the
present family on the throne, and supporting the re
bellion ; the next place we observe them in, is supporting
the present family, and opposing the rebellion, in Ame
rica, — by which they have lost a greater estate there
than the estate of Perth here. Thus they have lost one
half of their property by opposing the house of Hanover,
and the other by supporting it. These, my lords, are la
mentable contradictions, that could only arise from the
turbulence of the times, and, in my opinion, are an addi
tional motive for the estate being now restored to them.
"My lords, it is no longer in your power to restore
the other estates to their original owners ; it appears by
the face of this bill, that most of them belonged to the
7 1st regiment, — they have all fallen in the course of last
war, and, as I succeeded General Frazer in the command
of this regiment, I am well authorised to assert to your
lordships, that they were only part of fifty-two officers
who perished in this Highland regiment. The door of
mercy is now open to the descendants of those brave
and gallant men ; let them enter and receive it at your
lordships' hands, and do not let us shut it against them,
and tell them, ' We have received your services, but they
shaU go unrewarded ; you have fought our battles, you
have preserved our fortunes and our dignities, but we
will repay those benefits with injuries.' "
I feel as much gratification in transcribing the chan
cellor's reply, as I have felt in recording the speech
which elicited it. He disclaimed any intention of re-
p3

214 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
fleeting on the characters, or impeaching the merits, of
the gallant gentlemen, in whose favour this act of grace
was brought forward. " It was fortunate, however, for
those brave men, that, from what he said, he had af
forded an opportunity for their merits to be brought
forward in a manner so truly honourable to them, and
the best calculated to do them the justice they deserved.
He rejoiced that their merits had now received the
highest remuneration, the praise of a soldier who had
distinguished himself so eminently in the service of his
country, that his competency to distribute either censure
or approbation on military merit became unquestionable,
and thence his applause was an honour superior to all
reward. So well satisfied was he with what had faUen
from the noble lord on that part of the subject, that he
declared he would desire no better proof of the merits of
the persons concerned."
The biU passed on the 18th August, 1784.
On the breaMng out of the war in 1793, Lord Bal
carres was appointed to the civil government and com
mand of his majesty's forces in Jersey, in the absence of
Marshal Conway, the governor. While in that com
mand, he was entrusted with and carried on the corres
pondence with the army of La Vendee, and the establish
ment of the lines of communication with its chiefs and
those of the Chouans.* Being named the following year
* On this subject he writes as follows to his sister, Lady Hardwicke : —

GENERAL COLIN LINDSAY. 215
to the government of Jamaica, he saUed for the West'
Indies in the spring of 1795, in company with his bro
ther Colin, who, landing at Barbadoes, was directed to
take the command of the troops in Grenada, then in a
dangerous state on account of the revolt ofthe mulattoes
and negroes, excited by French emissaries. He com
pletely defeated the insurgents on the I7th March, and
had extricated himself out of the disagreeable position
he was placed in by the want of discipline in the militia,
when he fell a sacrifice to excessive fatigue and a noxious
cUmate, deeply regretted, not only by his brother offi
cers, but the privates under his command, " to whose
minutest wants," says General Stewart, "he paid un-
" Plymouth, 2 Feb. 1795. . . When I received the command in Jersey,
I found a multitude of young enterprising Frenchmen, idle and burning
with impatience to be employed.' Upon this ground, I conceived the
practicability of forming a line of communication fi-om Jersey direct to
the heart of La Vendee, and also across the country from the army of
the Chouans to that of Morbihan. The execution of this plan has sur
passed my most sanguine expectations. The importance of what I have
done stands confessed by every Frenchman in Britanny, and every other
person who has information of the state of France in that interesting
quarter. It goes to no less than the affording a hope by no means un
reasonable, that, through the medium of this channel, Louis XVII, may
be seated on the throne of his ancestors. If this is realised, I have been
the instrument of effecting a service rarely achieved by any subject.
This, like all other speculations, is only to be judged by the event. Let

' Lord Balcarres employed numbers of these loyalists as spies on the main-land of
France, but not one of them, he often afterwards mentioned, could be induced to re
ceive any pecuniary reward for his services.
p4

216 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
common attention, and was beloved as well as feared by
them."*
this letter he perdu until yourself shall judge of that event. . . Should
the king of France regain his throne by the assistance of England
through this channel, it must not be forgot that the idea was mine, and
that I have pinned my glory to it,— and I think the young king will
owe me the best sword in his arsenal ! "
* " Sketches," &c. — The following reflections are among the last
that occur in his MS. journal : — " March 4, 1795. At this house of
M. Robert's I found, last night, a quantity of English newspapers, and
after the company retired, I employed some hours in reading them.
Little satisfaction was to be derived from the state of public affairs. I
there met with the account of the death of my old friend Maxwell, in
the East Indies, brother to the Duchess of Gordon. In him his country
loses a valuable servant, of great zeal and activity. He had it probably
in his power, while there, to repay his pecuniary obligations to his
friends, and even to leave some memorials of his gratitude. . . I reflect
how unlikely this is to be my case ! Though Maxwell's cotemporary
in the army, I have gained no public fame, nor been in a situation to
render any eminent service. I am under very considerable pecuniary
obligations, and under some of a more binding nature, to many friends
— I mean, such as neverfailing kindness ! — I rejoice to think I have now
attained the point when it may be my lot to repay this, should the
chance of war permit it. The precise period at which an honourable
life shall terminate seems not very material. I have some satisfaction
in reflecting that I have not abused the kindness of my friends, and
have rarely applied for any assistance from them ; they have voluntarily
advanced a large sum to promote me in my profession, and, if I have
not yet had an opportunity of repaying them, I cannot accuse myself at
least of having postponed it in consequence of extravagant or vicious
propensities. " Before I left Port Royal, I left orders that my letters should be
kept till my return. I am not without hopes of finding one from my

ALEXANDER EARL OP BALCARRES. 217
Lord Balcarres's able conduct and indefatigable exer
tions in suppressing the Maroon rebellion, which broke
out almost immediately after his arrival in Jamaica —
(exertions to which the empire owed the lives of every
white in the island, and the preservation of seventy mil
lions of British capital,) were acknowledged by a vote of
seven hundred guineas for the purchase of a sword, to be
presented to him in token of the gratitude of the colonj^
In acknowledging it, he congratulated the Assembly,
that, "during their contest with an enemy the most
ferocious that ever disgraced the annals of history — an
army of savages, who had indiscriminately massacred
every prisoner whom the fate of war had placed in their
power — no barbarity, nor a single act of retaliation,
had sullied the brightness of their arms."*
dear sister Margaret, which would be too precious to me to run the
chance of losing it ; but as I have lately had several from her, I am not
sanguine. To be the brother, and to possess the friendship of such a
woman, may well be highly estimated ; but beauty and accomplish
ments are not so eminent in her as her excellent understanding, her
kind, virtuous, and comprehensive mind. Now, although each of our
other two sisters might with great truth and justice sit for the picture,
and altogether form a trio such as, I am very solemnly persuaded, never
did exist in any other family, yet I feel as if Margaret had a stronger
hold of my affections than either of them. An unmarried sister is more
a brother's own ; besides, there were unfortunate situations in her life
which called forth the full exertion of her qualities. — This digression
seems to have little to do with my journal round the military quarters,
to which I must now return, but it has a great deal to do with my
joumey through life ! "
* A selection from Lord Balcarres's public despatches and private

218 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
He resigned the government in 1801, after having
held it for nearly seven years, during which, wagmg an
incessant warfare against French revolutionary aggres
sion, and with internal difficulties to contend with,
enough to have disheartened any one less confident in
his own resources, he saved Jamaica a second time, and,
on quitting the island, was followed to his home by the
blessings of thousands, whose children still reverence Ms
memory. — Shortly after his return, he attained his full
rank of general in the army, was re-elected one of the
sixteen, and resided till his death at Haigh Hall, in Lan
cashire, his wife's inheritance by maternal descent from
the ancient knightly family of Bradshaigh.
Had he lived to finish the " Anecdotes of a Soldier's
Life," which he commenced at his sister. Lady Anne's
request, he would have ranked among the most interest
ing of our family chroniclers.*
correspondence during the Maroon war, forms part of the third volume
of this series.
* From among a few anecdotes roughly jotted down by him for this
work, I transcribe the following : —
"In 1767, 1 received my ensigncy in the 53d regiment, underthe com
mand of Lieutenant-Colonel Lindsay of that regiment, and, under his
tutelage, I embarked, in the ^olus frigate, for Gibraltar. We were to
take up at Lisbon Major Hawke, a son of the great Lord Hawke, and
Ensign Bosville of the Guards, afterwards the famous republican."
* * * Arriving at Gibraltar, " Major Hawke and Mr. Bosville
crossed the channel to visit Barbary, and pressed me to accompany
them ; I was but too happy in the idea, and eagerly prayed Colonel
Lindsay to procure leave of absence from old General Cornwallis, uncle

LIEUT.-COLONEL JOHN LINDSAY. 219
John Lindsay, meanwhile, after again serving in India,
in the war with Tippoo Saib in 1790, and in that with
France in 1793, returned to England, on the regiment's
being ordered home, in 1797- After obtaining the
to Earl Cornwallis, but he was inflexible, saying that he lamented my
anxiety, but it was proper that young men should first learn their
duty. " This refusal from a man famous for his courtesy and benevolence
surprised the colonel, but in the course of the day he discovered the
cause of the old general having got so suddenly disgusted with young
officers. " Having observed that these youngsters had taken uncommon free
dom in wandering far from their guards, he issued an order forbidding
this palpable breach of duty. The very next day, the general, riding
out, perceived an officer who had, in defiance of the order, wandered
from his guard, and stood near a spot where a number of labourers were
repairing a difficult road. The general was determined to catch the
youth in the act of disobedience, and put spurs to his horse ; the young
man saw his danger and the impossibility of getting to his guard before
the general, — when, with great presence of mind, he advanced to the
labourers, and, throwing down his purse, prayed them to throw their
wheel-barrows, pickaxes, stones, and every obstruction, so as to stop
the road for five minutes. This was done, and when the general rode
up after the impediment was removed, he found the stripling hero at
the head of his guard, who received him with the compliments and
honours due to his rank.
"After giving him the severest reprimand for his disobedience to
public orders, and charging him aloud with being a careless and negli
gent officer, he lowered his voice, and whispered to his ear,—' Never
mind it ! you'll make an excellent general ! ' "

" My very excellent fi-iend, the late General Sir James Craig, had
all the points of a great man ; it did not, however, fall to his lot to do

220 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
lieutenant-colonelcy of the MacLeod Highlanders, he
quitted the army in 1801, the year of his brother's re
turn from Jamaica, and the year after his own marriage
with the youngest daughter of Frederick North earl of
Guildford, — a worthy scion of a race " in which briUiant
much, but he was entrusted with the command of the army on the coast
when this country was threatened with an invasion.
" Sir James had been a captain of light infantry under my command
in America, and often in situations where we were pinched for a dinner.
At certain periods immense flocks of pigeons visit that continent ; they
fly very close and with great rapidity, — so close, indeed, that one may
kill dozens ofthem by one shot. Being well furnished with ammunition,
I determined to take a day's shooting, and Sir James said he would ac
company me. The first flight of birds passed very near ; we both fired
at the same moment, and down dropped birds in abundance, all of which
were immediately bagged by Sir James. The second, third, fourth,
fifth, and sixth shots were attended with the same success and the
same ceremony of bagging. I thought this bagging principle rather
odd, and I could not avoid saying to him, ' Now, Sir James, do you
really think that you killed all tho^se birds, and that I killed none ?' —
' All I know,' says he, ' is, that I am probably the best shot now living,
and that I never heard of your fame in that way.' — We shot away a little
longer, the same process of bagging still going on. — ' Well,' says Sir
James, ' we are now tired, and it is but fair that you should have a cou
ple of dozen.' — ' Very well,' says I, ' my good friend— any thing for a
quiet life ! ' — ' But have not I,' says Sir James, ' behaved most hand
somely on this occasion ? ' — ' Undeniably,' says I. — ' Well,' says he, —
' the truth must out : I have a number of officers to dine in my tent,
and I have but little to give them, and I have committed this ruse de
guerre, for I had plenty of powder — but no shot — I never fired except
when you fired — the two dozen of birds, which I so generously gave
you, I hope you will as generously bestow on me, and if you will come
and dine with me, I shall tell the story.' "

LADY CHARLOTTE LINDSAY. 221
wit, mingled with the most genuine good-humour and
kindness of disposition, and a rational love of letters,
seem to be hereditary possessions."* — "I should like
much to see Lady Charlotte Lindsay again," says Sir
Walter Scott in a letter to Lady Anne Barnard ; " I met
her often many years ago, about 1806 and 1807, in the
society of the late marquis of Abercorn, and at the un
happy queen's. Her wit flowed as if she was quite un
conscious of it, and always reminded me of the gifted
princess, who could not comb her locks without pro
ducing pearls and rubies."
The wanderings of Earl James's children had ceased,
for the most part, before this period, and those who had
quitted home and country in pursuit of honour and
wealth, had returned with — the former at least, and be-

Lord Balcarres used often to tell the following anecdote of one of his
brother-officers in the American war, of the name of P  , a man im
mensely fat, and noted for a peculiarly hroa.d— terminus. In one of their
light skirmishes, the regiment were retreating, pursued by the enemy,
across a country intersected with palings and hurdles, which the active
young officers vaulted over with ease, but not so poor P  , who either
clambered over, or forced his way between them. At last, however,
he stuck fast — head, shoulders, feet, his whole person, in short, safe on
the British side of the paling, with the exception of the disk above al
luded to — which for several minutes remained the target at which, amid
roars of laughter, five hundred bullets were aimed by the Americans,
for ten directed at any other mark in the field. He was rescued at last
by his friends, and, I am happy to add, unhurt.
* Quarterly Review, vol. xxxiv., p. 214.

222 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
come fathers of numerous families, who, in theii* tum,
after following the footsteps of their sires, have become
the parents of the generation of which you and myself
are members.
Your grandfather's residence and adventures in the
East are so graphically related in his " Anecdotes of an
Indian Life," that I refer you at once to them for the
history of his early career, and of a fortune acquired by
honourable enterprise, and dispensed since his return in
making all connected with him happy.* — On Lord Bal
carres's determining to settle definitively in Lancashire,
Mr. Lindsay became the purchaser of Balcarres — " But
never," said he to his sister, " shall I permit myself to
become attached to I't, till I have given my elder brother
the power of resuming it, should fortune enable him to
do so."
" He kept his word," says Lady Anne, " though it had
become the doating-piece of his heart, in spite of his re
solution to the contrary, and on the return of Balcarres
many years afterwards from Jamaica, Robert offered it
to him, almost without a hope of its being refused.
" Judge, then, my dear young reader, of whichever of
the families you are, of the transport with which Robert
heard Balcarres say that, having already invested his
gains by adding to and improving the estate of his vrife,
and knowing the inconvenience of having propertyin
different kingdoms to attend to, he felt himself obliged
* The " Anecdotes" alluded to form part of Vol. IV.

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 223
to return to his brother the power he had so handsomely
given him, without availing himself of it."

SECT. II.
The venerable dowager of Balcarres passed the even
ing as well as the morning of her Ufe in her beloved
Scotland. A few extracts froni her own letters and
those of the relatives who watched with affectionate so
licitude over her declining years, blended with occasional
notices from the pen of Lady Anne Barnard, will close
her history.
She continued to reside at Balcarres for many years
after her younger children had quitted it. " Balcarres's
behaviour to me," she writes to her daughter, " is per
fectly to my mind ; this house is, I think, more my own
than it ever was ; he is perfectly adored in this country,
where he is known." — "We found my dear mother,"
says Lady Anne, after a visit to Fifeshire, in company
with her sister, " well — lively — happy, and without any
of the essential approaches of old age being evident,
a failure in memory excepted, of which she was not
ashamed, wisely regarding it as the common lot of hu
manity, and that the goodness of God was seen even
while depriving us, one by one, of those enjoyments
which attach us to a life we must quit or sooner or later.
It was with delight that Margaret and I perceived that
such reflections were becoming more and more interest
ing to her every day, though seriousness of mind was so

224 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
mixed with the play of imagination which was natural
to her, that one who knew her little would not have
supposed, while she talked over the gaieties and vanities
of the day, where it was that she rested her happiness."
About the time of your grandfather's retum from
India, she took up her residence in Edinburgh with
Mrs. Murray Keith, the beloved friend alike of her
youth and old age. — "Her mind and manners," says
Lady Anne, " were beginning to acquire that mellowness
which renders wines of a strong body more precious and
pleasant every day ; from age she was becoming more
and more interesting, through the confidence with which
she relied on the tenderness of her children.
" ' Robert told you truth,' she writes in 1790, 'as to
my good looks for my time of life, and vivacity equal to
that of youth ; nevertheless I am much faUed, having
almost totally lost my memory ; but even this does not
affect my spirits, as I am thankful for every blessing I
have enjoyed, and resigned to what may affect me in fu
ture, being well assured that I live among friends, who
will always take a perfect charge over me. Do not,
from this account, imagine I am either dark or low ; it is
so far otherwise, that I am really merry, and in excellent
health.' " This account, given of my dear mother by herself,
ought to have satisfied my sister and me, but there was
a shade of melancholy which pervaded it that, in spite of
her assurances to the contrary, prevented us from being
easy till we saw her again. Margaret and I, therefore.

ANNE COUNTESS OP BALCARRES. 225
went to Scotland in September, 1790, and passed six
weeks with her in the house of our sister-in-law, the
younger Lady Balcarres, who lived then in Edinburgh
for the education of the children, while Balcarres was
with his regiment, previous to the appointment after
wards given him of governor of Jamaica.
" We could soon perceive, by my mother's conversa
tion, that the dejection of phrase, which had inspired us
with alarm, originated in a distrust of herself, good
woman ! and a fear that the powers of her mind would
follow the loss of her memory ; a fear most natural, but,
thank God ! in her case unfounded for many long years,
as subsequent pages will shew — for the comfort of those
who may at times feel simUar distrusts. — Meantime,
Margaret and I perceived with delight, what I have
touched in a former page, that, so far from becoming
less happy by the approaches of old age, our mother was
a happier woman, even when foreboding the infirmities
she mentioned — indeed a much happier — through the
influence of piety and peace of mind, than she had been
in earlier Ufe, when cares for her children harassed her,
plans for their advancement distracted her, defeated pro
jects irritated her, their want of wisdom sometimes pro
voked her, and a series of little privations, wMch she had
no means of supplying with prudence, made her feel that,
which she resolutely refused letting us know she felt ;
for such was, alas ! the fashion of the times, that parents
who would sacrifice every thing to the interests of their
children, thought it a weakness to study the feeUngs of

226 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
their hearts. But all this had passed away as our res
pective situations improved, and every care of my mo
ther's, every little difficulty of humour, seemed ready to
vanish with its cause. Those of her children who were
affluent assisted those who were not, nor found out that
they had any merit in doing so, — 'tis on such points,
and such only, that I find a Scotch education is pre
ferable to that of any other country I am acquainted
with, as no where else are the ties of blood held equally
sacred. " In Mrs. Anne Keith, my mother's first cousin and
the companion of her youth, about ten years younger
than herself, and now called by her ' her husband,' she
found a partner en menage, attached to Scotland with a
nationality of preference which particularly satisfied my
mother, who liked to talk of England, and to quote from
it, but never wished to see it more, having felt with a
high-minded disdain the degradation, as she said, of
being made nobody, because she was not rich. We en
deavoured to persuade her to spend the alternate years
with us in England ; she liked the invitation, but repUed
gaily, ^No, no, ladies — no residences but in my own
country — a visit perhaps you may have from me, if I
think myself well enough to go to court in order to see
my ffirt the king, but even that must be a short one —
write often to me, however,' said she, ' that vriU keep
you in my society, and present to my fancy, and be sure
to tell me every thing you think I should like to know,
— it will be a great amusement to me ; particularly how

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 227
you arrange your house when you get your affairs
settled.' " Her own house was almost completed, and opposite
to her daughter-in-law's, — though it was but the premier
etage, it was a very handsome one ; her little income had
recovered its good health, — she had, therefore, enough
to live on comfortably, and, with the addition Mrs.
Keith could bring, great ease of finance appeared. On
the other hand, the tastes of Mrs. Keith gave her so
much to the world, to company, to cards, (of whist my
mother was particularly fond,) to reception, to patron
age — with the more intellectual addition of a little
belles-lettres, and no small taste for political discussion
and argument in general, that she was an inexhaustible
fund of resource to my mother, when she found herself
in any degree insufficient to carry on the war, which at
times was the case when this world was lost in the pro-
phecied happiness of the next — ' And then,' as she said
to me, ' we shall all be young together again, Annie ! '
— We left her with emotions of sweetness and sadness."
" 1793, — .
" It is a long time, my dear Annie, since I have writ
ten to you, but the truth is, I have not put pen to paper
these three months. I find my memory so faulty that
I rarely put it to the test, as it is mortifying to find
we are passee. But I, of all the daughters of mortality,
have least reason to complain, having enjoyed, during a
long life, every blessing and comfort ; my health is good,
Q 2

228 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
and, what is rather laughable, I am looking, for a girl of
my age, really handsome ; it makes me smile, when I
am complimented on my charms, to think that I cannot
recollect the name of the person who does so, or of the
most intimate faces I circulate amongst every day. But
in other respects I am in perfect health, and my beloved
husband, Anne Keith, thinks and does every thing for
me that can be desired, — but, what is odd, I never forget
a pip at whist, owing to the cards being so immediately
before my eyes, for which reason no one believes that my
memory has failed."
" Your mother," writes Mrs. Keith to Lady Anne,
on her return from Africa nine years afterwards, (1803,)
" is in perfect health, and, I aver, is the happiest wo
man, I should say, human being, of my acquaintance,
as she is tranquil as to every thing here, and in trans
port as to another world. I have explained why your
visit was delayed ; she said she was sorry, but it made no
impression, and she asked me in a few minutes, if you
had returned from the Cape. . .
"10 June. How happy we are to see Barnard's ar
rival at Portsmouth announced in the newspapers !
When your mother heard it, she asked if he were not
your husband, and rejoiced to think he was on British
ground, and in a minute she took to her knots and to her
rapturous day-dreams, and forgot us all.
" She is the only perfectly happy individual I know ;
and, if I had the gift of restoring to her all the powers

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 229
of mind she had at twenty-five, with good health and no
risk of salvation, I yet durst not do it on the score of
temporal felicity, which she, and she alone, is in fuU
possession of Do not let Mr. Barnard write her any at
tentive letters ; my spouse thinks of none of these things
now, and often tells me complacently that she neither
knows who I am, nor where she is ; and I, without any
tender sentiment, teU her all the facts, and every thing is
right. She is so truly good-natured that she sometimes
scolds me for my abhorrence of the French, and then I
tell her of their cruelty and impiety, — she holds up her
hands and wonders, and then to inward prayers."
Mrs. Keith and her aged friend were now settled at
Balcarres, under the protection of your grandfather and
Mrs. Lindsay.
The promised visit was paid shortly afterwards. " The
dear old nest," says Lady Anne, " shall have the prece
dency from my pen of all other abodes in my list of visits;
dear — as being the nest where eleven brother and sister
cMckens were hatched and fostered, — chickens, who
through life have never known once what it was to peck
at each other ; all flew into the world together, and all
retum from time to time to the parent hamlet, where sits
the valued mother on her bed of straw, meditating her
flight to higher regions.
" When Robert married his cousin Elizabeth,* she was

* Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Alexander Dick, Bart., of Prestonfield.
q3

230 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
very pretty, and was so still, but that which was most
pleasing in her was the innocence of her mind, guileless
as one of her own babes, but with all the liberality of
the great world. Robert had been lucky ; she had no
fortune, but she made him happy, — and is not that
enough ? His own worth, his patriarchal care of every
thing belonging to him, the prosperity that attended aU
his purchases, and the uninterrupted health Ms children
They were married on the 25 Nov., 1788. — The following anecdote of
one of this lady's brothers, (the present Sir Robert Keith Dick, Bart.,
of Prestonfield,) possesses more than mere family interest : —
" Amidst the many cruel emotions that arose to Dundas, on an occa
sion when men were proved," (his trial), " I saw apleasurable one flow
from his eyes in a flood of tears which seemed to do him good. A
young man — the younger brother of my sister-in-law, Mrs. Robert
Lindsay, was sent, when quite a boy, to the East Indies, by Lord Mel
ville, as a writer ; his industry and abilities gave him a little early
prosperity ; he heard of this attack on Dundas ; he venerated him ; he
knew he was not a man of fortune ; he had made five thousand pounds
or more, and in words the most affectionate and respectful, manly and
kind, he remitted to him an order for the money, should he have occa
sion for it to assist in defraying the heavy expenses he must be put to.
"It was a sweet letter, generous and principled, such as any one of
that excellent family would write in similar circumstances. Dundas
read it to me with an exultation of satisfaction, together with his
reply. " ' I have never beheld a countenance but one," said he, ' that did not
feel this letter as it ought, when I read it, and that one was my daughter-
in-law's, before she knew I had refused it.' " I hope," said she, " that,
while my purse is full, you never will receive aid from a stranger." I
knew she spoke as she felt ; — to find two such people at such a moment,
is it not worth a score of desertions ?' " — Lady Anne Barnard,

ANNE COUNTESS OP BALCARRES. 231
enjoyed, gave him altogether a happy lot, though it was
not unchequered, for if Monday saw him rich, Tuesday
perhaps dawned on him full of cares and crosses, which
overnight he had forgotten ; a legion of blue devils
would dance around him (I hope my readers have no
acquaintance with such troops), and Robert continued
on the brink of ruin for twenty-four hours perhaps,
till a good ride set all to rights, and he waked an em
peror next morning. — In one respect he never varied,
in his attentions to our good old mother, nearly eighty,
enjoying every blessmg still, but that of memory ; she
sometimes remarked, with a smile, that she believed she
was better without it."
Lady Anne and Lady Margaret revisited Scotland in
1809, about a year after the death of Mr. Barnard.
" We found all at Balcarres as we had left it, but the
heart, that would have overflowed on witnessing the
pleased contentment enjoyed by my dear mother, was
not there to share in the general gaiety. I look back
on that time with a mixture of pain, from the compari
son I felt it then but too natural to make ; yet stiU, how
many causes were there not for gratitude to God I
" My mother, now eighty- two, had not a complaint in
the world but the want of memory, which, being known
and acknowledged, gave her no concern ; her days glided
on peacefully to that goal which we must all reach or
sooner or later.
" In this respectable succession-house of the ages of
human life the scenery was sometimes affecting. My
«4

232 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
mother was handed in to dinner every day by little
Charles, my brother Robert's youngest boy, aged five
years ; there was but seventy-seven years of difference
between them, and, on such occasions, if my mother had
not a few compliments paid her on her dress or good
looks, she did not feel quite happy. The great famUy
festival before us was that of her birth-day, on the 25th
of December, on which each person was prepared with
his or her cadeau. I forget what Margaret's was,— mine
was a black lace cloak or hood ; when I put it over her
nice little figure, and wished her many happy returns of
the day, she seemed proud and pleased — her eye spark
led with unusual intelligence, — •' is not this too fine for
me ? ' said she, ' but I accept of it with pleasure, and in
return, Annie, I will make you a present which I hope
you will live to enjoy the benefit of; I mean — ^the know
ledge that old age is not the miserable state that people
suppose it to be ; on the contrary, it is one of calm en
joyment. You can have no idea how much amusement
is derived from things that we disregarded in our youth ;
the attentions of friends, for instance, are more prized,
(I meet with a thousand,) and the misfortunes of life are
easier borne, — of what consequence are they to a person
who is on the brink of quitting this world for a better ?
The thoughts of that untried country, Annie, to which I
am invited by my Saviour, are to me the source of inex
haustible deUght : I trust,' said she, with fervour, ' that
I shall there meet with you all again, through His merits,
in perpetual youth and endless happiness,— and this

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 233
castle of mine, Annie, is not a Chdteau d'Espagne, as
Madame Anne Keith calls some of my projects, when
she does not approve of them.' "
" Last night," writes Lady Hardwicke, in October,
1817, "I reached this place, and found my mother ex
tremely well in her way ; she now sits always in her
chair, but the resemblance to what she was remains in
all her ways. . . The little sparkle of repartee still re
mains, but the memory fiuctuates, as you know. . . .
She is really adored by every creature round as a supe
rior being; her sweetness of mind, readiness of wit, and
generosity, really give her a station that is wonderful. . .
My mother never dines at table now, and Mrs. Keith
begins, to give it up also ; this is best for all."
" TMs letter of Lady Hardwicke's was soon followed
by one from Mrs. Lindsay, announcing the death of Mrs.
Keith ; I will give you her account of my mother after
it, in her own sweet words : —
" ' You are anxious about your mother — I am happy
to say she is well — really, wonderfully well. Feeble, no
doubt, neither is she so gay in her replies as we have
known her, but still she is a wonder that we should
thank heaven for, ten times a day, enjoying her Bible,
her work, and in this charming weather is out in her
garden-chair ; this forenoon she even got to the farm to
examine the progress of the turnips, — ever pleased and

234 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
contented beyond any other person. When she and I
are alone, she often talks to me of Mrs. Keith, whose
loss I see she has never permitted her memory wholly to
lose hold of, — always mentioning her with warm regard,
but saying she has only gone on before her a little way.
She has great pleasure in making those who attended
her at the last, repeat over the circumstances which pre
ceded her last moments, her fortitude and resignation,
saying it was " a bonnie story, and very edifying ;" but
she wiU not aUow that she or Lady Margaret are to be
grieved for, or any other true christian, who escapes
easily and beautifully from this world.
" ' The death of the good old king created the same
sentiment ; she rejoiced in the relief from suffering for
so good a man, whom she still remembers when the
little anecdotes she used to tell about him are recalled
to her. . . In short, as to your mother, you may be
perfectly at ease, for no complamt has she, — there is no
strengthening the feeble limbs at ninety-one, but may
we all partake of her heavenly temper, and sweet con
tentment.' "
Lady Anne, feeling anxious, about a year afterwards,
to have her mother's portrait taken, consulted her kmd
sister-in-law on the subject. " She is in excellent
health," was the reply, " but, to say the truth, has now
the features of very old age. We have all been consider
ing when she appears most animated, and we agree it is
when she is repeating your second part of ' Auld Robin

ANNE COUNTESS OP BALCARRES. 235
Gray,' which no one knows but herself, — this she did
last night, with a degree of feeUng and emphasis singu
lar at ninety-two. We think if the painter can once
catch the expression, and then let her take up her knots,
he will be able to give you her likeness as she now is,
which, I believe, is what you wish."
" The painter found his way to Balcarres ; my mother
was infinitely pleased and gratified at having her resem
blance taken."
" Her lamp," writes Lady Anne, about this time,
" bums cheerily ; her Bible is read with delight, and a
remark often made, which proves that a clear flame
sparkles in the socket still. So happy is she with the
excellent Robert and his wife, that she believes the pa
triarchal house of Balcarres is her own, and that Robert
and his wife are her guests. A portion of every day is
spent by them in her bed-room."
She was now, however, ninety-three, and increasing
symptoms of decay began to appear. " I have, however,"
writes Mr. Lindsay, " the same pleasing tale to repeat
to you of her contented mind, and body free from every
complaint ; I do not mean to say that mind and body
remain entire, however, — feeble and fine is the thread of
life now, and seldom a day passes that we do not think
the close approaches, and then a gleam of sunshine ap
pears again to dismiss anxiety by her cheerful answers .
to our enquiries — ' I am well, perfectly weU.' Elizabeth
and I spend half-an-hour with her every night before
she goes to bed, and read a chapter in the Bible or

236 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
hymns ; sometimes she enjoys it, sometimes she is far
beyond us, probably lost in happier and more heavenly
feelings than mortals can impart by any endeavour — to
her how unnecessary ! "
" After such preparation, the notification of the awful
event from the excellent Mrs. Lindsay came not unex
pectedly. " ' Balcarres, 29 Nov., 1820.
" ' My dear Lady Anne : —
It will not surprise you to hear that our worthy
mother is no more ! When I last wrote, she seemed to
rally for a few days ; since that time, she has gradually
declined, but still, as far as we could judge, sensible to
the last, and often visibly her mind engaged in prayer ;
for the last three weeks she took little or nothing, her
lips merely wet with your wine. This morning, about
eight, we were called to see her breathe her last. I held
her hand, which was still warm ; every breath became
fainter and fainter, but so gently did her soul depart,
that all of us, who were looking on, could scarcely be
lieve she was gone ! — I have closed the eyes of a kind
mother who was always partial to me, and whose Ufe
and death will ever be remembered with the most pleas
ing sensations.
Adieu, my dear Lady Anne. My love to James, — I
will write to him when the funeral is over.
Ever most affectionately yours,
Elizabeth Lindsay.'

ANNE COUNTESS OF BALCARRES. 237
" ' Balcarres, Dec. 8, 1820.
" ' My dearest James : —
I have not written to you since the death of
worthy granny ; you would hear from Lady Anne that
the close of her life was the most enviable, serene scene,
that could have accompanied the awful separation of
body and soul! She lingered so slow the last three
weeks of her life, and existed on so little nourishment,
that I sometimes dreaded there was a singular strength
of constitution remaining, that might have occasioned
sufferings before all was over ; but, thank God ! she had
no apparent uneasiness, and her spirit glided away so
gently that we all looked to each other to be confirmed
she was gone !
On Tuesday she was laid in our chapel by the side of
her husband, and next, as we suppose, to Earl Alexan
der, as they found, on preparing the grave, a large lead
coffin, the handles of which were evidently of foreign
make, — so we conclude it is by the side of that earl who
died at Breda, and was brought home to be interred here,
according to the old record. A selfish tear would fall
when I saw the venerable remains of my long accustomed
charge conveyed from the door to the chapel, and her
room looked desolate and cold! but I return thanks
with gratitude to heaven, that her long-told years are
closed in peace, without suffering. — A few relations and
intimate friends were asked only, as, in a letter written
by herself in 1816, she particularly mentions her request,
that her funeral may be without parade — these are her

238 LIVES OP the LINDSAYS.
words. All the respectable people in Colinsburgh wished
to attend, and whoever had a black coat came.
When I saw the sincere and mournful numbers, grate
ful for her past benevolence, and doubtful of future
assistance, I could not help comparing the difference
between the gratifying simple scene and the pageantry
of a town, with coronetted carriages and equipages with
plumes, filled by those who have not a feeUng congenial
to the occasion.
I am led also to another observation, seeing it so
strongly marked ; I mean, the advantages the poor have
over the rich at the close of life, — they leave no com
forts to be regretted. Several of the old people had
been asking with anxiety for some days, if all was over,
and when the event was announced, there were no
unmeaning regrets; some thanked God — others went
farther, and said, " I am glad our honest good lady is
at rest I " and then followed every one's Uttle anecdote,
" O sic a leddy as she was for charity, and for good
advice, and for cheerfu' piety ! "
But I must leave this subject, — tear off the page and
give it to Lady Anne ; I cannot write to her to-day.
Your affectionate mother,
Elizabeth Lindsay.'

" She was certainly a woman of a high mind, vrithout
the parade of it, possessed inherent dignity, without

ANNE COUNTESS OP BALCARRES. 239
pride, and the reality of that which others try to assume
by lofty manners and splendid appointments. Though
without the feminine softness in early life, which is so
attractive, she had a kind and considerate heart for dis
tress, and would have had a most liberal hand, had not
her sense of justice, which was a prominent feature in
her character, made her reflect that she was the mother
of eleven children, and had but little to bestow. Osten
tation and selfishness she most particularly detested. , .
I had occasion to know from an old lady, though never
from my mother, that, when a very very young woman,
she had received a legacy of fifty pounds ; a humble friend,
with a large family, was begmning business, and in
distress for a little ready money, — the young Miss Dal
rymple gave him her fifty pounds, and, being asked why
she had not bestowed the half of it only, she replied,
' The half of it would have done Mm little good, and to
go without the whole does me little harm.' It was the
making of the man, and I believe her own feelings re
paid her.
" My mother laid down no precepts, unless the occa
sion introduced them ; she was not naturally fond of
children, — they annoyed her ; and the act of teaching
them was so disagreeable to her, that she consigned her
boys entirely to the care of a decent primitive tutor, and
her three girls to that of a young woman more accom
plished than reasonable, alas ! who acted as a governess,
without allowing herself to be so called. This person
instmcted us, though on aU points of regulation or cor-

240 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
rection our mother was supreme, pronouncing with the
wisdom of a Lycurgus, though not always with equal
good fortune in having her laws complied with.
" Had my mother been married to a man of her own
time of life, whose love could have softened her heart,
and won it out of those entrenchments with which she
seemed to have guarded it round, I am convinced she
would not only have been a more complying wife, but a
tenderer mother ; but, married, when only twenty-two,
to our excellent father, when on the verge of sixty and
very deaf, she spent her virtuous youth in acting up in
all points to her sense of duty, and in its measurements
the softer affections were forgotten — to bud and bloom
in her old age. — I have rarely seen any woman, enjoy
ing, as she did, the admiration that her beauty and am-
mation naturally attracted, who retained the same purity
of manners and innocence of heart. She never lost sight
for a moment of her being the wife of a most respectable
but very old man, and this recollection restrained into
caution a vivacity that never exceeded the bounds of the
most critical propriety, and taught her daughters, I hope,
that cheerfulness might be indulged without levity, and
ingenuous openness without imprudence.
" Honour, magnanimity, and justice, guided the whole
of her conduct, and she laid down, as the laws of the
Medes and Persians, the 'absolute necessity' of our being
always governed by them. — In short, my dear mother
was a woman to make men of men, and wise women of
siUy ones. Had her fortune been equal to her desire of

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 241
doing good, she would have been a first-rate character
in society, but her best propensities were curbed by the
smallness of her income, her temper was somewhat af
fected by the bad influence of those around her during
the infancy of her children, and, as they advanced in
life, this naturally increased with her cares for them, till
it was ultimately banished by their prosperity.
" It was then, when the gales of this troublesome
world had subsided, and the breakers ceased to rage
which Md from the common observer the Rock — on
which my dear mother's stronghold of happiness was
bmlt, that we perceived a deep and firm reliance on her
God to have been always the basis of that true fortitude
and independence of mind, which had sustained her
through so many difficulties, without her ever allovring
them to be such.
" Sweetness, tenderness, and charity accompanied
true religion and piety to the last, and were even united
with that sparkle of the imagination which had attended
her in youth.
" Oh ! may the departure of every child she has left
be happy as hers, and may we meet again in that bliss,
which we cannot deserve, but must fervently pray to
attain ! " SECT. III.
Though I originally intended to close this narrative
with the death of Earl James, in 1768, I could not resist

242 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
the temptation of introducing you to those relatives
whose names you are more immediately familiar with,
as nearly as possible in the words of the sister, whose
memoirs I have so largely drawn upon in this and the
preceding chapter.
This was not, however, her only work. The journals
of her voyage to the Cape, and of her residence there,
and excursions into the interior country, illustrated with
drawings and sketches of the scenes described, are pre
served among the family manuscripts in my father's
library. Had circumstances permitted of her retum by
New South Wales, Egypt, and the Greek islands — the
tour she had planned with her husband — she would have
left us, probably, a series of letters as graphic and amus
ing as Lady Mary Wortley Montague's. But " Auld
Robin Gray " must remain her monument.
After the death of Mr. Barnard, Lady Anne resided
constantly in Berkeley Square, enjoying the occasional
society of her family, writing the memoirs and collecting
the literary relics of her brothers and sisters.
It had been Earl James's vrish that one of Ms chUdren
should continue the history of his family from the period
when his own pen ceased. " It was a maxim of my fa
ther's," says Lady Anne, " that the person who neglects
to leave some trace of his mind behind him, according to
his capacity, fails not only in his duty to society, but in
gratitude to the Author of his being, and may be said to
have existed in vain. ' Every man,' said he, ' has felt or
thought, invented or observed; a Uttle of that genius

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 243
which we receive from Nature, or a little of that experi
ence which we buy in our walk through life, if be
queathed to the community, would ultimately become a
collection to do honour to the family where such records
were preserved.' — I took up my pen and wrote, — at first
with a little pain. To turn back in fancy to the season
of rosebuds and myrtles, and to find oneself travelling on
in reality to that of snowdrops and cypresses, is a position
wMch may naturally produce some inequality of style, —
the more so, as I was often tempted by the gaiety and
truthfulness of my old MS. journals, to transcribe from
them verbatim, whUe, on other occasions, I have allowed
the prudence and concise pen of the old lady to lop and
abridge, in a manner that, I fear, has greatly injured the
spirit and originality of the work, though it has brought
it into a more reasonable compass. Meanwhile, I trust
to memory in giring those anecdotes, not only of events,
but of the deeds and virtues of our forefathers, which it
were a sin to forget, and which my father related to me
with a degree of spirit and vivacity which indelibly im
pressed them on my heart."*
* " It is a sweet satisfaction to her that, as she advances in years,
she not only realises the enjoyment of life in a delightful amusement,
but has also the gratifying and conscious pleasure that she is obeying
the earnest wish of her honoured father, who, knowing her ability and
competence, urged her to continue a family record, to whigh he had set
an example, and to which his descendants have attached a consideration
so imperative as almost to ensure its continuance for ages still to come."
— Alex, earl of Balcarres.
b2

244 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
To the " family taste," as she calls it, "'of spinning
from the brain in the sanctum of the closet, leavmg it to
posterity to value the web or not as it pleased," Lady
Anne owed the chief amusement of a serene, placid, and
contented old age, prolonged, like that of several of her
family, beyond the three-score years and ten usually al
lotted to human life, but enlivened to the close by the
proverbial cheerfulness of the " light Lindsays," and un
impaired vigour of mind and imagination. Her stores
of anecdote, on all subjects and of all persons, her rich
fancy, original thought, and ever-ready wit, rendered her
conversation delightful to the last ; while the kindness
of her heart — a very fountain of tenderness and love —
always overflowing, and her sincere but unostentatious
piety, divested that wit of the keenness that might have
wounded — it flashed, but it was summer lightning.
" And now," she writes towards the close of her me
moirs — and your filial feelings and my own will equaUy
be gratified by my quoting the passage — " having for
the present closed all that it is necessary to say of ' kmgs
and courts,' I return to the haunts of my heart, like the
traveller who has been long away, gleaning from other
countries what may amuse the dear circle at home;
grieving with tenderness over chasms in that circle never
to be suppUed, but grateful for what remains of friendsMp
and affection still on earth to cheer the evening of life.
" Of Elizabeth's society I have all that I can in reason
expect from the avocations which, as a mother and a
grandmother to four families, multiply themselves upon

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 245
her every day, — my brothers rally round me with kind
ness, when business caUs them to town, but it is in the
affection of my two nephews, (Lord Lindsay and my
young guardsman, James,) I find the tenderness so un
usual in young men ! which is ever ready to fly to be my
prop and support, when I feel a want of it. — No ostenta
tion is to be found in their attentions ; they do not tease
me vrith solicitude about my health, — with giving me
chairs when I do not wish to sit down, or asking me to
drink vrine, or to be helped to what at home I may ven
ture to ask for. All is liberty and equality here, untaxed
by restraint, — it is granted by them to me, and by me to
them ; even their wives permit me to steal into my own
den, (my drawing-room of forty feet long, surrounded
with papers and drawings,) and employ myself all the
morning, without thinking themselves ill-used by my
absence, — but never do I refuse the tete-a-tete which has
a useful purpose in view to any one ; I make no selfish
monopoly of my time to Anne Barnard, but lay aside the
page, in which perhaps my whole heart is engaged, to
listen to the anxiety of some other person, though the
idea occupying my pen vanishes with the moment, per
haps never to retum ; and this, at times, I really feel an
act of virtue, anxious as I am to finish the labours of the
mind, while it possesses a part of its powers, though the
strength of the body does not always prop it up.
" ' Oh ! blest Retirement, friend to life's decline !'
how little am I disposed to change thee for the bustle of
B 3

246 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
this busy town ! how I should be throwing away the
little portion of life that remains, to seek abroad for the
contentment, which, at my time of life, is best found at
home ! My friends press me to go out to amuse myself, —
but I should go without any interest beyond the charm
of getting home again ; by the side of my fire, I have
got into the habit of living in other days with those I
loved, reflecting on the past, hoping in the future, and
sometimes looking back with a sorrowful retrospect,
where I fear I may have erred: — together vrith these
mental employments, I have various sources of amuse
ment ; I compile and arrange my memorandums of past
observations and events ; I retouch some sketches and
form new ones from souvenirs taken on the spot, — some
times I employ an artist to finish these, but all is first
traced accurately with my own pencil, so impossible do
I find it to get any one to enter exactly into the spirit of
my subject. With such entertainment for my morn
ings, and a house full of nephews and nieces, together
with the near connections of my dear Barnard, all ten
derly attached to me, I have great — great reason to
bless God, who, in taking much from me, has left me
so much !
" Talking of occupation — amongst my " Vagrant
Scraps,' where thoughts are marked down in order to
introduce them here, (which I generally forget to do,)
I find a page on this subject, which seems addressed to
cotemporaries, who will, I think, understand it.

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 247
OCCUPATION.
" When living by myself, which I do not a little, I
fancy I make discoveries in human nature, which, I dare
say, are (to use a vulgar phrase) only mares' nests, but
I make hobby-horses ofthem, on which I gallop off with
much alacrity.
" When people say of others who are advancing in
life, (viz. growing old and ugly,) that they are cross,
that notMng pleases them, that they are crabbed, and
that they have lost their relish for the world, it is all
nearly true with a little alteration; they are crossed,
nobody is pleased with them, they find things go back
wards (viz. crabbed,) and that the world has lost its
relish for them ; the young and gay find themselves in
no affmity vrith them, and cotemporaries are angry when
they look in the face of fifty or sixty, — ^it is a sort of mir
ror wMch reflects their own wrinkled risages. While gay
and pretty cotemporaries involuntarily dress themselves
in smiles to meet us, conversation is full of openness, good
will, and confidence, but draw the veil of thirty years
over the same person, and the manners of every crea
ture will be changed : — ^where lies the blame ? nowhere,
— the complaint is cutaneous, belonging to the skin
only : — but let no one suppose himself in fault for this.
I have heard a poor old desponder say, ' I am grown
quite stupid and good for nothmg,' but were it possible
to remove the veil I have alluded to, and see the rose
buds and lilies where they were before, the effects they
would produce on the beholder would soon reanimate
r4

248 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
the manner, and with his new skin Richard would be
himself again, — for minds do not grow old or wear out,
except by the effects of the body on them.
" But to be serious. When alone, I am not above
five and twenty.- I can entertain myself with a suc
cession of inventions, which would be more effective if
they were fewer, — I forget that I am sixty-eight, and if,
by chance, I see myself in the glass, looking very abomi
nable — I do not care.
" What is the moral of this ? — That, as far as my poor
experience goes, (and 'tis said that we must all be fools
or physicians at forty,) occupation is the best nostmm
in the great laboratory of human life, for pains, cares,
mortifications, and ennui; it amuses in sickness, it lightens
the distress of circumstances, it acts as a gentle opiate to
ill-requited love, it is a solace to the heart when a fellow-
creature can be benefited by our exertions, and even in
sorrow — even when the heart is sinking under the load
of grief, if we can feel it a duty to bear up, we find it an
Atlas to the human mind, giving it strength to support
what might otherwise crush it.
" But to treasure up the power of occupying ourselves
in a manner to interest us in old age, we must begin, my
dear young friends, by occupying ourselves in youth, by
cultivating some talent, some taste to which our mind
leads us, which may amuse our solitary hours as we ad
vance in life, — and, if it has an useful tendency, so much
the better : — ^never should the day pass in wMch a young
person ought not to endeavour to make some step for-

HON. ROBERT LINDSAY. 249
ward to improvement ; if we do so in youth, the taste
will not depart from us in old age, and, instead of giving
up the point of happiness, if we make it our aim to keep
our minds awake to a sense of our duties, it will serve
us in good stead, although Providence may not have
gifted us with imagination or ingenuity. The indepen
dence of having your amusements within yourselves, my
dear friends, will render you beloved and looked up to ;
the same independence in old age will prevent your ever
feeling yourselves a burden on society. Rich in your
own resources, you will ask no subscriptions from others,
but gladly afford a share of what little it may be in your
power to bestow."
Such was Lady Anne's philosophy ; may it be yours !
" Redeem your time," — remembering, in the beautiful
language of her sister. Lady Margaret, how infallibly
" The culture of the early spring
Secures the summer's joy, the autumn's pride.
And makes the rugged brow of winter smile ! "

About a year after the death of the venerable dowager
of Balcarres, your grandfather, then nearly blind, dic
tated to his daughters those "Anecdotes of an Indian
Life," which I have already referred you to, — " a narra
tive," says the affectionate sister, at whose suggestion
(seconded by theirs) the notes he had written in early
life were thus remodelled — " so honest, simple, curious.

250 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
and complete, that I should injure it by adding any
thing more than the pleasing fact, that he is well, and
likely to remain so for many years, — living peacefully,
usefully, thankfully, rationally, — as much respected as
he is beloved ; his family is patriarchal, — all unite in
harmony with each other, and, if any one wish to know
where the ' golden age ' of happiness and contentment
is to be found in this ' valley of tears,' the finger-board
of truth points to Balcarres House — I can give him no
better direction."*

It was not till a year or two before her death, that
Lady Anne publicly acknowledged the authorship of
" Auld Robin Gray." In the " Pirate," which appeared
in 1823, the author of Waverley compared the condition
of Minna to that of Jeanie Gray, " the village-heroine
in Lady Anne Lindsay's beautiful ballad :" —
" Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent.
Despair it was come, and she thought it content ;
She thought it content — but her cheek it grew pale.
And she drooped like a snowdrop broke down by the hail ! "
This ascription to the real authoress ofthe long-contested
poem in question, induced Lady Anne to confide its Ms-
* Since the compilation of this work, Mr. Robert Lindsay has been
gathered to his fathers. He died on the 10th of May, 1836, aged
eighty-two.

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 251
tory to Sir Walter Scott, in the following characteristic
letter, to which I subjoin Sir Walter's reply, redolent of
" Auld-lang-syne." " London, Berkeley Square,
July 8, 1823.
" My dear sir : —
I am really ashamed to tell you how long I
have remained balancing between the strong desire I had
of addressing you, and the timidity I felt on encroaching
upon time so valuable to the world at large, but, I am
convinced, your good nature will not only pardon me,
but will induce you to grant the favour I am about to
ask. — It is, that you will convey to the author of Wa
verley, vrith whom I am informed you are personally
acquainted, how gratefully I feel the kindness with
which he has (in the second volume of the 'Pirate,'
13th chapter,) so distinguishedly noticed and, by his
powerful authority, assigned the long-contested ballad of
' Auld Robin Gray ' to its real author.
In truth, the position I was placed m about that song
had at last become irksome to me ; how can I then so
fully mark my thankfulness to him who has relieved me
from my dilemma, as by transmitting to him, fairly and
frankly, the Origin, Birth, Life, Death, and Confession,
Will and Testament of ' Auld Robin Gray,' with the as
surance that the author of Waverley is the first person
out of my own family who has ever had an explanation
from me on the subject.

252 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
Robin Gray, so called from its being the name of the
old herdsman at Balcarres, was born soon after the close
of the year 1771- My sister Margaret had married and
accompanied her husband to London ; I was melancholy,
and endeavoured to amuse myself by attempting a few
poetical trifles. There was an ancient Scotch melody
of which I was passionately fond, — Sophy Johnstone,
who lived before your day, used to sing it to us at Bal
carres; I longed to sing old Sophy's air to different
words, and to give to its plaintive tones some little his
tory of virtuous distress in humble life, such as might
suit it. While attempting to effect this in my closet, I
called to my little sister, now Lady Hardvricke, who
was the only person near me, — ' I have been writing a
ballad, my dear, — I am oppressing my heroine with
many misfortunes, — I have already sent her Jamie to
sea, and broken her father's arm, and made her mother
fall sick, and given her Auld Robin Gray for a lover, but
I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow in the four lines,
poor thing ! help me to one, I pray.' — ' Steal the cow,
sister Anne,' said the little Elizabeth. The cow was im
mediately lifted by me, and the song completed. At our
fire-side, amongst our neighbours, ' Auld Robin Gray '
was always called for ; I was pleased with the approba
tion it met with, but such was my dread of being sus
pected of writing any thing, perceiving the shyness it
created in those who could write nothing, that I care
fully kept my own secret.
. . . From one honest man I had an excellent hint ;

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 253
the laird of Dalzell, after hearing it, broke into the angry
exclamation of, ' Oh the villain ! oh the auld rascal ! /
ken wha stealt the poor lassie's coo — it was Auld Robin
Gray himsel ! ' — I thought this a bright idea, and trea
sured it up for a future occasion. — Meantime, little as
this matter seems to have been worthy of a dispute, it
afterwards became almost a party question between the
16th and 18th centuries ; Robin Gray was either a very,
very ancient ballad, composed perhaps by David Rizzio,
and a great curiosity, or a very, very modern matter,
and no curiosity at all. I was persecuted to confess
whether I had written it, or, if not, where I had got it.
Old Sophy kept my counsel, and I kept my own, in spite
of the gratification of seeing a reward of twenty guineas
offered in the newspapers to the person who should
ascertain the point past a doubt, and the still more
flattering circumstance of a visit from Mr. J  , secre
tary to the Antiquarian Society, who endeavoured to
entrap the truth from me in a manner I took amiss.
Had he asked me the question obligingly, I should have
told him the fact distinctly, but confidentially ; the an
noyance, however, of this important ambassador from
the Antiquaries was amply repaid to me by the noble
exhibition of the baUet of Auld Robin Gray's courtship,
as performed by dancing dogs under my windows : — it
proved its popularity from the highest to the lowest, and
gave me pleasure wMle I hugged myself in my obscurity.
Such was the history of \he first part of it. As to the
second, it was written many years after in compliment to

254 LIVES OF TilE LINDSAYS.
my dear old mother, who often said, ' Annie ! I wish you
would tell me how that unlucky business of Jeanie and
Jamie ended ;' — to meet her wishes as far as I could, the
second part was written: it is not so pleasing as the
first ; the loves and distresses of youth go more to the
heart than the contritions, confessions, and legacies of
old age : my dread, however, of being named as an
authoress still remaining, though I sung it to my mother,
I gave her no copy of it, but her affection for me so im
pressed it on a memory, which [then] retained scarcely
any thing else, and she repeated it so often, vrith the
pride of being the only person that had the power of
doing so, that I think it very probable, by means of my
mother's friend and constant companion, Mrs. Keith,
some of the verses may have reached the hand of the
author of Waverley, as it was a subject of delight to her
to boast of her intimacy with him. — I have reason to
know there exists a version of the second part from
Jeanie's own lips, but that which has been already so
highly honoured as to be placed where it is, shall for ever
keep its ground with me, and the other shall remain in
the corner of my portfolio.
Let me now once more, my dear sir, entreat that you
wUl prevail on the author of Waverley to accept, in
testimony of my most grateful thanks, of the only copies
of this ballad ever given under the hand of the writer,
and will you call here, I pray, when you come next to
London, sending up your name that you may not be de
nied. You will then find the doors open wide to receive

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 255
you, and two people wUl shake hands who are unac
quainted with ennui, — the one being innocently occupied
from morning to night, the other with a splendid genius
as his companion wherever he goes !
God bless you ! Anne Barnard."
P. S. I see that I have not mentioned an advice of
the old laird of Dalzell' s, who, when we were tete-a-
tete afterwards, said, ' My dear, the next time you sing
that song, alter the line about the crown and the pound,
and when you have said that " saving ae crown piece,"
Jamie " had naething else beside," be sure you add, " to
mak it twenty merks my Jamie gaed to sea," — for a
Scottish pund, my dear, is but twenty pence, and Jamie
was na siccan a gowk as to leave Jeanie and gang to sea
to lessen his gear : — 'twas that sentence,' he whispered,
' telled me the song was written by some bonnie lassie
that didna ken the nature o' the Scotch money, as well
as an auld writer in the town of Edinbro' would hae
done.' I was delighted with the criticism of old Dalzell, — if
it had occurred to the Antiquarian Society, it might
have saved Mr. J  the trouble of his visit; but,
though I admit it would have been wiser to have cor
rected the error, I have never changed the pound-note,
which has always pasesd current in its original state."

256 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS. " 14 July, 1823.
" My dear Lady Anne : —
I wish I could tell you with how much pleasure
I received your letter, and how many remembrances it
brought back to me of very early days, some a little sad,
to be sure, but perhaps not on that account the less in
teresting. I cannot pretend to say why, or on what
authority, that mysterious personage the author of Wa
verley made the appropriation which induced your lady
ship to ascend the confessional so much to my advantage,
but I can say for myself, that, forty years and more, I
never entertained the least doubt as to the real authoress
of ' Robin Gray,' — that real pastoral, which is worth aU
the dialogues which Corydon and Phyllis have had to
gether from the days of Theocritus downwards.
Now I will tell your ladyship how I came to be so
positive respecting a fact known with certainty to so
very few persons. Your ladyship may remember, among
old Edinburgh acquaintances, the family of Dr. John
Rutherford, professor of medicine, one of whom, Mrs.
Colonel Russell of Ashestiel by marriage, was formerly
well known to you. The eldest daughter of the doctor,
by his first wife, was my worthy mother, who was much
connected by friendship, and, I think, by some remote
cousinred (through the Duffs and Dalrymples) with the
excellent countess of Balcarres, your ladyship's mother,
in virtue of which connection I had, when entering life,
the advantage of hearing the good old lady, then our
neighbour in George's Square, tell many entertaining

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 257
anecdotes of the Vieille Cour, and of ancient Scotch
manners. I was also a sort of permitted attendant on the late
countess at public places, particularly the theatre, where
she retained a box so constantly, that the lady dowager
used to call her ' the good- wife of the playhouse.'
Moreover, your ladysMp gives me too much grace in
supposing Soph Johnstone was not of my day. Well do
I remember her jockey coat, masculine stride, strong
voice, and, occasionally, round oath ; I remember also
many of her songs, for example —
' Eh ! quo' the tod, it's a braw light night.
The wind's i' the west, and the moon shines bright,' &c.
Moreover did I not see her kick my poor sister's shins
under the card-table at Mrs. Cockbum's, for moving her
feet in some way inconvenient to the said Soph, who
added at the same time to her pedestrian correction this
exclamation, (how acceptable to a miss in teens your
ladyship may believe) — 'what is the lassie wabster —
wabster — wabstering that gate for ? ' — In short, I saw
tMs extraordinary original both at home and at Mrs.
Cockbum's, and am like to laugh even now whenever I
think of her.
It was not from Soph Johnstone, however, that I
learned ' Auld Robin Gray,' but from my aunt Mrs.
RusseU, who used to sing very prettily, and had leamed
it, I think, in your ladyship's family, if not from your
self.

258 LIVES OP THE LINDSAYS.
She only sung the first part, but, many years after
wards, I got from her sister, my much regretted rela
tion. Miss Christian Rutherford, (the great friend of
Mrs. Murray Keith,) about seven or eight verses of the
continuation, but which only made a fragment. All
these persons were perfectly convinced of your lady
ship's right to this beautiful ballad, and spoke of it as a
matter of which they never had a moment's doubt, and
I, knowing their opportunities of information, never con
sidered the matter as being at all questionable ; indeed, I
supposed that Mrs. Russell had learned the circumstance
from your ladyship directly, and though that, from your
ladyship's information, must have been a mistake, yet I
am satisfied that either from Soph Johnstone's being less
absolutely faithftil than your ladyship supposes, or very
Ukely from some chain of circumstantial proof, added to
her knowledge of Lady Anne's genius for the profitless
and profane art of ballad-making, she had arrived at the
true conclusion without the assistance of any direct tes
timony. The Miss Hepburns, too, of Congalton, who
belonged to the same society of friends, (and a very
pleasant society they formed, till a strange and simulta
neous fate swept most of them off within a few days
of each other,) used always to speak of ' Auld Robin
Gray' as being indubitably the composition of Lady
Anne Barnard, — and many a wish have I formed to
know Lady Anne in consequence of this conviction.
It is within these few weeks that Lord Montague,
with whom I am in the habits of constant correspond-

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 259
ence, wrote to me on this very subject, and mentioned
that a clergyman arrogated to himself the merit of writ
ing ' Auld Robin Gray.' I wrote in reply, mentioning
a part of the facts on which I felt myself from good
authority entitled to ascribe the praise to the lady I
have now the honour to address, — odd enough, that his
excellent aunt should be the first to penetrate your mys
tery, and that it should be in danger of being mystified
at this time of day.
Now, I have a great mind to ask your ladyship's good
ness to put a stop to these petty-larceny proceedings in
the following manner. I belong to a society of literary
folks in Edinburgh, whose principal bond of union is the
resolution to preserve as many floating records of Scot
tish history and antiquities as we can collect ; each mem
ber prints what he pleases, not exceeding the number of
copies necessary for the members, and a few more for
particular friends, — for the object is, to preserve from
the risk attending manuscripts, without intending any im
mediate publication. Will you allow me to put a com
plete copy of ' Auld Robin Gray ' in this curious record,
either with or without the name of the ingenious autho
ress, and with as much or as little of its history, as you
think better ? — I wish to heaven I could obtain an
equally authentic copy of ' Hardicanute,' and I think
old Fife might cock her crest in honour of her two
poetesses.*

* " I have sometimes wondered," says Sir Walter, in a subsequent
s2

260 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
I think Dalzell's criticism rather hypercritical, but
very characteristic ; were I to reply to it in the manner
of Shakspeare's commentators, trumping each other's
nonsense, I would, in logical phrase, grant Ms premises
and deny his conclusion. A crown, I would say, is no
denomination of Scottish money, and therefore the
letter, " how many of our best songs have been written by Scotch-wo
men of rank and condition. The Hon. Mrs. Murray, (Miss Baillie of
Jerviswood born,) wrote the very pretty Scots song,
¦ An 't were not my heart's light I wad die,' —
Miss Elliot, of Minto, the verses to the ' Flowers of the Forest,'
which begin ' I have heard a Ulting,' &c. —
Mrs. Cockburn (whom your ladyship must have known well) composed
other verses to the same tune,
' I have seen the smiling of fortune beguiling,' &c.
Lady Wardlaw wrote the glorious old ballad ©f ' Hardyknute ;' — place
' Auld Robin ' at the head of this list, and I question if we masculine
wretches can claim five or six songs equal in elegance and pathos out
of the long list of Scottish minstrelsy."
" Auld Robin Gray,'' says Allan Cunningham, " has been fortunate
in the admiration of the world and the abuse of Pinkerton." — It is sin
gular enough that the highest praise ever bestowed on it should be
from the pen of Ritson, a critic on many occasions still more severe.
" The elegant and accomplished authoress," says he, " has, in this beauti
ful production, to all that tenderness and simplicity for which the Scottish
song has been so much celebrated, united a delicacy of expression which
it never before attained. We may therefore conclude that this species
of composition, which has been carried to the utmost perfection, must
either cease or degenerate." — Historical Essay on Scottish Song: —
Scottish Songs, vol. i. p. Ixxv.

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 261
pound to which it is to be augmented is not a Scottish
pound. If it were objected to my exposition, that it is
unnatural that Jamie should speak of any other denomi
nation of coin than the Scotch, I would produce you a
dozen of old papers to prove that the coast of Fife in
ancient times carried on a great trade with Holland and
other countries, and of course French crowns and pounds
sterling were current denominations among them. —
Moreover, he shews himself so ready to gang to sea,
that, for ought I can tell, or Dalzell either, (if he were
alive,) Jamie may have gone a trial voyage to Campvere
already, and speak rather as a mariner than in the usual
style of ' poor Scotland's gear.'
Dalzell's remark can only be matched by one made by
Mr. Farquharson, an old Edinburgh accomptant, — one
who executes pretty much the duty of a master in chan
cery, to whom the judges refer such complicated cases
connected with figures, as their own skill and Cocker's
assistance do not enable their own wisdom to disentangle.
He was with some difficulty prevailed on by his own fa
mily to read ' Cecilia,' which had just come out. On
their asking how he liked it, he expressed himself much
amused, but observed there was a gross error and incon
sistency in the narrative, — a part of the distress or em
barrassment of the heroine being, as your ladyship may
remember, on the loss of her fortune.—' Now,' said my
old friend, ' although Cecilia was cheated of her money
in the funds, and lost her landed property by marrying
Delville, who would not change his name, she must still
s3

262 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
have been a considerable heiress, for no account is given
of the arrears of her rents, which, under Mr. Briggs'
careful management, must at the end of nineteen or
twenty years,' he said, ' be a very respectable sum. I
have made a small schedule of it,' he added, drawing a
balance-sheet from his pocket, ' in which it plainly ap
pears that, even at simple interest, she must have been
worth so many thousands.' — With such different views
do people read works of fancy !
I was in the neighbourhood of Balcarres for the first
time in my life about a month ago ; I never saw so many
good houses of people of family and fortune nestled so
close together as in that part of Fife ; it is more like
England than Scotland. I was only a member of a large
party, without any independent means of conveyance,
otherwise I should have paid my respects to Mr. Lindsay.
But I begin to think I have rather abused the privi
lege which your ladyship's goodness has allowed me, and
bestowed on you, with all Dogberry's generosity, a full
allowance of my tediousness. I will only add, that I am
not likely soon to profit by the very flattering invitation
with which your ladyship honoured me ; perhaps, before
I come to town, some happy chance may determine your
course to Scotland, and I need scarce say how happy I
should be to receive the authoress of ' Robin Gray ' and
her companion, ' On well-sung Tweed's baronial stream,'
where I am just concluding a hobby-horsical sort of a

LADY ANNE BARNARD. 263
mansion, with as littie of Solomon's skill in the design,
as there is of his silence in the execution, which makes
even now a clatter about my ears, enough to stun any
one who was bred in a writer's office like myself: — its
best recommendation to you will be its near neighbour
hood to Yair.*
But you will never get rid of me, if I start anew to old
stories : — Believe me, dear Lady Anne,
Most respectfully and sincerely
Your obedient servant,
Walter Scott."
Sir Walter's proposal was gratefully accepted, and the
ballad was accordingly printed in a small quarto volume,
and circulated among the members of the Bannatyne
Club, in 1824. The death of the authoress, in her
seventy-fourth year, took place the following spring,
shortly after that of her brother. Lord Balcarres.
We have seen great changes, and sustained severe na
tional losses since that period, but none of which the
knell rang so mournfully to our ears as that which
wamed us that Walter Scott, the minstrel of Scotland,
— the " Ariosto of the North," slept with his fathers.
What a gemus was his ! how comprehensive, how uni
versal ! But it is not for me to attempt his eulogy ; let
* Now the seat of Alexander Pringle, Esq., of Whytbank. — His ve
nerable mother and the late Mrs. Robert Lindsay were sisters, and
cousins- german to Lady Anne Barnard, the late Lord Balcarres, &c.
s4

264 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
me remmd you only of one feature in his character,
which should indeed endear his memory to us, — that, in
his proudest day of intellectual triumph, when the world
was at his feet, and a word from his lips ensured distinc
tion on whomsoever it was bestowed — (and never fell a
sentence from those lips that was not fraught with the
kindliest feeUngs of humanity,) Scotland was never ab
sent from his thoughts, — his heart dwelt ever among the
craigs, the glens, the streams, of our own romantic land ;
that the heather, which he had trod whUe livmg, should
bloom over Mm when dead, was his vrish to the last,
whUe sinking in a foreign clime under the toil to wMch
he had pledged himself from the noblest sense of duty ; —
he gazed, indeed, on Pompeu and PausUipo, but Ms
thoughts were wandering far away to Melrose, the Braes
of Yarrow, and his own Abbotsford ; he retumed, but it
was only to gaze his last on the Tweed, again to " feel
the breeze down Ettrick break," cheering his heart
whUe it chiUed his cheek, and then to lay his bones
" 'neath Dryburgh's holy shade," to be a shrine of pil
grimage for many a future age of admiration.

My task is over ; the torch must be extinguished by
which you have seen the shadows of your ancestors
dimly gUding under the gloomy vault of past ages, —
your more immediate forefathers have appeared with a
distincter outline in the broader and familiar light of

CONCLUSION. 265
recent times: — I leave it to those who well remem
ber, and love to descant upon " the days of langsyne,"
to describe to you at greater length the fortunes of that
venerable generation, of whose members, though some
be fallen asleep, others still survive, long, I tmst, to
gladden our domestic circle with their presence.
I now bid you farewell. Love, I entreat you, the
country of your fathers, as they loved her ; amidst the
haunts of men and the bustle of the world, think often
on the heathery Mils and the ruined castles of Glenesk,
— on " Fair Balcarres' sunward-sloping farms," —
and on the ivied chapel where rest the ashes of our
ancestors. Forget not the venerable usages, the heart-
thrilling melodies, the ballads and traditions of your
Fatherland : love your clansmen, your kinsmen, your
friends, your foes — let your whole Uves be love ; love to
God in keeping His commandments, love to man for
Christ's sake, who loved and gave Himself for us, that
through His blood we might have peace.* His eye is
* " 'Faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these
is charity.' And who can doubt it .'' Without any reference to the
obvious fact, that while the two former are transitory, the last is per
petual, is it not evident that, after all, faith and hope are but as the scaf
folding of the spiritual house, while the house itself, the glorious super
structure, is love ? Love to God and love to man ; love to every
created being throughout all time, love to the blessed inmates of the
heavenly mansions throughout eternity. The object then of all religion
is to give to fallen man the power and the will, which, as we have seen.

266 LIVES OF THE LINDSAYS.
ever upon you; He watches you when your parents
sleep ; He hears you when you pray ; He will give you
His holy spirit if you earnestly, perseveringly ask for it ;
He wiU make aU things turn to your good, if you love
Him, and do His wiU. Begin then at once — every mi
nute is precious, and Time is ever on the wing. Culti
vate the talents God has blessed you with, that you may
turn them all to His glory and the good of your fellow-
creatures, — there is no talent, no accomplishment, which
may not thus be sanctified. — Knowledge wedded to cha
rity is profitable, yet covet vrisdom rather than know
ledge, — that trae wisdom, " the fear of the Lord," which
the Giver of all good things bestows UberaUy on those
who seek after it.
— That, through Adam's fall, we are born in sin, he
reditary bondsmen — under a law, the very first trans
gression of which condemns us to eternal death, — ^yet,
blessed be God, under a gospel — ^wMch offers us par
don through the atoning blood of a Redeemer, who has
fulfilled the law that we have broken, and endured the
curse that we have deserved, — believing this — ^your
faith working in you by love, and eridenced by holiness
— you will be wise indeed — "vrise unto salvation."
Chuse, then, oh ! chuse that better part, wMch shall not
be taken away from you ! — Wisdom is a daughter of

he has not by nature, to live this life of love on earth, that he may be
fitted and educated for the eternity of love in heaven." — Blunt on the
Articles, p. 89.

CONCLUSION. 267
heaven, pure and holy, but, at the prayer of faith, she
glides down the rainbow of Christ's covenant, a wUling
messenger, lovelier than the fabled Iris, and fading not
away, for, once yours, she will abide with you for ever.
Love her, then, as your sister — ^follow her as your guide,
— and you will find that " her ways are ways of plea
santness, and all her paths are peace."
One word more, ere I drop the pen — and I would
here address all my dear relations, all who may have read
these pages ; humbly, earnestly, and most affectionately
would I entreat them to watch diligently over their
hearts and Uves in these most awful times. We are
fallen on evil days — days which those who look reve
rently to the revealed signs of the latter times, expect to
be days of trial and suffering — days which all, whatever
be their opinion as to their prophetic character, must
feel to be a season of tumult, trouble, and uncertainty, —
the eve, perhaps, of mighty changes and bitter sorrows.
" Watch !" is our Saviour's warning ; is our armour
ready? we know not what a day may bring forth.
What is our duty as christians ? Openly to avow our
faith, and prove it genuine by our lives ; openly to rank
ourselves under the banner of Christ against the foul
spirits of Infidelity, License, and Revolution, that are
stalking abroad over the earth, — we may have to resist
unto blood — God grant that our faith fail not !
Many of you, I know, are christians indeed, — yet be
jealous of your faith, lest it wax lukewarm, and God
cross you out of the Book of Life ! Let those among

268 lives OF THE LINDSAYS.
you who have children, devote them to God's service
with eamest teaching and many prayers, — that they
may grow up patriots and christians, and show their
country that God may be reverenced in the palace no
less than in the cottage. The chiefs of the land — the Aris
tocracy, I say — and who are the aristocracy but the
nobles and gentlemen of Britain ? — have it as their allot
ted duty, to guard the People, from foreign foes, from
domestic traitors, and, last and hardest task! from them
selves; firm, though they rage — ^wakeful, though they
sleep : — They are the hUls that gird in a restless ocean,
which blasts from above and fires from below are ever
troubling ; God hath fixed them as the boundary, and
saith to the tide beneath, " Hitherto shalt thou come,
but no farther, and here shall the pride of thy waves be
stayed :" — But the hills must be green and frmtful, and
the breeze that visits the waters must gather fragrance
as it passes, or God in his anger will uproot the barrier,
and let the waters loose.

1831—6.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

VII.

Vol. II. , Page 33.

EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY

LADY HENRIETTA LINDSAY,

SIR DUNCAN CAMPBELL, BART.,

op ADCHINBRECK.

1685—1689.

APPENDIX. 273

DIARY, &c.

ARGYLE S INVASION.
"At this time my desirable and dear mother had come to me in my
sickness, (at Carnasares,* being the last time we were there,) who at
my recovery prevailed in taking us both to reside with her some time
that summer at Stirling ; in which season the tragical scene of a more
universal calamity was acted in the year 1685, which put out of sight
lesser troubles which at another time possibly had borne more bulk.
" Tidings coming there of the late earl of Argyle's being landed, my
dear mother was, by order of council, immediately seized prisoner and
carried to Stirling Castle, and from thence on a Sabbath morning to
the castle of Edinburgh. My dear sister also made prisoner with her,
and many of the most substantial of our name, all seized and made close
prisoners in the Canongate Tolbooth. Some days after this, when
notice was given of the earl's coming from Carapbelltown and the need
he had of aid, Auchinbreck, being no less forward to give in liis mite of
assistance and to hazard his all for what appeared to be the design of
this undertaking, went, through manifold hazards of his life and diffi
culties, to get to him with a considerable number of his men,t who
continued not long together when the Lord was pleased to overrule,
for holy and wise ends, their being scattered, to the unaccountable grief
and sadness of many that were breathing for a deliverance.
" A time not to be forgotten was this, and what this parting was
• Or Camasory, Sir Duncan's castle. f " .About eight hnndied." — Wadrou:
vol.. II. T

27-1 APPENDIX.
when he left me at Stirling- ; and, though it became me not to be so
selfish as to stand in the wav of a more public concern when so much
seemed to be at the stake, yet I was far from encouraging him in it, be
cause I had not that clearness in it that could have been wished. The
seen danger he was exposed to at this time was as the bereaving me of
my life, so much was it bound up in hiin, that kythed (appeared) not a
little in this depth. . . Yet O I the condescension of God, that strangely
sweetened loneliest times ; particularly, the day before tbe fatal account
[reached us] of our dear friends being broken nnd scattered was made a
memorable time, wherein that blessed word was greatly shined on, Isai.
-xliv. 21, ' Thou shalt not be forgotten of me.' 'Thou shalt know
that I am the Lord; they shall not be ashamed that wait on me.'
"The following day we had the unaccountable, sad, and dismal no
tice of the ruin of that undertaking, wherein the expectations of many
were sadly defeat, (but the Lord's time was not come for our deliver
ance ;) and that which did greatly aggravate the torribleness of that
stroke was the dreadful aspect those circumstances appeared to have, —
not possible to relate what suft'erings of various kinds was from all airts
(quarters) expected, and the increase of our thraldom greatly dreaded.
It is not to be expressed what this time was to many, and to some with
grief on all hands ; and pai-ticularly on the following day at St. Ninian's,
having gone through several guards in deep disguise to have a more
certain knowledge of nearest friends, and when knowing of their hazard,
it was deeply distressing ; but the Lord was pleased under those per
plexing fears strangely to support.
" Having watched mostly that night, [I] did return at four in the
morning to Stirling again, where the certain notice of my deai-est nnd
nearest friend being on the road did heighten my fears about him ; and,
when thus tossed in mind and among a barbai-ous crew, this providence
seemed strangely dark and non plussing. But when thus in a depth of
distress, that word was borne in with liveliness and power, as spoken
Ps. xiii. 11., ' Hope thou in God, for I shall praise him yet,' — which,
as a star, did shine all along this whole day through this cloud of over
whelming circumstances, where enemies were raging like destroyers
seeking their prev.

APPENDIX. 275
" Taking leave this day of my dear .himie, (who was left very desti
tute, but the Lord provided friends to care for him,) and being some
miles on foot on this journey to Edinburgh till near Falkirk, it was no
small surjjrise to rencounter the dear carl, being brought that length
prisoner in his way to Edinburgh, as was a mournful sight to one who
bore him so great affection ; but, being in deep disguise, [I] got no
nearer him than to hold up in the rear most part of tho way till our
horse failed. It being also more than probable to expect Auchinbreck's
being taken, (who by severals was told me was known by the way,)
this was unaccountably terrible to apprehend, but that this blessed word
did feed with recruited strength and expectation of relief, which evi
dently was graciously made out in his miraculous escape out of the
hands of his merciless enemies that in several places were in search
of him, but was graciously hidden ; which on many accounts is desired
to be remembered with great thankfulness and praise.
" But this night, seeing much consternation in many faces, and others
under strange infatuation of delusion, that would not credit this fatal
blow that appeared to be given to the public interest, and not without
difficulty to get lodging, — being greatly fatigued and under great hea
viness and pressure of mind, both with respect to personal concerns and
the approaching stroke and present calamities, that seemed to abide
many, of various kinds, — and not knowing of Sir Duncan's preserva
tion, which was inexpressibly racking to a mind greatly in agitation
about him, although not without some hid hope of his relief, yet greatly
distressed. . . But oh ! the condescension of the Lord under the same,
who made this among the sweetest nights that ever some had or durst
have expected, as sleep was neither missed nor sought after. ' In the
day when I cried thou answeredst ine, and strengthenedst me with
strength in my soul ! ' . . . What was found this night was greatly
supporting in time of need, and even under renewed trouble and fears
which the Lord in his holy sovereignty saw meetest to tryst me with,
— and blessings to Him that can sweeten any condition or circum
stances whatsoever !
"Next morning coming early to Edinburgh at the opening of the
ports, the afflicting notice was had ofthe barbarous treatment the dear
t2

276 APPENDIX.
earl had met with in his being brought to the castle ; together with the
dismal rumours anent several of my nearest relations, which again did
plunge [me] in distress, but so as the Lord did support [me] under it.
When thoughtful where to go, the Lord directed to a dear sympathising
friend (Mr. Robert Muir) 's lodging, where was found much favour and
kind reception, whose company on this afflicting sabbath was no small
blessing, — and what was I that the Lord should thus regard, that in
most of my greatest troubles he hath been pleased to favour me with
his people's society and company ? but he is great and his compassions
fail not.
" Next day notice was had of Sir Duncan's safety and marvellous
preservation, which greatly relieved a burdened mind about him, the
circumstances whereof having been so noticeable as cannot be remem
bered but with praise and thanksgiving, so much being to be seen in it
of a sovereign hand as did much encourage and revive under what was
after to be sweltered through. Being then more eflabled to make en
quiry after my dear afflicted mother, who was harshly treated, and
seeing her under so great affliction by the approaching suff'ering of such
an endeared husband, (and had no access to him till eight days after
this fatal stroke,) this did again renew a very mournful prospect of
matters, which at this time had a very strange aspect, — so that, if the
Lord of life had not supported, we had sunk under the trouble.
" The day being appointed for his, suff'ering, she had access to him,
and though under deep distress, was encouraged by seeing the bounty
and graciousness of the Lord to him in enabling him, with great cou
rage and patience, to undergo what he was to meet with, the Lord
helping him to much fervency in supplication and nearness in pouring
out his heart with enlargedness of aff'ection, contrition, and resigna
tion, which did strangely fortify and embolden him to maintain his
integrity before his merciless enemies ; and by this he was helped at
times to great cheerfulness, and fortified under his trial and the testi
mony he was to give of his zeal and fervour to that righteous cause he
was honoured to suff'er for.
" In that morning that his dear life was to be surrendered to the God
that gave it, he uttered great evidences of joy that the Lord had blessed
him with the time he had in Holland as the sweetest time of his life.

APPENDIX. 277
and the mercifulness of his escape to that end. But rejoiced more in
that complete escape he was to have that day from sin and sorrow.
Yet in a little fell into some damp, and in parting with my mother was
observed to have more concern than in any circumstance formerly, —
which to her was a bitter parting, to be taken from him whom she
loved so dearly ; but in a little time after he recovered a little, and as
the time of his death drew near, which was some hours after, the Lord
was pleased wonderfully to shine on him, to the dispelling of clouds
and fears, and to the admitting him to a more clear and evident per
suasion of His blessed favour, and the certainty of his being so soon
happy, — of which he expressed his sense in his last letter to my dear
mother, which could not but sweeten her lot in her greatest sorrow, and
was ground of greatest thankfulness that the Lord helped him to the
last to carry with such magnanimity, resolution, contentment of mind
and true valour, under this dark-like providence, to endless blessed
ness. — And though the loss of so great a protestant was grief of mind
to any that had any tender heart, and which to friends was an universal,
inexpressible, breaking-like dispensation, yet in so far as he was ena
bled under cruel suff'ering to such tranquillity, peace and comfort, this
was to them ground of praises and an answer to their request, — but to
others, that were enemies, was shame and confusion, as appeared after
to many that had the least hand in his first sentence. — He laid down
his dear life, June 30, 1685. This morning liberty at length was ob
tained for my seeing him, but not till he was brought to the Council-
house, where I was enabled to go to him, where he had a composed,
edifying carriage, and, after endearing expressions, said ' we must not
part like those not to meet again -,' and he went from thence with the
greatest assurance.
" At this melancholy time, account came of many of our folks that
were taken and brought in like slaves, so as many prisons were filled, —
other spoiled of all they had, who had been in gaol all this time and no
way in arms, — their houses rifled and young ones put to shift ; many
were harassed, and twenty-three, in one day, of gentlemen and feuars,
execute by that bloody person who gave orders for it. My dear sister
was close prisoner, so as none of us had access to her ; our whole bounds
t3

278 APPENDIX.
and interest laid waste, many put to flight, our house burned, and many
put to great hardships as were unaccountable to relate. (Sir Duncan's
uncle, Strandour, slain at our gate, and Donardrie execute in a bon-
draught.) Yet O ! the graciousness of the Lord, who gave a back for
the burden, as is wondered at on looking back on it, as also the bounty
and goodness of the Lord in the safety of many in the same circum
stances who were designed to be a sacrifice but were miraculously pre
served, as many that were left of the sword found grace in the wilder
ness ; for which O ! to be helped to shew forth His praise, that to some
in a particular manner was a blessed hiding-place from the wind, a co
vert from the tempest, and as rivers of water in a dry place, and as the
shadow of a rock in a weary land ! "
MEDITATIONS WHILE AT WINDSOR, &C., AND IN HOLLAND.
" Among some sweet hours then, though in a very troublesome at
tendance (at Windsor), where great ones of the world were solicited
and waited on with no little painfulness and charge, how did it give
occasion to commend the preferableness of His matchless service, who
is King of kings and Lord of lords ! who does not scarr at petitioners
because of their blemishes and importunity, there being no want of lei
sure at his blessed throne ; no destitute case is slighted by him, no
wilderness condition in a solitary way doth make petitions burdensome
to him, but he satisfies the longing soul and fiUeth the hungry with
good things ; no distress, peril or sword, doth separate from his love,
nor doth he break the bruised reed or grind the smoking flax. With
him the weary and heavy-laden find acceptance, no difficulty being too
great for Him who saveth to the uttermost all that come to God
through him."

" When thoughtful and burdened — (Windsor on a Sabbath evening)
— with various considerations, very racking, this meditation was made
sweet, O ! when shall the day come, or shall it ever be, my soul ! that
thou shalt get leave to love and to serve Him that is the Lord of lords,
the desire of nations, the King eternal, immortal, and invisible, the

APPENDIX. 279
only wise God ? O desirable time and place ! where there will be no
interruption to intermix and cloud thy comfort, no spiritual pride to
darken and blot thy evidences, no misbelief, mistakes or misrepresenta
tions of the object of worship, no grieving or choking the motions of
his Spirit, no losing of golden seasons, no misimproving or misguidings
of mercies received, no disturbing temptation or staggering insinuations
from Satan or his instruments. . . There will be no discouraging fears,
no distress of nations, no mourning for the solemn assemblies, no per
secution or nakedness, no peril or sword, no feeble-mindedness or faint
ing, no captivity or exile, no missing of dear friends or separation from
them, no sinful tears, no perplexing doubting of God's love and favour
there. . . The daughter of Zion will not be left as a cottage in the wilder
ness, or as a lodge in the garden of cucumbers, or as a besieged city; —
no violation of his sacred truths, no misspending of precious time, no
difficulty in access to him, no jealousies of his loving-kindness, no
marring of his presence, no want of true peace and pardon, no burden
or restless care, no short-coming will be uneasy there ; no hunger,
thirst, sickness or death ; no repining or fretting, or taking offence at
the cross of Christ; no hiding of his blessed face either in his word or
providence ; no want of his approbation, no defect in love to him or his
praises, no alteration or separation from his love for ever, no encroach
ment on that Sabbath of rest, but ever to be with the Lord until the
day break and the shadows fly away ! "

" Soon after this, (London, at King's Court,) having occasion to see
the outward splendour of the court, and bravery of such as sit at ease
in the world and have all that their heart could wish, and in the height
of their enjoyment, all appeared to be according to the Lord's reckon
ing, and was esteemed to be but as shadows and dreams that do evan
ish and bear little bulk when put in competition with the least moment
or degree of enjoying of God in Jesus Christ.— O ! incomparably match
less choice, that can never be suitably esteemed, or enough valued,
loved, or delighted in ! it being found that there is no true tranquillity
nor sure peace or comfort, but in God, once mine and for ever mine,
there being no change nor alteration in his love. And at this time, it
T 4

280 APPENDIX.
was made matter of praise that ever he had discovered the preferable
ness of chusing affliction with the people of God to enjoying the
pleasures of sin for a season. The blessing of them that were ready
to perish be for ever upon Him that has discovered and taught the
meaning of that blessed promise a thousandfold, which is seen not
only full of compensation but wonderfully beyond any temporal enjoy
ment ever was enjoyed elsewhere, — his fellowship, his sympathy, his
tender mercy, his matchless love, O ! incomparable felicity and por
tion ! — O ! to give thanks unto the Lord, for his mercy endureth for
ever ! "

" Oct. 31. What had been heard the day before was yet made more
comfortable than was in the time of hearing ; in which sweet season,
(if without presuming it may be said,) His light and truth were sent
together, to the raising of admiration and wonder at the bounty and
condescension of the Lord to dust and ashes, according to what is said,
Ps. 8, ' What is man, that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man
that thou visitest him' even with mercy where wrath and indignation is
so deserved ; — that he visits with discoveries of the vileness and loath
someness of guiltiness and sin, with the mercy of showing the neces
sity and momentary need of Christ and his alone righteousness, with
the mercy of his unspeakable graciousness that is beyond words to
utter, in noticing the particular exigencies and breathings of any one
soul. O wonderful sight, marvellous in our eyes ; O alluring, attrac
tive, ravishing sight ! that the Son of God, this marvellous one, the
mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, this incom
prehensible boundless Being, wonderful in counsel and excellent in
working — that He, that knoweth the manifold provocations of sons
and daughters, and contradiction of sinners in its various eft'ects — that,
instead of contending. He should take knowledge of such, not only to
notice their burdens, but to search after them in order to their relief
and comfort ! O wonderful ground of adoration and transport, that
though in sovereignty he rebukes and sifts the house of Israel among
all nations like corn, yet that not the least grain will be let fall on the
earth, not one will be forgotten at all by him! . . . Isaiah, xliv. 21,

APPENDIX. 281
' Thou shalt not be forgotten of me,' was, in time of great distress,
made sweetly satisfying as in hand, and now no less to find the gra
cious verifying of it ; aud how would not this allure and satisfy, though
in a wilderness and labyrinth of thorny difficulties, since He doth bear
the charge, and graciously doth show that there is no lot but what He
can sweeten, no burden but what He can ease, and no difficulty but
what He can find out the way of escape, or afford strength under, so as
the weakest and worthlessest are made able to bear it. — What can he
not do ? . . . What disease is too hard for him ? what affliction does
he despise ? what smoking ftax does he not cherish ? what guiltiness
does he not blot out ? what enlarged desire can he not satisfy ? what
remote corner can he not countenance and bless, and what heart can he
not constrain, captivate, and make willing in the day of his power ?
What bowed-down soul can he not raise ? what weary and sorrowful
soul can he not replenish aud satiate ? what objections can he not an
swer to the refutation of all manner of disputings about his own work ?
what tender compassion doth he not exerce, and what beautifulness of
creature-comforts does he not blacken ! — Oh beautifulest of objects to
be so little Bought after, so little known, and so unsuitably served,
loved, and delighted in ! and yet that he should regard and thus mind !
— ' What shall be rendered to tbe Lord for all his benefits, who hum-
bleth himself to behold the things that are on the earth, who raiseth
the poor out of the dust and the needy out of the dunghill .''' O ! to
be helped to praise and bless the name of the Lord, merciful and gra
cious, from this time forth and for ever !"

"Dec. 24  Which day may be minded (remembered) in this
respect, as not daring ever after this, my soul ! to pretend to the com
fort of pardon or the effects of it, without a full and free forgiving of
others, without which there can be no true peace or acceptance ; and,
as it's one of the great tried truths of God, that ' without him we can
do nothing,' so it's in this found, that subduedness of mind as to per
sonal injuries is a piece of victory which could never by our own con
quest be attained ; and therefore where in any measure helped unto, to
him allanerly (solely) be the praise, who is the God of all his people's
mercies.''

282 APPENDIX.
DEPARTURE OP KING WILLIAM FOB ENGLAND.
" About this time all the fleet were in readiness to saU, and jointly
met to attend King William in this great expedition to Britain, multi
tudes being gathered together on steeples to see this splendid sight, —
who, in rank and file, went out this evening, as was esteemed a beau
tiful sight for grandeur, order and comely fortitude in this so great a
design, — that though there were whose hearts were trembling within
them, yet mostly many were rejoicing, as if the arm of man could
have accomplished this marvellous achievement, which ere the next
morning was seen to be ascribed to a higher hand ; this night there
being raised so formidable a storm as did wholly scatter all this fleet,
as generally there was few this night who had any concern but were
put to their prompters and sad conclusions, fearing them to be wholly
lost, (the dear princess and several besides sitting up the most of this
night,) as many were running to the coasts to observe what shipwreck
could be discerned. It was a most terrible night, both by sea and land,
to conclude so frightful an event. But O ! the wonderful condescen
sion of the Lord, who knew better than we did how to deliver and how
to forward his own work, that made this the mean of carrying it on ;
for had they gone forward to their intended landing, they had met with
a great army intended to have routed them. But besides several of
those vessels being fallen short of provisions by long attendance, and
also they not having landing-boats along, all this made it seen after a
marvellous providence that they were made by this storm to return
without the loss of one man save one, and some horses that were thrown
overboard. The ship that King W^illiam was in was among the first
that in safety returned, to the joy and rejoicing of all Holland, and
particularly those of us who had our nearest and dearest relations em
barked with him, all returning in safety to Helvoetsluys, where their
abode was more than twelve days till nobly recruited again, as was made
ground of thanksgiving and praises for this marvellous delivery. — ^Not
to be forgotten time, that, when near overwhelmed with fear about this
dark-like providence, my dear was among the first that arrived and
gave account of their safety, — the seeing of whom so unexpectedly

APPENDIX. 283
made some of us at the fainting with the surprise, which was a pleasant
disappointment and ground of thankfulness that the Lord had been so
gracious in disappointing the hopes of enemies and fears of friends.
" This same evening we went together, with some other friends, tra
velling all night by water to Helvoetsluys, where many of us continued
together in the yacht for three or four days, the place being so crowded
that we abode in that harbour till we found out a country village near
by, in a Dutch minister's bouse, where we had accommodation and the
liberty of our own entertainment, which we esteemed no small favour
and kindness. This village we were in contained many of the Scots
and English, as was computed several hundreds, where we had the satis
faction of attending till we should see our friends go to sea again. . .
" Helvoetsluys, Oct. 27, (Sunday.) . . . After this, when all was
ready, we were allowed to attend our friends to their ships, which was
a beautiful sight to see, such a number gathered together for the pro
testant interest in a time when so great an invasion was made upon it
and our properties, that the Lord thus appeared to raise up this great
instrument of our relief. If He had not done so, what might we not
have expected of ruin and destruction from a popish power ?
"Helvoetsluys, Thursday, Nov. 1, 1688. . . The day following, we
who were left behind, journeyed to our respective homes, some of us on
foot and some in waggons, with more cheerfulness and hope as to the
matters in hand, so as the former pressure of mind and anxiety was
strangely removed."

284 APPENDIX.

VIII.
EXTRACT FROM " PROBATION,"
Refbrrkd to Vol. II., Page 189.
"... I was let in by a respectable aged domestic, who, throwing
open the door of a snug cheerful parlour, profusely adorned with fa
mily pictures, and placing a chair for me with cordial old-fashioned
civility, hastened to apprise her mistress of my visit. I had leisure,
ere she arrived, to cast a glance around the apartment, unlike, in its
mingled comfort and elegance, any with which I was familiar. On
the hearth reposed, to my surprise, neither dog nor cat ; no parrot or
other bird claimed the noisy privilege of a pet to disturb the quiet fire
side. Books, of that unpretending aspect which bespoke them there
for use, not show, loaded the tables. The place of honour, though not
of ostentation, was assigned to a Bible and Common Prayer of that
venerable antiquity which never fails to command involuntar)"^ respect.
Next to them, the best bound and best thumbed volume was a
Shakespeare, the small print of whose close double columns spoke well
for the eye- sight of its aged mistress. English divines, substantial and
orthodox, reposed in contact with playful French memoir writers and
poets read for enjoyment not quotation. A copy of Dryden's Fables,
(which opened of itself at ' The Flower and the Leaf,') bore especially
this privileged character.
" Politics and History lay side by side, as if accustomed to reflect
light on each other. La Fontaine's fables had their naivete and sim
plicity finely relieved by the gravity and sententiousness of a huge
Telemaque, adorned with sprawling cuts of the true French school];
while last, not least, the airy volumes of the delightful Sevigne might

APPENDIX. 285
have found a counterpart in the unfinished letters lying on a little
writing-table, evidently the prolific parent of a voluminous correspon
dence, and whose file of papers would have done honour to a secretary
of state. It was distinguished, however, from vulgar escritoires, by
the presence of such a delicately enamelled gold snuff-box as could
only administer its enlivening incense to a female brain — while a bag
for knitting completed the keeping of this picture, whose Gerard Dow
like minuteness, it is needless to add, was not the fruit of one hasty
moment of idle impatience, but of long and familiar subsequent ac
quaintance. The conclusions I then drew from the survey are only
worthy of recall for the purpose of self-abasement. I gathered from
a supercilious glance at the tout ensemble, that Mrs. Sydney Hume was
a bigot and a pedant — wrote long prosy letters — and took snuff!
" The door was at length slowly and deliberately opened, and ad
mitted — instead of the tall, slender, pinched-looking personage, such as
Hogarth has pictured going to church in a winter morning, with a
starved foot-boy behind her — a lady of a benign and motherly aspect,
whom want of height could not rob of dignity, though it was tem
pered with a benevolence and cordiality quite calculated to put a stran
ger at once at his ease. But as a stranger she evidently did not intend
to regard me — she walked up with an air of the most winning frank
ness, and with the loveliest smile that ever graced the lip of age, held
out her hand to me.
" I was so struck by her serene and benevolent aspect, and the
matemal kindness of her reception, that I could almost have revived
the fashion of her day, and kissed the hand I held, I believe, a moment
longer than courtesy demanded. I looked, I am sure, with more than
civil earnestness in her face, and with more than ordinary admiration
on the beautiful curls of the finest ivory (not silvei:) white, which
were ranged in an order younger locks might have studied with ad
vantage, round her open commanding brow — under a cap, whose
mingled taste and simplicity rendered it the meetest covering ever
ancient lady's head was crowned withal.
" The upper part of the face beneath it — the lofty brow, and a nose
which must in youth have been somewhat too strong for feminine

286 APPENDIX.
beauty — spoke an intellect of no common order— and certainly inspired,
when vice or folly came athwart her path, a good deal of uncomfort
able awe. But the large mild blue eye — the most intelligent I ever
remember seeing of so peculiarly light a shade — and a mouth around
which smiles of good-humour and genuine enjoyment usually mantled
— softened the manlier conformation of the other features ; and joined
to the pale, though not sickly hue of the once delicately fair skin,
gave altogether an aspect at once feminine and interesting to Mrs.
Sydney Hume."

IX.

Vol. IL, Page 197.

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

LADY ANNE LINDSAY.

APPENDIX. 289

AULD ROBIN GRAY.
When the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye's come hame.
And a' the weary warld to rest are gane.
The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e,
Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me.
Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride.
But saving ae crown-piece he had naething beside ;
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea.
And the crown and the pound — they were baith for me.
He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day.
When my father brake his arm and the cow was stown away ;
My mither she fell sick — my Jamie was at sea.
And Auld Robin Gray came a courting me.
My father couldna wark — my mither couldna spin —
I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win, —
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his e'e.
Said " Jeanie, O for their sakes will ye no' marry me ? "
My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back.
But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack.
His ship was a wrack — why didna Jamie die.
Or why am I spared to cry wae is me !
My father urged me sair — my mither didna speak.
But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break ;
They gied him my hand — my heart was in the sea —
And so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.

290 APPENDIX.
I hadna been his wife a week but only four.
When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door,
I saw my Jamie's ghaist, for I couldna think it he
Till he said " I'm come hame, love, to marry thee ! "
Oh sair sair did we greet, and mickle say of a',
I gied him ae kiss, and bade him gang awa', —
I wish that I were dead, but I'm na like to die.
For, though my heart is broken, I'm but young, wae is me !
I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin,
I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin.
But I'll do my best a gude wife to be.
For, O ! Robin Gray, he is kind to me.
VARIOUS READINGS.
Various copies of " Auld Robin Gray " have been sanctioned by the authoress at
different periods of her life, each more or less varying from its predecessor. Believing,
myself, that the simpler the expression, the deeper the pathos and the truer to nature
— and knowing in the present instance, that most of those expletives which occur in
the later versions of the baUad originated in the artless and irregular air to which it
was written being abandoned for the more elaborate one which has since obtained by
prescription the character of its legitimate spouse — I have taken the liberty of selecting
the above text from the different authentic copies now before me — at the same time
subjoining here the most important of the " various readings" consequent on so many
transcriptions, in order to put it in the power of every one to arrange the text of the
ballad to his own liking.
2. When a' ... quiet rest . . 4. . . wha soundly . . 6. . . naething else . .
8. Oh ! they were baith . . 9. Before he had been gane . . 10. My father brake
his Eu-m — our cow . . and our cow . . 12. And Auld Robin Gray he came . . Oh ! he
came . . 14. . . night — their bread . . 16. . . will ye marry me? . . 18. But the
wind it blew hard . .
19. In the copy sent to Sir W. Scott, this line appeared differently, which occasioned
the following remonstrance : — " I observe an alteration in ' Auld Robin,' iu an im
portant passage — 'The shipit was a wreck, why did not Jeanie die?"
" I have usually heard or read it, ' Why didna Jamie die ?
Or why do I live,' &c.

APPENDIX. 291
" I am not quite sure whether, in their mutual distress, the wish that Jamie had not
survived, beloved as he was, is not more deeply pathetic than that which she utters for
her own death. Besides, Jamie's death is immediately connected with the ship-wreck,
and her own more remotely so, — ' It had been better for either of us to have died, than
to be as we now are.' I speak all this under great correction, because when one's
mind and ear become accustomed to a reading, as mine to this one, it frequently hap
pens that they are impatient even of the substitution of something decidedly better in
its place."
" Your query," replied Lady Anne, " is a very natural one. When I wrote it first,
it was, ' Why didna Jamie die ? ' — ' Would he not have been happier dead than seeing
my wretchedness and feeling his own ?' — But the pens of others have changed this to
then- own fancy, and I suppose my young transcriber has put the word Jeanie instead
of Jamie in the copy you got. I feel the justness of your criticism, and from the first
meant it to be as you recommend it."
21. My father argued sair — my . . . sair, though my . . 23. They gied him my
hand, while . . . hand, but . . 24. And so Auld Robin Gray ... 27. . . ghaist— I
could not . . 28. . . my love . . 29. Oh sair did we greet and mickle did we say . .
30. Ae kiss we took, nae mair . . I gied him ae sad kiss . . 32. For oh ! I am but
young to cry out wae's me ! — The line in the text is the original. 33. I wander like
a ghaist . . 35. . . a good wife aye to be . . 36. For oh ! Auld Robin Gray he's
sae kind to me . . For Auld Robin Grav oh ! he is sae kind to me.

o3

292 APPENDIX.

CONTINUATION.

The Spring had passed over, 'twas Summer nae mair.
And trembling were scattered the leaves in the air,
" O winter," cried Jeanie, " we kindly agree,
For wae looks the sun when he shines upon me."
Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent —
Despair it was come and she thought it content.
She thought it content, but her cheek was grown pale.
And she drooped like a snow-drop broke down by the hail.
Her father was sad and her mother was wae.
But silent and.thoughtfu' was Auld Robin Gray ;
He wandered his lane, and his face was as lean
As the side of a brae where the torrents have been.
He gaed to his bed, but nae physic would take.
And often he said, " It is best for her sake ! "
While Jeanie supported his head as he lay.
The tears trickled down upon Auld Robin Gray.
" Oh greet nae mair, Jeanie," said he wi' a groan,
" I'm no worth your sorrow — the truth maun be known !
Send round for your neighbours — my hour it draws near.
And I've that to tell that it's fit a' should hear.
" I've wrong'd her," he said, " but I kent it o'er late,
I've wrong'd her, and sorrow is speeding my date.
But a's for the best, since my death will soon free
A faithfu' young heart that was ill matched wi' me.

APPENDIX. 293
" I lo'ed and I courted her mony a day.
The auld folks were for me, but still she said nay —
I kentna o' Jamie, nor yet of her vow —
In mercy forgi'e me, 'twas I stole the cow !
" I cared not for Crummie, I thought but o' thee !
1 thought it was Crummie stood 'twixt you and me ;
While she fed your parents, O did you not say.
You never would marry wi' Auld Robin Gray ?
" But sickness at hame and want at the door —
You gied me your hand, while your heart it was sore ;
I saw it was sore, why took I her hand }
O that was a deed to cry shame o'er the land !
" How truth soon or late comes to open daylight !
For Jamie came back, and your cheek it grew white ;
White, white grew your cheek, but aye true unto me !
O Jeanie, I'm thankfu' — I'm thankfu' to die !
" Is Jamie come here yet ? " and Jamie they saw —
" I've injured you sair, lad, so leave you my a'.
Be kind to my Jeanie, and soon may it be !
Waste no time, my dauties, in mourning for me."
They kissed his cauld hands, and a smile o'er his face
Seemed hopefu' of being accepted by grace ;
" Oh doubt na," said Jamie, " forgi'en he will be,
Wha wouldna be tempted, my love, to win thee ? "

The first days were dowie, while time slipt awa'.
But saddest and sairest to Jeanie of a'
Was thinking she couldna be honest and right
Wi' tears in her e'e, while her heart was sae light.
v3

294 APPENDIX.
But nae guile had she, and her sorrow away,
The wife of her Jamie, the tear couldna stay —
A bonnie wee bairn — the auld folks by the fire.
Oh now she has a' that her heart can desire.
VARIOUS READINOS.
' 8. . . like a lily . . 16. Her tears . . 37. But truth, soon or late, it comes ever
to light. 51. Was fearing . .

SECOND CONTINUATION.

Sung by Jeanie softly at her wheel.
The wintry days grew lang, my tears they were a' spent ;
Maybe it was despair I fancied was content.
They said my cheek was wan — I couldna look to see.
For, oh ! the wee bit glass — 'twas Jamie gied it me.
My mother she was sad, my father dull and wae.
But that which grieved me maist was Auld Robin Gray.
Though ne'er a word he spake, his cheek said mair than a'.
It wasted like a brae o'er which the torrents fa'.
He gaed into his bed — nae physic wad he take.
And oft he moaned and said, " It's better for her sake."
At length he looked upon me, and called me " his ain dear,"
And beckoned round the neighbours, as if his hour drew near.

APPENDIX. 295
" I've wronged her sair, " he said, " but kent the truth o'er late ;
It's grief for that alone that hastens now my date.
But a' is for the best— my death will shortly free
A young and faithfu' heart that ill was matched wi' me.
" I lo'ed and sought to win her for mony a lang day,
I had her parents' favour, but still she said me nay ;
I knew not Jamie's love, and oh ! it's sair to tell —
To force her to be mine, I stealed her cow mysel !
" O what cared I for Crummie ? I thought of nought but thee !
I thought it was the cow stood 'twixt my love and me ;
While she maintained ye a', was you not heard to say
That you wad never marry wi' Auld Robin Gray ?
" But sickness in the house, and hunger at the door.
My bairn gied me her hand, although her heart was sore —
I saw her heart was sore — why did I take her hand ?
That was a sinful deed ! to blast a bonnie land.
" It was na very lang ere a' did come to light.
For Jamie he came back, and Jeanie's cheek grew white, —
My spouse's cheek grew white, but true she was to me ;
Jeanie, I saw it a' — and oh, I'm glad to die !
" Come forward now," he said, and Jamie then I saw,
" Ye lo'e each other weel— it's him must get my a' ;
My cattle, kine and pastures are gi'en you here by me —
They'll sweeter come unto her, when offered her by thee."
We kissed his clay-cold hands — a smile came o'er his face,
" He's pardoned," Jamie said, " before the throne of grace ;
God kens the heart o' man— forgi'en I'm sure he'll be,
Forgi'en for stealing Crummie, since 'twas for love o' thee ! "

u4

296 APPENDIX.
The days at first were dowie ; but what was sad and sair,
While tears were in my e'e, I kent mysel nae mair ;
For, oh ! my heart was light as ony bird that flew.
And wae as a' thing was, it had a kindly hue.
But sweeter shines the sun than e'er he shone before.
For now I'm Jamie's wife, and what need I say more ?
We hae a wee bit bairnie — the auld folks by the fire —
And Jamie, oh ! he lo'es me up to my heart's desire !
VARIOUS READINaS.
4. . . 'twas Jamie . 5. My father he was sad, ray mother . . The reading in the
text is the original. 6. , , maist, it was . . 7. . . word he said . . 10. And often
times he said . . 15. . . since death . . 31. .. white, while true . . 32. I saw, I
saw it a' . . 33. The stanza in the text is the original ; the following was afterwards
substituted : — "Is Jamie come?" he said,.-and Jamie by us stood —
" Ye lo'e each other weel~-0h, let me do some good !
1 gie you a', youug man — my houses, catde, Idne,
And the dear wife hersel, that ne'er shonld have been mine."
39, 40. The later copies read,
' ' Oh Jeanie ' see that smile — forgi'en I'm sure is he ;
Wha could withstand temptation when hoping to win theel"

Vol. IL, Page 197.

VERSIONS FROM THE GERMAN,

LADY MARGARET LINDSAY.

APPENDIX. 299

ELEONORA.

Red glowed the morn, when, sprung from bedd,
Ellen, with heavie dreames affrighted.
Cried, " William ! William ! art thou dead .?
Or is my love forgot or slighted ? "
— Now William, with King Frederick's might.
Was gone against the foe to fight,
Ne word had sent, ne line had written.
To say gif he were well or smitten !
Frederick, and eke the Empresse Queene,
Vex'd with long warres and failing strength,
Scant both of treasure and of men.
Agreed on gentle peace at length.
From camp to camp the cling and clang
Of bells, drums, fifes and trumpets rang ;
Dressed in green boughs, each merrie man
To his own home full lightlie ran.
To meet them o'er each dale or hill.
O'er highway, path, or ferrie.
Ran ould and yonge, with voices shrill
Of glee, that could ne tarrie.
" Praise God ! " cried mother, wife and childe,
" Welcome ! " said many a blushing bride ;
But, woe is me ! for Eleonora,
Ne kiss, ne bliss, but dole and sorrow !

300 APPENDIX.
As up and down the lines she flewe.
Breathless and cold, she ask'd each one
If any aught of William knew ?
But word or tydings gat she none.
When all were pass'd, all hushed and still.
Her shrieks the welkin rounde did fill ;
She tore her haire, she beat her breast.
And in the dust her body cast.
Her mother, at the mournful noise.
Ran forth and clasp'd her in her arms ;
" Now God forfend ! my Ellen's voice ?
What is it that my childe alarms ? "
" Oh mother ! mother ! all is gone !
My life, my love, my world in one !
And now for me with God Almightie
There's neither grace, nor hope, nor pitie."
— " Help, gracious Lord of power and might I
Let's kneel, my child, and say a prayer ;
What God has done must still be right,
'Tis for our good he sends us care."
— " Mother, such prejudice is vaine —
God neither heeds nor spares my paine !
I've wept — I've prayed — I'll pray no more ;
My love lies weltering in his gore."
— " Help, Jesus ! thou the cup of woe
Drank' st freely ; at the Father's will
Thy sacramental blood did flowe.
And flowes for us in pitie still ! "
— " Oh mother, what I now endure
No sacrament alas .' can cure ;
Nor can the blood of Jesus give
The dead again to breathe and live ! "

APPENDIX. 301

— " Yet listen, childe ! for men are light.
They make and break full many a vow ;
And, out of minde when out of sight.
Their hearts a newer love allow !
Should he thy plighted faith deceive.
He shall have heavie cause to grieve !
Childe I let him go ; leave him to God, —
Guilt never 'scaped his chasteninge rod ! "
— " Oh, mother ! what is gone is gone.
And what is lost is lost for ever ;
Death, death for me I crave alone —
Oh mother, had ye borne me never !
Go out, go out, life's weary light !
Go out in black and dismal night !
For me, for me, with God Almightie,
There's neither grace, nor hope, nor pitie ! "
— " Mercie, kind heaven! nor sin in aught
Impute, oh God ! to this, my childe !
Her tongue would be farr better taught
Were not her heart with sorrow wilde !
Forget, my childe, thy earthly grief.
Think of the Lord of bliss in heaven ;
The holy Bridegroom's kind relief
Shall to thy fainting soul be given."
— " Mother, heaven's bliss is but a sound.
Hell's torments but an empty name ;
Where William is, there bliss is found.
In heaven, or earth, or hell the same.
Go out, go out, this weary light —
Go out in black and dismal night !
Oh ! what have I on earth to do.
Or heaven, my William, wantinge you ?"

302 APPENDIX.
All wilde with grief's intemperance.
Her brain ybrent, her blood inflamed,
'Gainst heaven, and heaven's high providence
She madly strove, and God blasphemed.
She wrung her hands, her bosom beatinge.
Till lowe the western sun was settinge.
And till the night her mantle graye
With glittering starres made sheen and gay.
When hark ! without — tramp ! tramp ! tramp ! tramp !
Like horse's iron hoofs harsh soundinge.
Like rider's jingle — horse's champ.
All o'er the balustrade resoundinge ;
And hark, and hark, the door-bell's ring —
Quite slow and low — cling! cling! cling! cling!
And ere that any one appeared.
Through the key-hole these words she heard :~
"Holla! holla! ope, ope the door!
Wake ye, my love, or do ye sleep ?
Think ye of me as heretofore .''
Or do ye laugh, or do ye weep .'' "
— " My love ! my love ! my William ! you ?
Oh ! I have watched and wept till now !
Suffered — God knows ! but now, all's well ;
Yet why so late, sweet William, tell ? "
— " We saddle still ! i'th' dead of night
From farre Bohemia I be rode ;
Late I gat up, and ere 'tis light,
I'll carry you to my abode."
— "First, oh, my love! from horse descend;
Bleak through the hawthorne blows the wind ;
Come to my arms — there nought shall harm thee,
And in my bosom rest and warm thee I "

APPENDIX. 303
— " Let the bleake wind blow through the hawes.
Let it blow, darling — let it blow ;
My black horse champs his bitt, and paws —
From hence with speede I needs must go.
Spring up behind — come, come, despatch !
There must we be ere morning watch ;
A hundred miles I have to ride
Before my bedd receives my bride ! "
— " What ! ere the mome a hundred miles.
Ere yet we reach our bridal bedd ?
And hark ! the clock in yonder aisles
Tells us eleven's already sped," —
— " Looke there ! looke here ! the moon shines cleare !
We and the dead ride fast, sweet deare !
I'll wager, long ere dawn of mome.
Thou to the bridal bedd art borne ! "
— " Oh, say, where are thy bridesmen all.
And Where's our bridal bedd to bee ? "
— " Farre, farre from hence — still, cool, and small.
Six feet of lissom beech by three ! "
— " Has't room for me ? " — " for me and thee !
Despatch my love ! come springe behind me, —
Too long the bridal guests have tarried ;
The door stands open till we're married ! "
The lovelie damsel lightlie sprung.
And lighted on the horse hehinde him.
Clasping her true love as she flunge
Her lillie arms around to binde him.
Then on and onward — trot, trot, trot,
Swunge the black horse and halted not, —
Snorting full loud, as on he bickered.
While from his hoofs red sparkles flickered.

304 APPENDIX.
Farre to the left hand and the right,
Flewe woods and lawns, and dykes and ditches ;
Too quick almost for thought or sight.
They thundered o'er the roads and bridges.
" Shudders my love ? the moon shines cleare —
Hurrah ! the dead ride fast ! dost feare
To bide with the dead, my lovelie one ? "
— " Why ask ye ? let the dead alone ! "
What tollinge bells, what deadlie knells !
How quick and thick the night-birds hover !
Yon noise — yon voice — the reason tells, —
" Let earth to earth, the body cover !"
And nearer come the mourners all.
With plumes and hearse and velvet pall ;
The sound of hissing snakes the brake in
Was like the tongue of woe they spake in !
— " Till twelve be laid the corpse aside.
Give o'er your ringing, singing, wailinge ;
For now," he cried, " I bring my bride.
And marriage guests must not be failinge 1
Come with your choir, come, sexton, come !
Chant forth the Epithalamium !
Come, speak the blessinge, holy fryar !
Ere to the bride's bedd wee retire.
" Peace — peace and cease ! bier, disappeare !
Vanish ! obedient to my will ;
Come, hurry — hurry, in the reare.
All pantinge at my horse's heel ! "
Then far and farther, trot, trot, trot,
Swunge the black horse and halted not, —
Snorting full loud as on he bickered.
While from his hoofs red sparkles flickered.

APPENDIX. 305
How flewe to right, how flewe to left,
Shrubbes, trees, and mountains, grass and tillage !
How flewe to left, and right, and left,
Hamlet and city, town and village !
" Shudders my love ? the moon shines cleare —
Hurrah ! the dead ride swift ! dost feare
To bide with the dead, my lovelie one ? "
— " Oh William ! let the dead alone ! "
— " See there — before the judgment-seat.
Around the wheel of torture dauncinge.
In the moon's gleam, with printless feet.
An airie crewe are here advauncinge, —
Halloo ! halloo I ye airie crewe.
Come here — come here — and follow too !
Your gambols cease until the weddinge.
Then daunce round us the bridal bedd in ! "
The airie crewe came rush — rush — rush —
Behind him hustling, hustling, bustling —
Like whirlwinds in the hazel bush.
Through the dry leaves and branches rustling.
And farre and farther, trot, trot, trot,
Swunge the black horse and halted not, —
Snorting full loud as on he bickered.
While from his hoofs red sparkles flickered.
How fled the place his heel had touched.
With lightning's speed — how fled it farre !
How fled the moon, as on they rushed.
How fled the heavens and every starre I
— " Shudders my love ? the moon shines cleare —
Hurrah ! the dead ride fast I dost feare
To bide with the dead, my lovelie one ? "
— " For pitie, let the dead alone ! "

306 APPENDIX.
— " Horse ! horse ! methinks the cock I heare !
The hour-glass sand is nearly run —
Horse ! horse ! I scent the morning aire !
Despatch, my horse ! despatch — begone !
Now finish'd, flnish'd is our race —
This is the hour, the bedd, the place —
The dead ride farre, the dead ride fast —
Our journey's done, we're come at last ! "
Full to an iron-grated door.
With slackened bitt and reins, they drew, —
The clashing whip — one stroke, no more —
Wrenched bandes, and bolts, and barres in two ;
Wide, creaking, flewe the double leaves,
The road lay over new-made graves ;
And here a tomb, and there a bone.
The moon's pale lustre shone upon.
Oh, look ! how in a moment's space —
Oh, look ! look there ! a fearful wonder —
The rider's vesture, piece by piece.
Fell off, like touchwood rent asunder !
In place of haire and cheek so full.
His head became a naked skull.
Wide yawned his ribbes, distinct and spare.
His hand a scythe and hour-glass bare.
Loud neighed the horse, and boundinge reared,
His nostrils snorted fire arounde.
Then fathome deepe he disappeared.
And sanke beneath her, under grounde !
Growlings and bowlings in the aire —
Faint waUings fiU'd the lower sphere ;
In Ellen's heart the struggling breath
Lay all convulsed 'twixt life and death.

APPENDIX. 307
Then, flittinge in the moon's pale glaunce,
Thin ghosts, with ravens, bats, and owles.
Round in a ring began their daunce.
And spake these words, with dismal howls ;
" Submit, submit, though the heart rive !
With God Almightie never strive.
Now, free from earth and earth's controul,
The Lord have mercie on thy soul ! "

i2

308 APPENDIX.

II.

ETERNITY.
Yb woods, impervious to the genial light,
Where reigns, with Silence, ever-during Night,
Cold, still, and gloomy as the awful grave's !
Ye rugged rocks, and those damp cheerless caves
Whose entrance drear no gladsome foot invades.
But owls and ravens, screaming, seek your shades !
Ye streams, whose listless course exhausted creeps
Through your parched shores to reach the distant deeps,
Or in the greedy swamps your currents lose !
Ye blighted fields, where herb nor floweret blows !
— Caves, woods, and streams, night-birds, and blasted heath.
Come — picture forth the sullen hue of Death !
Come, with chill horrors — come, my griefs renew.
And spread Eternity before my view !
— Dead is my friend ! still present to my mind
His form I see — I hear his accents kind !
Ah, vain mistake ! he on that rigid shore
(Which trodden once, we measure back no more)
Is firmly bound in adamantine tie,
ETERNITY!
Vanish'd each pleasure — vanish'd all his woes.
Nor Hope nor Fear disturb his long repose.

He saw the busy world — 'twas but to-day I
A keen spectator of life's motly play ; —
The curtain falls — the scene is o'er —
And all that teased or charmed before

APPENDIX. 309
Like the thin texture of a dream,
A vagrant sound, or meteor's gleam !
The world of shadows, with its fearful night,
Around him throws a thick impervious veil ;
And nought remains of all his projects bright
But thoughts and wishes vain, without avail !
And I — am I of higher sphere .'
Ah, no ! I am what he was once !
E'en now the printless feet of death advance.
Like him, to lay me breathless on my bier !
Past is my early morn.
On rapid pinions borne.
With hasty wing flies on my mid-day light ;
And long ere eve, may dark and sudden night.
Which with no cheering hope of morning glows.
In everlasting sleep my heavy eyelids .close !
Unfathomed sea of dread Eternity !
Primeval source of worlds and time !
Grave of all times and worlds that e'er shall be !
Stable possessor of the NOW we see !
From ashes of the past, in thee
Spring forth renewed, in glorious prime.
The vigorous wings of young Futurity !
Eternity ! who measures thy vast whole .''
With Thee worlds are as days, man as a glance —
Perhaps the thousandth Sun now hastens to his goal !
And thousands more, each in his turn, advance.
Like yonder clock, by power of balanced weight
Poised by the hand of God, — leaps forth a Sun,
Another takes his place, his destined purpose done.
Thou, thou alone remain'st, nor heedst their momentary fate !

x3

310 APPENDIX.
Yon azure vault, yon stars that gem the sky,
Wandering or fixed beyond the baffled eye —
Hasten to nought, like grass in parching winds ;
Like the young rose-buds of the morn
Ere night of all their lustre shorn.
Before thee fades each sign the sparkling zodiac binds !
Ere yet Existence struggled into birth.
Or on its axis turned the half-form'd Earth,
Ere yet the falling stone the central power had proved.
Or from old Chaos and coeval Night
Streamed forth yon flaming orb of light.
Thou wert ! as far as now, from thy First Cause removed !
And should a second night this world entomb,
And warm Creation leave a chilling blank —
Should other heavens and stars of higher rank
Appear — or vanish, in their mortal doom —
Vigorous as now, from death as far away.
Remains as vast thy boundless period, as to-day !
The viewless fancy's rapid flight—
Which leaves behind
Time, sound, and wind.
And even the winged light —
Hoping no goal, toils after thee in vain !
By Science led thy empire to explore.
To mark the bounds that gird thy wide domain —
I seek accumulation's figured lore —
The magic force of numbers try.
Millions on millions heap — and time on time —
. And world on world ; till, from their verge sublime,
I strive at last some limit to descry.

APPENDIX. 311
But when my dazzled sight
Looks down astonished from the giddy height
To which my straining thought had dared to climb,
I see the immense expanse around me lie
A shoreless ocean still — of vast Infinity !
Hail, Universal Cause ! hail. Nature's God !
Hail, central Sun ! source of unmeasured time.
Unmeasured power, and everlasting prime !
Thy even light, in Noon's eternal blaze.
No dawning owns, no nights, no setting rays —
While one vast NOW before thee ever plays !
Yes ! could it be. . thy wondrous force could shrink. .
Thy hand forget its power. . the world thy nod. .
With hideous crash, earth, seas, and stars would sink.
Convulsive hurled ! Fair Nature, Time, and Light —
And thou. Eternity ! in one dread night
Sink — as the dew- drops yonder oceans drink !
All-perfect Being, thou alone art great !
What is presumptuous man.
Who dares thy ways to scan ?
A worm — a fly — a grain of dust —
Created but to die.
Arraigning where he ought to trust.
Judging all nature with a half- shut eye !
Nature itself, a point — at its Creator's feet !
— Half-ripened Nothing — creature of to-day,
That half-existence gone ere night is past !
Fading, as mid-day visions fade away.
How shall man's course aspire with Thine to last ?
Something from me apart and foreign still.
Not from myself I am, but by thy will !

x4

312 APPENDIX.
Thou spak'st the word — I was !
Thy living breath informed
The yet unconscious mass — of vegetating clay !
And though by thy creative virtue warmed.
With pulses new
The embryo grew,
No voluntary power to move I found ;
But fixed as rooted grass
A sluggish senseless animal, I lay !
To me the world in vain
Spread forth its wonders, all its charms disclosed —
Shut was mine ear, mine eyes with films enclosed ;
And even when conscious grown of light and sound.
All that in me was mind
To mere sensation stUl was long confined.
And all my knowledge — hunger, thirst, and pain !
Nature the helpless being fed.
From step to step progressive led ;
My feeble limbs gained power — mine ear, mine eye
From milky juices early vigour drew ;
Something till then unfelt, unknown,
Each new-touched sense began to own ;
Each day the idiot thoughts aspire
To feel, to reason, and desire : —
My feet, through falling, learnt to walk —
My tongue, through lisping, learnt to talk, —
And with my body grew my soul —
It proved, with joy, its forces new, —
And, (as the chrysalis's cauls unroll
Half worm, half insect, to the view.
The scarce-wing'd reptile, struggling, strives to fly,) —
Wondering I gazed on Nature's plan.
Grew rich each day with new ideas stored.
Measured, compared, and reckoned — chose and loved, abhorred, -
And erred, and sinned, and slept — and was a Man !

APPENDIX. 313
Already tends this frame to native dust, —
Time o'er my limbs his numbing langour flings ;
Joy shakes his pinions, and, with adverse wings,
Flies to gay youth, and leaves me to my woes !
The light of heaven is dimmed by cold disgust.
Whose hopeless apathy o'ershades my heart ;
Blunted each feeling, listless and inert.
My weary soul pants only for Repose !

314 APPENDIX.

III.

REPOSE.

A FRAGMENT.

Evidently the continuation of "Eternity."
" Mr wearied soul pants only for Repose !"
— Cessation mild from Suffering and from Thought —
Armed round with stings of future, present, past ;
Repose from Reason — power too dearly bought.
Since all thy boasted gifts still end at last
In beaconing out those rocks, that dangerous shore.
Where hope and joy are lost — to rise no more !
Repose — Ah where ? — within the silent tomb.
Where lie the peaceful ashes of my friend ?
Or where, in beauty's pride and youth's gay bloom,
Smote like the blossoms of the opening year
By blighting death, bedewed with many a tear.
These hands interred my bosom's dearest prize }
— Left here alone 'mid errors, follies, lies,
'Mid which I've wandered without peace or end.
Borrowing from Hope till Hope no more would lend —
Nor shall the wrinkled bankrupt pay
Tbe fond engagements of her early day !
Hail, then, kind mansion ! for thy narrow cell
Gives more than palaces of lofty roof
Or beds of down — Repose in thee shall dwell.
Wrapt round and round in adamantine woof

APPENDIX. 315
No sigh shall heave the mouldering heap.
No wrong shall fire the icy heart ;
Death's power is past, his dreaded dart
Lies blunted in eternal sleep.
Eternal sleep ! — what means this sudden chill.
This nameless horror in my frame ?
Strange contradiction in^my will.
Which, panting, asks — then sickens at the name !
Is it not rest ? a strict Repose
From all thy fears, from all thy woes ?
Gently to drop — to cease to be —
From every ill for ever free.
Dull, as the sod thy ashes binds
To bleak descending rains, or winter's angry winds ?
.... A mouldering clod 1
This heart alive to bliss or^woe —
This active mind that dared to rise.
And count the stars that gem the skies.
And, rising still with bolder flight.
Though blinded with excess of light.
The Heaven of Heavens essayed to know —
Climbing from Nature up to Nature's God ?
.... This restless spark, this searching fire,
'Mid wishes vague or fixed desire —
Which finds each bliss possessed a toy.
And feels capacious power of joy.
Which nothing tried can realize —
Spark integral of Spirit freie
Which constitutes this creature. Me —
Which cries I AM and SHALL BE ! and defies
The Sceptic's doubts or bolder Atheist's lies ?

3! 6 APPENDIX.
Repose ? a dream, a vacant sound
Of spacious sense, but nowhere found !
— Thinkst thou that this mysterious thing
That bids me move, or weep, or sing,
W^hich can of peace my being rob.
Or teach my heart with joy to throb.
Exhaling, leaves the eyes to close ?
Think'st thou the cold and stagnant heart.
Bereft of life's material part.
Shall rest inert in dull Repose ?
Vain thought ! air, water, fire, and earth.
Reclaim their own by Nature's laws.
The Etherial fire alone could bind
The jarring elements confined ;
But, once dissolved the wondrous chain.
Nature is freed to act again ;
'Midst dissolution she prepares
New vigorous forms, new earths, new airs, —
No moment idle — for no moment still ;
Such her august Creator's will !
Can then this changing body say,
" IT IS MYSELF ? "—each little day.
Each instant steals that self away !
E'en as the stream that rushing pours
Her careless waves to ocean's shores.
Although her course retain its name.
Is not a moment's space the same : —
E'en Ocean's self, changed by the sun's warm beams.
Exhales the tribute of a thousand streams.
This fleshy garment which I wore.
And other forms have worn before.

APPENDIX. 317
May crawl a toad — or sail a swan.
Blush in a rose, or frown in man —
May rise a meteor — fall a dew, —
Just as the atoms by the wind
Are scattered wide, or lie confined.
Still, still unchanged, yet ever new.
— As soon shall this frail mortal arm
Mould flaming suns new worlds to warm.
As find the means, 'midst Nature's wreck.
To exterminate the smallest speck
Of water, fire, or earth, or air —
HIS arm alone, which launched the earth,
HIS voice, which called it into birth —
And bade the crude.
The soft, the rude.
Exchanged, renewed.
Together work, and work for good —
Annuls an atom or a sphere !
If matter thus immortal be —
(Which thinks not, acts not, has no will.
Nor of itself hath power or skill —
Whose changing parts are never We — )
How shall that disembodied soul.
Which needs no parts tp make a whole.
That conscious, pure, etherial flame.
Which marks our essence and our name,
Doomed to Annihilation's womb.
Prove the sole victim of an endless tomb ?

318 APPENDIX.

IV.

ADDRESS TO HOPE LEANING ON AN ANCHOR.

" Oh thou who flying still evad'st our clasp.
Elusive when thou seem'st within our grasp,
Thou painted cloud of passing air.
Say, cruel phantom ! is it fair
The stable anchor's boast to bear ?
" Thou sail'st on seas without a shore.
For ever within sight of land ;
Thou pay'st thy slaves from Fancy's store.
And feed'st them— with an empty hand !
What are thy rudders — anchors — boat }
But straws that bend, and leaves that float !
What is the cable of thy line .''
It is the spider's brittlest twine !
What is the wind that fills thy sail ?
But mortal sighs, which nought avail !
What are thy vows .-' but idle breath !
When dost thou keep them ? after death !
— Go, lay thy luring ensign by !
Go — trick thee in the rainbow's dye.
Nor longer mock my heart and eye !
" Go ! fly like it o'er bog and briar.
Lead on our steps from hill to hill ;
Thy vot'ries faint, but never tire.
And, while they curse thee, follow still !

APPENDIX. 319
" Is't not enough thy lovely face
Has every cozening charm and grace.
But that thy Parthian wings should deal
The keenest darts our bosoms feel ?
" With anguish struck, and faint with toil.
We droop and pant upon the ground,
Antaeus-like we touch the soil.
And spring revived with stronger bound.
" Again deceived, our arms we spread,
With glowing heart and whirling head.
Experience throw to winds and skies.
To follow — what for ever flies !
" Go, phantom ! leave my weary heart,
I here abjure thy fatal charms ;
Come, Apathy ! come take my part.
And fold me in thy listless arms !
" Alas ! thou hast no power to move !
Thy arms have neither nerve nor bone !
I woo thee with the zeal of love —
Alas ! we two can ne'er be one !
" Come, then, Despsdr ! with sable robe and stole,-^
Efface illusive Hope's fantastic cloud ;
Thy gangrened wounds no pleasure shall enroll.
No cruel ray of light shall mark thy shroud, —
But all one sober, sullen colour wear.
Nor Hope's false smile insult thy gloom. Despair !
" Come, come ! — though Joy
Be light and coy.
Who courts Despair,
Fierce child of care,

320 APPENDIX.
Will find the Goddess at his prayer.
Come, come ! — thy gorgon features shown,
Tirm each tormenting wish to stone, —
Come, with thy petrifying art.
Physician stern of hopes and fears, —
Thine is the aegis Wisdom bears ;
Extend thy shadows o'er my heart.
Till Death arrests, with kind though gelid palm.
Life's turbid stream — congealing into calm."
Impatient of the pangs I felt.
With passion, on the earth I knelt.
To Heaven I raised my aching heart and view —
When Hope, long lost, again before me flew !
More sober was her air.
Less flattering was her smile.
Yet still, though heavenly fair,
I knew she could beguile.
I closed my dazzled eye,
I stopped my trembling ears,
I felt her round me fly,
I felt her wipe my tears,
I felt her atmosphere around ;
Her balmy breath the witchcraft crowned.
She laid her soft reviving hand
With tender pressure on my frozen heart ;
Doomed to obey the maid's command.
Again the busy pulses start.
With transport strong and sweet.
My bosom heaved to meet
And hail, in reason's spite, the lovely, lovely cheat !

APPKNDIX. 3'2l
My eye, sutt'used with gentle tears, I ope, —
" Leave me," I said, " O leave me, treacherous Hope !"
With smiles and pity in her glisttMiiiig eye,
She fanned me with her wings, but did not strive to tty.
" Mortal," she saiil, " of vapour and of earth,
Endowed with soul of bright ethereal mould !
Hear my kind voice, and bettor know thy birth.
Attend, while truths divine mv lips unfold.
" Ere man the paths of Error trod.
The Heaven of Heavens was my abode ;
In angel bosoms still I dwell.
Diffusing every good I feel.
" But, when Pandora fabled Eve
Disdained her Maker's sole request.
And, suft'ering flatteries to deceive.
Broke through thc dire mysterious chest ;
Mixed with the thousand vai-ying ills
Which the fallen earth with misery fills,
Ten thousand wishes, false and vain,
Broke forth to rack the world with pain !
" 'Twa? then Hope owned a mortal birth,
By Mercy sent to soothe the earth.
With Charity, my sister fair,
And Faith, with fixed, enraptured air, —
We are thc Heavenly Graces Three —
Unseal thine eyes and look on me !
My wings, which make thy cheek turn pale.
Fly from thee, filled with passion's gale !
Elusive I evade thy grasp,
When bliss destructive thou would'st clasp ;
When most I pay, I seek to pall.
And nothing give by giving all.
r. V

322 APPENDIX.
Mortal the date of mortal joys.
The tasted sweet for ever cloys.
The anchor that I rest upon
Reposes on no mortal ground.
The rainbow-colours that I own
In Heaven alone are real found ;
The peaceful port for which I steer.
Excludes all pain, all death, all fear !
The cable of my lasting line,
Conceived by thee the spider's twine.
Is cordage spun by hands divine
To draw the restless human soul.
Through seas of sorrows, to its goal.
Fair Happiness, which yet, unveiled, man never saw.
She draws all hearts, by Heaven's unerring law.
Even as the precious amber draws the trembling straw.
" Mixed with the life-blood in thy breast.
Alike the foe to grief and rest,
I lead thy ardent footsteps on
To make them form One Hope alone.
" To me none pays his vows in vain,
Hope, heavenly Hope, cures every pain ;
But wishes, vapours sprung from earth,
Low creeping flames of putrid birth.
Lead on, 'tis true, through bog and briar.
To whelm thee in the shining mire.
"My vows, thou say'st, are idle breath.
The time of payment after death —
Oh ! justly, morted, hast thou said.
For then alone Hope's vows are paid ;
Then is the palm to Virtue given.
And Hope is paid by Joy in Heaven !

APPENDIX. 323
" On me, then, bend thy tearful eye ;
Beyond the mists that dim the sky,
I go to fix thy bless'd abode
Beneath the mercy-seat of God.
Farewell ! — Although I fly before,
I leave my sisters for thy guard ;
Bid Charity increase thy store.
And Faith ensure thy vast reward ; —
With them still dwell, and ere thy race is run,
'Mid pain, or death, thy future Heaven's begun !

END OF VOL. II.

WIGAN :
PRINTED BIT C. .S. SIMMS, STAWDI.9HGATE.

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