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TALES 
 
 WARS OF MONTROSE, 
 
 BY JAMES HOGG, ESQ., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE QUEEN'S WAKE.' 
 
 IiN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JAMES COCHRANE AND CO. 
 11, WATERLOO PLACE. 
 
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G. WOODFALL, avigbl court, skinnbr sprekt, lovdow. 
 
^^ 3 
 
 V, I 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 \ SOME REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE LIFE 
 OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE 
 
 It 
 
 Pajre 
 
 
 X> 
 
SOME REMARKABLE PASSAGES 
 IN THE LIFE OF 
 
 AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE, 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 An Edinburgh Baillie, a notable person, 
 often mentioned in Scottish history as the 
 staunch friend of Reform and the constant 
 friend and abettor of Argyle, was of northern 
 descent, and the original name of his family 
 is said to have been Sydeserf. The first who 
 wrote his name Sydeserf was one always 
 styled Clerk Michael, who was secretary, 
 chamberlain, and steward to the Earl 
 Marischal, His second son, Andrew, 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 was made procurator of the Marischal 
 College, where, it is presumed, he re- 
 mained during his life, as it appears that 
 our hero, Archibald, with eight other 
 brothers and sisters, were born in that 
 place. On the death of this Andrew, the 
 family appears to have been all scattered 
 abroad ; and about that period Archibald 
 was translated to Edinburgh, as under- 
 secretary to the governor of the castle. 
 He was a learned youth as times then 
 went, and so were his brethren, for one of 
 them was afterwards made a bishop, and 
 one of them a professor, not to mention the 
 subject of this memoir, who arrived at the 
 highest distinction of them all. Two or 
 more of those brothers left written me- 
 moirs of their own times, as^ Was the 
 fashion of the age with all who could 
 indite a page a day, witness the number 
 of voluminous tomes that lie piled in 
 every college of the continent as well as 
 in some of the public libraries of Britain. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 3 
 
 Archibald's memoir, of which I have 
 with much difficulty got possession, is in- 
 sufferably tedious and egotistical ; but I 
 have abridged it more than one half, re- 
 taining only the things that appeared to 
 me the most curious ; for all relating to 
 borough politics appeared to me so low 
 and so despicable, that I cancelled them 
 utterly, although they might have been 
 amusing to some. 
 
 But the great and sanguine events in 
 which the Baillie was so long engaged, — 
 in which he took so deep an interest, 
 and acted such a distinguished part, are 
 well worth the keeping in record. Some 
 of his personal adventures, certainly, bear 
 tints of romance, but every part of his 
 narrative relating to public events may 
 implicitly be relied on. I have compared 
 them with all the general as well as local 
 histories of that period, and with sundry 
 family registers relating to marriages, &c., 
 which one would often think were merely 
 
 B 2 
 
4 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 brought in for effect, yet which I have 
 uniformly found correct ; and his narrative 
 throws a Ught on many events of that 
 stirring age, hitherto but imperfectly 
 known. These, with the simplicity of the 
 narration, will recommend the memoir to 
 every candid and judicious reader. I 
 pass over the two long chapters relating 
 to his family and education, and begin 
 transcribing where h'e commences his diffi^ 
 cult career oCpublic life. 
 
 The difficulties which I had to encoun- 
 ter on coming into Edinburgh Castle, were 
 such as I could not have believed would 
 have fallen to the lot of man : all which 
 were occasioned by the absurdity of the 
 deputy governor. Colonel Haggard. He 
 was a tyrant of the first magnitude, and 
 went about treating the various subordi- 
 nate officers, as if they, had been oxen or 
 beasts of burthen. He was never sober, 
 either night or day, and as for me, my 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 5 
 
 heart quaked, and my loins trembled, 
 whenever I came into his presence. I 
 had what was called a writing chamber 
 assigned to me. — But such a chamber! 
 It was a mere cell, a vile dungeon, in 
 which I could not discern darkness from 
 light — I was enclosed in a medium be- 
 tween them. 
 
 When I came first there, Haggard, 
 who had great need of me, promised me 
 this good thing and the other good thing, 
 so that my heart was lifted up, — but, alas ! 
 soon was it sunk down again in gall and 
 bitterness, for every thing was in utter con- 
 fusion. In that dark abode I had the whole 
 accounts of the expenditure of the fortress 
 to keep, and the commissariat department 
 to conduct. There were the State pri- 
 soners sending proudly for their allowances, 
 — ^the soldiers cursing for their pay, and 
 clerks every hour with long accounts of 
 which they demanded payment. I had 
 nothing to pay them with, and in the 
 
6 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 mean time our caterers in the city took 
 the coercive measures with us of stopping 
 all our supplies until their arrears were 
 paid up. Haggard did no more than just 
 order such and such things to be done, 
 without considering in the least how they 
 were to he done. Then every one came 
 mnning on me, while I had for the most 
 part little or nothing to give them, and 
 all that I could do was to give them 
 orders on this- or the other fund, which 
 orders never were executed, and of course 
 matters grew worse and worse every 
 day. 
 
 . As for Colonel Haggard, he was a beast, 
 a perfect bull of Bashan ; — ^he came daily 
 open mouth upon me, roaring and swear- 
 ing like a maniac. It was in vain to 
 reason with him, that made him only 
 worse, and had he held with cursing and 
 damning me, although- I abhorred that 
 custom, it would not have been so bad. 
 But he thought nothing of striking with 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 7 
 
 whatever came to his hand, and that with 
 such freedom, that it was evident he cared 
 nothing at all for the lives of his fellow 
 creatures. 
 
 One day he came upon me fuming and 
 raging as usual, and without either rhyme 
 or reason enquired " why I did not pay 
 this debt?" and "why I did not pay the 
 other debt ? " and " was he to be dunned 
 and plagued eternally by the carelessness 
 and indifference of a beggarly clerk — a 
 dirty pen-scraper, a college weazel, a 
 northern rat," and called me many other 
 beastly names besides. 
 
 "Sir," says I, "if your honour will 
 suffer the whole of the funds to come 
 through my hands, I will be accountable 
 for e^^ery fraction of them. But as you 
 draw the largest share yourself, and spend 
 that as you think fit, how am I to carry 
 on my department ? Let them all be paid 
 to you if you choose, and make the pay- 
 ments through me, of which I shall keep 
 
8 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 a strict account; unless they come all 
 through my hands I will neither receive 
 nor remit any more." 
 
 He paid no attention, but went on as if 
 he had not even heard the remonstrance. 
 " If the onward detail of the business of 
 the castle is to be interrupted in this 
 manner by your obstinacy and awkward- 
 ness, — ^by the absurdity of such a con- 
 temptible urchin, — then, it is evident, that 
 all subordination and prerogative is at an 
 end, and there must be a regular turn 
 out. But before this shall happen, you 
 may depend on it, Mr. Puppy, that you 
 shall suffer first. We are not all to lose 
 our places for you." 
 
 "I have paid all that I have, your 
 honour, I have not even retained a merk 
 for my own outlay; therefore, I will 
 trouble your goodness for my own arrears, 
 else I give the business up forthwith." 
 
 "You? You give the business up? 
 You, the bound servant and slave of the 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 9 
 
 State, as much as the meanest soldier 
 under my command ? Such another word 
 out of your mouth, and Til have you 
 whipped. Hint but to go and leave your 
 post, and I'll have you hung at the castle 
 gate. You go and desert your post ? 
 — Let me see you attempt it. I would, 
 indeed, like to see you run off like a 
 norland tike ! Pah. You gimcrack ! — 
 You cat ! Pay up the arrears of the 
 garrison instantly, I say. — Are the State 
 prisoners, the first men of the land, to 
 lack their poor allowance, that you may 
 lay up the king's money by you, and 
 make a fortune ? Are the military to 
 starve, that a scratchpenny may thrive? 
 Is this business to go to sixes and sevens 
 for your pleasure? I will have you 
 tried for your life, you dog, before a mi- 
 litary tribunal." 
 
 There was no reasoning with such a 
 beast, therefore I was obliged to hold my 
 peace : I cared for no trial, for my books 
 
 B 3 
 
lO REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 were open to any who chose to ex- 
 amine them, and I could account for every 
 bodle that had been paid to me ; and as 
 for the superior of whom I was the sub- 
 stitute, he never showed face at all, nor 
 was he even in Scotland. He merely en- 
 joyed the post as a sinecure, while the toil 
 and responsibility fell on me. From that 
 time forth, I had a disgust at our king 
 James, and his government, and con- 
 sidered him no better than an old wife, 
 and from that time to this on which I 
 write down the memorial of these things, 
 I have never been reconciled to him or 
 one of his race. 
 
 But to return to my business at the 
 castle : I was very miserable, my- state 
 was deplorable, for I had not one of the 
 comforts of life, and so jealous was the 
 governor, that for the most part neither 
 ingress nor egress was allowed. My bed 
 was a mat in the corner of my chamber, 
 and my bed-clothes consisted of a single 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 11 
 
 covering not thicker than a worm web. 
 If I had worn it as a veil, I could have 
 seen all about me. It may be considered 
 how grievous this was to me, who had all 
 my life been used to a good rush or hea- 
 ther bed in my father's house, and a 
 coverlet worked as thick as a divot. 
 How I did long to be at home again! 
 — Ay, many a salt tear did I shed when 
 none out of Heaven saw but myself, and 
 many an ardent prayer did I put up for 
 the kind friends I left behind me. At 
 the same time, I resolved every day and 
 every night to have some revenge on my 
 brutal tyrant. I cherished the feeling 
 with delight, and was willing to undergo 
 any hardship, so that I might see my 
 desire fulfilled on mine enemy. An op- 
 portunity at length offered, which proved 
 a hard trial for me. 
 
 Among many illustrious prisoners, we 
 had no less a man than the Marquess of 
 
1.2 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 Huntly ; and as the Lord Chancellor was 
 his great friend, his confinement was not 
 severe. By the reforming party it was 
 meant to be rigid; but by the Catholic and 
 high-church party, quite the reverse. With 
 them it was merely a work of neces- 
 sity, and they had resolved to bring the 
 Marquess off with flying colours, but a 
 little time was necessary to ripen their 
 schemes. He was a great and powerful 
 nobleman, and had struggled against the 
 reformers all his life, plaguing them not a 
 little, but ran many risks of his life, not- 
 withstanding. And had our king, with all 
 his logic, not been, as I said, merely an old 
 wife in resolution, he never would have 
 suffered that obstreperous nobleman, to live 
 so long as he did ; for he thought nothing 
 of defying the king and all his power; 
 and once, in the highlands, came against 
 the king's forces and cut them all to pieces. 
 He also opposed the good work of re- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. IS 
 
 formation so long and so bitterly, that the 
 General Assembly were obliged to excom- 
 municate him. 
 
 My forefathers being men of piety, I 
 was bred in the strictest principles of the 
 Reformation; consequently the Marquess 
 of Huntly was one whom I had always 
 regarded with terror and abhorrence ; so 
 that when I found him, as it were, under 
 my jurisdiction, I was anything but 
 grieved, and I thought to myself, that with 
 God's help, we might keep him from doing 
 more ill for a time. 
 
 But lo and behold, a commission of the 
 lords was summoned to meet at Edin- 
 burgh, headed by young Argyll and Ha- 
 milton, and it being obvious that the in- 
 terest of the reformers was to carry every 
 thing before it, the malignant party grew 
 terribly alarmed for the life of the old 
 Marquess, their most powerful support, and 
 determined on making a bold effort for 
 his delivery. Accordingly, a deputation 
 
14 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 of noblemen came to our worthy deputy- 
 one evening, with a written order from 
 the Lord Chancellor for Huntly's libera- 
 tion. Haggard would not obey the order, 
 but cursed, and swore that it was a for- 
 gery, and put all the gentlemen in ward 
 together, to stand a trial before the lords 
 commissioners. 
 
 The Marquess's family had been allowed 
 to visit him, for they lived in the Canon- 
 gate, and were constantly coming and go- 
 ing ; and that night Lady Huntly comes 
 to me, and pretends great friendship for 
 me, names me familiarly by name, and 
 says that she has great respect for all 
 the Sydeserfs. Then she says, " That 
 deputy governor of yours is a -great 
 bear." 
 
 " We must take him for the present 
 as he is, madam, for lack of a better," 
 says L 
 
 ^* That is very wisely and cautiously 
 spoken of you, young gentleman," said the 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 15 
 
 Marchioness. But it is for lack of a better. 
 How would you like to be Deputy Go- 
 vernor yourself, and to have the sole com- 
 mand here ? I have the power to hang 
 your scurvy master over a post before to- 
 morrow night." 
 
 " That would be a very summary way 
 of proceeding certainly, madam," said L 
 
 " I can do it, and perhaps will do it," 
 added she ; " but in the mean time I must 
 have a little assistance from you." 
 
 Aha ! thinks I to myself, this is some 
 popish plot. Now Bauldy Sydeserf, since 
 ladies will have your name, take care of 
 yourself ; for well do you know that this 
 old dame is a confirmed papist, and wide 
 and wasteful has the scope of her malig- 
 nancy been ! Bauldy Sydeserf, take care of 
 yourself. 
 
 *^ You do not answer me," continued 
 she. " If you will grant me a small favour, 
 I promise to you to have your tyrannical 
 
•16 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 master made away with, and to better your 
 fortune one way or another." 
 
 " You are not gomg to murder him, I 
 hope, please your Highness ?" said I. 
 
 " Made away with from his post, I 
 mean only,'* said she, " in order that one 
 better and younger, and more genteel than 
 he, may be endowed with it." 
 
 " Oh ! is that all, madam ?" said I. 
 
 " Why ?" said she, " would you wish 
 to have him assassinated ? I have a hun- 
 dred resolute men in my husband's interest 
 within the castle that will do it for one 
 word." 
 
 Being horrified for papists, I thought 
 she was come merely to entrap me, and 
 get my head cut off likewise ; and 'though 
 I confess I should not have been very sorry 
 to have seen the Catholics wreak their fury 
 on my brutal tyrant, I thought it most 
 safe to fight shy. " Pray in what can I 
 serve you, madam ?" said I. " If it is by 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 17 
 
 betraying any trust committed to me, or 
 bringing any person into danger but my- 
 self, do not ask it, for, young as I am, 
 nothing shall induce me to comply." 
 
 " What a noble and heroic mind in one 
 so very young ! You were born to be a 
 great man, Mr. Secretary !" said the cun- 
 ning dame ; " I see it, and cannot be mis- 
 taken. Pray tell me this, brave young 
 gentleman — Is my lord's correspondence 
 with Spain, and with the Catholic lords 
 in 1606, in your custody?" 
 
 " They are both in my custody at present, 
 madam," said I ; " but I have no power to 
 show you those letters, it being solely by 
 chance that the keys happen to be in my 
 possession. I got them to search for a 
 certain warrant, and they have not been 
 again demanded." 
 
 " I want to have those papers up alto- 
 gether, that they may be destroyed," said 
 she ; " that is my great secret. If you 
 
J 8 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 will put them into my hands to-night, 
 you have only to name the conditions." 
 
 " I put them into your hands, madam!" 
 said I ; " Good Lord! I would not abstract 
 those documents for all the wealth of the 
 realm." 
 
 " Pray of what value are they ?" re- 
 turned she. " Of none in the world to 
 any one, save that they may bring ruin on 
 my lord and his family, at his approaching 
 trial. Your wretched governor will never 
 miss them ; and if he should, the blame of 
 losing them will fall on him." 
 
 This last remark staggered me not a 
 little, because it was perfectly true ; but 
 I held my integrity, and begged her not 
 to mention the subject again, for no bribe 
 should induce me to comply: she then 
 tossed her head, and looked offended, and 
 added, that she was sorry I was so blind 
 to my own interest, though I was so to 
 the very existence of the greatest family 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 19 
 
 of my own country ; and then, with an 
 audible sigh, she left me, muttering a 
 threat as she went out. I was so much 
 affected by it, that I have never forgot 
 her words or manner to this hour. 
 
 " Oh — oh — oh ! and is it thus ?" said 
 she, drawing up her silken train : '^ Oh — 
 oh — oh ! and is it thus ? Well, young man, 
 you shall be the first that shall rue it ; " 
 and with that she shut the door fiercely 
 behind her. 
 
 " Lord preserve me from these papists!" 
 said I, most fervently. " What will become 
 of me now? I would rather come under 
 the power of the devil than under their 
 power any time, when they have their 
 own purposes to serve." I however re- 
 pented me of this rash saying, and prayed 
 for forgiveness that same night. This con- 
 versation with the Marchioness made so 
 deep an impression on my mind, that I 
 durst not lie down on my wretched bed, 
 but bolted my door firmly, and sat up, 
 
20 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 thrilled with anxiety at having run my 
 head into a noose, by offending the most 
 potent family in the land, and one, for 
 all its enemies, that had the greatest 
 power. Had they been true Protestants 
 and reformers, I would have risked my 
 neck to have saved them ; as it was, I 
 had done my duty, and no more. 
 
 While I was sitting in this dilemma, 
 reasoning with myself, behold a gentle 
 tap — tap — tap came on the door. My heart 
 leaped to my shoulder bone, and stuck so 
 fast that I could not speak. Another attack 
 of the papists, thought I, and that after 
 the dead hour of midnight too ! I am a 
 gone man ! Tap — tap — tap ! " Come in," 
 said I, that is, my lips said it, but my voice 
 absolutely refused its office ; for instead of 
 the sound coming out, it went inwards. 
 I tried it again, like one labouring with 
 the night-mare, .and at last effected a 
 broken sound of " come in, come in." 
 
 " I cannot get in," said a sweet voice 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 21 
 
 outside the door. " Pray are you in 
 bed?" 
 
 " N — n— no," said I, '' I am not in bed." 
 
 " Then open the door directly," said the 
 same sweet voice ; " I want to speak with 
 you expressly." 
 
 " What do you wish to say ?" said I. 
 
 " Open the door and you shall hear," 
 said she. 
 
 " Jane, is that you ?" said I. 
 
 " Yes, it is," said she. " You are right 
 at last. It is indeed Jane." 
 
 " Then what the devil are you seeking 
 here at this time of the morning ?" said I, 
 pulling back the bolts and opening the 
 door, thinking it was our milkwoman's 
 daughter, when behold there entered with 
 a smile and a courtsey the most angelic 
 being I ever saw below the sun. I at 
 first thought she was an angel of light ; 
 a being of some purer and better world ; 
 and if I was bamboozled before, I was 
 ten times worse now. I could not return 
 
22 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 her elegant courtsey, for my backbone 
 had grown as rigid as a thorn, and my 
 neck, instead of bending forward, in token 
 of obeisance, actually cocked backward. 
 I am an old man now, and still I cannot 
 help laughing at my awkward predica- 
 ment, for there I stood gaping and bend- 
 ing, and my eyes like to leap out of my 
 face, and fly on that of the lovely object 
 that stood smiling before me. 
 
 " I think you do not recollect Jane now 
 when you see her," said she, playfully. 
 
 " N — n — no, ma'am," said I, utterly 
 confounded. " I t — t — took you for the 
 skudjie. I beg pardon, ma'am, but I am 
 very muckle at a loss." — That was my dis- 
 gusting phrase, I have not forgot it.—" I am 
 very muckle at a loss, ma'am," says I. 
 
 " Muckle at a loss are you ?" said she. 
 « Yerra inuckle too? That's what you 
 maunna be, honest lad." (She was mock- 
 ing me.) " My name is Jeanie Gordon. 
 You may, perhaps, have heard tell of Jeanie 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 23 
 
 Gordon. I am the youngest daughter of the 
 Marquess of Huntly, and your name is, I 
 presume, Bauldy Sydeserf. Is that it ?" 
 
 I bowed assent, on which she fell into 
 such a fit of laughter, and seemed to en- 
 joy the sport with such zest, that I was 
 obliged to join her, and I soon saw she 
 had that way with her that she could 
 make any man do just what she pleased. 
 
 " It is a snug, comfortable, sort of name," 
 said she ; " I like the name exceedingly, 
 and I like the young gentleman that wears 
 it still better. My mother told me that 
 you were exceedingly genteel, sensible, 
 and well bred ! She was right. I see it 
 — I see it. Verra muckle in the right." 
 
 My face burned to the bone at the 
 blunder I had made, for in general I spoke 
 English very well, with haply a little of 
 the Aberdeen accent, and there was a 
 little bandying of words past here that I 
 do not perfectly recollect, but I know they 
 were not greatly to my credit. As for 
 
?4 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 Lady Jane, she went on like a lark, chang- 
 ing her note every sentence ; but she had 
 that art and that winning manner with 
 her, that never woman in this world shall 
 again inherit in such perfection. So I 
 thought, and so I think to this day ; for 
 even when she was mocking me, and 
 making me blush like crimson, I could 
 have kissed the dust of her feet. She 
 brought on the subject of the refusal I had 
 given her mother, ridiculed it exceedingly, 
 flew from it again, and chatted of some- 
 thing else, but still as if she had that and 
 every thing else in the nation at her con- 
 trol Heaven knows how she effected 
 her purpose, but in the course of an hour's 
 conversation, without ever letting me per- 
 ceive that she was aiming at any object, 
 she had thoroughly impressed me with 
 the utter insufficiency of the king in all 
 that concerned the affairs of the State, and 
 the uncontrollable power of the house of 
 Huntly. " My father is too potent not 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 25 
 
 to have many enemies," said she, " and 
 he has many, but it is not the king that 
 he fears, but a cabal in the approaching 
 committee of the estates. Not for himself, 
 but for fear of the realm's peace, does he 
 dread them; for there is not a canting 
 hypocrite among them that dares lift his 
 eye to Huntly. He can lead a young 
 man to fortune, as many he has led, but 
 how can the poor cabalUng lords do such 
 a thing, when every one is scratch, scratch- 
 ing for some small pittance to himself. 
 His enemies, as you know, have brought a 
 miserable accusation against him, of hin- 
 dering his vassals from hearing such minis- 
 ters as they chose, and with former cor- 
 respondence which was all abrogated in 
 open court, they hope to ruin the best, 
 the kindest, and the greatest man of the 
 kingdom. The letters are already can- 
 celled by law, but when subjects take the 
 law into their own hand, right and justice 
 VOL. I. C 
 
26 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 are at an end. Do you give these papers 
 to me. You will never again have such 
 an opportunity of doing good, and no 
 blame can ever attach to you." 
 
 " I w^ould v^illingly lay down my life 
 for you, madam," said I, " but my honour 
 I can never." 
 
 " Fuss ! honour ! said she, " your 
 honour has no more concern in it than 
 mine has, and ilot half so much. 
 You say you would lay ^ down your 
 life for me, but if you would consi- 
 der the venerable and valuable life which 
 you are endangering ! If you would consi- 
 der the opulent and high born family 
 which you are going to sacrifice out of 
 mere caprice!" I could not help shedding 
 some tears at this bitter reflection ; she 
 perceived my plight, and added, " did you 
 ever see' the nobleman whose life and do- 
 mains you now have it in your power to 
 save from the most imminent risk?" I 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 27 
 
 answered that I never had had that ho- 
 nour. " Come with me, then, and I will 
 introduce you to my father," said she. 
 
 " No — no — no — ma'am ! " said I, 
 mightily flustered. " No — no — no — I 
 would rather be excused if you please." 
 
 " What?" said she, " refuse the first 
 step to honour that ever was proffered to 
 you? Refuse the highest honour that a 
 commoner can hope for, an introduction 
 to George, Marquess of Huntly?" 
 
 " But then, ma'am, I have nothing ado 
 with his highness," said I, " I have no 
 favour to ask of him, and none to grant." 
 
 " Hold your peace," said she, " and if 
 you have any wish that you and I 
 should ever be better acquainted, come 
 with me." 
 
 That was a settler : I could make no 
 answer to that, for my heart was alread}^ 
 so much overcome by the divine perfections 
 of the lady, that I viewed her as a being 
 of a superior nature — a creature that was 
 
 c 2 
 
28 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 made to be adored and obeyed. She took 
 my hand, and though, perhaps, I hung 
 a little backward, which I think I did, 
 I nevertheless followed on like a dog in a 
 string. There were two guards in attend- 
 ance, who, lifting their bonnets, let Lady 
 Jane pass ; but the second seized me by 
 the breast, thrust me backward, and asked 
 me whither I was going so fast ? I was 
 very willing to have turned, but in a mo- 
 ment Lady Jane had me agg^in by the 
 hand, and with one look she silenced the 
 centinel. " This is the secretary of the 
 castle," said she, " and has some arrears 
 to settle with my father before he leaves 
 his confinement, which he does imme- 
 diately." 
 
 I had now, as I thought, got my cue, 
 and so, brightening up, I says, " Yes, 
 Sir, I am the secretary of the castle, and 
 I have a right to come and go where and 
 how I please. Sir," says L 
 
 ** The devil you have. Sir," says he. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 29 
 
 " Yes, the devil I have, Sir," says I ; 
 " and I will let you know, Sir " 
 
 " Hush," said Lady Jane, smiling, and 
 laying her delicate hand on my mouth, 
 " this is no place or time for altercation." 
 I, however, gave the guardsman a proud 
 look of defiance, and squeezed some words 
 of the same import through the lady's 
 fingers, to let him know whom he had to 
 do with, for I was so proud of 'squiring 
 Lady Jane Gordon down the stair and 
 along the trance, that I wanted to make 
 the fellows believe I was no small beer. 
 
 In one second after that, we were in the 
 presence of the gTeat Marquess of Huntly, 
 and in one word I never have yet seen a 
 sight so venerable, so imposing, and at the 
 same time so commanding, as that old 
 hero, surrounded by the ladies of his fami- 
 ly and one of his sons whom he called 
 Adam. I shall never forget the figure, 
 eye, and countenance of the Marquess. He 
 appeared to be about fourscore years of 
 
30 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 age, though I was told afterwards that he 
 was not so much. His hair was of a dark, 
 ghttering, silver grey, and his eyes were 
 dark, and as piercing, haughty, and inde- 
 pendent as those of the blue hawk. They 
 were like the eyes of a man in the fire 
 and impatience of youth, and yet there 
 appeared to be a sunny gleam of kindness 
 and generosity, blended with all the 
 sterner qualities of human nature. If ever 
 I saw a figure and face that indicated a 
 mind superior to his fellow-creatures, they 
 were those of George the first Marquess 
 of Huntly. And more than that, he seemed 
 almost to be adored by his family, which I 
 have found on long experience to be a good 
 sign of a man. Those that are daily and 
 hourly about him are the best judges of his 
 qualifications, and if he is not possessed of 
 such as are estimable, he naturally loses 
 the respect due to inherent Worth. He wore 
 a wide coat of a cinnamon colour, and he 
 was rufiled round the shoulders and round 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 31 
 
 the hands. He received me with perfect 
 good nature, ease, and indifference, in 
 much the same way any gentleman would 
 receive a neighbour's boy that had popped 
 in on him ; and spoke of indifferent matters, 
 sometimes to me and sometimes to his* 
 daughters. He spoke of my father and 
 grandfather, and all the Sydeserfs that 
 ever lived ; but I remember little that 
 passed, for to my astonishment I found 
 that there were two Jeanie Gordons — two 
 young ladies so exactly the same that I 
 thought I could have defied all the world 
 to distinguish the one from the other. 
 There was not a shade of difference that 
 eye could discern, neither in stature nor 
 complexion; and as for their dresses, 
 there was not a flower-knot, a flounce, 
 nor a seam in the one that was not in the 
 other. Every thing was precisely the 
 same. Whenever I fixed my eyes on one, 
 I became convinced that she was my own 
 Lady Jane, to whom I looked for a sort 
 
32 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 of patronage in that high community ; but 
 if ever by chance my look rested on the 
 face of the other, my faith began to waver, 
 and in a very short time again my direc- 
 tion centered on that one. It was the 
 most extraordinary circumstance that I had 
 ever seen or heard of. It seems these 
 two young ladies were twin sisters, and 
 as they surpassed all their contemporaries 
 of the kingdom in beauty, insomuch that 
 they were the admiration of all that 
 beheld them, so were they also admired 
 by all for their singular likeness to each 
 other. For the space of six months after 
 they came from nursing, their parents 
 could not distinguish them from each other, 
 and it was suspected they had changed 
 their names several times. But after they 
 came home from Paris, where they were at 
 their education for seven years, neither their 
 father nor brothers ever knew them from 
 each other again. They generally, at 
 their father's request, wore favours of dif- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 33 
 
 ferent colours on their breasts, but by 
 changing these, and some little peculiar- 
 ities of dress, they could at any time 
 have deceived the whole family, and 
 many a merry bout they had at cross pur- 
 poses on such occasions. It was often re- 
 marked that Huntly, when fairly mis- 
 taken, would never yield, but always 
 persisted in calling Mary — Jane, and 
 Jane — Mary, till deceived into the right 
 way again. So much beauty and elegance 
 I have never seen, and never shall con- 
 template again ; and I found that I had 
 lost my heart. Still it was to Lady Jane 
 that I had lost it, although I could not 
 distinguish the one from the other. 
 
 I must now return to my narrative, 
 taking up the story where I can, as I really 
 never did recollect almost aught of what 
 passed in that august presence, where one 
 would have thought I should have re- 
 membered every thing. The Marchioness, 
 I noticed, shewed no condescension to me, 
 
 c 3 
 
34 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 but appeared proud, haughty, and offended; 
 and when she spoke of me to her lord, she 
 called me that perso7i. My angel Lady 
 Jane (whichever was she) had now lost 
 all her jocularity and flippancy of speech ; 
 there was nothing but mimness and reserve 
 in the Marquess's presence. At length, on 
 my proposing to retire, the Marquess ad- 
 dressed me something to the following 
 purport. 
 
 " I believe. Sir, Lady Huntly and one 
 of my daughters have been teasing you 
 for some old papers at present in your 
 custody. I will not say that they might 
 not have been of some import to me in the 
 present crisis, but" I commend your in- 
 tegrity and faith in the charge committed 
 to jou. You are doing what is right and 
 proper, and whatever may be the conse- 
 quence, take no more thought about the 
 matter." 
 
 Here Lady Jane made some remark 
 about the great consequence of these pa- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 35 
 
 pers, on which he subjoined rather tartly, 
 " I tell you, Jane, I don't regard the plots 
 of my enemies. I can now leave this place 
 when I please, and I shall soon, very soon, 
 be beyond their reach." 
 
 The young lady shed a flood of tears, 
 on which I said, that if I had the Deputy 
 Governor's permission, I would with plea- 
 sure put these papers into his Lordship's 
 hand. '* No," said he ; " I would not be 
 obliged to such a bear for them, though 
 certain that they were to save my head." 
 
 Lady Huntly said something bitterly 
 about asking favours of low people, but he 
 checked her with — " No, no, Henny ! not 
 another word on the subject. You have 
 acted quite right, young man. Good 
 night." 
 
 I was then obliged to take myself off, 
 which I did with one of my best bows, 
 which was returned only by Lady Mary ; 
 all the rest remained stiff and upright in 
 their positions. Lady Jane followed me, 
 
86 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 saying, " I must conduct him through the 
 guards again, else there will be bloodshed." 
 My heart thrilled with joy. She went with 
 me to my apartment, and then asked me, 
 with tears in her eyes, if I was going to 
 let that worthy and venerable nobleman 
 suffer on a scaffold for such a trifle. I tried 
 to reason, but my heart was lost, and I 
 had little chance of victory ; so at length 
 I said I durst not for my life give them 
 up, unless I instantly made my escape out 
 of the castle. She said that was easily 
 effected, for I should go out in her father's 
 livery to-morrow morning, and for that 
 part, she could conceal me for the remainder 
 of the night ; she added, that once I was 
 out, and under Huntly's protection and 
 Jier*s — I waited for no more; — " once you 
 are out, and under Huntly's protection and 
 wm^," said she— I flew, away to the re- 
 gister chest, where I had seen the papers 
 but the day before, and soon found them 
 in two triple sealed parcels, with these 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 37 
 
 labels, Huntly's treasonable corre- 
 spondence WITH Spain. Ditto with the 
 CATHOLiCK LORDS, &€., — and flying away 
 with them, I put them into the hands of 
 Lady Jane Gordon. 
 
 That was the most exquisite moment of 
 my life — true, I had played the villain ; but 
 no matter ; I have never enjoyed so happy 
 a moment since that time. Lady Jane 
 seized the papers with an eagerness quite 
 indescribable — she hugged them — she did 
 not know where to hide them, but seemed to 
 wish them within her breast. Gratitude 
 beamed, nay it flashed in every angelic 
 feature, till at length unable to contain 
 herself, she burst into tears, flung her arms 
 round my neck, and kissed me ! Yes, I 
 neither write down a falsehood, nor exag- 
 gerate in the least degree ; I say the beauty 
 of the world, the envy of courts, and the 
 mistress of all hearts, once, and but once, 
 kissed my lips ! kissed the lips of the then 
 young, vain, and simple Bauldy Syderserf. 
 
38 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 It was a dear kiss to me ! but no more of 
 that at present. 
 
 After this rapturous display, Lady Jane 
 looked me no more in the face, but flew 
 from me with the prize she had obtained, 
 bidding me good night, without looking 
 behind her. It was evident she deemed 
 she had got a boon of her father's life. But 
 there was I left in my 'dark, hateful cham- 
 ber all alone, to reflect on what I had 
 done. 
 
 May the Lord never visit any of his 
 faithful servants with such a measure of 
 afiliction as it was my lot that night to 
 bear. I cannot describe it, but I think I 
 was in a burning fever, and all for perfect 
 terror. I had forfeited life and honour, 
 and all to serve an old papist, the greatest 
 enemy of the blessed work of Reformation 
 in the whole kingdom ; .and what grati- 
 tude or protection was I to expect from 
 the adherents to that cursed profession ? 
 Alas ! not to the extent of a grain of mus- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 39 
 
 tard seed. Then I fell into a troubled 
 slumber, and had such dreams of Haggard 
 hanging me, and cutting off my head, until 
 waking I lay groaning like one about to 
 expire until daylight entered. I then rose 
 and began to cast about how I should 
 make my escape ; for I knew if I remained 
 in my situation another day I was a gone 
 man. The castle being a state prison at 
 that time, there was no possibility of 
 making an escape from it, without a war- 
 rant from the authorities ; and I had begun 
 to patch up a speech in my defence, which 
 I was going to deliver before my judge, 
 as soon as the papers were missed. But 
 then, on considering that there would as 
 certainly be another speech to compose for 
 the scaffold, full of confessions and prayers 
 for my enemies, Haggard among the rest, 
 I lost heart altogether, and fell to weep- 
 ing and lamenting my hard fate. 
 
 While I was in the midst of this dilem- 
 
40 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 ma, behold there was a sharp, surly rap 
 came on my door. I opened it in the 
 most vehement perturbation of spirits, and 
 saw there for certain an officer of justice, 
 clad in his insignia of office. " Master," 
 says he, " is your name Mr. Secretary 
 Side-sark ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir," says I, " that is no ; my 
 name is not Side-sarTc, although it sounds 
 a little that way." 
 
 " Well, well, back or side, short or long, 
 it makes little difference," says he ; "I 
 have a little business with you. You go 
 with me." 
 
 " What ! to prison ?" says I. 
 
 " Yes, to the prison," says he ; " to be 
 sure, where else but to the prison in the 
 mean time ?" 
 
 " Very well. Sir," says I ; " show me 
 your warrant then," says I. 
 
 ** Certainly," says he ; " here is my 
 warrant," and with that he turned into a 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 41 
 
 corner of the trance, and lifted a large 
 bundle — " there it is, master ; you under- 
 stand me now." 
 
 " No, on my faith and honour and 
 conscience, I do not," said I. " What war- 
 rant is that ?" 
 
 " Open and see, master, open and see," 
 said he, wiping his brow ; " pray have 
 you any thing in the house that will drink ? 
 Yes, open and see; ay, that way, that 
 way. Now you will soon get into the 
 heart and midriff of the mystery." 
 
 On opening the parcel, I found a splendid 
 livery complete, of green and gold, and 
 my heart began to vibrate to the breath- 
 ings of hope. " Now, Sir, make haste," 
 said my visitor ; " make haste, make 
 haste. You understand me ; now dress 
 yourself instantly in these habiliments, and 
 go with me. The family waits for you. 
 You are to walk behind Lady Jane, and 
 carry her fardel, or mantle perhaps, or 
 some trifle. We two shall likely be better 
 
42 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 acquainted. My name is David Peterkin, 
 Mr. Peterkin, you know, of course, Mr. 
 Peterkin. I am head butler in the family, 
 steward's butler that is. You are to be 
 gentleman-usher to the young ladies, I 
 presume ?" 
 
 Thus his tongue went on without inter- 
 mission, while I dressed myself, unable to 
 speak many words, so uplifted was my 
 heart. I left my clothes, linens, every 
 thing — my key in my desk — and the key 
 of the register-chest within the desk, lying 
 uppermost ; and bringing all the public 
 money that was in my possession away 
 with me, as part of my arrears of wages, I 
 followed Mr. David Peterkin to the apart- 
 ments where I had been the night before. 
 
 Huntly's power and interest had been 
 very great in the State at that time, not- 
 withstanding his religious tenets, of which 
 the popular party, his sworn enemies, 
 made a mighty handle, in order to ruin 
 him. They had got him seized and lodged 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 48 
 
 in the castle, thinking to bring him to his 
 trial, at which fair play was not intended, 
 but he had the interest to procure the Lord 
 Chancellor's warrant for the removal of 
 himself and suite from the castle, without 
 lett or hindrance, on condition that he con- 
 fined himself three weeks to his own house 
 in the Canongate, to wait the charges 
 brought against him. Haggard, the de- 
 puty-governor, who was the tool of the 
 other party, refused to act on this war- 
 rant, pretending it was forged; but the very 
 next day Huntly's interest again prevailed. 
 He was not only liberated, but the out- 
 rageous Haggard was seized and lodged in 
 gaol, on w^hat grounds I never heard ex- 
 actly explained. Indeed it was long ere 
 I knew that such an event had taken 
 place, and if I had, it would have saved 
 me a world of terror and trouble. 
 
 I followed the family of Huntly to the 
 Canongate, but to my grief found that I 
 had nothing to do save to eat and drink. 
 
44 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 I was grieved exceedingly at this, weening 
 that they had no trust to put in me ; as 
 how could they well, considering that I 
 had come into their service by playing the 
 rogue. I kept myself exceedingly close, 
 for fear of being seized for the malversa- 
 tion committed in the castle, and never 
 went out of doors, save when the young 
 ladies did, which was but seldom. A great 
 deal of company flocked to the house. It 
 was never empty from morning to night; 
 for my part, I thought there had not been 
 so many nobility and gentry in the whole 
 kingdom, as came to pay court to the Mar- 
 quess, his sons, his lady, and his daughters ; 
 for all of them had their suitors, and that 
 without number. That house was truly 
 like the court of a sovereign ; and there 
 were so many grooms, retainers, and at- 
 tendants of one kind and another, that to 
 this hour I never knew how many there 
 were of us. We were an idle, dissipated, 
 loquacious set, talking without intermis- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 45 
 
 sion, and never talking any thing but non- 
 sense, low conceits, ribaldry, and all man- 
 ner of bad things ; and there neither was 
 man nor woman among them all that had 
 half the education of myself. I would have 
 left the family in a short time, had it not 
 been for one extraordinary circumstance — 
 I was in love with my mistress ! Yes, as 
 deeply in love with Lady Jane Gordon as 
 ever man was with maid, from the days of 
 Jacob and Rachel unto this day on which 
 I write. I had likewise strong hopes of 
 reciprocal affection, and ultimate success ; 
 but an humble dependant as I then was, 
 how could I declare my love, or how 
 reward my mistress, if accepted? No mat- 
 ter. A man cannot help that strongest of 
 all passions. For my part, I never at- 
 tempted it ; but finding myself too far gone 
 in love to retreat, I resolved to give my 
 passion full swing, and love with all my 
 heart and soul, which I did. Strange as 
 it may appear, I loved only Lady Jane, — 
 
46 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 she that embraced me, and gave me a 
 kiss, — but yet I never could learn to dis- 
 tinguish her from her sister; and I was 
 almost sure that whenever I began to de- 
 clare my passion, I was to do it to the 
 wrong one. I hated Lord Gordon, her 
 eldest brother, who was the proudest man 
 I had ever seen, and dreaded that he 
 never would consent to an union between 
 his sister and one of the Sydeserfs. I was 
 sure he would shoot me, or try to do it, 
 but thought there might be means found 
 of keeping out of his way, or of giving him 
 as good as he gave. Lady Jane Gordon 
 I was determined to attempt, and her I 
 was determined to have. 
 
 All this time I heard^ no word from the 
 castle, and began to be a little more at my 
 ease ; still I never ventured out of doors, 
 save once or twice that I followed the 
 young ladies, for I always attached myself 
 to them, and to Lady Jane, as far as I 
 could distinguish. Having saved a share 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 47 
 
 of money in the castle, I ordered a suit of 
 clothes befitting a gentleman, and when- 
 ever a great dinner occurred, I dressed 
 myself in that, and took my station behind 
 Lady Jane's chair, but without offering to 
 put my hand to anything. Lord Gordon, 
 or Enzie as they called him, noted me one 
 day, and after I went out, enquired who 
 I was. This was told me by one of the 
 valets. Neither the Marquess nor Lady 
 Huntly answered a word, but both seemed 
 a little in the fidgets at the query; 
 but Lady Jane, after glancing round the 
 whole apartment, answered her brother, 
 that I was a young gentleman, a man of 
 education and good qualities, who had 
 done her a signal piece of service. That I 
 had since that time attached myself to the 
 family, but they did not choose to put me 
 to any menial employment. On this the 
 proud spirit of Lord Enzie rose, and he 
 first jeered his angelic sister spitefully for 
 requiring secret pieces of service from 
 
48 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 young gentlemen and men of education ; 
 and then he cursed me and all such 
 hangers-on. 
 
 I never was so proud of any speech in 
 the world as that of Lady Jane's, which 
 made my blood rise still the more at the 
 pride and arrogance of Lord Gordon ; and 
 I hoped some time in my life to be able to 
 chastise him in part for his insolence. 
 Whether or not these hopes were realized, 
 I leave to all who read this memoir to 
 judge. 
 
 Shortly after that, Lady Jane went out 
 to walk one fine day, with her brother 
 Lord Adam Gordon ; I followed, as I was 
 wont, at a respectful distance, clad in my 
 splendid livery. In the royal bounds east 
 of the palace. Lord Adam had noted me, 
 for I saw him and his sister talking and 
 looking back to me alternately. He was 
 the reverse of his elder brother, being an 
 easy, good-natured, and gentlemanly being 
 as ever was born, with no great headpiece as 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 49 
 
 far as I ever could learn. Lady Jane called 
 me up to her, and asked me if we could 
 pass over to the chapel on the hill at the 
 nearest. I saw Lord Adam eyeing me 
 with the most intense curiosity, as I 
 thought, which made me blush like crim- 
 son ; but I answered her ladyship readily 
 enough, and in proper English, without a 
 bit of the Aberdeen brogue. I said, " I can't 
 tell. Lady Jane, as I never crossed there, but 
 I suppose it is quite practicable." 
 
 " Humph !" exclaimed Lord Adam, ra- 
 ther surprised at so direct and proper an 
 answer. 
 
 " Then will you be so good as carry 
 this fur mantle for me, Mr. Archibald?" 
 said she, " as I propose to climb the hill 
 with Auchendoun." 
 
 " Yes, Ladv Jane," said L 
 
 " But will it not warm you too much ?" 
 added she. " Because, if it will, I'll make 
 my brother Adam carry it piece about with 
 you." 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 I could make no answer, I was so over- 
 come with delight at hearing that she put 
 me on an equality with her brother ; but 
 taking the splendid mantle from her, I 
 folded it neatly, took it over my arm, and 
 took my respectful distance again. It was 
 not long before the two were stopped by the 
 extreme wetness of the bog, on which Lady 
 Jane turned back ; Lord Adam took hold 
 of her, and would not let her, but wanted 
 to drag her into the bog. She struggled 
 with him playfully, and then called on 
 me. " This unreasonable man will insist 
 on my wading through this mire," said she ; 
 " pray, Mr. Archibald, could you find me 
 a few steps, or contrive any way of taking 
 me over dry shod." 
 
 " Yes, I can. Lady Jane," said I, throw- 
 ing off my strong shoes, and setting them 
 down at her ladyship's feet in one moment. 
 " Humph!" said Lord Adam, more sur- 
 prized at my cleverness and good breed- 
 ing than ever. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 51 
 
 I believe she meant me to have carried 
 her over in my arms, a practice very common 
 in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh then. 
 I beheved so at the time, but I contrived 
 a far more genteel and respectful method. 
 She put on the shoes above her fine ones, 
 smiling v^ith approbation, and stepped 
 over dry and clean, while I v^ras obliged 
 to wade over in my white stockings, which 
 gave them an appearance as if I had on 
 short boots. As soon as she got over to 
 the dry hill, she returned me my shoes, 
 thanked me, and said I was a much more 
 gallant man than Auchendoun, who had 
 so small a share of it, that she was sure 
 he would live and die an old bachelor ; 
 but that / ivould not 
 
 It is impossible at this time of life, 
 when my blood is thin, and the fire of 
 youth burning low, to describe the inten- 
 sity of my love, my joy, and my delight 
 after this auspicious adventure. I walked 
 on springs — I moved in air — the earth 
 
 D 2 
 
52 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 was too vulgar for my foot to tread on, 
 and I felt as if mounting to the clouds of 
 heaven, and traversing the regions and 
 spheres above the walks of mortality. 
 Yea, though clothed in a livery, and car- 
 rying her cloak over my arm, (vile 
 badges of slavery !) — though walking all 
 alone, and far behind the object of all my 
 earthly hopes, I remember I went on re- 
 peating these words to myself, " She is 
 mine ! she is mine ! The flower of all the 
 world is my own ! She loves me, she adores 
 me ! I see it in her eyes, her smile, her 
 every feature ; that beam only foretastes 
 of heaven and happiness ! She shall yet 
 be mine ! to walk by my side ! smile in 
 my face when there is none to see ! rest 
 in my bosom, and be to me as a daughter ! 
 that it were given me to do some great 
 and riiarvellous action, to make me worthy 
 of so much gentleness and beauty ! " 
 
 In this strain did I go on till it came to 
 my reflection that she was older than me. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 53 
 
 and that I had no time for the perform- 
 ance of any of these great actions, as all 
 the young noblemen of the three king- 
 doms were at cutting one another's throats 
 about her and her sister already. This 
 was a potion so bitter that I could not 
 swallow it, nevertheless I was compelled 
 to do it, and then I lifted up my voice 
 and wept. 
 
 I was three weeks in the family before 
 I knew that the whole of its members 
 were confirmed papists, and Huntly him- 
 self an excommunicated person, given over 
 to Satan ; and grievously was I shocked 
 and tormented about it ; particularly to 
 think of the beautiful, angelic, and imma- 
 culate Lady Jane being a proselyte to 
 that exploded, idolatrous, and damning 
 creed. For my life, I could not think 
 the less of her for this misfortune ; for she 
 was indeed all gentleness, kindness, and 
 humanity ; but I deplored her calamity, 
 and resolved to spend life and blood to 
 
54 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 effect her conversion to the truth, and 
 then I knew the consolation she would 
 experience would knit her inviolably to 
 me for ever. Full of this great scheme, 
 I set to the studying night and day how I 
 might accomplish my purpose, but my 
 plans were deranged for the present by 
 an announcement that the family was to 
 remove to the highlands ; in consequence 
 of which all was bustle and confusion for 
 several days. 
 
 The day of our departure at length ar- 
 rived, and that was such a cavalcade as 
 Scotland hath but rarely witnessed, when 
 the Gordons rode out at the west port of 
 Edinburgh. The. Marquess wanted to show 
 a little of his power, and to crow over his 
 enemies that day, for he had no less 
 than forty noblemen in his company, in- 
 cluding the sons of earls, every one of 
 whom had numerous attendants, while he 
 himself had five hundred gallant yeomen 
 of Strathbogie as a guard. The gentle- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 55 
 
 men rode all in armour, and the ladies on 
 palfreys, and without doubt it was a 
 noble sight. As we rode through the 
 Grass-market, the crowd was excessive, 
 and there was some disposition manifested 
 of an attack on the noble family, which 
 was very unpopular among the true re- 
 formers of that period ; but we appeared 
 in such strength that they durst do nothing 
 but stand and gaze, while the adherents 
 of the old principles rent the air with 
 shouts of applause. 
 
 I had for my steed a good black country 
 nag, with a white girth round his neck. He 
 was lean, but high spirited, and I made a 
 considerable figure among the multitude. 
 After we were fairly out of the town, the 
 ladies did not keep all together, but rode 
 in pairs or mixed with the gentlemen. 
 I then formed the design of watching an 
 opportunity and slipping a religious letter 
 that I had penned into Lady Jane's hand ; 
 but I watched in vain, for she was the 
 
DO REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 whole day surrounded by suitors, every 
 one striving to get a word of her ; so that 
 I felt myself as nobody among that splen- 
 did group, and fell into great despondency. 
 The more so, that I thought I discovered 
 one who was a favourite above all others 
 that day. He was tall, comely, and rode 
 •a French steed of uncommon beauty and 
 dimensions, and being seldom or never 
 from her side, I perceived a triumph in his 
 eyes that was not to be borne ; but I was 
 obliged to contain my chagrin, not being 
 able to accomplish any thing for the present. 
 [Mr. Sydeserf then goes on to relate 
 every circumstance attending their journey, 
 and the places at which they halted, 
 which narrative is tedious enough, for he 
 seems neither to have been in the confi- 
 dence of masters nor servants. He com- 
 plains greatly of want of accommodation 
 and victuals by the way, and adds, that 
 as for the troopers and common attendants, 
 he could not discover what they subsisted 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 57 
 
 on, for he neither perceived that they got 
 any allowance, or that they had any vic- 
 tuals along w^ith them. The only thing 
 worth copying in the journal (and it is 
 scarcely so) is his account of a dinner 
 which appears to have been at Glamis 
 Castle, and the pickle David Peterkin was 
 in for meat and drink.] 
 
 At Perth, we lodged at a palace of 
 our own, (I am ignorant what palace 
 this was,) but it was not stored with 
 dainties, like our house in Edinburgh. All 
 the establishments of the town were ran- 
 sacked for viands, and a good deal of fish 
 and oaten meal were procured ; neverthe- 
 less the people were very hungry, and 
 every thing vanished as fast as presented. 
 Of the whole group there was not one so 
 badly off as my old friend, Mr. David 
 Peterkin, who could not live without a 
 liberal supply of meat and drink, although, . 
 honest man, he was not very nice with 
 regard to quality. The Marquess dined at 
 
 D a 
 
58 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 one, the head attendants at half-past one, 
 and the lower servants at two, with David 
 Peterkin at their head ; but this day it was 
 five before the first class sat down, and by 
 the eager way in which the various por- 
 tions were devoured, I saw there would 
 not be much left for the second table, not 
 looking so far forward as the third. At 
 our table, every remnant of fish, fowl, meat, 
 and venison vanished; the bones were 
 picked as clean as peeled wood, and even 
 the oatmeal soup went very low in the 
 bickers. I could not help then noting the 
 flabby and altered features of poor Peter- 
 kin, as he eyed the last fragment of every 
 good bit reaved from his longing palate. 
 His cadaverous looks were really pitiful, 
 for he was so much overcome that his 
 voice had actually forsaken him, and I 
 have reason to believe, that saving a little 
 gruel, he and his associates got nothing. 
 
 The next night we were at the castle 
 of old Lord Lyon, where I witnessed a 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 59 
 
 curious scene, at least it was a curious 
 scene to me. The dinner was served 
 in a long dark hall, in which the one end 
 could not be seen from the other, and the 
 people took all their places, but nothing 
 was set down. After the nobility were 
 placed, two orderly constables came down 
 among us, and pulling and wheeling us 
 rudely by the shoulders, pointed out to us 
 our various places. Down we sat, hurry- 
 scurry, lords, ladies, servants, all in the 
 same apartment, but all in due rank and 
 subordination. Thinks I to myself. Lord 
 Himtly will not like this arrangement, 
 and Lady Huntly will like it still worse ; 
 but casting my eyes toward him at the 
 head of the board, I never saw the old 
 hero in better humour, and the suavity 
 or sternness of his countenance spread 
 always like magic over all that came 
 within its influence, consequently, I knew 
 at once that that would be a pleasant 
 party. It was the first time I had sat at 
 table with my mistress, and I being 
 
So REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 among the uppermost retainers, my dis- 
 tance from her was not very great. I 
 was so near as to hear many compliments 
 paid to her beauty, but how poor they 
 were compared with the idea that I had 
 of her perfections. 
 
 To return to the dinner. The two offi- 
 cers with white sticks having returned back 
 to our host, he inquired at them if all was 
 ready, and then a chaplain arose, and said 
 a homily in Latin. Still nothing was pre- 
 sented save a few platters set before the 
 nobility, and David Peterkin being placed 
 within my view, I looked at him, and 
 never beheld a face of such hungry and 
 ghastly astonishment. Presently, two 
 strong men, with broad blue bonnets on 
 their heads, come in, bearing an immense 
 roasted side of an ox on a wooden server, 
 like a baxter's board, and this they placed 
 across the table at the head. Then 
 there was such slashing and cutting and 
 jingling of gullies, helping this and the 
 other. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 61 
 
 From the moment the side of beef 
 made its apjDearance, David Peterkin's 
 tongue began to wag. I looked to him 
 again, and his countenance was changed 
 from a cadaverous white into a heahhy 
 yellow, and he was speaking first to the 
 one side then the other, and following 
 every observation of his own with a hearty 
 laugh. The two men and the broad 
 bonnets kept always heaving the board 
 downward until it came by the broad part 
 of the table, and then there were no more 
 wooden plates or knives. At first I 
 thought our board was sanded over as I 
 had seen the floors in Edinburgh, which 
 I thought would be very inconvenient, 
 but on observing again, I found that it 
 was strewed thickly over with coarse salt. 
 Then a carver-general supplied every man 
 with his piece, with a dispatch that was 
 almost inconceivable, and he always 
 looked at every one before he cut off his 
 morsel. When he eyed Peterkin, he cut 
 
62 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 him a half-kidney, fat and all, with a joint 
 of the back. How I saw him kneading 
 it on the salted board ! After the carver 
 and beef, came one with a bent knife 
 two feet in length, and cut every man's 
 piece across, dividing it into four, then 
 leaving him to make the best of it he 
 could. A board of wedders, cut into 
 quarters, was the next service, and the 
 third coiu-se was one of venison and fowls, 
 but; that passed not by the broad table. 
 After the first service, strong drink was 
 handed round in large wooden dishes with 
 two handles, and every man was allowed 
 as much as he could take at a draught, 
 but not to renew it ; the same the next 
 service, and thus ended our dinner. The 
 party was imcommonly facetious, owing, 
 I was sure, to the Marquess's good humour, 
 which never for an instant forsook him, 
 and convinced me that he had often been 
 in similar situations. I enjoyed it ex- 
 ceedingly; but every thing came on me 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 63 
 
 by surprise, and the last was the most disa- 
 greeable of all. No sooner had we taken 
 our last sup above mentioned, than the 
 two imperious constables with the long 
 white staves came and turned us out 
 with as little ceremony as they set us 
 down, hitting such as were unmindful of 
 their warning a yerk with their sticks. 
 They actually drove us out before them 
 like a herd of highland cattle ; and then 
 the nobility and gentry closed around 
 the broad table for an evening's enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 I never felt the degrading shackles of 
 servitude and dependency so much as I 
 did at that instant. To be placed at table 
 with my mistress, with her whom I loved 
 above all the world ; to eat of the same 
 food, and drink of the same cup, and then, 
 when it suited the convenience of my su- 
 periors in rank, (though in nothing else,) 
 and of my rivals, to be driven from her 
 presence like a highland bullock, and struck 
 
64 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 on the shoulders with a peeled stick ! Why, 
 Sirs, it was more than the spirit within a 
 Sydeserf could brook ! and but for love — 
 imperious love — but for the circumstance 
 that I was utterly unable to tear myself 
 away from the object of my devotion, I 
 would never have submitted to such hu- 
 miliation, or the chance of it, a second 
 time. 
 
 [On the Marquess and his retinue reach- 
 ing Huntly Castle, it appears from the 
 narrative that by some mutual understand- 
 ing, all the gentlemen visitors withdrew, 
 and left the family at leisure for some 
 great preparation, the purport of which 
 Mr. Sydeserf was utterly at a loss to 
 comprehend; but it freed him of his 
 rivals in love, and afforded him numerous 
 opportunities of divulging the hidden pas- 
 sion that devoured him. Every day he 
 attempted something, and every attempt 
 proved alike futile ; so that to copy the 
 narration of them all would be endless. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 65 
 
 But at length he accomplished his great 
 master-stroke of getting his religious epistle 
 into Lady Jane's hands by stratagem, which, 
 he says, was filled with professions of the 
 most ardent esteem and anxiety about her 
 sours well-being, and with every argu- 
 ment that ever had been used by man for 
 her conversion from popery. While wait- 
 ing, with the deepest anxiety, the effect 
 of this epistle, things were fast drawing 
 to a crisis with him, therefore a few of the 
 final incidents must be given in his own 
 words.]. 
 
 Some days elapsed before I noted any 
 difference in her manner and disposition ; 
 but then I saw a depth and solemnity of 
 thought beginning to settle on her lovely 
 countenance. I then knew the truth was 
 beginning to work within her, and I ren- 
 dered thanks to heaven for the bright and 
 precious prospect before me, regretting that 
 I had not subscribed my name to the 
 momentous composition. She now began 
 
66 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 to retire every day to a little bower on 
 the banks of the Deveron, for the purpose, 
 as I was at first positively convinced, of 
 pouring out her soul in prayer and suppli- 
 cation, at the footstool of Grace. As soon 
 as I found out her retreat, I went and 
 kissed the ground on which she had been 
 kneeling, I know not how oft. I then 
 prostrated myself on the same sanctified 
 spot, and prayed for her conversion ; and 
 also, I must confess, that the flower of all 
 the world might in time become my own. 
 I then spent the afternoon in culling all 
 the beautiful flowers of the wood, the 
 heath, and the meadow, with which I 
 bedded and garnished the spot in a most 
 sumptuous manner, arranging all the purple 
 flowers in the form of a cross, which I 
 hung on the back of the bower, so as to 
 front her as she entered, thinking to my- 
 self, that since- the epistle had opened 
 the gates of her heart, this device should 
 scale its very citadel. I could not sleep 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 67 
 
 on the following night ; so arising early, I 
 went to the bower, and found every thing 
 as I had left it. My heart had nigh failed 
 me at the greatness of the attempt, but 
 not doubting its ultimate success, I let every 
 thing remain. 
 
 Then a thought struck me how exqui- 
 site a treat it would be to witness the 
 effect of my stratagem unseen. This was 
 easy to be done, as the bower was sur- 
 rounded by an impervious thicket, so I set 
 about it and formed myself a den close 
 behind the bower, cutting a small open- 
 ing through the leaves and branches, that 
 without the possibility of being seen, I 
 might see into the middle of her retreat. I 
 thought the hour of her arrival would never 
 come, and my situation and sufferings were 
 dreadful. At length the entrance to the 
 bower darkened, and on peeping through 
 my opening, I saw the lovely vision stand- 
 ing in manifest astonishment. Her foot was 
 so light that no sound for the listening ear 
 
68 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 escaped from the sward where that foot 
 trode. She came hke a heavenly vision, 
 top beautiful and too pure for human hand 
 to touch, or even for human eye to look 
 on ; and there she stood in the entrance 
 to the bower, the emblem of holy amaze- 
 ment. My breast felt as it would rend at 
 both my sides with the pangs of love, and 
 my head as if a hive of bees had settled 
 on it. As soon as h6r eye traced the 
 purple cross, she instantly kneeled before 
 it, and bowed her head to the ground in 
 prayer ; but her prayer was the effusion 
 of the soul> few words being expressed 
 audibly, and those at considerable inter- 
 vals. In these intervals she appeared to 
 be kissing the cross of flowers ; but I was 
 not positive of this, for I saw but indis- 
 tinctly ; she then took a small picture of 
 some favourite sweetheart from her bosom, 
 looked at it with deep concern and affec- 
 tion, kissed it, and put it again in its place. 
 This grieved me, but I took notice of the 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 69 
 
 mounting of jewels round the miniature so 
 as that I was certain of knowing it again, 
 and curious I was to see it. 
 
 She then sat for a space in the most 
 calm and beatific contemplation, and I 
 shall never forget the comeliness of that 
 face as she looked about on the beauties 
 of nature. How fain I would have dashed 
 through the thicket and embraced her feet 
 and kissed them, but my modesty over- 
 came me, and I durst not for my life so 
 much as stir a finger ; so she went away, 
 and I emerged from my hole. 
 
 My head being full of my adventure, 
 I dressed up the bower anew with flowers 
 that night ; and as I lay in my bed, I 
 formed the bold resolution of breaking in 
 upon her retirement, casting myself at her 
 feet, and making known to her my woful 
 state. I resolved also to ravish a kiss 
 of her hand, — nay, I am not sure but I 
 presumed further, for I once or twice 
 thought, have not I as good a right to 
 
70 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 kiss her as she had to kiss me ? So the 
 next day I did not betake myself to my 
 concealment, but waited till she was gone, 
 and until I thought she had time to finish 
 her devotions, and then I went boldly on 
 the same track, to cast myself on her pity 
 and learn my fate. Alas ! before I reached 
 the bower my knees refused to carry me, 
 every joint grew feeble, my heart sunk 
 into my loins, and instead of accomplish- 
 ing my glorious feats of love, I walked 
 by the entrance to the bower without so 
 much as daring to cast my eyes into it. — 
 I walked on, and in a short time I saw 
 her leave it with a hurried step. 
 
 That evening, when I went to dress up 
 the bower, behold I found the picture 
 which I had before seen, and a small 
 ebony cross which she had left in her per- 
 turbation at being discovered and having 
 her sanctuary broken in upon. I seized 
 the picture eagerly, to see if I could dis- 
 cover the name or features of my rival. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 71 
 
 but behold it was the image of the Virgin 
 Mary, with these blasphemous words at- 
 tached to it — Mother of God, remember 
 ME ! I almost fainted with horror at this 
 downright idolatry in one of the most 
 amiable of human beings, and for once 
 thought within my heart, Is it possible 
 that a God of mercy and love will cast 
 away a masterpiece of his creation because 
 she has been brought up in error, and 
 knows no better ? It was but a passing 
 thought and a sinful one, for I knew that 
 truth alone could be truth ; yet though I 
 deplored the lady's misfortune, I loved her 
 rather the better than the worse for it, for 
 my love was seasoned with a pity of the 
 most tender and affectionate nature. 
 
 I put these sinful relics carefully up in 
 my pocket, determined to have a fair bout 
 with the conscience and good sense of 
 their ov^er at the delivery of them. But 
 the next day she cheated me, going to her 
 bower by a circuitous route, and about 
 
72 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 an hour and a half earUer than she was 
 wont, for she had missed her costly rehes, 
 and been quite impatient about them. I 
 discovered that she was there, and knew 
 not how to do to come in contact with 
 her. But I was always a man of fair and 
 honourable shifts ; so I went and turned 
 a drove of the Marquess's fat bullocks into 
 the side of the Deveron to get a drink, for 
 the day was very warm. The animals 
 were pampered and outrageous, but still 
 more terrible in appearance than reality ; 
 and now Lady Jane could not return 
 home in any other way than either by 
 wading the stream, or coming through 
 the middle of the herd, neither of which 
 she durst do for her life. Now, thinks I, 
 my dear lady, I shall make you blythe of 
 my assistance once more. So I concealed 
 myself, keeping in view the path by which 
 she was necessitated to emerge from the 
 wood ; she appeared once or twice among 
 the bushes, but durst not so much as come; 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 73 
 
 nigh the stile. I kept my station, but 
 was harassed by Lady Jane's maid com- 
 ing to look after her mistress, who had 
 been longer than her usual time absent. 
 
 " Go away hame, you gigiet," said I. 
 " The lady is without doubt at her devo- 
 tions. I am watching lest she fall among 
 these dangerous animals. A fine hand 
 3^ou would be to conduct her through 
 them. Go away hame, and mind your 
 broidery and your seam." 
 
 " Oh mee gTacioso Monsieur Longshirte," 
 said the French taupie, '' how monsto- 
 rouse crabeede you are dis day ! Me do 
 tink you be for de word of de pretty bride 
 yourself. Ah you sly doag, is it not soa ? 
 Ha ! come tell me all about it, cood Mon- 
 sieur de Longshirte ;" and with that she 
 came and placed herself close down beside 
 me ; I was nettled to death, and knew 
 not what way to get quit of her. 
 
 " Go away hame, I tell you, you foreign 
 coquette," said I, as good-naturedly as I 
 
 E 
 
74 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 could ; " you mouse-trap, you gillie-gawkie, 
 I say go away hame." 
 
 " How very droll you be, good Mon- 
 sieur de Longshirte," said she ; " but de 
 very night before one you called me de 
 sweet sweet rose, and de lilly, and de 
 beautiful maamoselle Le Mebene ; and 
 now I am de giglet, and trap-de-moose, 
 ♦ and gillygawky ! And den it vas come, 
 come, come wid me sweet Le Mebene; 
 but now it is go, go home vid you de 
 French coquette ! How very droll you be, 
 kind Monsieur Longshirte." 
 
 After a great deal of tattle of the same 
 sort, and finding it impossible to get rid of 
 her, I ran off and left her, ensconcing my- 
 self in the middle of the herd of bullocks. 
 I did not want to hear any recapitulations 
 of idle chit-chat. Domestics in high life 
 have ways and manners not much to boast 
 of, and my heart was set on higher game. 
 So I fled from the allurements of a design- 
 ing woman into the fellowship of the 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 75 
 
 bulls of Bashan. They gathered round 
 me, starmg with their gTeat goggle eyes, 
 and made a humming noise as if to encou- 
 rage one another to the attack, but none 
 seemed to have courage to be the first 
 beginner, but always as their choler rose 
 to a height, they attacked one another 
 either in sport or real earnest, and alto- 
 gether they made a hideous uproar. Le 
 Meben fled towards the castle, and afraid 
 that she would raise the affray, I was 
 forced to proceed to the only entrance by 
 which Lady Jane could emerge from the 
 wood, and cutting myself a great kebir, I 
 took my stand there, and whistled a spring 
 with great glee to keep my courage up, 
 and let my mistress hear that her pro- 
 tector was at hand. 
 
 She was not slack in taking the hint, 
 for she came to me with a hurried step, 
 and a certain wildness in her looks that 
 showed gTeat trepidation. She com- 
 mended me for my attention, blessed me, 
 
 E 2 
 
76 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 and took my hand in hers, which I felt to 
 be trembUng. This I took to be the mani- 
 festation of an ardent and concealed love, 
 and seizing it in both mine, I kissed it, 
 kneeling at her feet ; at the same time be- 
 ginning a speech which I choose not here 
 to relate, till looking up I perceived a 
 blush on her face. I believe to this day- 
 it was the blush of Restrained affection, 
 but at the moment it had the effect of 
 sealing my lips, having taken it for the 
 red frown of displeasure. 
 
 "Do not mar the high sentiments I en- 
 tertain of you, Mr. Archibald," said she. 
 
 " My esteem for you is such, honoured 
 lady," said I, " that it knows no bounda- 
 ries either in time or eternity." 
 
 " I know it, I know it, young man," 
 said she, interrupting me again : " you 
 have put my faith sorely to the test ; but, 
 blessed be the Mother of our Lord, I have 
 overcome." 
 
 My heart trembled within me with a 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 77 
 
 mixture of grief and awe, love and disap- 
 pointment, and I lost the only chance 
 ever I had of working the conversion of 
 that most angelic of women, by sinking 
 into utter silence before her eye. She 
 seized the opportunity by momently re- 
 verting to her critical and dangerous situ- 
 ation, and asked if I durst undertake to 
 conduct her through the herd ? 
 
 I shouldered my great stick, answered 
 in the affirmative, and assured her it was 
 only a sense of her imminent danger that 
 had brought me there. 
 
 " There is nothing in this world for 
 which I have such a horror as bulls," said 
 she. " They are the most ferocious of 
 all animals, and so many accidents occur 
 every season from their untameable fierce- 
 ness, that I declare my blood runs cold to 
 encounter their very looks." 
 
 The animals, as far as I understood, 
 were oxen, not bulls, but I chose not to 
 give the lie to a lady's discernment, and 
 
78 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 acquiesced with her in affirming that our 
 country contained no animals so dangerous 
 and terrible, and I added, " But what 
 does the heart and arm of man fear, when 
 put to the test in defence of beauty ?" 
 
 " Bravo ! " said she, " lead on, and God 
 be our shield!" 
 
 I offered my protecting hand, but she 
 declined it and took shelter behind me. 
 She was covered with a tartan mantle, 
 the prevailing colour of which was a bright 
 scarlet, a colour which provokes the fury 
 of these animals, but which circumstance 
 was then unknown to me. They came 
 on us with open mouths, bellowing and 
 scraping with their fore feet on the earth, 
 and always as they gazed at us the re- 
 flection of the mantle made their eyes as of 
 a bloody red. I thought the animals were 
 gone mad altogether, and never was so 
 terrified from the day that I was born. 
 Lady Jane clung to me, sometimes on the 
 one side and sometimes on the other, utter-t 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 79 
 
 ing every now and then a smothered 
 scream, and looked as pale as if she had 
 been wrapt in her winding sheet. 
 
 " No fear, no fear, madam," said I. 
 " They had better keep their distance. 
 Stand off, you ugly dog ! stand off ! " and 
 I shouldered my tree. " Stand off, or I 
 will teach you better manners." No, they 
 would not stand off, but in place of that 
 came nearer and nearer, until they had 
 us so completely beleagured that we could 
 neither advance nor retreat. " Collie 
 choke a bull," cried I, trying every me- 
 thod to disperse our adversaries, but trying 
 them all in vain. I gave us up for lost, 
 and I fear Lady Jane beheld my changing 
 cheer, for she actually grew frantic with 
 terror, and screamed aloud for assistance, 
 as from some other quarter. 
 
 It was now high time for me to repent 
 of my stratagem of the bullocks, whiclv I 
 did in good sincerity, and made a vow to 
 
80 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 God in my heart, if he would but deliver 
 me, thenceforward to act openly and can- 
 didly with all mankind, and womankind 
 into the bargain. I made this experiment 
 the more readily that Lady Jane was at 
 the same time calling on the Holy Virgin, 
 on whose intercession having no manner 
 of reliance, but dreading the vengeance of 
 Heaven for such palpable idolatry, I put 
 up such a petition as a Christian ought, 
 and sealed it with a vow. When lo ! 
 wonderful to relate ! the outrageous ani- 
 mals fell a tossing their heads and tails in 
 a wild and frantic manner, and in one 
 minute they galloped off in every direction, 
 as if under the influence of some charm. 
 They cocked their heads, rolled their tails 
 up in the air, and ran as if for a prize ; 
 some of ,them plunging into the Deveron, 
 and others dashing into the woods. Our 
 relief was instantaneous. I say nothing 
 but the truth, and deny not that the phe- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 81 
 
 nomenon might have been accounted for 
 in a natural way, therefore, as a humble 
 sinner, I take no merit to myself, but de- 
 scribe things precisely as they occurred. 
 Whether the animals only came to gaze 
 at us for their amusement, and started off 
 simultaneously in pursuit of some higher 
 fun, or if an army of hornets was sent by 
 heaven to our relief, I pretend not at this 
 distance of time to determine. But sorry 
 have I been a thousand times that I could 
 not keep that vow made in my greatest 
 extremity. The times in which I have 
 lived rendered it impracticable. Every 
 thing was to be done by plot and strata- 
 gem, and he that could not yield his 
 mind to such expedients was left in the 
 lurch. True, it was a sin to break my 
 vow, nevertheless it was a sin of necessity, 
 and one of which I was compelled to be 
 giiilty every day. May the Lord pardon 
 the transgressions of his erring servant ! 
 One would have thought that now. 
 
82 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 when our danger was clean gone, Lady- 
 Jane would have brightened up ; but, in 
 place of that, she grew quite faint and 
 leaned on my arm without being able to 
 speak. I bore her on for some time with 
 great difficulty, and at last was obliged 
 to let her sink to the earth, where for 
 some time I had the ineffable delight of 
 supporting her head on my bosom; and 
 so much was I overcome with violent 
 emotion, that for a long time I could not 
 stir to attempt any means for her reco- 
 very. At length I judged it necessary to 
 my credit to attempt something, so I cut 
 the lacings of her stays, and soon after 
 that she recovered. 
 
 I had not well raised her up, and was 
 still supporting her with both my arms, 
 when on an instant her brother, the 
 Lord Gordon, and the Marquess of Doug- 
 las, appeared close at our hands. I ex- 
 pected Lady Jane to faint again, but the 
 surprise acted hke electricity on her, and 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 83 
 
 after an alternate blush of the rose and 
 paleness of the lily, she quite recovered. 
 Madam Meben had raised the alarm in 
 the family, and the two lords came on the 
 look out for her who was the darling of 
 the whole house. But the proud eye of 
 Enzie burnt with rage as he approached 
 us. He had seen me rise first myself, 
 raise the lady in my arms, and support 
 her for a small space on the way, and it 
 was manifest that his jealous nature was 
 aroused, and that if it had not been for 
 the presence of Lord Douglas, he would 
 have run me through the body. I'll never 
 forget the look he gave me when he threw 
 me from his sister's side, and took my 
 place. As for the attack made on her by 
 bulls, as she related it, and of her fainting 
 away, I could perceive that he regarded 
 it all as a made up story, and thought 
 more than he chose to express. 
 
 Lady Enzie was not at Castle Huntly 
 on our arrival there from Edinburgh ; 
 
84 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 for the castle being then in ruins, and our 
 residence only temporary barracks, we re- 
 mained at our own home till about this 
 time of which I am writing, when she 
 came on a visit. Her maiden name was 
 Lady Anne CampbeU, she being eldest 
 sister to the good Earl of Argyle; she had 
 been married at an early age, and now 
 looked like an old woman; her health and 
 heart being both broken. She had been 
 compelled to marry into a Catholic fa- 
 mily, in order to effect some mighty co- 
 alition in the highlands which failed, and 
 I fear she had little pleasure of her life, 
 for her husband was the sworn enemy of 
 her house, and a perfect demon in pride 
 and irritability. She was a true Pro- 
 testant, and had all the inherent good 
 qualities of her noble lineage ; — she had 
 learned to temporize with those of a dif- 
 ferent persuasion, and all her sisters-in-law 
 loved her with great tenderness and af- 
 fection. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 85 
 
 Now it so fell out that my religious 
 epistle to Lady Jane had troubled that 
 lady a great deal, and put her Catholic 
 principles sore to the rack; therefore as a 
 grateful present to her Protestant sister, 
 she put the writing into her hands, at 
 which she was greatly amazed, and not 
 less delighted, testifying the strongest de- 
 sire to forward the views of the writer. 
 By what means this paper fell into her 
 husband's hands, I do not know, but so 
 it did, and I suspect, its history along 
 with it. He had been jealous of my at- 
 tentions to his sister of late, and this bold 
 attempt at her conversion raised that jea- 
 lousy to an exorbitant pitch. So one 
 evening when I was standing in a circle 
 of an hundred men and women, listening 
 to a band of music, out comes Lord Enzie 
 with my identical paper in his hand. I 
 had heard of his lady's high approbation, 
 and judged that now the time was come 
 for my advancement; and though I would 
 
8'6 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 rather have taken it from any other no- 
 bleman in the kingdom, yet knowing my 
 epistle afar off by its form, I resolved on 
 acknowledging it. It was a holiday, and 
 we were all clothed in our best robes, 
 when out comes the haughty and re- 
 doubted George Gordon, Lord of Enzie and 
 Badenach, into the midst of us, and 
 reading the address and superscription of 
 the paper, he held it up and enquired if 
 any in the circle could inform him who 
 was the author of such a sublime pro- 
 duction. Judging that to be my time, I 
 stepped forward, kneeled on the green at 
 my Lord Enzie's feet, and acknowledged 
 myself the unworthy author: on which 
 the proud aristocrat struck me unmer- 
 cifully on the shoulders and head with his 
 cane, accompanying his blows with a 
 volley of the most opprobrious epithets. I 
 was altogether unarmed, otherwise I would 
 have made a corpse of the tyrant; so I 
 fled backward and said, " My Lord, you 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 87 
 
 shall rue what you have now done the 
 longest day you have to live. Do you 
 know whom you have struck ? " 
 
 " Know whom I have struck? Puppy ! 
 vagabond ! " exclaimed he, and breaking 
 at me, he struck me with such violence 
 that he knocked me down. I fell quite 
 insensible ; but he had inflicted many 
 kicks and blows on me after I was down, 
 which I felt for many a day ; and, as I 
 was informed, dashed my epistle in my 
 face, and left me lying. 
 
 When I came to myself, I was lying in 
 a bed in the house of a poor weaver in the 
 village, and a surgeon was dressing my 
 head, which was fractured. I was ex- 
 tremely ill, and the violence of my rage 
 at Lord Enzie made my distemper a great 
 deal the worse. 
 
 As soon as I was able, I wrote to the 
 Marquess complaining of the usage I had 
 received in recompense for all I had ven- 
 tured for him. He was a man of the 
 
88 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 highest honour, and sent me a sum of 
 money with an assurance that he would 
 provide for me in away that suited both my 
 talents and inclination. He regretted what 
 his son had done, whom no man could 
 keep in bounds, but was willing to make 
 me all the reparation that lay in his power, 
 which I should soon see; so. I was obhged 
 to keep my humble bed and wait the 
 issue. 
 
 A few days subsequent to that, I was 
 visited by Lady Enzie and Lady Jane 
 Gordon, who both condoled with me in a 
 most affectionate manner, and reprobated 
 the outrage committed by Lord Enzie, 
 who had the day before that set off for 
 France on some military expedition. After a 
 great deal of kind commiseration. Lady 
 Enzie said, '' The plain truth is, clerk Ar- 
 chimbald, that you can never rise to emi- 
 nence either in my husband's family, or 
 under the patronage of any of its members, 
 for (begging my lovely sister's pardon) 
 
LIFE OF AX EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 89 
 
 every one of that family are Catholics at 
 heart, however they may have been com- 
 pelled to disguise their sentiments, and 
 they v^ill never raise a man to wealth or 
 power who is not confirmed in their own 
 religious tenets. It is a part of their prin- 
 ciple rather to retard him. But to my 
 brother, the Lord Argyle, you will be 
 quite a treasure. You will instruct his two 
 noble sons in the principles of the reformed 
 religion, for which no young man in the 
 kingdom is so well fitted; learn them the 
 art of composition in the English tongue; 
 travel with them into foreign parts, and 
 form their hearts and their minds to follow 
 after truth. Or you can assist my brother 
 in his great plans of furthering the Reform- 
 ation. If you consent to this arrange- 
 ment, as soon as you are able to travel, I 
 will dispatch you to my brother with a 
 letter which will ensure your good re- 
 ception." 
 
 I testified my obligation to her lady- 
 
90 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 ship, but added that I loved my young 
 mistress and her father so well, I had no 
 heart to leave them. 
 
 " The old Marquess, my father-in-law, is 
 one of the noblest characters that ever 
 bore the image of his Maker,'* said she, 
 " but he is necessarily on the verge of 
 life ; and then under my husband, your 
 hopes are but small. ^ As for Jane, she 
 leaves her father's house immediately as 
 bride to a young Catholic lord, who would 
 not have a Protestant, in his family for 
 half his estate." 
 
 . Here my heart sank within me, and I 
 could not answer a word. 
 
 Lady Enzie went on. " In order that 
 you may not refuse my offer, I tell you 
 some of the secrets of the family without 
 leave, of which I know you will make no 
 ill use. These two young dames, so far 
 celebrated for their beauty; as they were 
 born on the same day, and christened on 
 the same day, so they are to be wedded 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 91 
 
 on the same day, and in the same church; 
 the one to a Scottish, the other to an Irish 
 nobleman. Poor Lady Jane is destined 
 for Ireland, to worship St. Patrick and 
 the Virgin Mary, in a due preparation for 
 purgatory as long as she lives." 
 
 " I'll go to the Earl of Argyle to-morrow( 
 or the next day at the furthest," said I. ' 
 
 The two ladies applauded my resolu- 
 tion, settling their plans between them, 
 but seeing me unfit for further conversation! 
 they took their leave. Lady Jane gave 
 me her hand and bade me farewell, — but 
 I retained that dear hand in mine and 
 could not part with it, neither did she 
 attempt to force it away. — " Stay still 
 with us a few moments. Lady Gordon," 
 said I, " for I have something to give my 
 young mistress before we part for ever." 
 
 " What have you to give me, Archy?" 
 said Lady Jane. 
 
 " I have to give you first my blessing," 
 said I, " and, afterwards, something you 
 
92 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 will value more. Farewell, most lovely 
 and fascinating of all thy race. May 
 the Almighty God, who made thee so 
 beautiful, make thee as eminently good, 
 and endow thy mind with those beauties 
 that shall never decay. And may he fit 
 and prepare thee for whatever is his will 
 concerning thee, for conjugal bliss or 
 sorrow of heart : — for life, for death, for 
 time, or for eternity." 
 
 "Amen!" said both ladies, bowing, — 
 " and may thy blessings return double 
 on thy own head." 
 
 " I will henceforth revere thy religion 
 for thy own sake," continued I, " for the 
 tenets that have formed such a mind must 
 have something of heaven in them. May 
 you be beloved through life as you are 
 loving and sincere, and may your children 
 ^ow up around you the ornaments of our 
 na'Enre, as you have yourself been its 
 greatt^st. For me, bereaved as I hence 
 must be, of the light of your countenance. 
 
 \ 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 93 
 
 — I care no more what fortune betide me, 
 for I must always be like a blind man, 
 longing for the light of that sun he is 
 never more to see. Of this be sure, that 
 there is always one who will never forget 
 you, and of whose good wishes and prayers 
 you shall through life have a share. And 
 now here are some relics, too precious in 
 your sight, which I fain would have 
 ground to powder, and stamped the re- 
 sidue with my feet, but seeing the line 
 that Providence has marked out for you, 
 I restore them, and trust you to the mercy 
 of Him who was born of a virgin." 
 
 So saying, I gave into her hands the 
 graven image of the Virgin, and the purple 
 cross set with gold and diamonds, on which 
 she gave me a last embrace, while tears 
 of gratitude choked her utterance, on which 
 Lady Enzie hurried her out, and left me 
 a being as forlorn of heart as any that the 
 light of heaven visited. 
 
 [Thus ended the Baillie's first love, which 
 
94 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 seems to have been most ardent and sin- 
 cere, yet chastened by that respect due to 
 one so much his superior. This he never 
 seems to take into account; the reason of 
 which appears to be, that when he acted 
 these things, he was in a very different 
 line of Hfe than when he wrote of them, 
 and felt that at this latter time he was 
 very nigh to Lady Jane's rank in life. 
 
 We must now skip over more than a 
 hundred pages of his memoirs, as affording 
 little that is new or amusing. He was 
 engaged by the Earl of Argyle as his 
 secretary, and assisted that nobleman with 
 all his power and cunning, in bringing 
 about a reformation, both in Church and 
 State. He was hkewise tutor to his two 
 sons, and went over to Holland with Lord 
 Lorn, and afterwards to London with 
 Lord Neil Campbell ; but in the tedious 
 details of these matters, although there is 
 a portion of good sense, or sly speciousness 
 in its place, yet there is very little of it so 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 95 
 
 much better than the rest as to be worth 
 extracting. There is one anecdote which 
 he pretends to give from report, which 
 appears not a httle puzzUng. He says : 
 
 " While at this place (Armaddie) there 
 were strange reports from Huntly Castle 
 reached mine ears. The two lovely twin 
 Gordons were married on the same day to 
 two widowers, but both young and gal- 
 lant gentlemen. Lady Mary to the Mar- 
 quess of Douglas, and Lady Jane to Lord 
 Strathbane ; (who in the world was this ?) 
 but on the evening of the wedding, the 
 latter missed his bride, and following her 
 out to her bower, he found her in com- 
 pany with a strange gentleman, who was 
 kneeling and clasping her knees ; on which 
 Lord Strathbane rushed forward, and ran 
 the aggressor through the body with his 
 sword. The utmost confusion arose about 
 the castle. Lady Jane fainted, and went 
 out of one fit into another, but would 
 never tell who that gentleman was, deny- 
 
,96 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 mg all knowledge of him. The body was 
 likewise instantaneously removed, so that 
 it was no more seen ; but Lord Strath- 
 bane, supposing he had committed a mur- 
 der, fled that night, and the marriage was 
 not consummated for full seven weeks. 
 The story was never rightly cleared 
 up." 
 
 We do not much wonder at it, con- 
 sidering how quickly the body, or rather 
 the wounded gentleman, made his escape ; 
 but even at this distance of time, we have 
 a shrewd suspicion that it might be the 
 Baillie himself, especially as he says in 
 another place — " The Marquess (of Argyle) 
 w^ould fain have had me putting on 
 sword-armour that day, both for the 
 protection of my own person, and for 
 the encouragement of the covenanters. 
 Bui hy reason of a wound in my right 
 side, which I got hy accident more than a 
 dozen of years before, I could never 
 brook armour of any sort," &c. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 97 
 
 The getting of this wound is never men- 
 tioned, and we find by his own confused 
 dates, that the marriages he mentions took 
 place about twelve years previous to this 
 engagement of which he is speaking ; so 
 that, without much straining, I think we 
 may set down the Baillie as the strange 
 gentleman whom the jealous bridegroom 
 ran through the body in the wood. 
 
 There is another incident he records 
 which marks in no ordinary degree the 
 aristocratic tyranny of that day.] 
 
 When I arrived at Edinburgh, says he, 
 I still felt a little suspicion that the affair of 
 the castle would come against me, and the 
 first thing I did was to make enquiry who 
 was deputy governor of the fortress at the 
 time being, and what was become of the 
 former one, my old tyrant. Haggard. I soon 
 found out that Ludovico Gordon, one of the 
 house of Huntly, occupied that station, so 
 that there I was quite safe ; but how was 
 I amazed at finding that Huntly's influence 
 
98 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 had actually brought Haggard to the gal- 
 lows, — at least, so far on the way that he 
 then lay under condemnation. Whether 
 it was through fear of the history of the 
 pajDers that I stole being discovered, or 
 merely out of revenge for some small in- 
 dignity offered, I know not, but the Mar- 
 quess and the rest of the Catholic party 
 got him indicted. The other prevailing 
 party did not think it worth their while 
 to defend him, and so the fellow strapped. 
 But the oddest circumstance of the matter 
 was, that my disappearance from the 
 castle was made one of the principal rea- 
 sons for bringing on his condemnation. It 
 was proved to the satisfaction of the 
 judges, that he had frequently threatened 
 me with his utmost vengeance, to have 
 me whipped and hung at the flag-staff, &c. 
 — and that I had disappeared all at once 
 in the dead of ^the night, while all my 
 clothes, even to my shirt and nightcap, 
 were found lying in my chamber next day, 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 99 
 
 SO that there was no doubt I had been 
 made away with, in order to cover his 
 embezzlement of the pubhc monies. Hag- 
 gard was in great indignation at the 
 charge, but not being able to prove aught 
 to the contrary, the plea was admitted, 
 and he was cast for execution, — a circum- 
 stance not much accounted of in those 
 days. 
 
 I was greatly tickled with this piece of 
 information, and he having been the man 
 who, of all others, used me the worst, save 
 Lord Gordon, or Enzie, as he was called, 
 so I resolved never either to forgive the 
 one or the other. Of course I made no 
 efforts towards a mitigation of the brute 
 Haggard's sentence. 
 
 His execution had been fixed for the 
 26th of May, but before that period, I had 
 been called express to Stirling on the 
 Marquess's business, in order to further the 
 correspondence on the Antrim expedition, 
 of which Argyle, my patron, was in great 
 
 F 2 
 
100 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 terror. However, I took a horse on the 
 25th, and riding all night, reached the 
 Grass Market in good time to see the ruf- 
 fian pay kane for all his cruelties and acts 
 of injustice; and from that day forth, I 
 was impressed with a notion that Provi- 
 dence would not suffer any man to escape 
 with impunity who had wronged me, and 
 inherited my curse and malison. I had 
 done nothing against Haggard, saving 
 that at one time I had wished ill to him 
 in my heart, and now, behold, I saw 
 even more than my heart's desire on mine 
 enemy. I enjoyed the sight a good deal, , 
 nor was I to blame ; — a man should al- 
 ways do that which is just and proper. 
 I never saw such a wo-begone wretched 
 being as he looked on the scaffold ; — no 
 man could have believed that a character 
 so dissipated and outrageous could ever 
 have been reduced to such a thing of de- 
 spair. He harangued the multitude at 
 great length, and in my opinion, to very 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 101 
 
 little purpose, — merely, I was persuaded, 
 for the purpose of gaining a few more 
 minutes of miserable existence. — Again 
 and again did he assert his innocence re- 
 lating to the murder of the young man 
 commonly called Clerk Archibald, wished 
 well to the Marquess of Huntly, and prayed 
 for his forgiveness. 
 
 During the time of this harangue, and 
 when it drew nigh to a close, I chanced 
 to come in contact with Mr. Alexander 
 Hume, baker, with whom I had some 
 settlements to make while I was in the castle. 
 He was one whom I esteemed as an honour- 
 able man, and I could not help speaking to 
 him, asking how he did ? — and what he 
 thought of this affair ? He answered me 
 in some confusion, so that I perceived he 
 did not know me, — or was greatly, at a 
 loss to comprehend how I should be there. 
 Judging it, therefore, as well to be quit of 
 him, I made off a little, but he stuck by 
 me, and the crowd being so great, I could 
 
102 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 not get away, for I was close to the foot 
 of the gallows. 
 
 " Think of it, squire ?" said he, " Why, I 
 suppose I think of it as others do ; that 
 the fellow was a rascal, and brought 
 himself under the lash of the law, and is 
 suffering justly the penalty of his iniquities. 
 Our judges are just, you know, and our 
 exactors righteous — do you not think the 
 same ?" 
 
 " You had a good deal of business with 
 Haggard, Mr. Hume," says T, " and must 
 know. Did you find him an arrant rascal 
 in his dealings ?" 
 
 « No — I do not say so, I was not called 
 to give oath to that effect, and if I had, I 
 could not have sworn he was." 
 
 " Then you know that, as to the murder, 
 he must have been innocent of that." 
 
 " How ? — ^What ? — How can you prove 
 that? Good and blessed Virgin, is not 
 this Clerk Archy himself?" 
 
 I nodded assent, when he seized my 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 103 
 
 hand as if it had been in a vice, and went 
 on without suffering- me to rejoin a word — 
 " How are you ? Where have you been ? 
 You have been kidnapped, then ? Come 
 this way — this way, a wee bit. Colonel 
 Haggard ! Hilloa, Colonel, speak to me, 
 will ye." 
 
 The Colonel had taken farewell of 
 the world, of the sun and the moon, and 
 the stars, and the spires of Edinburgh 
 castle. The bedesman and executioner 
 were both sick of his monotonous ha- 
 rangues, and waited with impatience the 
 moment w^hen he should give the signal. 
 Still he had not power, and at that terrible 
 crisis Hume fell a bawling out to him, — 
 " Hilloa, Colonel, speak to me, will ye, 
 speak to me just for a wee bit — hilloa, 
 you there, Mr. Sherriff and Mr. Chaplain, 
 loose the Colonel's een, will ye ? " 
 
 The sheriff shook his head, on which 
 Hume saw there was not a moment to 
 lose, and having resolved to save Hag- 
 
104 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 gard's life, merely, I dare say, for the no- 
 velty of the thing, he called aloud to the 
 sheriff to stop the execution till he, Mr. 
 Hume, spoke a word in his ear. With 
 that he sprung to the ladder with an 
 agility of which no man would have sup- 
 posed him possessed, — ^the sheriff beckoned 
 the centinel to let him pass, on which he 
 intimated something very shortly to that 
 dignitary, and flew to the prisoner, who, 
 poor man I stood with his eyes covered, 
 the tow about his neck, his hands hanging 
 pendulous, and the fingers of the right one 
 closed on the signal with the grasp of 
 death. The officious baker, who seemed 
 to have lost his reason for a space, in- 
 stantly fell to relieving the culprit, turned 
 the napkin up from his eyes, and would 
 also have loosed the tow from about his 
 craig had he been permitted, and all the 
 while he was speaking as fast as his tongue 
 could deliver. I could not hear all he 
 said, but these were some of the words, — 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 105 
 
 " It's a fact that I tell you. Sir, look to 
 yoursel — he's stannin there at the fit of the 
 gallows. You're a betrayed man, Sir. See, 
 there he is. Sir, looking you in the face, 
 and witnessing the whole affair. — Mind 
 yoursel. Sir, for. Holy Virgin ! there's nae 
 time to lose, ye ken." 
 
 The poor wretch tried to look and to find 
 me out in the crowd, but he only stared, 
 and I could easily perceive that he saw 
 nothing, or at least distinguished no one 
 object from another, — his eyes were like 
 those of a dead person, casting no reflec- 
 tion inwardly on the soul. Mr. Hume, 
 as I said, in the height of his ofFiciousness, 
 had begun unloosing the cord from about 
 the convict's neck, but was withstood by 
 the executioner. That was a droll scene, 
 and contributed no little to the amusement 
 of the tag-rag and bob-tail part of the 
 citizens of Edinburgh. " Let abee. Sir," 
 said the executioner ; " wha baud ye tak 
 that trubble. — Naebody's fingers touch 
 
 F 3 
 
106 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 tow here but mine, onest man. Stand 
 back, an it be your wull. Who the 
 muckle deevil are ye ? " 
 
 " Wha im I, Sir!" cried the baker, — 
 " Wha im I, say ye ? — My name, Sir, is 
 Alexander Hume, I'm one a' the auld 
 bailHes, and deacon convener o' the five 
 trades o' the bee Calton, a better kind man 
 than you, Mr. HangiQ, or ony that ever 
 belanged to you, an' never kend for ony 
 ill yet, — mair than some focks can say! 
 Wha am / troth ! — Cornel look to yoursel. 
 Sir, or you 're a murdered man. — I'll stand 
 by you, I like to see a man get justice."" 
 
 The poor colonel, judging it necessary 
 to do or say something for himself in this 
 extremity, appeared like a man struggling 
 in a horrible dream, but his senses being 
 quite benumbed, he could only take up 
 the baker's hint, and a bad business he 
 made of it, for he began with — 
 
 " good Christian people, it is true, it 
 is true. I am a murdered man ! — an in- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 107 
 
 nocent murdered man ! — And as a proof 
 of it, the man whom I murdered is stand- 
 ing here looking me in the face and laugh- 
 ing at my calamity. And is not this, good 
 Christians, such usage as flesh and blood 
 cannot endure? — to be murdered by spite- 
 ful papists and enemies, — murdered in cold 
 blood ! — murder ! — murder ! — murder /" 
 " G — 's curse, what's all this for ! " ex- 
 claimed the hangman, and turned the poor 
 wretch off. The baker called out, " Stop, 
 stop!" and caught wildly at the rope, but 
 he was taken into custody, and the co- 
 lonel, after a few wallops, expired. In 
 an hour after, I left the city to attend the 
 Marquess's business, but the matter caused 
 a great deal of speechification in Edinburgh 
 for a season, the most part of the lieges 
 trowing that it had been my ghost that 
 the baker had seen at the foot of the gal- 
 lows ; for it was affirmed that my naked 
 corpse had been taken from a well in the 
 
108 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 castle along with other two bodies, all 
 murdered by Haggard. I did not believe 
 that Haggard murdered one of them ; me, 
 I was sure, he did not murder, and I was 
 very glad that it was so. 
 
 [Argyle, as the head and chief of the 
 reformers, now carried every thing before 
 him ; and we find that, principally for 
 political purposes, he placed the Baillie in 
 Edinburgh as a great wine and brandy 
 merchant, and by that means got him 
 elected into the council of the city, where 
 he seems to have had great influence both 
 with ministers and magistrates^ The king- 
 nominating the baillies then, Argyle or 
 Huntly, precisely as their parties prevailed, 
 had nothing further to do than go to the 
 king, or the commissioners after the king's 
 restraint, and bring down the list, in 
 which case the honourable council seems 
 never to have objected to any of those 
 named : but if we take the Baillie's word 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 109 
 
 for it, he seems to have been a conscien- 
 tious man, for he says : ] 
 
 From the time I entered the council, 
 I considered myself as acting for others. 
 Not for others, abstract from myself, but 
 at all events, for others besides myself; 
 and oftentimes v^as I greatly puzzled to 
 forward the views of my party without 
 injuring my own interest. I determined 
 to support the reformers against all oppo- 
 sition, but the first time I was in the 
 council and the magistracy, we were 
 sorely kept in check by the great influence 
 of the old Marquess of Huntly. The com- 
 bined lords would gladly have brought 
 him to the scaffold,* for he was a bar in 
 their progress which it was impossible to 
 get over. I believe there was never a 
 nobleman in Scotland who had so many 
 enemies, and those so inveterate ; but 
 his friends being so much attached to 
 him, on the other hand, the Protestant 
 party could make little progress as long 
 
110 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 as he lived. I felt this, and though I 
 had the offer of being made Lord Pro- 
 vost, and knighted in 1633, I declined 
 the honour, and retired from the magis- 
 tracy until I saw a more favourable season 
 for furthering the viev^s of the reformers, 
 and of my own great and amiable patron 
 in particular. Besides, I really had such a 
 respect for the old Ma^-quess, papist as I 
 believed him to be at heart, that I could 
 not join in the conspiracies against him 
 which I heard broached by one or other 
 every day. I could not bear to see the 
 noble old veteran dogged to death, which 
 was the real cause why I left co-operating 
 with the violent part of the reformers for 
 several years. I never refused Argyle's 
 suggestions, but those of all others I re- 
 ceived with great caution. 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1635, the 
 worthy old Marquess was again brought 
 before the council, on a charge of harass- 
 ing and wasting the lands of his Protestant 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. Ill 
 
 neighbours. I attended the examinations 
 of the witnesses, and was convinced in 
 my mind that the Marquess had no hand 
 in the depredations complained of. True 
 he had not punished the aggressors, but 
 that I considered no capital charge ; and 
 was grieved when I saw him shut up 
 once more in close confinement in the 
 castle, in the very same apartment from 
 whence I had before been the means of 
 delivering him. Then a fair trial by jury 
 was instituted, and among all the forty- 
 eight nominated by the sheriff, there was 
 not one to my knowledge who was not of 
 the party opposed to Huntly. Though 
 ever so zealous in forwarding the reform- 
 ation, I did not like to see it forwarded 
 by unjust means ; for in such cases, men 
 can hardly expect the blessing of heaven 
 to attend their labours. There were 
 only four commoners named as jurymen, 
 and I being chosen and sworn, as 
 one of the most staunch reformers, yet 
 I determined within myself to give my 
 
112 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 voice for nothing of which I was not fully 
 convinced. Wariston's indictment repre- 
 sented the old Marquess as the most no- 
 torious tyrant and offender livmg. He 
 was accused of murder, fire-raising, and 
 every breach of order, — and all the wit- 
 nesses sworn, spoke to the same purpose; 
 but there were two. Major Creighton and 
 John Hay, whom, as a juryman, I took 
 the liberty of questioning over again. The 
 Marquess looked fiercely at me, quite 
 mistaking my motive; nor did I at all 
 explain myself then, but being chosen 
 foreman of the jury, as I knew I would, 
 I refused to retire till I heard three men 
 of the Gordons shortly examined, and 
 then I made it clear to the jurymen, 
 on our retiring, that Major Creigh- 
 ton and Mr. John Hay had both 
 man-sworn themselves, for that neither 
 the Marquess nor one of his family had 
 been proved in the foray; and as for 
 Patrick Gordon, who had been proven 
 there, it was almost proven that he could 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 113 
 
 not possibly have had instructions from 
 Huntly. 
 
 I then put the question, first to Sir 
 William Dick, a just man and a good, who 
 at once gave his voice — not guilty. My 
 coadjutors v^ere thunderstruck, for they all 
 knew we were placed there to condemn 
 the Marquess of Huntly, not to justify 
 him. The next in order tried to reason 
 the matter over again with Dick and me, 
 but got into a passion, and at length voted 
 guilty. Several followed on the same 
 side, and it was merely the influence which 
 Sir William and I possessed in the city, 
 and with the reformers in particular, that 
 caused some of those present to vote the 
 Marquess not guilty, — now when they 
 found they had their greatest opponent in 
 their power. I was certain they thought 
 there was some scheme or plot under it, 
 which they did not comprehend, and that 
 Sir William Dick and I were managing 
 it, whereas we had nothing at heart but 
 
114 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 justice. Our point was awhile very doubt- 
 ful, so much so, that I feared the Marquess 
 was lost, which would have been a great 
 stain on our court of justice ; but every 
 thing was managed by intrigue, and the 
 power or advantage of one party over 
 another was the ruling cause that produced 
 the effect. 
 
 When the vote came to Baillie Ander- 
 son, of Leith, I looked in his face. I saw 
 he was going to vote guilty in support of 
 our faction, but I gave him a look that 
 staggered him, and I repeated it at every 
 turn of his eye. He called the state of 
 the vote to gain time ; then I saw that 
 Patie durst not .vote against me, and 
 accordingly his voice decided it by one. 
 
 I then returned joyfully into the court 
 with the state of the vote in my hand, 
 and said, " My lord, the jury by a plu- 
 rality of voices "find George Gordon, Mar- 
 quess of Huntly — Not Guilty." Never 
 did I see a whole bench so astounded; 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 115 
 
 the matter had been settled and over 
 again settled with them all, and the jus- 
 tice's clerk had composed, it was said, a 
 condemning speech of so tremendous a 
 nature, that it was to astonish all the 
 nations of the world, and even convert the 
 Pope of Rome; but I baulked them all 
 for once, and my lord justice clerk's speech 
 was lost. 
 
 The Marquess had had a powerful party 
 in the house, all desponding ; for when 
 the sentence of the jury was heard, the 
 voices of the audience rose gradually to a 
 tumult of applause, at which the judges 
 were highly offended ; but the old hero, 
 turning round, and bowing to the crowd 
 with the tear in his eye, the thunders of 
 approbation were redoubled. I never re- 
 joiced more, nor was prouder of any thing 
 than of the brave old peer's acquittal, and 
 I perceived that his feelings nearly over- 
 came him. He looked at me with an 
 unstable and palsied look, as if striving in 
 
116 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 vain to recognise me ; but that very after- 
 noon he sent his chariot to my house, with 
 a kind request that I would visit him, 
 which I did, and found himself surrounded 
 by the chief men of his clan, all crazed with 
 joy, and almost ready to worship me. He 
 shewed them the state of the vote with 
 pride, proving that my two votes and 
 influence saved his life. I did not deny 
 it, but acknowledged that I had striven 
 hard for it, and at one time had given 
 him up for lost. I then told him the story 
 of Patie Anderson, at which he laughed 
 very heartily, but still he did not recognise 
 me as his old attendant. 
 
 At length, when we were going to part, 
 he said, " You have indeed saved my life, 
 Baillie, from* a combination of my invete- 
 rate enemies, and if ever it lie in my 
 power to confer a benefit on you or yours, 
 you shall not heed to ask it, but only 
 find means of letting me know of such a 
 thing." 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 117 
 
 " I have saved your life before now, 
 my lord," said I ; " and though I got no 
 reward then, nor look for any now, yet 
 if it lie in my power I would do the 
 same again." 
 
 He looked unsteadily and anxiously at 
 me, and bit his lips, as if struggling with 
 former reminiscences ; and I then noted 
 with pain, for the first time, how much 
 the old chief was altered. He seemed, both 
 in body and mind, no more than the wreck 
 of what he once was. 
 
 " I think I remember the name," said 
 he ; " but it is so long ago, and my 
 memory is so often at fault now-a-days. 
 Yet the name is a singular one. Are you 
 not brother to the Bishop of Galloway ?" 
 
 " I am, my lord," returned I ; " and the 
 same who risked his honour and his neck 
 in saving your life from imminent danger, 
 the last time you were a prisoner in Edin- 
 burgh Castle. You cannot have forgot that 
 adventure? — at least I never shall." 
 
118 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 " I remember every circmiistance of it 
 quite well," said he; " and I thought you 
 were the man, or nearly connected with 
 him ; but I thought it degrading to you 
 to allude to it. I could not believe that 
 the young adventurer who escaped with 
 me, and followed me to the North, could 
 now be the first man in Edinburgh, both 
 in influence and respectability. Well, I 
 cannot help being struck at the singularity 
 of this case. It is very remarkable that I 
 should have been twice indebted for my 
 life to one who had no interest in pre- 
 serving it, and in whom I took no interest. 
 I fear I requited you very indifferently, 
 for as I remember nothing of our parting, 
 I am sure I must have used you very 
 ill." 
 
 " Your son used me very ill, my lord," 
 said I ; " yea, behaved to me in a most 
 brutal manner ; but I never attached any 
 of the blame of that to your lordship. Be 
 assured that I shall live to pay him back 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 119 
 
 in his own coin ; and that with interest. 
 None have ever yet escaped me, either for 
 a good turn or a bad one. As for you, 
 my lord, I have always admired your 
 character for bravery and for honour; and, 
 dreaded as you are by the party whose 
 principles I have espoused, yet I scorned 
 to see you wronged and persecuted to the 
 death. You and I are quits, my lord, 
 but not so with your son Enzie." 
 
 " George is a hot-headed, obstinate 
 fool," said he. " But no more of that. I 
 leave him to take care of himself. In the 
 mean time, you shall accompany me to 
 the Nol'th once more, and I will let you 
 see some little difference about Castle 
 Huntly since the last time you saw it. I 
 want to introduce my deliverer to all my 
 friends." 
 
 " I fear I shall lose credit with my own 
 party if I attach myself thus closely to 
 your lordship," said I. "I have already 
 astounded them a good deal by my efforts 
 
120 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 for your acquittal, and must not ^^ick at 
 them altogether." 
 
 " I understand, I understand," said he, 
 thoughtfully. " Well lat may alter the 
 view I took of the matter. But I really 
 wish it had been otherwise, and that you 
 had gone. It might — it sliould have 
 turned out for your good." 
 
 " Nay, my lord, I am not established 
 here on a foundation so shallow as to fear 
 any party for an act of justice. I will 
 think of your invitation, and probably ac- 
 cept of it." 
 
 I then took my leave, for I saw the old 
 man like to drop from his chair with 
 frailty and fatigue of spirits. He squeezed 
 my hand, and held it for a good while in 
 his without speaking, and he could not so 
 much as say good night when I went 
 away. I saw now that he was fast 
 waning away from this life ; and judging 
 from his manner, that he meant to do me 
 some favour, I judged it prudent to put 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 121 
 
 myself i.- the way, and accompany his 
 lordship home. I was never a man greedy 
 of substance, but I account every man to 
 blame who keeps hk^^elf out of fortune's 
 way ; so the very next day I called on 
 his lordship, but he was confined to bed, 
 and engaged with two notaries ; therefore 
 I saw him not. He grew worse and 
 worse, and I was afraid he never would 
 see Castle Huntly again. It was in the 
 spring of 1636 that the abovementioned 
 trial and acquittal took place ; and about 
 the beginning of summer, the Marquess 
 supposing himself better, requested the 
 fulfilment of my promise, and again re- 
 peated that it should be for my good. I 
 did not think him better, for I thought 
 him fast descending to the grave, as he 
 looked very ill, and had the lines of death 
 deeply indented on his face ; but judging 
 that it might be requisite for my behoof 
 that he should be home before his demise, 
 to arrange and sign some documents, I 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 urged his departure very much, and as an 
 inducement, stated that unless he went 
 immediately, I could not accompany him, 
 nor see him in the North for the space of 
 a whole year. 
 
 Accordingly we set out, as far as I re- 
 member, on the 3d of June ; but we made 
 poor speed, for the Marquess could not bear 
 his chariot to go much faster than at a 
 snail's pace, and only on the most level ways. 
 So, after a wearisome course, we arrived 
 at Dundee on the 10th, and the next day 
 the Marquess could not be removed. There 
 were none of his family but one son-in-law 
 of our retinue, and I was applied to for every 
 thing, so that I had a poor time of it. " Ask 
 the baillie." " Enquire at the baillie." " The 
 baillie must procure us this thing and the 
 other thing ; " was in every body's mouth. 
 Had I been six baillies, not to say men, I 
 could not have performed all that was 
 expected of me. 
 
 I had now lost all hope of my legacy, 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 123 
 
 and would gladly have been quit of my 
 charge, but could not think to leave the 
 old hero in so forlorn a state; for Lord 
 Douglas having posted on to Castle 
 Huntly, I had the sole charge, as it were, 
 of the dying man. I rode with him in 
 his chariot the last day he was on 
 the road; after that, he took all his cor- 
 dials from my hand, and on the afternoon of 
 the 1 3th, he died in my arms in the house 
 of Mr. Robert Murray, a gentleman of 
 that place ; for though his lady had ar- 
 rived the day before, she was so ill, she 
 could not sit up. 
 
 He was a hero to the last, and had no 
 more dread of death than of a night*s 
 quiet repose; but I was convinced he died 
 a true Catholic, for all so often as he had 
 been compelled to renounce his religion 
 by the Committee of Estates and the 
 General Assembly. 
 
 Mr. Bannerman and Mr. Stewart, two 
 notaries public, arrived from Edinburgh, 
 
 G 2 
 
124 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 and took charge of the papers and deeds 
 which the deceased carried with him. I 
 wanted to return home, but these gentle- 
 men dissuaded me, and I confess that 
 some distant hopes of emolument pre- 
 vailed on me to await that splendid fu- 
 neral, which certainly surpassed all I have 
 ever yet beheld, and which I shall now 
 attempt to describe as truly as a frail me- 
 mory retains it. 
 
 [The Baillie's description of the funeral 
 procession from Dundee to the cathedral 
 at Elgin, is minute and tedious; but if 
 true, it is utterly astonishing in such an 
 age of anarchy and confusion. Some part 
 of the management of the charities having 
 been assigned by appointment to the 
 Baillie, his old friend Lord Gordon of 
 Enzie, now the Marquess of Huntly, and 
 he, came once more in contact. But ho- 
 nest Archy, now being head baillie and 
 chief moving spring in the council and 
 city of Edinburgh, and in the hope of be- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 125 
 
 ing Lord Provost next year, all by the in- 
 fluence of Argyle, also a privileged man, 
 went through his department without 
 taking the least notice of the heir and 
 chief of the family for whom he was act- 
 ing ; but the Marquess discovered in the 
 end who he was and all their former 
 connection, and certainly treated him 
 scurvily. I must copy his account of this.] 
 
 On the Tuesday following, the will and 
 testament of the late Marquess was read in 
 the gTeat hall, and all the servants and 
 officers were suffered to be present; but 
 when the new Marquess cast his eyes 
 on me, he asked " what was my business 
 there?" 
 
 I answered " that his lordship would 
 perceive that by and by; and that at 
 all events I had as good a right to 
 be there as others of his father's old ser- 
 vants ; " and being a little nettled, I said 
 what, perhaps, I should not have said, 
 " for," added I, " it is possible that neither 
 
126 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 yourself nor any of them ever had the 
 honour of twice savmg your father's Hfe as 
 I have had." 
 
 " You saved my father's Hfe, Sir ? You 
 saved my father's hfe ? " said he, disdain- 
 fully. " You never had the power. Sir, 
 to save the life of one of my father's cats. 
 Leave the mansion immediately. I know 
 you well for a traitor and a spy of the 
 house of Argyle." 
 
 A sign from Mr. Bannerman, the agent, 
 now brought me up to him, before I ven- 
 tured a reply. He gave me a hint of 
 something that shall be nameless, and at 
 the same time waved me toward the door, 
 that the Marquess might think I was 
 ordered out by the notary as well as 
 himself. So I went toward the hall 
 door, and before going out, I turned and 
 said — * 
 
 " This castle and hall are your own, 
 my lord, and you must be obeyed. I am 
 therefore compelled reluctantly to retire, 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 127 
 
 but before going, I order you, Mr. Robert 
 Bannerman and Mr. Robert Stewart, again 
 to close up these documents, and proceed 
 no farther ; no, not so much as in reading 
 another word until you do it in my house 
 in Edinburgh, before a committee of the 
 lords of session." 
 
 The Marquess laughed aloud, while his 
 face burnt with indignation ; but to his 
 astonishment the men of law began fold- 
 ing up their papers at my behest. 
 
 " Gentlemen, pray go on with the busi- 
 ness in hand," said he; " sure you are 
 not going to be silenced by this mad and 
 self-important citizen ?" 
 
 The men, after some jangle of law 
 terras, declared they could not go on but 
 in my presence, as I was both a principal 
 legatee, and a trustee on many charities 
 and funds. The great man's intolerable 
 pride was hurt ; he grew pale with dis- 
 pleasure ; and as far as I could judge, he 
 was within an hair's breadth of ordering 
 
128 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 his marshal to seize both the men and 
 their papers, and myself into the bargain. 
 The men thought so too, for they began 
 enlarging on the will being registered and 
 inviolable, save by a breach of all law 
 and decorum ; and that same Dame Deco- 
 rum at length came to the proud aristo- 
 crat's aid, and with a low bow, and a 
 sneer of scorn on his countenance, he pointed 
 to one of the chairs of state, and requested 
 me to be seated. 
 
 I did as I was desired, for in a great 
 man's presence, I accounted it always the 
 worst of manners to object to his request, 
 and I saw by the faces of the assembly, that 
 I had more friends, at that moment, than 
 the new-made Marquess himself. 
 
 Well ; the men went on with the dis- 
 posal of lands, rents, and fees ; all of which 
 seemed to give great satisfaction, till they 
 came to the very last codicil, wherein the 
 late worthy Marquess bequeathed to me 
 his palace in the Canongate with all that 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. V29 
 
 it contained ; and all because I had, at 
 two different times, saved him from aii 
 immediate and disgraceful death. It has 
 been alleged by some that I have been a 
 proud and conceited man all my life ; but 
 it is well known to my friends that the 
 reverse of this is the truth. I never was, 
 however, so proud of worldly recommend- 
 ation and worldly honours, as I was at 
 that moment. Mr. Stewart, who was then 
 reading, when he came to the clause, made 
 a loud hem, as if clearing his voice, and 
 then went on in a louder tone. 
 
 " I give, leave, and bequeath to the 
 worthy and honourable Baillie Archibald 
 Sydeserf, my house in the Canongate, with 
 all its appurtenances, entrances, and offices, 
 and all within and without the houses 
 that belongeth to me, save and except the 
 two stables above the water gate, and 
 the bed of state in the southern room, all 
 of which were presents from the Duke of 
 Chatelherault, my grandfather, to me and 
 
 G 3 
 
130 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 mine, and must therefore be retained in 
 my family. The rest I bequeath, &c., &c., 
 to the worthy Mr. Sydeserf, and all for 
 having twice, of his own accord and free 
 will, and without any hope of reward, 
 farther than the love of honour and the 
 approbation of a good conscience, delivered 
 me from immediate death by the hands of 
 my implacable enemies." 
 
 I confess when I heard this read out in 
 a strong, mellow and affecting tone, I could 
 not resist crying; the tears ran down 
 my cheeks, and I was obliged to dight 
 them with my sleeve, and snifter like 
 a whipped boy. I at length ventured 
 to lift my eyes through tears to the face 
 of the new Marquess, sure of now spying 
 symptoms of a congenial feeling ; but in- 
 stead of that, I perceived his face turned 
 half aside, while he was literally gnawing 
 his lip in pride and vexation ; and when 
 the clerk had finished, he said with a 
 burst of breath, as if apostrophizing him- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 131 
 
 self— "I'll be d d if he shall ever 
 
 inherit it, or ought that it contains." 
 
 Now the devil is in this man, thought L 
 Surely the spirit that worketh in the 
 children of disobedience hath taken full 
 and free possession of his haughty mind, 
 else he could never be so void of all j-e- 
 spect both for the dead and living. 
 
 After this proud exclamation there was 
 a pause. " Humph !" said the clerk ; 
 " humph !" said a dozen and more of voices 
 throughout the hall. " Humph !" said I, 
 by way of winding up the growl, and 
 gave my head a significant nod, as much 
 as if I had said, " We'll see about that^ 
 my lord." My heart again burnt within 
 me, and I resolved once more to be even 
 with this haughty chief, if ever it lay in 
 my power. 
 
 I lodged that night in the town of 
 Huntly, waiting on Messrs. Bannerman 
 and Stewart, for we had conjointly hired 
 a guard to attend us to Aberdeen; but in 
 
132 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 the middle of the night my landlord came 
 in to me with a crazed look, and asked 
 me if I was sleeping; I said " yes." 
 " Then," said he, " you must waken your- 
 self up as fast as you can, for there is a 
 gentleman in the house who has called 
 expressly to see you. For God's sake, sir, 
 make haste and come to him." 
 
 " A gentleman called on me !" said I ; 
 " pray, sir, who takes it on him to disturb 
 me, a stranger, at these untimeous hours ? 
 Tell him I'll see him to-morrow as early 
 as he likes." 
 
 " Oh, God bless your honour, it is to- 
 morrow already," said mine host with ap- 
 parent trepidation, " and therefore you 
 must come to him without a moment's 
 delay." 
 
 "What is the matter, sir?" said I. 
 " Who is it ? — what is the matter ?" 
 
 *' Oh, it is one of the chieftains of the 
 Gordons," said he ; ** and that you will 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE, 133 
 
 find. I know very well who it is, but as 
 to what is the matter, there you puzzle 
 me ; for unless it be some duel business, 
 I cannot conceive what it is. All that I 
 can come at is, that your life is in danger 
 — hope you have not offended any of the 
 Gordons, sir ?" 
 
 " I will not leave my room, sir, at this 
 untimeous hour," said I, rather too much 
 agitated. " It is my domicile for the pre- 
 sent, and I debar all intrusions. If it is 
 on an affair of duelling, you may tell the 
 gentleman that I fight no duels. I am a 
 magistrate, a Christian, and an elder of 
 the reformed Church, and therefore it does 
 not become such a man as me to fight 
 duels." 
 
 " God bless your honour," said the fel- 
 low, laughing with the voice of a highland 
 bull. " Come and tell all this to the gen- 
 tleman himself, I am no judge of such 
 matters. An elder of the reformed Church 
 
134 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 are you ? What church is that ? Are you 
 for the king or the covenant ? I should Hke 
 to know, for all depends on that here." 
 
 I have forgot what answer I made to 
 this, for while I was speaking, a furious 
 rap came on my chamber door ; I was so 
 much alarrned that I could neither breathe 
 nor speak for a short space, nevertheless I 
 took the matter with that calm resolution 
 that became a man and 'a magistrate. 
 
 " Yes, sir, yes ; coming, sir," cried mine 
 host. Then whispering me — " for mercy's 
 sake get up and come away, sir," said he ; 
 and he actually took hold of my wrist, 
 and began a-pulling to bring me over the 
 bed. I resisted with the resolution of 
 keeping my ground, but a voice of thunder 
 called outside the door, " George, you dog, 
 why don't you bring the gentleman away 
 as I ordered you ?" 
 
 " He will not come, sir. He'll not stir a 
 foot," said the landlord. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 135 
 
 " But he must come, and that without 
 a moment's delay," said the same tre- 
 mendous voice. 
 
 " I told him so, sir," said the landlord ; 
 " but for all that he will not stir. The 
 gentleman, sir, is a magistrate, and an 
 elder of the reformed kirk, and never fights 
 any duels." 
 
 " G — d's everlasting curse !" cried the 
 impatient monster, and burst open the 
 door. He was a man of gigantic stature, 
 between sixty and seventy years of age, 
 and covered with a suit of heavy armour. 
 " ril tell you what it is, sir," said he ; 
 " you must either arise on the instant, and 
 dress yourself and come along with me, 
 else I will be under the disagreeable neces- 
 sity of carrying you off as you are. Don't 
 ask a single question, nor make a single 
 remark, for there is not a moment to 
 lose." 
 
 " Well, well, sir, since it must be so, it 
 shall be as you desire," said I, rising and 
 
136 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 dressing myself with perfect coolness. I 
 even joked about the Gordons, and their 
 summary mode of proceeding with stran- 
 gers ; and hinted at some of the late de- 
 crees in counsel against them. 
 
 " The Gordons care very little what is 
 decreed against them in Edinburgh," re- 
 plied he ; " particularly by a set of paltry 
 innovators." 
 
 " I fear they are much altered for the 
 worse since I lived among them," said I. 
 
 " It is the times that are altered for the 
 worse, and not we," said he. " The cha- 
 racter of men must conform to their cir- 
 cumstances, Mr. Sydeserf. Of that you 
 have had some experience, and you will 
 have more ere long." 
 
 He said this in a sullen and thoughtful 
 mood, and I was confounded at thinking 
 whereto all this tended, though I was 
 certain it could not be to\\^ards good. The 
 most probable conjecture I could form was, 
 that the Marquess had sent for me, either 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 137 
 
 to shut me up in one of the vaults of the 
 old castle, or throw me off the bridge into 
 the river, to let me knov^ how to speak to 
 a Gordon in the hows of Strathbogie. But 
 there was no alternative for the present ; 
 so I marched down stairs before the 
 venerable and majestic warrior, in perfect 
 good humour ; and lo, and behold ! when 
 I went to the door, there was a whole 
 company of cavalry, well mounted, with 
 drawn swords in their hands, and my 
 horse standing saddled in the midst of 
 them, held by a trooper standing on foot. 
 
 " Good morrow to you, gentlemen," said 
 I heartily. 
 
 " Good morrow, sir," growled a few 
 voices in return. 
 
 " Now mount, sir, mount," said the 
 chief of this warlike horde ; I did so, and 
 away we rode I knew not whither. 
 
 It was about the darkest time of a 
 summer night when we set out, but the 
 night being quite short, it soon began to 
 
138 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 grow light, and I then could not but ad- 
 mire the figure of the old chieftain, who 
 still kept by my left hand and at the 
 head of the cavalcade* He appeared sul- 
 len and thoughtful, was clad in complete 
 heavy armour, rode with his drawn sword 
 in his hand, a pair of pistols in his belt, 
 and a pair of tremendous horse pistols 
 slung at his saddle-bow. He appeared 
 likewise to be constantly on the look-out, 
 as if afraid of a surprise; but all this while 
 I took matters so coolly, that I never so 
 much as enquired where he was conveying 
 me. 
 
 However, about the sun rising, to my 
 great wonder, I came into the ancient 
 town of Inverary, which I knew at first 
 sight, and in which I had friends. This 
 was the very way I wanted to go, and 
 could not comprehend to what fate I was 
 destined. We halted behind a thicket on 
 the right bank of the way, and a scout 
 was sent into the town, who instantly 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 139 
 
 returned with the information that it was 
 occupied by a party of the rebels. How 
 heartily I wished myself in the hands and 
 power of these same rebels ; but such a 
 thing was not to be suffered. The veteran 
 ordered his troop to make ready for a 
 charge, and putting me from his right 
 hand into the middle of the body, he made 
 choice of some of his friends to support 
 him, and we went into the town at a 
 sharp trot. No man meddled with us, 
 but we saw there was a confusion in the 
 town, and people running as if mad here 
 and there. However, when we came to 
 the old bridge over the Don, it was guarded, 
 and a party of infantry were forming on 
 the other side. To force the bridge was 
 impossible, for scarcely could two troopers 
 ride abreast on it, and they had scaffolds 
 on each side, from which they could have 
 killed every man of us. I was terrified 
 lest our leader should have attempted it, 
 for he hesitated ; but, wheeling to the left, 
 
140 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 he took the ford. The party then opened 
 a brisk fire on us, and several of the Gor- 
 dons fell, one of them among my horse's 
 feet, to my great hazard. I thought the 
 men were mad, for I could not at all see 
 what reason they had for fighting, and 
 am certain a simple explanation on either 
 side would have prevented it. The Gor- 
 dons rode out of the river full drive on the 
 faces of their enemies,' discharged their 
 carabines and pistols, though not with 
 much effect, as far as I could judge, for 
 few of the party fell ; however, they all 
 fled toward a wood on a rising ground 
 close by, and a few were cut down before 
 they entered it. From that they fired in 
 safety on the Gordons, who were terribly 
 indignant, but were obliged to draw off, 
 at which I was exceedingly glad, for I 
 expected every moment for more than an 
 hour to be shot., without having it in 
 my power either to fight or flee. 
 
 We rode into Kintore, and the old 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 141 
 
 veteran, placing a guard at each end of 
 the town, led me to the hostel along with 
 six of his chief men and friends, and enter- 
 tained us graciously. The strong drink 
 cheered up his grave and severe visage, 
 and I thought I never saw a face of more 
 interest. All men may judge of my utter 
 amazement, when he addressed me in a 
 set speech to the following purport. 
 
 "No wonder that my heart is heavy 
 to-day, worthy sir ; hem ! I have had a 
 most disagreeable part to perform." — I 
 trembled. — " So I have, hem ! I have lost 
 my chief, who was as a brother, a father 
 to me from my childhood, — who was a 
 bulwark around his friends, and the terror 
 of his enemies. Scotland shall never again 
 behold such a nobleman as my late brave 
 kinsman and chief. You may then judge 
 with what feelings I regard you, when I 
 tell you that I have met you before, though 
 you remember me not. I was in the 
 mock court of justice that day when the 
 
J 42 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 old hero was tried by a jury of his sworn 
 enemies, and when your unexampled 
 energy, honour, and influence alone saved 
 his life. I met you at his house that 
 evening, and had the pleasure of embrac- 
 ing you once. I had nothing to bestow 
 on you but my sword ; but I vowed to 
 myself that night, that if ever you needed 
 it, it should be drawn in your defence. 
 The usage you received yesterday cut me 
 to the heart. I heard more than I will 
 utter. Lord Gordon is now my chief, and 
 I will fight for him while I have a drop 
 of blood to spend ; but he shall never be 
 backed by old Alexander Gordon in any 
 cause that is unjust. I neither say that 
 your life was in imminent danger, nor that 
 it was not ; but I trembled for it, and 
 resolved to make sure work. You are 
 now out of the territory of the Gordons, 
 and lose not a moment's time until you 
 are fairly in Edinburgh. You will find 
 some there from Castle Huntly before you. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 143 
 
 It cuts me to the heart that I should ever 
 have been obliged to do a deed in oppo- 
 sition to the inclinations and even the 
 commands of my chief — but what I have 
 done I have done. Farewell ; and God be 
 your speed. You and old Glen-bucket 
 may haply meet again." 
 
 My heart was so full that I could not 
 express myself, and it was probably as 
 well that I did not make too great a 
 palaver; for I merely said in return, that 
 there was nothing in nature that I revered 
 or admired so much as a due respect for 
 the memory of the good and the great 
 that had been removed from this scene of 
 things ; and on that ground principally I 
 took this act of his as the very highest 
 compliment that could have been paid me. 
 
 [The Baillie then hasted to Edinburgh, 
 where he found matters going grievously 
 to his injury. His party had combined 
 against him, in the full persuasion that 
 he had joined the adverse side, and for 
 
144 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 all his former interest, he could never force 
 himself forward again until Argyle's return 
 from London. The Marquess of Huntly 
 had moreover taken possession of his 
 father's house, and shut the doors of it 
 in the Baillie's face, and then a litigation 
 ensued, which perhaps more than any 
 thing renovated his influence once more 
 in the city. 
 
 Argyle never lost sight of his depend- 
 ant's interest, and appears to have paid a 
 deference to him that really goes far to 
 establish the position which the Baillie 
 always takes in the estimation of himself. 
 There is, at all events, one thing for which 
 he cannot be too much praised. The king 
 had been accustomed to nominate the Pro- 
 vost and Baillie of Edinburgh each year. 
 From this we may infer, that some fa- 
 vourite nobleman engaged in the adminis- 
 tration of Scottish affairs, and who had 
 some object to gain in and through the 
 magistrates of Edinburgh, gave the king 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 145 
 
 in such list as he wanted, and then that 
 his Majesty signed this Hst, and sent it to 
 the counsel, with order to choose their 
 men. The Baillie was the first man to 
 withstand this arbitrary procedure, and he 
 carried his point, not perhaps by the fairest 
 and most open means, but he did gain it, 
 which was a privilege of high moment to 
 the city, if the inhabitants had made a good 
 use of it ; but the tricks of one party 
 against another were not more prevalent, 
 nor more debasing, than it appears they 
 are at this day of boasted freedom and 
 enlargement ; only the nobles had then to 
 canvass for the magistrates, whereas the 
 magistrates have now to canvass for them- 
 selves. But in fact, some of the Baillie's 
 narratives, if copied, would be regarded as 
 satires on the proceedings of the present 
 age. 
 
 We shall therefore pass over this part 
 of the memoirs, and proceed to one of 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
■146 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 greater import, which commences with 
 the beginning of the civil wars in Scotland. 
 The Baillie had taken the covenant at an 
 early period, and continued firm and true 
 to that great bond of reformation. The 
 great Montrose was, it seems, at one time, 
 a ' strenuous covenanter ; for the Baillie 
 says he was present at St. Andrew's when 
 the said Montrose swore the covenant; 
 and that there was a number of gentlemen 
 and noblemen took it on the same day of 
 April 1737? and that forthwith he began 
 to raise men in his own country, all of 
 whom he forced to take the covenant 
 before they were embodied in his army.] 
 
 The Marquess of Huntly, continues 
 the Baillie, having raised an army in 
 the North, for the avowed purpose of 
 crushing the covenanters, I was very 
 strenuous at that rneeting that they 
 should take him in time, and rather carry 
 the war into his own country than suffer 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 147 
 
 him to wreak his pride and vengeance on 
 his covenanting neighbours. The . thing- 
 being agreed to, the gentlemen of Fife and 
 Angus instantly set about raising men, 
 and I returned to Edinburgh, and engag- 
 ing Sir William Dick, the lord provost, 
 and all the counsel in the same cause, in 
 the course of nine days we raised a hun- 
 dred and seventy-two men, whom I un- 
 dertook to lead to our colonel, which I did 
 with the assistance of two good officers — 
 but I had a captain that was worse than 
 nobody. 
 
 If it had not been for Lieutenant Thor- 
 burn, who had served abroad, these men 
 would never have been kept in subordina- 
 tion by me, for they were mostly raga- 
 muffins of the lowest order ; drinkers, 
 swearers, and frequenters of brothels ; and 
 I having the purse a-keeping, never en- 
 gaged in such a charge in my life. Truly I 
 thought shame of our city covenanters, for 
 
 H 2 
 
148 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 they were a very bad-looking set of men. 
 They had good arms, which they did not 
 well know how to use, but save a cap 
 they had no other uniform. Some had no 
 shoes, and some had shoes without hose, 
 while others had no clothing at all save a 
 ragged coat and apron. We lodged a 
 night at Inverkeithing, and there being 
 no chaplain, I said prayers with them, 
 and desired to see them all at worship 
 again by six in the morning. I then paid 
 them at the rate of half a merk a-piece for 
 two days. But next morning at the ap- 
 pointed time, of my whole army only 
 thirteen appeared at head-quarters to at- 
 tend worship. I asked of these where all 
 the rest were, and they replied that the 
 greater part of them were mortal drunk. 
 I asked if my officers were drunk likewise, 
 and they told me that Thomas Wilson, the 
 tallow-chandler, was the drunkest of any ; 
 but as for Thorburn, he was doing all 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 149 
 
 that he could to muster the troop, to no 
 purpose. 
 
 I then stood up and made a speech to 
 the few men that I had, wherein I repre- 
 sented to them the enormous impropriety 
 in men, who had risen up in defence of 
 their rehgion and Hberties, abandoning 
 themselves to drunkenness, the mother of 
 every vice. I then begged heaven for their 
 forgiveness, in a short prayer, and forth- 
 with dispatched my remnant to assist the 
 lieutenant in rousing their inebriated asso- 
 ciates. 
 
 " You must draw them together with 
 the cords of men," said I ; " and if neces- 
 sary, you must even use the rod of mode- 
 rate correction ; I mean, you must strip 
 off their clothes, and scourge them with 
 whips." 
 
 The men smiled at my order, and went 
 away promising to use their endeavour. 
 I followed, and found Thorburn in a back 
 ground to the west of the town, having 
 
150 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 about the half of the men collected, but 
 keeping them together with the greatest 
 difficulty. As for Wilson, he was sitting 
 on an old dike laughing, and so drunk I 
 could not know what he said ; I went up 
 and began to expostulate with him, but 
 all the apology I could get was vacant 
 and provoking laughter, and some such 
 words as these — " It is really grand !" then 
 " he, he, he, Baillie. 1 say, Baillie, it is 
 really grand ! What would Montrose say 
 if he saw — if he saw this ? Eh ? 0, 
 I beg his pardon ; I do, I do, I beg his 
 pardon. But after all it is really grand ! 
 he — he — he," &c. 
 
 Those that were at all sober continued 
 to drag in their companions to the rendez- 
 vous ; but some of them were so irritated 
 at being torn from their cups, that they 
 fought desperate battles with their con- 
 ductors. One of them appeared so totally 
 insubordinate, that I desired he might be 
 punished, to which Thorburn assenting at 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 151 
 
 once, he was tied to a tree, and his shirt 
 tirled over his head. He exclaimed bit- 
 terly against this summary way of punish- 
 ment, and appealed to the captain. I said 
 to Thorburn I certainly thought it as well 
 to have Wilson's consent ; and then a scene 
 occurred that passes all description. Thor- 
 burn went up to him, and says, " Captain, 
 shall I or shall I not give John Hill a 
 hundred lashes for rioting and insubordin- 
 ation ?" 
 
 " For what ?" sa3^s Wilson, without 
 lifting his head that hung down near his 
 knee — " some board in the nation ! what's 
 that ?" 
 
 " He has refused to obey orders, sir, 
 and rebelled." 
 
 " Lick him, lick him weel ! thresh him 
 soundly. Refused to obey orders and re- 
 belled ! he's no blate ! Thorburn, I say, 
 lick him weel ; skelp him till the blood 
 rins off at his heels." 
 
 The order was instantly obeyed, but 
 
152 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 the troop, instead of being impressed with 
 awe, never got such sport before. They 
 laughed till they held their sides, and some 
 actually slid off at a corner to have a 
 parting glass in the mean time. 
 
 " Thorburn, what shall be done to get 
 these men once more embodied and set on 
 the way ?" said I. 
 
 " Faith, sir, there are just two ways of 
 doing it, and no more>" said he. "We 
 must either wait patiently till their money 
 is spent or set the town on fire ; and on 
 mine honour I would do the latter, for it 
 is a cursed shabby place, and the people 
 are even worse than ours." 
 
 " That would be a desperate resource, 
 sir," says L " It is not customary to sloken 
 one fire by kindling another. Cause pro- 
 clamation to be made at the drum's head, 
 that every man who does" not join the 
 troop in marching order in a quarter of an 
 hour, shall be taken up and punished as a 
 deserter." 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 153 
 
 This brought together the greater part, 
 but sundry remained, and I left a party 
 to bring them up as deserters, unluckily 
 the captain was one of them. Him I re- 
 primanded very severely, for he was in 
 the council, and being a poor spendthrift, 
 had got this office for a little lucre, which 
 I considered no great honour to our frater- 
 nity. 
 
 Nothing further occurred during the 
 next two days, and the third we reached 
 the army, which was drawing to a head 
 about Brechin, Fettercairn, and Montrose. 
 Our colonel, who was then only Earl of 
 Montrose, met me at Brechin, and many 
 were the kind things he said to me. I 
 told him I was ashamed to meet him, for 
 that I had brought him a set of the 
 greatest reprobates that I believed ever 
 breathed since the days of Sodom and 
 Gomorrah, and that I really was afraid 
 they would entail a curse on the army of 
 the church. 
 
 H 3 
 
154 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 He smiled good naturedly, and said, 
 " Keep your mind at ease about that, 
 Baillie, if the church and the land in 
 general can both establish their rights and 
 purge themselves at the same time, there 
 are two great points gained. Are they 
 able, well-bodied men." 
 
 " Their bodies are not so much amiss, 
 my lord," said I, "but as to their im- 
 mortal part I tremble to think of that." 
 He joked with me, and said something 
 about soldiers' souls which I do not choose 
 to repeat, as it had rather a tincture of 
 flippancy and irreverence for divine things. 
 He expressed himself perfectly well pleased 
 with the men, saying, " he would soon 
 make them excellent fellows, and begged 
 that we would send him thrice as many 
 greater ragamufiins if I could get them, 
 for that he would reform them more in 
 one year than all' the preachers in Scotland 
 would do in twenty." I said he did not 
 yet know them, and gave him a hint of 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 155 
 
 their horrid insubordination. My lord was 
 not naturally a merry man, but mild, gen- 
 tlemanly, and dignified, nevertheless he 
 laughed aloud at this ; saying, " it was I 
 that did not know them, for he would 
 answer to me for their perfect subordina- 
 tion." 
 
 I then sounded him on his plans of car- 
 rying on the war, and tried all I could to 
 induce him to an instant attack on the 
 Marquess of Huntly. But I found him not 
 so easily swayed as the town council of 
 Edinburgh, for when I could not manage 
 them by reason, I found it always possible 
 to do so by intrigue and stratagem ; but 
 here my reasoning failed me, and I had no 
 further resource. He assured me that 
 Huntly was more afraid of us than we 
 were of him, and though he was encou- 
 raging the Aberdeenians to their own de- 
 struction, he would take a re not to 
 meddle with our levies ; and, therefore, 
 that these should not be led into his 
 
156 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 bounds until they were fairly drilled, so 
 as to be a match for the best men in 
 Strathbogie. " How could I lead these 
 men into battle at present ?" added he. 
 
 " If you could, my lord," said I, for I 
 wanted to lose my arguments with as 
 good a grace as I could : " If you could, 
 my lord, you could do more than I could, 
 for, notwithstanding all the influence I 
 seemed to have possessed with our people, 
 notwithstanding threats and scourges, I 
 could not get them out of Inverkeithing, 
 where there was some wretched drink, 
 almost for a whole day; nay, not till 
 Lieutenant Thorburn came to me with 
 a grave face, and requested permission to 
 fire the town about them." 
 
 He laughed exceedingly at this ; nay, 
 he even laughed until he was obliged to 
 sit down and hold a silk napkin to his 
 face. Thus were all my arguments for 
 instant and imperious war with Huntly 
 lost, in the hopes of which alone I had 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 157 
 
 taken the charge of these recruits to the 
 north, yea, even though I assured Mon- 
 trose, from heaven, that in any engage- 
 ment w^ith Huntly in which I took a part 
 there w^as a certainty of ample and abso- 
 lute success, so perfectly assured was I of 
 having day about with him. He answered 
 me that there was no gentleman of whose 
 counsel and assistance he would be hap- 
 pier to avail himself in such an emergency, 
 but that the harvest was not yet ripe, nor 
 the reapers duly prepared ; but whenever 
 these important circumstances fitted, I 
 should be duly apprised, and have his 
 right ear in the progi^ess of the war. 
 
 I have dwelt rather longer on these re- 
 miniscences, because he turned out so great 
 a man, and so great a scourge to the party 
 he then espoused with so much zeal. 
 Sorry was I when he deserted the good 
 cause, and though some of our own side 
 were the primary cause of his defect, yet 
 I comforted myself with this, that he had 
 
158 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 not been chosen by the Ahuighty to effect 
 the freedom of this land. But often did I 
 think with deep regret that if the cove- 
 nanting party had still been blessed with 
 Argyle's political talents, and Montrose's 
 warlike and heroic accomplishments, we 
 had remained invincible to all sects, parties, 
 and divisions. As for the great and su- 
 preme Marquess of Huntly, I despised him 
 as much as I hated him, well knowing 
 that his intolerable pride would never 
 suffer him to co-operate with any other 
 leader, and what could the greatest chief 
 of the kingdom do by himself 
 
 Montrose was as good as his word, for 
 early in the spring, he wrote for some am- 
 munition and mortars, and requested that 
 I might be permitted to bring the supplies, 
 as a siege, of Aberdeen and a battle with 
 Huntly could be no longer postponed ; and 
 he added in a postscript, " Inform my 
 worthy friend the Baillie that Captain 
 Thorburn and a detachment of the Edin- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 159 
 
 burgh troop shall meet him at Inverkeith- 
 ing, as a suitable escort to the fire- 
 works." 
 
 Accordingly, on the 3d of February, 
 1639, I again took the road to the north, 
 at the head of a good assortment of war- 
 like stores, the most of which our new 
 General Lesley had just taken out of the 
 Castle of Dalkeith. Money was sorely a- 
 wanting, but some of the leading men of 
 the committee contrived to borrow a good 
 round sum. My friend Sir William Dick 
 lent them in one day no less than 40,000 
 marks, against my counsel and advice. 
 They likewise applied to me, but I only 
 shook my head ; Argyle was even so 
 ungenerous as to urge it, but I begged his 
 lordship, who was at the head of the 
 committee, to show me the example, and 
 I would certainly follow it to the utmost 
 of my power. This silenced his lordship, 
 and pleased the rest of the committee well, 
 
.160 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 for the truth is, that Argyle would never 
 advance a farthing. 
 
 Well, north I goes with the supplies, 
 and, as our colonel had promised, a detach- 
 ment of my former rascals under Thor- 
 burn, met me at Inverkeithing. Had all 
 the committee of estates sworn it, I could 
 not have believed that such a difference 
 could have been wrought on men. They 
 were not only perfect soldiers, but gentle- 
 men soldiers; sober, regular, and subor- 
 dinate, and I thenceforward concluded, 
 that no one could calculate what such a 
 man as Montrose was capable of per- 
 forming. 
 
 He welcomed nie with the same gentle- 
 manly ease and affability as formerly, but 
 I could not help having a sort of feeling 
 that he v^as always making rather sport 
 of me in his warlike consultations. He 
 had a field-day at Old Montrose, on a 
 fine green there, and at every evolution 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 161 
 
 he asked my opinion with regard to 
 the perfectness of the troops in the exer- 
 cise. I knew not what to say some- 
 times, but I took the safe side ; I always 
 commended. 
 
 At our messes we spoke much of the 
 approaching campaign. The men of Aber- 
 deen had fortified their city in grand 
 style, and depending on Huntly's co- 
 operation without, they laughed at us, our 
 army, and tenets, beyond measure. There 
 was a young gentleman, a Captain Mar- 
 shall, in our mess, who repeated their 
 brags often for sport, and as he spoke 
 in their broad dialect, he never failed 
 settmg the mess in a bray of laugh- 
 ter. Montrose always encouraged this 
 fun, for it irritated the officers against 
 the Aberdeen people and the Gordons, 
 beyond measure. I positively began to 
 weary for the attack myself, and resolved 
 to have due vengeance on them for 
 
162 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 their despite and mockery of the cove- 
 nant. 
 
 On the 27th of March, we set out on 
 our march in the evening. The two regi- 
 ments trained by Montrose took the van ; 
 men excellently appointed, most of them 
 having guns, and the rest long poles with 
 steel heads as sharp as lancets, most deadly 
 weapons. Lord Douglas's regiment marched 
 next, and the new-raised Fife and M earns 
 men brought up the rear. I went with 
 the artillery and baggage. During our 
 march, men were placed on all the roads 
 that no passenger might pass into Aber- 
 deen with the news of our approach. Par- 
 ties were also despatched to the North 
 roads, who got plenty to do ; for the he- 
 roes of Aberdeen having got notice of our 
 advance, sent messengers off full speed 
 by every path, to apprise Huntly of their 
 danger, and request his instant descent. 
 Our men caught these fellows galloping 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 163 
 
 in the most dreadful desperation, and took 
 all their despatches from them. One after 
 another they came, and no doubt some of 
 them would find their way, but never one 
 came from Huntly in return. I saw one 
 of these heralds of dismay caught myself 
 by our rear guard near a place called 
 Banchary, for they were trying even that 
 road, and I was a good deal diverted by 
 the lad's running, which, had it not been 
 for his manifest alarm, would have de- 
 ceived some of us. They brought him to me 
 in the dusk of the evening, no chief officer 
 being nigh at the time. He was mounted 
 on a grey pony, and both that and 
 he were covered over with foam and 
 mud. Something of the following dialogue 
 ensued. 
 
 " Where may you be bound, my good 
 lad, in such a hurry and so late ?" 
 
 " Oo fath, sur, am jeest gaun a yurrant 
 mee muster's. That's a', sur : jeest a 
 buttie yurrant o' mee muster's." 
 
164 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 " Who is your master ?" 
 
 " Oo he's a juntlemun o' the town, 
 sur." 
 
 " The provost ?" 
 
 " The previce ! Him a previce ! 
 Nhaw." 
 
 " You are not a servant of the provost's, 
 then?" 
 
 " Am nae a survunt to nee buddy." 
 
 " How far are you going ?" 
 
 " Oo am jeest gaun up to the brugg o' 
 Dee yunder." 
 
 "What to do?".. 
 
 " Oo am jeest gaun to bring three or 
 four horse lads o bruggs and sheen that's 
 needit for the wars. There will mawbe 
 be some beets among them tee aw, cudna 
 be saying for that, for they ca't them jeest 
 bruggs and sheen. But aw think its luke- 
 ly there will be some beets. Me muster 
 was varra feared that the rubels wud 
 chuck them fra ma is aw cum down, but 
 he was no feared for them tucking mysell." 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 165 
 
 This was a great stretch of low cun- 
 nmg. He perceived we needed the shoes, 
 and thought we would let him pass, that 
 we might catch him with them on his 
 return, and some of our Serjeants winked 
 to me to let him go, but I suspected the 
 draught. 
 
 " Have you no letters or despatches 
 about you, young man ?" rejoined I ; " for 
 if you have you are in some danger at 
 present, notwithstanding all your lies about 
 the brogs and shoes and small mixture of 
 boots." 
 
 " Oo aw wut weel, sur, I ha nee dus- 
 patches, nor naithing o' the kind, but jeest 
 a wee buttie lattur to the sheemuker." 
 « Show it me." 
 
 " Fat have ye to dee wi' the peer shee- 
 muker' s buttie lattur ?" 
 
 I ordered two officers to search him, but 
 they that had seen his looks when a packet 
 was taken from his bosom with this direc- 
 tion ! 
 
■166 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 " TO THE MOST HONOURABLE 
 AND MOST NOBLE 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF HUNTLY." 
 
 - I read out the direction in his hearing. 
 " Ay, my lad ! " added I, " this is a head 
 shoemaker with whom your people deal 
 for their bruggs and their sheen.^^ 
 
 He scratched his head. " Dumm them !" 
 said he ; " they tulled mee that lutter was 
 till a sheemucker." 
 
 What more could be said to the poor 
 fellow ? He was taken into custody, and 
 the packet forwarded to our commander. 
 
 All the despatches manifested the utmost 
 trepidation in the good folks of Aberdeen. 
 They virged the Marquess, by every mo- 
 tive they could suggest, to come down on 
 Montrose's rear while they defended their 
 city against him ; and that between 
 two fires, he and his army would be 
 easily annihilated, while if he (Huntly) 
 suffered that single opportunity to pass, 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 167 
 
 their city would be sacked and burnt, 
 and then Montrose would turn his vic- 
 torious arms against him, and root out 
 him and his whole clan. 
 
 Montrose perceived from these the ne- 
 cessity of despatch, and accordingly on the 
 morning of the 30th of March he invested 
 the city at three points with a celerity of 
 which I had no conception. There were 
 likewise detachments put to guard the two 
 ferries of the Don and Dee, so that none 
 might escape. As I took no command on me 
 in the battle, I went with the laird of Cairn- 
 Greig and a few others to the top of an 
 old ruin to see the bombardment, and 
 truly T never beheld such an uproar and 
 confusion as there prevailed on the first 
 opening of our mortars and guns» Their 
 three entrances were all pallisaded and 
 made very strong with redoubts, and with- 
 out dispute they might have defended 
 themselves against an army double our 
 strength, and so perhaps they would, could 
 
■168 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 they have depended on Huntly, which no 
 man ever did who was not disappointed. 
 But moreover the attack from within was 
 more violent than that from without. 
 There were thousands of women and chil- 
 dren came rushing on the rear of the de- 
 fenders of their city, screaming and crying 
 to get out to throw themselves on the 
 mercy of Montrose, rather than stay and 
 be burnt to ashes. The provost, who 
 stood at the post of honour, and com- 
 manded the strongest phalanx at the place 
 of greatest danger, was so overpowered 
 by ladies, apparently in a state of derange- 
 ment, that he was driven perfectly stupid. 
 Reasoning with them was out of the ques- 
 tion, and the provost could not well 
 order his garrison to put them to the 
 sword. ■ 
 
 Montrose led his own two regiments 
 against the provost. Lord Douglas at- 
 tacked the middle part, and the Fife and 
 Strathmore regiments the north one, de- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 169 
 
 fended by the brave Colonel Gordon. All 
 the points were attacked at once :— . 
 the agonized cries of the women rose to 
 such an extent that I actually grew ter- 
 rified; for I thought the uproar and con- 
 fusion of hell could not be greater. It was 
 impossible the provost could stand out, 
 though he had been the bravest man on 
 earth. I must say so much for him. Co- 
 lonel Gordon withstood our men ; boldly 
 repelled them, and had even commenced 
 a pursuit. Montrose either had some 
 dread or some wit of this, for he pushed 
 the provost with such force and vigour 
 that in a very short time, maugre all 
 his efforts, men and women in thou- 
 sands were seen tearing down the for- 
 tifications, levelling them with the soil ; 
 and a deputation was sent to Montrose to 
 invite him to enter. But first and fore- 
 most he had measures to take with Co- 
 lonel Gordon, who in a little time would 
 have turned the flank of our whole army, 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
l70 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 but that hero being now left to himself, 
 was soon surrounded, and obliged to ca- 
 pitulate. 
 
 Our men were now drawn up in squares 
 in all the principal streets, and stood to 
 arms, while a council of war was held, in 
 which the plurality of voices gave it for 
 the city to be given up to plunder. The 
 soldiers expected it, and truly the citizens, 
 I believed, hoped for nothing better. I 
 confess I voted for it, thinking my brave 
 townsmen would have enjoyed it so much. 
 I know it was reported to my prejudice, 
 that I expected a principal share of the 
 plunder myself ; and that it was for that 
 single purpose I went on the expedition. 
 Whoever raised that report, had no fur- 
 ther grounds for it than that I voted w^ith 
 the majority, several of them ministers 
 and servants of the Lord. I did vote 
 with them, but it was for an example to 
 the other cities and towns of our country, 
 who still stood out against emancipation. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 171 
 
 Montrose would, however, listen to 
 none of us. His bowels yearned over the 
 city to spare it, and he did spare it ; but 
 to plague us, he made magistrates, minis- 
 ters, and every principal man in the city, 
 swear the covenant on their knees, at the 
 point of the sword ; and also fined them 
 in a sum by way of war charges, of which 
 he did not retain one mark to himself. 
 
 We now turned our face toward the 
 highlands, to take order with Huntly, and 
 with a light and exulting heart did I 
 take the way, assured of victory. I 
 missed no opportunity, by the way, of 
 reprobating that chief's conduct in first 
 stirring up the good Aberdeenians to resist 
 the measures of the Scottish parliament and 
 the committee of estates, and then hang- 
 ing back and suffering them to lie at our 
 mercy, when, in truth, he might have 
 come with the whole highlands at his 
 back to their relief; for at that time, save 
 the Campbells and the Forbes's, there 
 
 I 2 
 
l72 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 was not a clan in the whole highlands 
 sided with us. 
 
 Montrose could say nothing for Huntly, 
 but neither would he say much against 
 him, till he saw how he would behave. 
 The honest man had, however, most va- 
 liantly collected his clansmen (who had 
 long been ready at an hour's warning) for 
 the relief of Aberdeen on the evening after 
 it was taken ! Ay, that he had ! He 
 had collected 1700 foot, and 400 gallant 
 horsemen under the command of old Glen- 
 bucket, and his son. Lord Gordon, and 
 had even made a speech to them ; and 
 set out at their head, a distance of full five 
 miles, to create a stern diversion in fa- 
 vour of the gallant and loyal citizens of 
 Aberdeen. At the head of this gallant 
 array, he marched forth, until, at a place 
 called Cabrach, he was apprised by some 
 flyers whom he met on the way, that the 
 Earl of Montrose with a gallant army 
 was in full march against him — ^that Aber- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 173 
 
 deen was taken and plundered, and all 
 the magistrates, ministers, and chief men 
 put to the sword. 
 
 I v/ould have given a hundred pounds, 
 (Scots I mean,) to have been there to 
 have seen my old friend Enzie's plight, 
 now the invincible Marquess of Huntly. 
 He called a parley on the instant ; ordered 
 his puissant army to disappear, to vanish 
 in the adjoining woods, and not a man of 
 them to be seen in arms as the invaders 
 marched on! and having given this an- 
 nihilating order, he turned his horse's head 
 about and never drew bridle till he was at 
 the castle of Bogie in the upper district of 
 the country. Thence he despatched mes- 
 sengers to our commander, begging to 
 know his terms of accommodation. 
 
 But these messengers would have been 
 too late to have saved Huntly and the 
 castle, had it not been for the valour and 
 presence of mind of old Glen-bucket and 
 his young chief, the Lord Gordon, who, 
 
174 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 venturing to infringe the Marquess's sud- 
 den orders, withstood Montrose, and ho- 
 vering nigh his van, kept him in check for 
 two whole days and a night. Montrose 
 perceiving how detrimental this stay would 
 be to his purpose of taking his redoubted 
 opponent by surprise, sent off a party by 
 night round the Buck, to come between 
 the Gordons and the bridge. The party, 
 led by one Patrick Shaw, who knew the 
 country well, gained their point, and 
 begim to fire on the Gordon horse by the 
 break of day. Glen-bucket somewhat as- 
 tounded at this circumstance, drew aside 
 to the high ground, but |)erceiving Mon- 
 trose coming briskly up on him from the 
 south-east, he drew off at a sharp trot, 
 and tried to gain the town, but there he 
 was opposed by the foot that had crossed 
 by the hill path. There was no time 
 to lose. We were copiing hard up be- 
 hind them when Glen-bucket, and Lord 
 Gordon rushed upon our foot at the 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 175 
 
 head of their close body of horse. They 
 could not break them although they cut 
 down a number of brave men, and the 
 consequence was that all the men of the 
 three first ranks were unhorsed, and either 
 slain or taken prisoners ; amongst the 
 latter were both young Lord Gordon 
 and old Glen-bucket ; the rest scattered 
 and fled, and easily made their escape. 
 The conflict did not last above six minutes, 
 yet short as it was, it was quite de- 
 cisive. 
 
 I addressed old Glen-bucket with the 
 greatest kindness and respect, but with a 
 grave and solemn aspect regretted his 
 having taken arms against so good a cause. 
 He seemed offended at this, smiled grimly, 
 and expressed his wonder how any good 
 man could be engaged in so bad a cause as 
 that of the Covenant. He seemed much 
 disappointed at the coldness of my manner. 
 I knew it would be so, but I had to take 
 the measure of him and his whole clan ere 
 
176 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 I parted with them, and behaved as I did 
 on a principle of consistency. 
 
 We took in the town of Huntly, and 
 there we received Huntly's messengers. 
 Montrose's conditions were absolute, name- 
 ly, that the Gordon and all his clan should 
 take the covenant, and acquiesce in every 
 one of the measures of the committee ; and 
 the very next day Huntly came in person, 
 with a few of his principal friends, and 
 submitted. I was sorry for this, for I 
 wanted to humble him effectually ; how- 
 ever, he and I had not done yet. 
 
 Montrose, anxious to deal with him in 
 a manner suiting his high rank, did not 
 oblige him to take the covenant on his 
 knees like the burgesses of Aberdeen, but 
 causing me to write out a paper, he told 
 me he would be satisfied if the Marquess 
 signed that on oath, in name of himself, 
 his clan, and kinsmen. I made it as severe 
 as I could, nevertheless he signed it, sub- 
 scribing the oath. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 177 
 
 Matters being now adjusted, and the 
 two great men the greatest of friends, 
 Huntly and his friends accompanied us to 
 Aberdeen on our way home, every thing- 
 being now settled for which we took up 
 arms : but when the Marquess came there, 
 and found that the city was not pkmdered, 
 nor the ladies outraged, nor the magis- 
 trates put to the sword, nor even so much 
 as the tongues of the ministers cut out 
 that preached against the covenant, why 
 the Marquess began to recant, and rather 
 to look two ways at one time. He ex- 
 pected to be at the lord provost's grand 
 funeral. Lord help him ! the provost was 
 as jolly, as fat, and as loquacious as ever ! 
 He expected to find all the ladies half 
 deranged in their intellects, tearing their 
 hair, and like Jephthah's daughter, be- 
 wailing their fate on the mountains ; he 
 never found the ladies of Aberdeen so gay, 
 and everyone of their mouths was filled with 
 the praises of Montrose, his liberality, his 
 
 I 3 
 
178 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 kindness, and his gallantry ! This was a 
 hard bone for the proud Marquess to chew 
 — a jaw-breaker that he could not endure ; 
 for the glory of a contemporary was his 
 bane; it drove all the solemn league and 
 covenant in his galled mind to a thing 
 little short of blasphemy. Moreover, he 
 expected to have found all the college 
 professors and ministers of the gospel run- 
 ning about the streets, >squeaking and jab- 
 bering with their tongues cut out, and in- 
 stead of which the men seemed to have 
 had their tongues loosed, all for the pur- 
 pose of lauding his adversary, and preach- 
 ing up the benefits of the new covenant, 
 Huntly saw that the reign of feudalism 
 was at an end, and with that his over- 
 balancing power in the realm; and then 
 reflecting how easily he might have pre- 
 vented this, he was like to gnaw off his 
 fingers with vexation; and perhaps the 
 thing that irritated his haughty mind most 
 of all, was the finding of that worship and 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 179 
 
 reverence formerly paid to him in Aber- 
 deen now turned into scorn, while the 
 consciousness of having deserved it made 
 the feeling still more acute. 
 
 In a word, the Marquess took the strunt, 
 and would neither ratify some further 
 engagements which he had come under, 
 nor stand to those he had subscribed on 
 oath, but begged of Montrose, as a last 
 favour that he would release him from 
 the bond of the covenant, the tenor 
 of which he did not understand, and 
 the principle of which he did not ap- 
 IDrove. 
 
 Montrose tried to reason calmly with 
 him, but that made matters worse. Then 
 he told him, that he would yield so far 
 to him as release him from his engage- 
 ment for the present, but that indeed he 
 feared he would repent it. Grahame 
 then rose, and bringing him his bond in 
 his hand, presented it to him with some 
 
180 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE ' 
 
 regi'etful observations on his noble friend's 
 vacillation. 
 
 Huntly began to express his thanks, but 
 was unable, his face burnt to the bone, 
 for he was so proud he could never ex- 
 press gratitude either to God or man, but 
 he was mightily relieved from his dilemma 
 when Montrose, with a stern voice, or- 
 dered him to be put in confinement, and 
 conducted a close prisoner to Edinburgh ! 
 I could hardly contain myself at the woful 
 change that this order made on his fea- 
 tures. It was marrow to my bones to see 
 him humbled thus far at the moment. I 
 thought of his felling me down, and kick- 
 ing me in the mud, when I was in a situa- 
 tion in which I durst not resist ; argued 
 likewise of the way he used me with re- 
 gard to his worthy father's bequest. So as 
 Montrose was striding out with tokens of 
 displeasure on his face, I called after him, 
 " My Lord Montrose, as I lie under some 
 
- LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 181 
 
 old obligation to the noble Marquess, your 
 prisoner, may I beg of you to be honoured 
 with the charge of conducting him to the 
 gaol of Edinburgh ?" 
 
 " With all my heart, Baillie," returned 
 he ; " only remember to see him strictly 
 guarded ; for it is now manifest that he is 
 a traitor to our cause." 
 
 Having till now shunned the Mar- 
 quess's presence, he never knew till that 
 moment that I was at his right hand 
 amongst the number of his enemies ; and 
 then he cast such a look of startled amaze- 
 ment at me ! It was as if one had shouted 
 in the other ear, The Philistines be upon 
 thee, Sampson ! I was cheated if at that 
 moment the Marquess would not have 
 signed ten solemn leagues and ten cove- 
 nants of any sort, to have been fairly out 
 of his friend the Baillie's clutches, and at 
 the head of his clan again. But it would 
 not do ; he was obliged to draw himself 
 up, and submit to his fate. 
 
182 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 Lord Aboyne and the Lords Lewis and 
 Charles, Gordon of Glen-Hvet, and other 
 three of the name, took the oaths for them- 
 selves, and were set at liberty ; but Lord 
 Gordon and old Glen-bucket, having been 
 taken in arms fighting against the army 
 of the estates, were likewise conducted in 
 bonds to Edinburgh. 
 
 [The Baillie's inveteracy against the 
 Marquess of Huntly continues the string 
 on which he delights to harp through the 
 whole of these memoirs, and it is perhaps 
 the most amusing theme he takes up. I 
 hope the character of that nobleman is ex- 
 aggerated; indeed it must be so, drawn 
 by one having such a deadly prejudice 
 against him. For my part, having never, 
 as far as I remember, learned any thing 
 of that nobleman further than what is 
 delineated' in these manuscripts, I con- 
 fess they have given me an idea of him as 
 unfavourable as that of his father is ex- 
 alted. It is a pity the Baillie should have 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 183 
 
 been a man possessed of such bitter 
 remembrances, and a spirit of such lasting 
 revenge, for otherwise he seems rather to 
 have been a good man, if measured v^ith 
 the times. An acute and clear-headed man 
 he certainly was in many respects, but of 
 all men the worst fitted for that which he 
 appears to have valued himself most on, 
 the conducting of a campaigii against the 
 enemies of the covenant. Indeed I cannot be 
 sure for all that I have seen, for what pur- 
 pose the leaders took him always to be of 
 their counsel on such occasions, but there 
 can be no doubt of the fact. We must 
 give one further little relation in his own 
 words, before we have done with him at 
 this time, and then we shall accompany 
 him into actions of greater moment.] 
 
 I had settled every thing with my Lord 
 Montrose how I was to act v^^hen I came 
 to Edinburgh ; accordingly I committed 
 Huntly and his gallant son to the castle, 
 where they were put into close confine- 
 
418 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 ment as state prisoners. Glen-bucket be- 
 sought me to suffer him to accompany 
 them, but I informed him that my strict 
 orders were to take him to a common gaol 
 in the high street. He said it was but 
 a small request that he might be suffered 
 to accompany his chief, which he knew 
 my interest could easily procure for him, 
 and he again intreated me to use it. I 
 promised that I would; but in the mean 
 time he must be content to go as directed, 
 to which he was obliged to submit, but 
 with his accustomed gravity and gloomi- 
 ness. 
 
 .When we came to the gate of the castle, 
 I perceived Sir William Dick, our provost, 
 and Bailhe Edgar, whom I had appointed 
 to meet us, so I turned and said to my 
 prisoner, " Sir Alexander, I do not choose 
 to expose jon in bonds on Edinburgh street 
 at noon-day." ^ 
 
 " It does not signify, sir," said he ; "I 
 am quite indifferent." 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 185 
 
 " I cannot yield to have it so," said I. 
 " Soldiers, take off his chains ! and do you 
 walk on before us as a guard of honour. 
 Yes, as a guard of honour, for honour 
 is a sufficient guard for the person of Sir 
 Alexander Gordon, of Glen-bucket." 
 
 Morose and sullen as he was, he could 
 not help being pleased with this : he rose 
 as it were a foot higher, and as soon as 
 the soldiers removed his bonds I returned 
 him his sword. At that moment the Lord 
 Provost accosted him, but his mind being 
 confused he made a slight obeisance, and 
 was going to pass on. 
 
 " Sir Alexander," said I, " this is my 
 friend, the honourable Sir William Dick, 
 Lord Provost of Edinburgh ? " 
 
 Glen-bucket started, and then, with the 
 politeness of two courtiers, the two old 
 knights saluted one another. I then intro- 
 duced Baillie Edgar and Mr. Henderson, 
 and after that we walked away, two on 
 each side of Glen-bucket. He did not 
 
186 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 well understand this apparent courtesy, 
 for I perceived by his face that he thought 
 it a species of mockery. He spake little. 
 I only remember of one expression that 
 dropped from him as it were spontaneous- 
 ly. It was an exclamation, and came 
 with a burst of breath — " Hah ! on my 
 honour, this is a guard of honour indeed ! " 
 
 As we approached the Tolbooth he 
 cast a look at the iron >gratings, and was 
 going to stop at the principal entrance, 
 but I desired him to walk on, for his 
 apartment was a httle farther this way. 
 When we came to my house, which was 
 one short stair above the street, I went 
 before him to lead the way, and on open- 
 ing the house door, the trance (passage) 
 was completely dark by chance, none of 
 the doors leading from it being open. 
 " Come this way, sir," said I, " follow me, 
 and take care of the steps'' I looked behind 
 me, and saw, between me and the light, 
 his tall athletic form, stooping as if aware 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 187 
 
 of some danger by a quick descent ; he 
 had an arm stretched out and a hand im- 
 pressed against each wall, and was shovell- 
 ing his feet along the trance for fear of 
 precipitating himself down some abyss or 
 dungeon. I could hardly help bursting out 
 into a fit of laughter, but I stood at the 
 inner door till his great hands came upon 
 my head grasping his way, I then threw 
 open my dining-room door and announced 
 my prisoner by name. Sir Alexander Gor- 
 don, of Glen-bucket, and he walked in. 
 
 Nothing could equal the old warrior's 
 surprise when he was welcomed by nine 
 of the most elegant and most respectable 
 ladies of the land ! Some of them even took 
 him in their arms and embraced him, for 
 none present were ignorant of the noble 
 part he had acted with regard to me. All 
 were alike kind and attentive to him. I 
 introduced several of them to him by 
 name. " This, Sir Alexander, is my sister. 
 Lady Sydeserf ; this, sir, is Lady Camp- 
 
188 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 bell, younger, of Glenorchy ; this is Lady 
 Dick," &;c., &c. His bow to each was the 
 most solemn and profound imaginable, at 
 length he bolted straight up as with a jerk, 
 and turning to me said in what he meant 
 for a very sprightly manner, "On mine 
 honour. Sir Baillie, but you have a good 
 assortment of state prisoners at present. 
 Are these, sir, all rebels against this new 
 government, called the * committee of 
 estates?' Hey? If so sir, I am proud to 
 be of the number." 
 
 " These are all my prisoners for the day 
 and the night, and all happy to see you 
 are of their number. Sir Alexander." 
 
 Nothing could give me greater pleasure 
 than the hilarity of the old warrior that 
 night. He was placed next to my sister- 
 in-law at the head of the table, the com- 
 pany consisted of twenty-three, the wine 
 circulated freely, and Glen-bucket fairly 
 forgot for that evening the present cloud 
 under which the Gordons lay, and that 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 189 
 
 there were such things as covenanters and 
 anti-covenanters in the realm. 
 
 After the ladies retired, he took fits of 
 upright thoughtfulness ; [these are the 
 Baillie's own words,] as still not knowing 
 how he was to act, or what state he oc- 
 cupied. I perceived it, and taking him aside 
 into a private room told him that he was free 
 and at liberty to go and come as he chose, 
 either to his chief or to his home, or to re- 
 main at large in Edinburgh, where my house 
 and all my servants should be his own. 
 
 He thanked me most politely, but re- 
 fused to accept of his freedom, save on the 
 condition that he should be at liberty to 
 fight for his king and his chief whenever 
 called upon. This was rather above my 
 commission, but seeing that good manners 
 compelled me, I conceded, without hesita- 
 tion taking the responsibility on myself, 
 and we then joined our jovial friends, and 
 spent the evening in the utmost hilarity. 
 
190 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 [It is well knov/n that the annals of that 
 day are of a sanguine description. The Bail- 
 lie took a deep interest in the struggle, and 
 often describes the incidents manifestly as he 
 felt them. The amazement of the country 
 on learning that the king was coming with 
 a powerful army to invade it ; the arrival 
 of his navy in the Firth of Forth, and the 
 wiles made use of to draw the king's com- 
 mander-in-chief, the Marquess of Hamilton, 
 over to the covenanting party, in which 
 they seem to have succeeded ; for there 
 seems to have been no faith kept in that 
 age, and less with the king than any other 
 person ; these are all described by the 
 Baillie with his usual simplicit}?-. He 
 describes two meetings that he and some 
 others had with the Marquess, one on 
 board his ship, and one at midnight on 
 shore, and these disclosures show how the 
 poor king's confidence was abused. He 
 had 3,000 soldiers on board, and twenty 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 191 
 
 large ships well manned, yet the Marquess 
 would not suffer one of them to stir a foot 
 in support of the king. The Lord Aboyne 
 hearing of this strong armament, and 
 gi'ieved that his father and elder brother 
 should still be kept in bonds by the cove- 
 nanters, raised the Gordons once more, 
 and sent word to Hamilton to join him, 
 and they could then get such conditions 
 for the king as he should require of the 
 covenanters. But the latter worthies had 
 made sure of Hamilton before. He' sent 
 evasive answers to Aboyne, suffering him 
 to raise his clan and advance southward 
 in hopes of support, till lo ! he was met by 
 his late adversary Montrose, at the Bridge 
 of Dee, with a great army, though not 
 very well appointed. 
 
 The Baillie was not personally in this 
 battle, for the best of reasons, because the 
 Marquess of Huntly was not there in per- 
 son to oppose him. The Baillie had his 
 great enemy safely under lock and key, else 
 
192 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 there is little doubt that the former would 
 have been at the battle, which he however 
 describes as taken from the mouth of his 
 friend Captain Thorburn. 
 
 He says, the army of the Gordons 
 amounted to about 2,500 men, among 
 whom were two strong bodies of horse. 
 Montrose had 4,000, but all new raised 
 men, though many of them inured to 
 battle in former times. The Gordons 
 were well posted on the two sides of 
 the river Dee, but Montrose took them 
 somewhat by surprise, which he seldom 
 failed to do with his enemies. The battle 
 was exceedingly fierce. Three times did 
 the body of the Gordons on the south 
 side of the river repel the attack of Mon- 
 trose's squadrons, and defend the bridge; 
 and the third time, if the Gordons durst 
 have left their station, they had so far dis- 
 ordered the main or middle column of the 
 covenanters, that without all doubt they 
 might have put them to the rout. Mon- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 193 
 
 trose was terribly alarmed at that instant, 
 for a general attack of the Gordons which 
 he half confessed would have been ruin. 
 But the young Lord Aboyne, with all the 
 bravery of a hero, wanted experience ; he 
 lost that opportunity, and with it the 
 battle. For Montrose, being left at leisure, 
 new-mcxldled his army ; and some field- 
 pieces which he had formerly left at Bre- 
 chin Castle arriving at that instant, he 
 advanced once more, won the bridge of 
 Dee, and in a short time gained possession 
 of the field of battle. Still the young lord 
 drew off his troops to the high grounds 
 with such skill, that the conquerors could 
 make no impression on them. The car- 
 nage was nearly equal on both sides. 
 
 The Baillie never speaks favourably of 
 the king. He says, in one place, they were 
 more plagued with him than any thing 
 else. They never derived good from his 
 plans, which tended always much more 
 to derange their measures than cement 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 them. But of the jealousies and heart- 
 burnings of the covenanting lords, he ex- 
 presses himself with real concern.] 
 
 The falling off of Montrose from our 
 party, (says he,) was a great grief of mind 
 to me, though some of our leaders seemed 
 to rejoice at it. Lesly and Argyle bore 
 all the blame, for they were jealous of his 
 warrior fame and brilliant successes, and 
 took every opportunity that occurred to 
 slight him. Yea, and as I loved the man, 
 I was not more sorry at his loss to us 
 than for the loss of his soul ; for he had 
 now broken his most solemn oaths and 
 engagements, and lifted up the heel against 
 the Most High, setting him as it were at 
 defiance, after all the zeal he had shown 
 in his cause. I had great fears that a 
 curse was gone forth against us, be- 
 cause of the leaguing of men together, 
 whom I knew to be of very different 
 principles ; and, among other things, it 
 was matter of great grief when Hamilton 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 195 
 
 and General Ruthven, leaguing together, 
 set the Marquess of Huntly and his son 
 the Lord Gordon both at liberty ; whereas 
 it was manifest to every well-disposed 
 Christian, that the good cause would have 
 been much better served by cutting off 
 both their heads. Argyle might have hin- 
 dered this, but chose not to intermeddle, 
 Huntly being his brother-in-law, but it 
 was all sham, for he both dreaded him 
 and hated him as much as I did. Indeed 
 I was so much displeased with my Lord 
 Argyle's carriage at this time, that I at 
 one time resolved to decline his patronage 
 for the future, and also to cease supporting 
 him in his political views, which I had 
 uniformly done hitherto. He cheated the 
 men of Athol, and falsifying his honour, 
 took their leaders prisoners, and then 
 marching a whole army of hungry high- 
 landers down among the peaceable inha- 
 bitants, plundered and laid waste the 
 whole country, burnt Castle Farquhar be- 
 
 K 2 
 
'196 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 longing to the Earl of Airly, and also 
 sacked Airly Castle, spoiling some even of 
 Montrose's own kin. Was it any wonder 
 that the latter was disgusted at such be- 
 haviour ? But the country was now getting 
 into a state of perfect anarchy and confu- 
 sion, so that after Montrose's imprisonment 
 and hard trial about signing the Cumber- 
 nauld bond, I perceived that we had for 
 ever done with him." 
 
 [We must now pass over several years, 
 the history of which is entirely made up 
 of plot and counterplot, raising and dis- 
 banding of armies, projects of great import, 
 all destroyed by the merest accidents, — 
 truculent treatieSj much parade, and small 
 execution; and follow our redoubted Baillie 
 once more to the field of honour, the place 
 of all others for which he was least fitted, 
 and on which he valued himself most. 
 Indeed, if we except his account of the 
 last parliament which the king held in Scot- 
 land, and the last dinner which he gave 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 197 
 
 to his nobility, there is nothing very 
 original in the memoir. The description 
 of these is affecting, but as the writer was 
 a professed opponent to the king's mea- 
 sures, it might not be fair to give such 
 pictures as genuine.] 
 
 In April 1644, being then one of the 
 commission of the general assembly, I was 
 almost put beside myself, for we had the 
 whole business of the nation to manage ; 
 and my zeal both for our religious and 
 civil liberties was such that I may truly 
 say I was eaten up with it. The com- 
 mittee of estates attempted nothing with- 
 out us, with us they could do every thing. 
 We had been employed the whole of the 
 fii'st day of our meeting in receiving the 
 penitences and confessions of the Earl of 
 Lanark, who had taken a decided part 
 against the covenant. We dreaded him 
 for a spy sent by the king, and dealt very 
 severely with him ; but at length he ex- 
 pressed himself against the king with so 
 
198 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 much rancour, that we knew he was a 
 true man, and received him into the co- 
 venant with many prayers and suppUca- 
 tions. 
 
 On retiring to my own house, I sat 
 down all alone to ponder on the occur- 
 rences of the day, and wondered not a 
 little when a chariot came to my door, 
 and softly and gently one tapped thereat. 
 I heard some whispering at the door, as 
 with my servant maid, and then the 
 chariot drove off again. I sat cocking up 
 my ears, wondering what this could be, 
 until a gentleman entered wrapped in an 
 ample cloak. He saluted me familiarly, 
 but I did not know him till he had laid 
 aside his mantle and taken me by the 
 hand. It was my lord the Marquess of 
 Argyle ; I was astonished, and my cogita- 
 tions troubled me greatly. " My lord," 
 said I, '' God bless you ! Is it yourself?" 
 
 " Did you not know me, my dear 
 Baillie?" 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 199 
 
 " How could I, not knowing you to be 
 in this country ? I took you to be in Lon- 
 don, watching over our affairs there in 
 parliament, and I was very loath to believe 
 it was your ghost." 
 
 " Well, here I am, Baillie, post from 
 thence, and on an affair that much con- 
 cerns every friend to the covenant and the 
 reformed religion. Our affairs with his 
 majesty are all blown up. This we ex- 
 pected and foresaw, and we must now 
 arm in good earnest for our country and 
 religion. Our affairs go on well in gene- 
 ral ; but, Baillie ! I have received heavy 
 news since my arrival. Montrose has set 
 up the king's standard on the Border, and 
 is appointed governor and commander-in- 
 chief in Scotland, and my brother-in-law 
 Huntly, that most turbulent and factious 
 of all human beings, is appointed lieute- 
 nant-general for the whole realm under 
 him ; and while the former is raising all 
 the malignants on the two sides the Bor- 
 
200 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 der, the latter is raising the whole north 
 against us. What think you of these 
 news, Baillie ? Have we not great 
 reason to bestir ourselves, and unite all 
 our chief men together, in interest as well 
 as principle, and that without loss of 
 time ?" 
 
 " I tremble at the news, my lord," re- 
 turned I, " but merely for the blood that 
 I see must be shed in Scotland ; for I am 
 no more afraid of the triumph of our cause 
 than I am of a second deluge, having the 
 same faith in the promises relating to them 
 both. Besides, my lord, the danger is not so 
 great as you imagine from the coalition. 
 The Marquess of Huntly, friend as he is 
 of yours, will never act in subordination 
 with any created being, for his pride and 
 his jealousy will not let him. He may 
 well mar the enterprises of the other, but 
 never will further them: The other is a 
 dangerous man, I acknowledge it. His 
 equal is not in the kingdom ; but he is a 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 201 
 
 foresworn man, and how can such a man 
 prosper ? I blame you much, my lord, for 
 the loss of hhn. Your behaviour there 
 has been so impolitic, that I could never 
 trust you with the whole weight of our 
 concerns so well again." 
 
 " Why, Baillie," returned he impatiently, 
 " that man wanted to be every thing. I 
 made all the concessions I could ultimate- 
 ly, but they would not do ; the time was 
 past. He was a traitor to the cause at 
 heart, so let that pass. Let us now work 
 for the best. To-morrow the danger must 
 all be disclosed, both in the committee and 
 the Assembly's commission, and I desired 
 this private conference with you, that 
 what I propose in the one, you may pro- 
 pose in the other." 
 
 " It was prudently and wisely consi- 
 dered, my lord," said I ; " for our only 
 safeguard in this perilous time, is a right 
 understanding with one another. That 
 
 K 3 
 
202 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 which either of us proposes will not be 
 put off without a fair trial ; and when it 
 turns out that we have both proposed the 
 same thing and the same measures, these 
 must appear to our coadjutors as founded 
 in reason and experience." 
 
 " Exactly my feelings," added he ; " and 
 neither of us must give up our points, but 
 bring them to a fair trial by vote, should 
 there be any opposition; There must be 
 two armies raised, or embodied rather, 
 without delay. Who are to be the com- 
 manders?" 
 
 " Your lordship is without doubt entitled 
 to be the commander of one," said I. 
 
 " Granting this, whom are we to pro- 
 pose for the other?" said he. 
 
 " Not having previously thought of the 
 matter, I am rather at a loss," said I. 
 
 " It rests between the Earls of Callander 
 a,nd Lothian," said he. 
 
 " Then I should think the latter the 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 203 
 
 most eligible,'* returned I : " Callander has 
 already refused a command under our au- 
 spices." 
 
 " We must not lose that nobleman, 
 Baillie, make what sacrifice we will. Be- 
 sides, he has the king's confidence, and 
 the circumstance of his being our general, 
 will be an excellent blind to those who are 
 still wavering. Do you take me, Baillie ? 
 Did your clear long-winded comprehension 
 never take that view of the matter ? " 
 
 " You are quite right, my lord," said I. 
 " The justice of your remark is perfectly 
 apparent. I shall, then, propose you for 
 the northern army, and Livingstone for the 
 southern." 
 
 " Very well," said his lordship, " and 
 I shall propose Livingstone, as you call 
 him, for the south, and Lothian for the 
 north ; for I'll rather give up my privilege 
 to him than lose his interest. It is most 
 p'obable I will be nominated in his place. 
 On this then we are agreed. But there is 
 
204 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 another thing, my dear BaiUie, which I 
 want done without delay, and I beg you 
 will have the kindness to propose and 
 urge it to-morrow. We must loose all the 
 thunders of the church against our ene- 
 mies. I have already seen how it weak- 
 ens their hands. We must have the great 
 excommunication pronounced on them all 
 without delay ; and as the proposal 'syill 
 come better from you than me, I entrust 
 you with it." 
 
 " It is a dreadful affair that, my lord," 
 said I ; " I am not very fond of the ho- 
 nour. It leaves no room for repentance. 
 Neither do I as yet know on whom to 
 have it executed." 
 
 " The church is at liberty to take it 
 off again on the amendment of the parties," 
 said he ; " and as I have full intelligence 
 of all, I will give you a list of the leading 
 malignants, against whom to issue the 
 curse." 
 
 I was obliged to acquiesce rather against 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 205 
 
 my inclination, and he gave me the list 
 from his pocket. " Now be sure to fix 
 on a divine that w^ill execute it in the 
 most resolute manner," added he. " It 
 Mrill mar their levies for once." 
 
 " It is a terrible affair," said I, " to be 
 gone deliberately about for any sinister 
 purpose." 
 
 " It is what they justly deserve," said 
 he. " They are renegades and reprobates, 
 every man of them ; liars and covenant- 
 breakers ; let the curse be poured out on 
 them. And now, my dear friend, if it 
 turns out that I must lead the covenanting 
 army against my brother-in-law, I will 
 not proceed a foot without your company. 
 You shall be my chief counsellor, and next 
 to myself both in honour and emolument. 
 In short, you shall command both the 
 army and me. Give me your promise." 
 
 " I think I can serve you more at 
 home, my lord," said I. 
 
 " No you cannot," said he. " You have 
 
9,06 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 an indefinable power over Huntly. I have 
 seen extraordinary instances of it. He 
 has no more power to stand before you 
 than before a thunder-bolt. Your very 
 name has a charm over him. I was in 
 his company last year when your name 
 chanced to be mentioned. To my asto- 
 nishment, every lineament of his frame 
 and feature of his countenance underwent 
 a sudden alteration, becoming truly dia- 
 bolical. ' Wretch ! poltroon ! dog that he 
 is ! ' exclaimed he, furiously ; * I'll crush 
 the varlet with my foot, as I would do the 
 meanest reptile ! ' " 
 
 " I will go with you, my lord," said I. 
 «* There shall be nothing more of it. We 
 will let him see who can crush best. 
 Crush ma with his foot ! The proud ob- 
 streperous changeling ! I will let him see 
 who will take the door of the parliament- 
 house first, ere long! They would not 
 cut off his head when they had him, 
 though I brought him in chains to them 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 207 
 
 like a wild beast, and told them what he 
 was." 
 
 " That's right," said the Marquess ; " I 
 like to see you show a proper spirit. Now 
 remember to push home the excommuni- 
 cation. The great one let it be. Give 
 them it soundly." 
 
 " It shall be done, my lord," said I, " if 
 my influence and exertion can bear it 
 through. And moreover I will lead the 
 van of your army in the northern expe- 
 dition myself in person. I shall com- 
 mand the wing or centre against Huntly, 
 wherever he is. It is not proper that two 
 brothers command against each other." 
 
 We then conversed about many things 
 in a secret and confidential manner till a 
 late hour, when I likewise muffled myself 
 up in a cloak and conveyed his lordship 
 home. 
 
 The very next day, as soon as the prayer 
 was ended, I arose in my seat, and an- 
 nounced the news of the two risings in 
 
^08 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 opposition to the covenant, and all our 
 flourishing measures ; and proposed that 
 we should, without a moment's delay, 
 come to a conclusion how the danger might 
 be averted. I was seconded by the Rev. 
 Mr. Blair, who confirmed my statement 
 as far as related to the north. Of Mon- 
 trose none of them had heard. I assured 
 them of the fact, and proposed the Earl of 
 Callander to levy and lead the army of 
 the south, and Argyle that of the north ; 
 at the same time stating my reasons for 
 my choice, which I deemed unanswer- 
 able. There was not one dissentient voice, 
 provided the convention of estates acqui- 
 esced in the choice. 
 
 I then made a speech of half an hour's 
 length, recommending that the sword of 
 the Spirit should likewise be unsheathed 
 against them, and that, as a terror to 
 others, these rebels against the true re- 
 formed religion should be consigned over 
 to the spirit of disobedience, under whose 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 209 
 
 influence they had thus raised the bloody 
 banner of civil war. I was seconded by 
 Mr. Robert Douglas, a great leader of our 
 church ; but we were both opposed by Sir 
 William Campbell, another ruling elder 
 like myself, and that with such energy 
 that I was afraid the day was lost, the 
 moderator, Mr. David Dickson, a silly 
 man, being on his side. We carried it, 
 however, by a majority, and Mr. John 
 Adamson was chosen for the important 
 work. 
 
 The crowd that day at the high church 
 was truly terrific, and certainly Mr. Adam- 
 son went through the work in a most 
 imposing and masterly manner. My heart 
 quaked, and all the hairs of my head rose 
 on end ; and I repented me of having been 
 the moving cause of consigning so many 
 precious souls to endless perdition. I could 
 sleep none all the following night, and had 
 resolved to absent myself from the com- 
 mission the next day, and spend it in 
 
210 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 fasting and humiliation, but at eleven 
 o'clock I was sent for on express to attend, 
 and on going I found new cause for 
 gTief and repentance. 
 
 I had given in a list of eight for excom- 
 munication, precisely as Argyle gave them 
 to me. I did not so much as know some 
 of them, but took them on my gTeat 
 patron's word. They were the Marquess 
 of Huntly, of course 'he was the first; 
 the two Irvines, of Drum; the Laird of 
 Haddo, and his steward; the Lairds of 
 Skeen and Tipperty ; and Mr. James Ken- 
 nedy, secretary to Huntly. Judge then 
 of my grief and confusion, when on going 
 into my place I found Mr. Robert Skeen 
 there, entering a protest against our pro- 
 ceedings, in as far as related to his brother, 
 the Laird of Skeen, whom he assured us 
 was as true to the cause as any present ; 
 and he gave us, as I thought, indubitable 
 proofs of it. 
 
 I was overcome with confusion and 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 211 
 
 astonishment, and wist not what to say 
 for myself, for I could not with honour 
 disclose the private communication be- 
 tween Argyle and me. I got tip to 
 address the meeting, but my feelings and 
 my conscience were so much overcome, 
 that I could not come to any point that 
 bore properly on the subject. Whereon 
 Sir William Campbell, who had opposed 
 the motion from the beginning, rose and 
 said, "Mr. Moderator, it is evident the 
 gentleman is nonplussed, and cannot give 
 any proper explanation. I'll do it for him ; 
 the gentleman, sir, is like ourselves, he acts 
 by commission ; yes, sir, I say like us, he 
 acts by commission. We do so with our 
 eyes open, in the name and by the ap- 
 pointment of all our brethren ; but he acts, 
 sir, with his eyes shut ; he actSj sir, blind- 
 folded, and solely by the direction of 
 another. Is it any wonder, sir, that such 
 a man should run into blunders ? But since 
 the thing hath happened, why let it pass. 
 
212 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 What is a man's soul to us ? Let him go 
 to the devil with the rest, I see very little 
 difference it makes." 
 
 This raised a laugh in the court at my 
 expense, so loud, and so much out of rea- 
 son, that the moderator reprimanded the 
 court at large, and called Sir William to 
 order. But I stood corrected, humbled, 
 and abashed, never having got such a rub 
 before. After all, the' gentleman turned 
 out a rank malignant, and was as active 
 against the covenanting principles as any 
 man of the day. 
 
 Argyle, whose influence with the church- 
 men was without a parallel, and almost 
 without bounds, soon raised three strong 
 regiments, and could have raised as 
 many more. The ministers of Fife and 
 Angus preached all the Sunday on the 
 glory of standing up for the good work of 
 the heart, and whosoever did not rise for 
 the work of the Lord, and contribute less 
 or more according to his means, would be 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 213 
 
 blotted out of the book of life ; they like- 
 wise, every one of them, announced the 
 eternal curse laid on their enemies. It 
 was a time of awe and di-ead, and fearful 
 workings of the spirits of men. 
 
 The consequence of these preachings 
 and anathemas was, that on the Mon- 
 day whole multitudes of the people came 
 to the ministers to enrol themselves for the 
 war, so that the latter had nothing ado 
 but to pick and choose. Many came with 
 forty's and fifty's, one or two with a hun- 
 dred, and the minister of Cameron, honest 
 man, came with three. Accordingly, some 
 day early in May, I have forgot the day, 
 we proceeded once more to the north, 
 against the Marquess of Huntly. We 
 had 3,000 foot, and nearly 500 horse, and 
 I believe every man's blood in the army, 
 as well as my own, was boiling with in- 
 dignation and resentment against the dis- 
 turber of the public peace. 
 
 I went in the character of Argyle's 
 
214 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 friend and counsellor, but he was so kind, 
 that he frequently caused me to issue the 
 general orders myself, and all his servants 
 were at my command. We had three 
 companies of the black coats with us, 
 raised by the church, and dressed in her 
 uniform ; and, though the malignant part 
 of the country laughed exceedingly at 
 them, my opinion was, that they were a 
 very valuable corps ; — ^mostly the sons of 
 poor gentlemen and farmers, well edu- 
 cated, fearless, resolute fellows, excellent 
 takers of meat, and good prayers. I looked 
 on their presence as a great safeguard for 
 the army. 
 
 Well, as soon as we crossed the Tay, I 
 took one of these fellows, named Law- 
 rence Hay, a shrewd clever fellow, and 
 dressing him smartly up as an officiating 
 clergyman, with cloak, cocked hat, and 
 bands, I despatched him away secretly 
 into the middle of the country of the 
 Gordons, to bring me intelligence of all 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 215 
 
 that was going on there, knowing that he 
 would meet with nothing but respect aiid 
 reverence in his route. I Ukewise gave 
 him letters to two covenanting clergymen 
 of my acquaintance, but told to none of 
 them the purport of my black cavalier's 
 mission, which he executed to a wonder. 
 He had even had the assurance to go into 
 the midst of Huntly's host, as a licentiate 
 for the episcopal church, and converse 
 with his officers. After an absence of 
 three nights and days, he returned to me 
 at the fords of the Dee, and very oppor- 
 tunely did he arrive. 
 
 It will easily be conceived, that I had 
 not that full confidence in my present 
 commander that I had in my former one ; 
 and for one main reason — I saw that he 
 had not that full confidence in himself; so 
 that I was obliged to venture a little on 
 my own bottom. Well, when we came 
 the length of the Dee, Argyle was at a 
 stand, not having heard aught of Huntly's 
 
216 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 motions or strength, and he proposed that 
 we should turn to the east, to take in 
 Aberdeen and the populous districts, and 
 prevent Huntly's levies there. 
 
 At that very important nick of time my 
 private messenger arrived, and gave me 
 the following account. — Huntly's officers 
 were loading us with the most horrid 
 curses and invectives, on account of the 
 excommunication. The people in the vil- 
 lages, instead of enlisting, fled from the 
 faces of the officers, as from demons ; and 
 that even of the force they had collected, 
 there were few whose hearts and hands 
 were not weakened; and that Huntly's 
 sole dependence lay on getting reasonable 
 terms of accommodation, and for that only 
 he with difficulty kept his forces together. 
 This was the substance of all he had 
 gathered, principally from the country 
 people, and he assured me I might rely 
 on it. This was blithe news to me. 
 
 He told me, likewise, that he was called 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 217 
 
 in before Huntly, who examined him re- 
 garding all the news of the south. At 
 length he came to this. 
 
 " Know you aught of the covenanters' 
 army?" 
 
 " I was in St. Johnston when they 
 were there, my lord ; saw all their array, 
 and heard the names of the leaders, some 
 of which I have forgot." 
 
 "What may be the amount of their 
 army ? " 
 
 " The numbers are considerable. I 
 think Mr. Norris, with whom I lodged, 
 said they amounted to 5,000, but they are 
 badly equipped, badly trained, and far 
 worse commanded. Your troops may 
 venture to encounter them one to two." 
 
 "Why, I heard that Argyle had the 
 command." 
 
 " Not at all, my lord, he has the least 
 command in the army ; he only commands 
 the horse. Lord Kinghorn has a regiment, 
 he is no great head, you know; Lord 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 Elcho has another. But the commander- 
 m-chief is, I assure you, a ridiculous body, 
 a Baillie of Edinburgh." 
 
 "Thank you kindly for the character, 
 Mr. Hay," said I ; " thank you kindly." 
 I was, however, highly pleased with the 
 fellow's ingenuity. " Thank you kindly, 
 Mr. Lawrence," said I. " Well, what did 
 the Marquess say to that ?" 
 
 "Say to that!" exclaimed he. "Why, 
 the man went out of his reason the 
 moment I mentioned your name. I never 
 beheld any thing equal to it! I cannot 
 comprehend it. His countenance altered; 
 his eyes turned out, and his tongue swelled 
 in his mouth, so that he could hardly pro- 
 nounce the words. Then he began and 
 cursed you for a dog of hell, and cursed, 
 and cursed you, till he fell into a sort of 
 convulsion, and his officers carried him 
 away. What in this world is the 
 meaning of it ? " 
 
 " The meaning of it is, sir," said I, — and I 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 219 
 
 said it with a holy sublimity of manner— 
 " The meaning of it is, sir, that he knows 
 I am born to chastise him in this world, 
 and to be his bane in a world to come." 
 
 The poor fellow gaped and stared at me 
 in dumb amazement. I made him a pre- 
 sent of 100 merks, and the horse that he 
 had rode on, which he accepted of with- 
 out again moving his tongue. 
 
 This was at midnight, and the next 
 morning early, Argyle called a council of 
 war, and proposed turning aside from the 
 direct route, and strengthening ourselves 
 to the eastward. The rest of the officers 
 acquiesced, but I held my peace and shook 
 my head. 
 
 " What ! does our worthy friend the 
 Baillie not approve of this measure ? " said 
 Argyle. 
 
 " I disapprove of it mainly and de- 
 cidedly," said I. "Or, if you will lead 
 the army to the eastward, give me but 
 Freeland's Perth dragoons, and as many 
 
 L 2 
 
220 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 chosen men foot soldiers, and I will en- 
 gage with these few to push straight 
 onward, brave the wild beast in his den, 
 scatter his army of hellish malignants like 
 chaff; and if I don't bring you Huntly, 
 bound head and foot, his horse shall be 
 swifter than mine. I know the power 
 that is given me, and I will do this, or 
 never trust my word again." 
 
 " My lords and right trusty friends," 
 said Argyle, " you have all heard our 
 honoured friend the Baillie's proposal. 
 You have likewise witnessed the energy 
 with which it has been made, — ^so differ- 
 ent from his accustomed modest, mild, and 
 diffident manner, — a sure pledge to me that 
 he is moved to the undertaking by the 
 Spirit of the Most High ; I therefore pro- 
 pose that we should grant him the force he 
 requests, and trust him with the bold 
 adventure." 
 
 " If my cavalry are to be engaged," 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 221 
 
 said the Laird of Freeland, " I must neces- 
 sarily fight at their head." 
 
 " That you shall, and I will ride by 
 your side, sir," said I. " But remember, 
 you are to fight when I bid you, and 
 pursue when I bid you ; as to the flying 
 part, I leave that to your own discretion." 
 
 " Well said, Baillie !" cried Argyle ; 
 " you are actually grown a hero of the 
 first order." The officers wondered at me, 
 and the common men were seized with a 
 holy ardour, and strove who should have 
 the honour of going on the bold expedition. 
 I was impatient to be gone, having taken 
 my measures, and accordingly I got 400 
 cavalry, among whom was the three com- 
 panies of black dragoons, and mounting 
 400 foot soldiers behind them, I took the 
 road at their head, telling them that, save 
 tb feed the horses, we halted no more till 
 we drew up before the enemy. The Laird 
 of Freeland led the horse, and young 
 Charteris of Elcho, the foot. We rode 
 
222 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 straight on to the north, and at even crossed 
 the Don at a place called the Old For4 
 or Auldford, — a place subsequently rendered 
 famous for the triumph of iniquity. 
 
 The weather was fine, and the waters 
 very low ; and I proposed, after feeding 
 our horses, that we should travel all night, 
 and surprise the Gordons early in the 
 morning. Accordingly we set out, but on 
 leaving the Dee, we got into a wild moun- 
 tain path, and there being a thick dry 
 haze on the hills, we lost our way altoge- 
 ther, and knew not whither we were 
 journeying, north or south. At length we 
 arrived at a poor village, having a high- 
 land name, which I could not pronounce, 
 and there asked a guide for the town of 
 Huntly. The men were in great conster- 
 nation, running from one house to another; 
 for our array through the haze appeared, 
 even to my own eyes, to increase seven- 
 fold. 
 
 We at length procured a guide by sheer 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 223 
 
 compulsion ; I placed him on a horse be- 
 fore a dragoon, with orders to kill him if 
 he attempted to make his escape, and I 
 assured him, that on the return of day, if 
 I found that he had not led us by the di- 
 rect path, I would cut him all into small 
 pieces. Finding out that the hamlet be- 
 longed to the Gordons, I was very jealous 
 of the fellow, and kept always beside him 
 myself. " Now are you sure, you rascal, 
 that you are leading us in a straight line 
 for Huntly ?" 
 
 " Huhay ; and tat she pe. She pe leating 
 you as straight, sir, as a very tree, as 
 straight as a whery rhope, sir." 
 
 " Had we deviated much ere we arrived 
 at your village ?" 
 
 " I dhont knhow, sir. Far did you pe 
 casting them ?" 
 
 " Casting what ?" 
 
 " Why them divots you speaked of." 
 
 " I mean, had we gone far astray ?" 
 
 " Hu, very far indheed, sir, you could 
 
224 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 not have ghone as far astray in te whoule 
 world." 
 
 One of my black dragoons, a great scho- 
 lar and astronomer, now came riding up 
 and says, " I can tell your honour that I 
 got a glimpse of the heavens through the 
 mist, just now^ and saw the polar star; 
 this fellow is leading you straight to the 
 north-west, in among the mountains, and 
 very near in a direct line from Huntly." 
 
 " Fat's te mahn saying ? " cried the 
 guide. 
 
 I seized him by the throat, and taking 
 a naked sword in my hand, I said, " Swear 
 to me by the great God, sirrah, that you 
 are conducting me straight to Huntly, 
 else I run you through the body this 
 instant.'" 
 
 " Huhay, she will swear py te muckle 
 Cot as Ihong as you Ihike." 
 
 I then put the, oath to him, making him 
 repeat it after me, which he did till I 
 came to the words straight to Huntly. To 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 225 
 
 these he objected, and refused to repeat 
 them ; I asked the reason, and he said, 
 " Cot pless you, sir, no man can go straight 
 here py rheason of thewoots, and te rhocks, 
 and te hills, and te mhountains. We 
 must just go or we can find an opening." 
 
 " The man speaks good sense," said I, 
 " and we are all fools ; lead on, my good 
 fellow." 
 
 When he found that he was out of 
 danger for the present, his natural anti- 
 pathy against us soon began again to show 
 itself, and he asked at me sneeringly, — 
 
 "And pe tat your swear in te Sasse- 
 nach ? Tat is your creat pig oath, I 
 mean. 
 
 I answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " Phoo, phoo !" cried he, " Ten I would 
 nhot kive a podle for an hundred tou- 
 sand of tem. You will nhot pe tat bittie 
 stick in my hand te petter of it. Put you 
 will soon pe an fhine rhoats nhow, and 
 haxellent speed you will pe." 
 
 L 3 
 
226 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 He was laughing when he said this, 
 and the trooper who was behind him, 
 perceiving that he was leading straight on 
 a thicket, asked him what he meant by 
 that, but all that he said was, " Huhay, 
 you shall soon be on haxellent rhoats 
 now;" so saying, he plunged his horse 
 into a bog, where it floundered and fell. 
 The dragoon that guarded the guide 
 threw himself off, and tumbled heels-over- 
 head ; but the guide, who was free of the 
 stirrups, flung himself off more nimbly, 
 and the next moment dived into the 
 thicket. Sundry pieces were let off after 
 him, but they might as well have shot 
 against a brazen wall. He laughed aloud, 
 and called out, "Huhay, fire away, fire 
 away; you pe te fery coot shotters, and 
 you pe an haxellent rhoats now, ha, ha, 
 ha, you pe an ta- haxellent rhoats nhow." 
 
 We saw no more of our guide, and 
 knew not what to do ; but finding a fine 
 green recess in the wood, we alighted and 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 227 
 
 baited our horses, the men refreshed them- 
 selves, and at day-break I sung the six 
 last verses of the 74th Psalm, in v^hich 
 the whole army joined me, making most 
 grand and heavenly music in that wild 
 highland wood. I then prayed fervently 
 for direction and success against our ene- 
 mies, while all the army kneeled around 
 me on the grass. After that the men rose 
 greatly encouraged, and in high spirits. 
 
 We rushed from the hills straight upon 
 Huntly before noon, but met no army 
 there. We got intelligence that the army 
 of the Gordons had divided; that Sir 
 George Gordon had led one of the divisions 
 to the eastward, into the braes of the 
 Ithan, and had fortified the castle of 
 Haddo, and that the ministers were raising 
 the whole country around him to join 
 Argyle, for the sentence of excommunica- 
 tion had broken the arms of the Gordons. 
 That the Marquess of Huntly had retired 
 up the country with the rest, and had 
 
228 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 stationed them in fastnesses, while he 
 himself lay in the castle of Auchendoun. 
 We rode straight on for Auchendoun, in 
 hopes still to take him. by surprise, 
 although our friends assured us that our 
 approach was known last night through 
 all the rows of Strathbogie, for it seemed 
 the men of the village we came to among 
 the hills had run and raised the alarm. 
 
 About noon we came in sight of the 
 Gordons, drawn up on a hill to the south 
 of the river, but owing to the inequalities 
 of the ground, we could form no right 
 estimate of their numbers. Young Elcho 
 was for an immediate attack, l3ut that I 
 protested against as a thing impracticable, 
 owing to the situation of the ground. The 
 hill was .full of shelves, lying all one 
 above another, so that they served as 
 natural bulwarks, and to surmount them 
 with troops of horse was impossible; 
 therefore, I proposed to march straight on 
 the castle, to take order with the Mar- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 229 
 
 quess himself, for the whole bent and bias 
 of my inclination led me to that. Char- 
 teris grumbled, and would fain have been 
 at handicuffs, but the Laird of Freeland 
 agreeing with me, we rode on, and the 
 army of the Gordons kept its station, only 
 saluting us with a few volleys of mus- 
 quetry as we passed, which did not 
 wound above five men, and killed not 
 one. 
 
 The castle of Auchendoun being difficult 
 of access by a regular army, we formed 
 our men at a little distance to the north- 
 east, and I sent Major Ramsay with a 
 trumpet to summon the Gordons to sur- 
 render. The constable asked in whose 
 name he was thus summoned, — Ramsay 
 replied, " In the name of the king, and 
 the committee of estates." The constable 
 said, " That as to the latter he had not 
 yet learned to acknowledge its power, but 
 he had no orders from his lord to hold out 
 the castle against the king, whose true 
 
230 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 and loyal subject he ever professed to be." 
 After a good deal of reasoning, the gentle- 
 man, on having Ramsay's word, came 
 over to me and conversed with all free- 
 dom. I remember little of what passed, 
 for there was only one thing that struck 
 me to the heart: the Marquess had left 
 the castle that mo^miiig, with sia; horsemen 
 only in his company II 
 
 There was a stunning blow for me ! I 
 thought I had him in the lurch, but be- 
 hold he was gone, I wist not whither. I 
 instantly chose out twenty of my black 
 dragoons, and leaving the officers to settle 
 with the Gordons as best they could, I set 
 off , in pursuit of their chief. I soon got 
 traces of him, and pursued hotly on his 
 track till the fall of evening, when I lost 
 him in this wise. 
 
 He had quitted- his horse, and crossed 
 the Spey in a boat, while two of the gen- 
 tlemen who rode with him led off the 
 rest of the horses down the south side of 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 231 
 
 the river. I followed in the same direc- 
 tion, but could never discover at what 
 place these horses crossed the river, for no 
 ford we could find, the banks being all 
 alike precipitous, and the river tumbling 
 and roaring through one continuous gullet. 
 We passed the night most uncomfortably, 
 in an old barn, and the next morning, 
 getting a ford, we proceeded on the road 
 to Elgin, but lost all traces of the object of 
 our pursuit. My troopers tried to persuade 
 me to return, but I would not listen to 
 them, and therefore I turned westward 
 again, until I came to the very boatmen 
 who had ferried Huntly over the water 
 the evening before. They told me that 
 he left them on foot with four attendants, 
 and that they were all so loaden with 
 gold and silver, that if their horses did not 
 come round in a circuit and meet them, 
 they could not travel two miles further. 
 
 This sharpened our stomachs exceed- 
 ingly, and we set out after the enemy at 
 
232 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 a bold gallop. We had not ridden far, 
 till we were informed by a hind, that the 
 Marquess and his friends were lodged in a 
 farmer's house straight before us, occupied 
 by a gentleman named John Gordon ; that 
 the Marquess had changed his name, but 
 several there knew him, and that it was 
 reported they were loaden with treasure, 
 which they were unable to carry with 
 them. In an instant we were at the 
 house, which we surrounded and took by 
 assault, there being none in it but John 
 Gordon and a lad, and two maidens, all 
 of whom we took prisoners. We searched 
 the house but and ben, outside and inside, 
 but no Marquess nor Lord found we, but 
 we found two bags, in which were con- 
 tained a thousand crowns of gold. I then 
 examined all the prisoners on oath, and 
 released them ; but Mr. Gordon was very 
 sore displeased at the loss of the gold, 
 which I carried with me. " Sir, that gold 
 is neither yours nor mine," said he ; " it 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 233 
 
 was left me in charge ; I swore to hide it, 
 and return it to the owner when called 
 for, and it shows no gentleman nor good 
 Christian to come and take away other 
 people's gold without either ceremony or 
 leave." 
 
 " This money, Mr. Gordon, belongs to a 
 traitor to the state," said I, — " to one that 
 with the help of it was going to kindle 
 up the flames of rebellion and civil war, 
 and in taking it, I do good service both 
 to God and man ; and, therefore, do you 
 take care, Mr. Gordon, that I do not cause 
 your head to be chopped off, for thus 
 lodging and furthering a malignant and 
 intercommuned traitor. For the money, 
 I will answer to a higher power than is 
 vested in you, or him that deputed you 
 the charge ; and will cause you in a few 
 days, if I return in peace, to be taken up 
 and tried by the legal authorities." 
 
 In the mean time one of my black dra- 
 goons had been busy kissing one of John 
 
234 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 Gordon's maidens, and from her he had 
 learned many particulars that came not 
 out on oath. She told him the colours of 
 all the horses and the dresses of the men. 
 The Marquess was dressed in tartan trews 
 of the Mackintosh stripes, had a black 
 bonnet on his head, and was entitled the 
 Major. She told the way the men went, 
 and much of their conversation over-night 
 which she heard. The man they called 
 the Major acknowledged that he was be- 
 witched, and the rest joined with him, 
 marvelling exceedingly at a power some 
 hellish burgess of Edinburgh exercised 
 over him ; and sundry other things did 
 this maiden disclose. 
 
 But from one particular set down here, 
 it was evident the Marquess was impressed 
 with a horrid idea that I was to work 
 his destruction, and feared to look me in 
 the face more than he feared the spirits of 
 the infernal regions. I had the same im- 
 pressions. I knew I would some time 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 9S5 
 
 or other vanquish him, and have my full 
 revenge for all his base and unworthy deal- 
 ings toward me. A good lesson to all men 
 in power to do that which is just and 
 right. As it was, my very name un- 
 manned him, and made him desert his 
 whole clan, — who, amid their native fast- 
 nesses, might have worn us out, or cut us 
 in pieces, — bundle up his treasures, and 
 gallop for his life. 
 
 Had I ridden straight for Forres that 
 morning, I would have been there long 
 before him; but suspecting that he had 
 fled westward into the highlands, I re- 
 turned to Gordon's house, and was now 
 quite behind him. On we rode, without 
 stop or stay, to the town of Forres, having 
 speerings of the party all the way ; but 
 when we came there, they were still a-head 
 of us, having ridden briskly through the 
 town without calling. We pushed on to 
 the town of Finran, but there our evil luck 
 predominated, no such people having been 
 
236 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 seen there. We wist not then where to 
 turn, but thought of pursuing up the coast; 
 and as we were again setting out, whom 
 should we meet but my worthy friend 
 Master John Monro, minister of Inveral- 
 len, who was abroad on the business of 
 the estates. From him we learned, that 
 five gentlemen at the village on the other 
 side of the bay were making a mighty stir 
 about getting a boat,— that they seemed 
 pursued men, and that two of the party 
 who arrived first were so much alarmed, 
 that they took to the boat provided for 
 the whole, and had left their friends to 
 their shift. 
 
 As there were only five of the party 
 we were pursuing, I now suspected that 
 two had been despatched the night before 
 to procure this boat, and knowing the 
 Marquess to be of the latter party, I was 
 sure he was left behind. We made all 
 the speed to the place that our horses were 
 able, but they were sore forespent, and 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 237 
 
 just as we aiTived we saw a great bustle 
 about the quay, and a small boat with 
 four oars left it. I immediately discovered 
 the Marquess, with his tartan trews and 
 black bomiet, and hailing the boat, I de- 
 sired her to return. The helmsman and 
 rowers seemed disposed to obey, but a 
 gTeat bustle arose in the boat, and one of 
 the rowers who leaned on his oar was 
 knocked down, a gentleman took his place, 
 and away shot the boat before the wind. 
 I ordered my party to fire into her, but 
 then a scene of riot and confusion took 
 place. The men and all the women of 
 the village flew on us like people dis- 
 tracted, seized on our guns, took my black 
 dragoons by their throats, scratched their 
 faces, tore their hair, and dared them, for 
 the souls that were within them, to fire 
 one shot at the boat manned by their own 
 dear and honest men. 
 
 It was vain to contend : the boat was 
 soon out of reach, so I was obliged to yield 
 
.238 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 to these rude villagers and make matters 
 up with them as well as I could ; but I 
 was indeed a grieved man for having 
 taken so much trouble in vain, and letting 
 the great disturber of the country's peace 
 escape again and again, as it were, from 
 under my nose. 
 
 We took some rest and refreshment at 
 the village, and after communing long 
 with myself, I determined still to keep on 
 the pursuit ; to ride westward, cross the 
 Firth to Rothiemay, and ride towards 
 Sutherland, to intercept the Marquess on 
 his landing. Accordingly, we set out 
 once more, much against the opinion of 
 my men, who contended that we were 
 too small a party to penetrate into those 
 distant regions ; but nothing could divert 
 me from my purpose, knowing as I did 
 that Inverness, and all those bounds, were 
 in favour with -our party and true men. 
 But behold that very night we were all 
 surprised and taken prisoners in the town 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 239 
 
 of Nairn, by Captain Logie and a full 
 troop of the Gordons, who, getting some 
 intelligence of their chief's danger, had 
 been on the alert for his rescue. 
 
 When I was brought before this young 
 officer to be examined, I found him a very 
 impertinent and forward fellow, although 
 I answered all his questions civilly. When 
 I told him I was pursuing the Marquess 
 of Huntly, to bring him to suffer for all 
 his crimes, he cursed me for a dog, and 
 said the times were come to a sad pass 
 indeed when such a cur as I dared to pur- 
 sue after the Marquess of Huntly, a no- 
 bleman whose shoes I was not entitled to 
 wipe. He called me a puny burgess, a 
 canting worthless hypocrite, and every 
 opprobrious title that he could invent ; 
 took all my hoard of gold, tied my feet 
 and the feet of my black dragoons below 
 the bellies of our horses, and led us away 
 captives into the country of the Gordons. 
 I gave the young gentleman several hints 
 
240 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 to beware how he maltreated me, for that 
 I was a dangerous personage, and never 
 missed setting my foot on the necks of 
 my enemies ; but all my good advice 
 tended only to make him worse. He used 
 us very ill, and at length brought us pri- 
 soners to the castle of Haddo, commanded 
 by Sir George Gordon, and fully provided 
 for a siege. 
 
 We lay for some days without knowing 
 what was going on, often hearing the din 
 of muskets and some cannonry, where- 
 by we understood that Argyle or some of 
 his officers had come before the castle, 
 and sorely did we regret that we had it 
 not in our power to let our state be known 
 to, our friends. 
 
 But there was one thing that I disco- 
 vered which could scarcely have been 
 kept from our ears ; I perceived there were 
 divisions within the castle, and that the 
 other chieftains of the Gordon race were 
 disgusted with Haddo's procedure. On 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 241 
 
 this subject I kept my mind to myself, and 
 the third day after we were immured, we 
 had a little more liberty granted us, and 
 were rather more civilly treated, — then I 
 knew the besieged were afraid, and wished 
 to make their peace. I was right. Argyle 
 had heard from our friends in Morayshire 
 of om* capture, and insisted on our release 
 before he would enter into any accommo- 
 dation with the besieged. We were ac- 
 cordingly liberated, and all my gold re- 
 stored to me, and joyfully was I received 
 by Argyle and his friends, who lauded my 
 zeal exceedingly, although they did make 
 some sport of the expedition of my black 
 dragoons and me, which they denominated 
 " the hladc raed'' 
 
 By this time, master John Gordon was 
 brought in a prisoner, as also two of the 
 boatmen who carried the Marquess over to 
 Caithness, where they had left him, still 
 posting his way to the north. Such a vio- 
 lent fright did that great and proud person 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
g42 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 get from a man whom he had bitterly 
 wronged, and his few black dragoons, that 
 he never looked over his shoulder till he 
 was concealed among the rocks, on the 
 shores of the northern ocean. 
 
 Finding that Lord Gordon, the Marquess's 
 eldest son, had, either through choice or 
 compulsion, joined his uncle Argyle, I got 
 John Gordon, and before his face, Argyle's, 
 and several others, consigned to the young 
 lord his father's treasure that I had cap- 
 tured, for which I got great praise. I 
 knew well enough Argyle would not suffer 
 any part of it to revert to the Huntlys 
 again. The brave young lord looked much 
 dissatisfied ; I was rather sorry for him, for 
 our troops had wasted his father's lands 
 yery much. 
 
 It is ojily necessary to note here, that 
 the 800 men whom I left at Auchendoun 
 met with little opposition in those parts. 
 They entered the castle and plundered it 
 of a good deal of stores, and then 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 24S 
 
 marched rank and file on the army that 
 was encamped on the shelvy hill, but that 
 melted away before them, for the men saw 
 they had nothing for which to fight. 
 
 As soon as I got private talk with Ar- 
 gyle, I informed him of the strength of the 
 castle, and the likelihood there was that 
 we would lose many lives before it ; but I 
 added, " I am convinced that Sir George's 
 violent measures, are any thing but agree- 
 able to the greater part of the gentlemen 
 within, for he is a boisterous and turbulent 
 person, and they cannot brook his rule. 
 My advice therefore, is, that you ofier all 
 within the castle free quarter, providing 
 they will deliver up the laird, and the in- 
 solent captain Logie, to answer for their 
 share in this insurrection." 
 
 Argyle retmrned for answer, " that he 
 approved of my pacific measures, having 
 no wish to shed his countrymen's blood, 
 but that surely the soldiers would never 
 be so base as to give up their leaders." 
 
 M 2 
 
2144 EEMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 I said, " that I conceived the matter 
 deserved a trial, as the sparing of human 
 blood was always meritorious in the sight 
 both of God and man." 
 
 Accordingly Argyle, who never in his 
 life rejected my counsel but once, which he 
 afterwards repented, — he, I say, came be- 
 fore the castle, and by proclamation offered 
 the terms suggested by me. The proffer 
 was no sooner made than the gates were 
 thrown open, Argyle and his friends were 
 admitted, and sir George Gordon and cap- 
 tain Logie delivered into our hands, well 
 bound with ropes. I asked the captain 
 how he did ; but he would not speak, and 
 afterwards, when he did speak, he an- 
 swered me as proudly and as insolently as 
 ever. My kind friend and patron did me 
 the honour that day to say, before sundry 
 noblemen and gentlemen, that he esteemed 
 my advice as if one enquired at the oracles 
 of God. 
 
 And now the rebels being wholly either 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 245 
 
 reduced or scattered, we returned straight 
 to Edinburgh with our two prisoners, and 
 had their heads chopped off, publicly, on 
 the 1 9th of July, at the Market Cross. 
 
 [This was summary work with a ven- 
 geance ! If this narrative of the honest 
 Baillie's detail, as it professes, nothing but 
 simple literal facts, it is certainly an ex- 
 traordinary story, and may well be de- 
 nominated a remarkable passage in his life. 
 But without all doubt, his stories of the 
 Marquess of Huntly must be swallowed 
 with caution ; for such a rooted hatred and 
 opposition could not fail to produce exag- 
 geration. The idea which the writer en- 
 tertains of having a power over the destiny 
 of that nobleman, invested in him by the 
 Almighty, as a reward for former injuries, 
 is among the most curious superstitions of 
 the age. 
 
 In the following parliament, a sir John 
 Smith, and our friend the Baillie, repre- 
 sent the city of Edinburgh ; on which 
 
246 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 occasion, the latter has the honour of 
 knighthood conferred on him. We must, 
 notwithstanding, still denominate him by 
 our old familiar title, the BaiUie, as it 
 sounds best in our ears, and gives a no- 
 velty to the great events in which he was 
 engaged. 
 
 His details of parliamentary business are 
 jumbles of confusion and absurdity, and 
 contain many decrees unworthy the coun- 
 cils of a nation struggling for their liber- 
 ties, civil and religious; we must there- 
 fore follow the Baillie to his next great 
 exploit in the field, and leave his civic and 
 parliamentary annals to those curious in 
 such matters.] 
 
 Some day about the close of the year, 
 [this must have been, a.d. 1644,] I re- 
 ceived a letter from Argyle, entreating me 
 to attend him in the west highlands, as he 
 never stood more in need of my counsel 
 and assistance, than at that instant ; he be- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 247 
 
 ing about to set out on an expedition against 
 a powerful army, commanded by danger- 
 ous and experienced leaders. 
 
 I answered that I liked not having any 
 thing to do with Montrose, for I knew his 
 decision, and stood in dread of him, there- 
 fore I judged my assistance would rather 
 be prejudicial to the good cause and my 
 noble friend, than otherwise ; and that 
 moreover, I had no liberty of absence from 
 the council of the nation; but I would 
 never lose sight of furthering his supplies 
 and interests where I was. 
 
 But all this would not serve, I got 
 another letter express from Dumbarton, 
 adjuring me to come to him without any 
 loss of time, for in my absence he found a 
 blank in his counsels and resolutions which 
 could not otherwise be supplied ; and to 
 bring my reverend friend, Mr. Mungo 
 Law with me, to assist us with his pray- 
 ers. To whet me on a little more he added, 
 that Huntly had again issued from his 
 
248 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 concealment, and had crossed Glen-Roy 
 at the head of a regiment of the Gordons, 
 to urge on and further Montrose's devasta- 
 tions. 
 
 This kindled my ardour to a flame, and 
 without this instigation I would not have 
 gone ; for I felt assured, even in the most 
 inward habitation of my heart, that I was 
 decreed and directed from above, to be a 
 scourge to Huntly, and an adder in his 
 path, until I should bring his haughty 
 brow to the dust. Accordingly, Mr. Law 
 and I set out, in the very depth of win- 
 ter, and after a difficult journey we ar- 
 rived at Dumbarton Castle, where we 
 found our principal covenanting leaders 
 assembled in council, and a powerful army 
 in attendance. 
 
 Argyle's plan was to march straight 
 into Mid-Lorn, which the royal army 
 ihen wasted without mdrcy ; and in this 
 proposal he was joined by General Baillie. 
 At this momentous crisis, Mr. Law and I 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 249 
 
 arrived, and were welcomed by Argyle 
 with open arms. — " Now, my lords," said 
 he good-naturedly, " we have had one 
 Baillie's opinion, let me now request that 
 of anotJier, and if he gives the same ver- 
 dict, my resolution is fixed, for this has 
 been always an Achitophel to me." 
 
 " My lord," said I, " the counsel of 
 Achitophel was at last turned to foolish- 
 ness, so may that of mine, or of any man 
 however eminent for wisdom ; for we are 
 all erring and fallible creatures, vain of 
 our endowments, and wise in our own 
 conceits ; but we can do nothing but what 
 is given us to do. Nevertheless, my lord, 
 my advice shall be given in sincerity, and 
 may the Lord direct the issue." 
 
 My lord of Argyle was well pleased 
 with this prelude, for besides that he loved 
 a simple speech, he strove always to exalt 
 me in the eyes of his compeers ; and so, 
 bowing and beckoning me to proceed, he 
 took his seat, while I spoke as follows : 
 
 M 3 
 
250 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 " My lords, and most worthy committee 
 of directors of this inspired expedition ; it 
 appears to me quite immethodical to trans- 
 port the whole of this brave army into the 
 west highlands, at this inclement season, 
 and leave the whole of the populous dis- 
 tricts to the eastward exposed and unpro- 
 tected. You will see that no sooner have 
 we penetrated those snowy regions, and 
 reached the shores of the western sea, 
 than Montrose and his army of wild high- 
 landers, who account nothing of seasons, 
 will instantly stretch off like a herd of 
 deer, and fall on the towns and fertile 
 districts to the eastward ; leaving us en- 
 tangled among the fortresses of the moun- 
 tains, from whence we may not be able 
 to extricate ourselves before the approach 
 of summer. My advice therefore is, that 
 all the army, save the 500 ordained by 
 the committee to assist Argyle, do return 
 with their leaders, and defend the popu- 
 lous and rich districts of the east ; and no 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 251 
 
 sooner shall Argyle appear in his own 
 country than his own brave clan will flock 
 to him in such numbers, that Montrose 
 and his ragamuffins will never dare to face 
 them, and then shall we have them be- 
 tween two fires that shall enclose and 
 hem them in, and destroy them root and 
 branch." 
 
 Lord Balcarras spoke next, and approved 
 of my plan without hesitation. Crawford 
 Lindsay doing the same, it was approven 
 and adopted without delay, though not 
 much, as I thought, to Argyle's satisfac- 
 tion. Three regiments returned to Angus, 
 and 500 men went with Argyle. We 
 lingered about Rossneath for three days, 
 imtil a messenger arrived with the news 
 of Colonel Campbell, of Auchenbreck, hav- 
 ing arrived from Ireland, with twenty 
 other experienced officers, who were rais- 
 ing the country of Kintyre. We then 
 hasted away, and after a most dreadful 
 march, came in upon the shores of Loch- 
 
252 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 fine. What a woful scene was there pre- 
 sented to us of devastation and blood ! the 
 hamlets smoked in every direction ; beasts 
 lay houghed and dying in the field by 
 hundreds; whole troops of men were found 
 lying slain and stripped, while women and 
 children were cowering about the rocky 
 shores, and dying of cold and want. 
 Cursed be the man that promotes a civil 
 war in his country, and among his kin- 
 dred ; and may the hand of the Lord be 
 on him for evil and not for good ! 
 
 The Lauchlans and Gregors were still 
 hanging over the remnants of that deso- 
 lated place, but they fled to the snowy 
 hills, and loaden as they were with spoil, 
 we were not able to follow them. At 
 Ouchter we met with the brave Sir Dun- 
 can Campbell, of Auchenbreck, who had 
 already raised 400 galla^nt men, so that 
 we were now above 1000 strong, and 
 with these we marched to Inverary. The 
 frost continued exceedingly sharp, but the 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 25S 
 
 snow not being so deep as on the hills to 
 the east, the people flocked in to us from 
 all directions, every one craving to be led 
 against the devourers of their country. 
 The complaints w^ere grievous, and not 
 without cause ; it was a shame that the 
 plundering of that fine and populous coun- 
 try had not been put a stop to sooner. 
 Suspected the Marquess greatly to blame. 
 As for Sir Duncan, he was out of all tem- 
 per on perceiving the desolation wrought 
 in the country, and breathed nothing but 
 vengeance against the northern clans. I 
 verily believe, if arms could have been 
 had, that Argyle might have raised six, 
 if not ten thousand men ; but the great- 
 est part of the arms was carried off or 
 destroyed. As it was, he had his choice 
 of men, and selected none but the stoutest 
 and bravest of the clan, many of them 
 sons of gentlemen ; so that when the army 
 separated at Loch-Awe we had not fewer 
 than 3,400 fighting men. 
 
254 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 Our greatest loss of all was the want of 
 information relating to the state of the 
 country. Notwithstanding the turmoil 
 that was in the land, we knew nothing of 
 what was passing beyond the distance of 
 a few miles ; but all accounts agreed that 
 Montrose was flying rapidly before us, 
 his clans being loaded with booty, and 
 eager to deposit that at^their homes. Of 
 course, we knew that a dispersion of his 
 army must take place in the first instance, 
 and eager we were to harass him before 
 he could again collect them. 
 
 As to the affairs of the east, we knew 
 nothing with certainty, save that we had 
 (me good army in that quarter, though 
 whereabouts we did not know. We 
 heard the Gordons were up, but knew 
 nothing of their motions, or whether they 
 had joined with Montrose. The Frazers 
 and M'Kenzies were also in arms, but 
 whether for the king or the covenant we 
 did not know, as some said the one way 
 
LIFE OP AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. ^55 
 
 and some the other. All we knew for 
 certain was that Montrose was flying, 
 that his highlanders must disperse for 
 awhile, and that it was our duty to keep 
 up with him, and do him all the evil we 
 could. This was also the desire of the 
 whole army, for never were men marched 
 against an enemy held in more perfect de- 
 testation. 
 
 I went with the western division of the 
 army, which passed next to the sea and 
 the provision ships : so also did Argyle, 
 Niddery, and Provost Campbell ; but the 
 bold Sir Duncan led the other division by 
 wilds almost impervious, through the 
 country of the M*Keans. We plundered 
 the country of the Stuarts of Appin, and 
 our drivers brought in sundry small preys. 
 When we came to Kinloch-Leven, we 
 learned that Sir Duncan of Auchenbreck 
 had crossed over into Lochaber before us, 
 and was laying the country of the Came- 
 rons altogether waste. We followed on 
 
^56 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 in his track, and overtook him at even, 
 lying by the side of a frith awaiting our 
 arrival. He had been withstood by the 
 Camerons of Glen-Nevis, who beat in his 
 drivers, killed several of them, and still 
 hung over his array in the recesses of the 
 hills above. 
 
 On the 30th of January at noon, we 
 reached a fine old fortress, where we 
 pitched our camp, and here we were at a 
 great loss how to proceed. Our water- 
 carriage failing us here, we could not 
 transport our necessary baggage farther. 
 The wind had turned round to the north- 
 east, straight in our faces, and therefore, 
 to pursue Montrose in that direction any 
 farther, seemed impracticable for the pre- 
 sent. A council of war was called ; 
 Auchenbreck urged a speedy pursuit, as 
 did sundry other gentlemen, of his kindred ; 
 but he was an impetuous man, and there- 
 fore I took the opposite side, more to be a 
 check on his rashness than from a disap- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 257 
 
 proval of his measures, and Argyle in- 
 stantly leaned to my counsel. 
 
 But we were now in an enemy's coun- 
 try to all intents, and every precaution 
 was necessary; accordingly Argyle and 
 Auchenbreck stationed the army in divi- 
 sions, in the most secure and warlike 
 manner. This was on the Friday even- 
 ing, and on the Saturday Auchenbreck 
 pushed on our advanced guard about seven 
 or eight miles forward on Montrose's 
 track, for his desire was either to overtake 
 Montrose by the way, while his troops 
 were scattered with the spoil, or reach 
 Inverness and join the army there in gar- 
 rison. But now the strangest event fell 
 out to us that ever happened to men. 
 
 On the Saturday, about noon, two men 
 were brought in prisoners that had escaped 
 from Montrose's army, and were return- 
 ing to Moidart: from them we learned 
 that Montrose had reached Loch-Nigs — 
 that his army was reduced more than one 
 
258 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 half by desertions and leaves of absence — . 
 that the remainder were greatly dispirited, 
 as he meditated a march into Badenoch, 
 and from that to Buchan, a dreadful 
 march in such weather. We swallowed 
 all this for truth, and I believe the men 
 told the truth as far as they knew. But 
 behold, at the very time Argyle was ques- 
 tioning them in my presence, there comes 
 news that the advanced guard of Mon- 
 trose's army and ours had had a sharp en- 
 counter at the ford of the river Spean; 
 that the latter had been defeated with a 
 severe loss, and was in full retreat on the 
 camp. 
 
 *^ Secure the two traitors," cried Sir 
 Duncan, and mounting, he galloped through 
 the camp, marshalling the troops under 
 their several officers in gallant style. Ar- 
 gyle, Kilmere, and myself, remained ques- 
 tioning the deserters. They declared the 
 thing impossible, as they had come in the 
 very line of march, and neither saw nor 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 259 
 
 heard of a retrograde motion, and offered 
 to answer with their lives for the truth of 
 their statement. 
 
 Argyle was convinced, so was I; so 
 were all who heard the men's assevera- 
 tions, and the simplicity with which they 
 were delivered. The captain of the ad- 
 vanced guard was sent for, and strictly 
 examined. He could not tell whether the 
 army of Montrose had returned, and came 
 against us or not. " I had led my men 
 over the river Spean, on the ice," said he, 
 " lest it should break up, as a thaw 
 seemed to be coming on. They went 
 sliding over in some irregularity, and all 
 the while I perceived the bare heads of a 
 few fellows peeping over the ridge, imme- 
 diately before us. I took them for boys, 
 or country people ; yet still, as the men 
 came over, I drew them up on the opposite 
 side to this. When about two-thirds 
 were over, a whole regiment of armed 
 men came rushing down on us at once. 
 
260 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 running with all their force, and uttering 
 the most terrible shouts. We had firm 
 footing, and I thought might have repelled 
 them, but some of our men who were 
 scrambling on the ice at the time 
 returned, and began a making for this 
 side. Flight, of all things, is the most 
 contagious. I have often seen it, and on 
 seeing this I lost hope. In five minutes 
 after this my regiment broke, and ran for 
 it ; and many were killed, or taken 
 floundering on the ice. We, however, 
 drew up on the near bank, and retreated 
 in order. I there got a full view of the 
 men, and knew them for a regiment of the 
 McDonalds ; but whether Keppoch's men 
 of the Braes, or M 'Ranald's, I could not 
 distinguish." 
 
 We were all convinced that this check 
 was nothing more than the Lochaber clans 
 trying to impede -our march, till Montrose 
 got out of the fastnesses of the mountains ; 
 but Auchenbreck was doubtful, and 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 261 
 
 caused our army to rest on their arms all 
 night, sure of this, that if Montrose had 
 returned, he would try to surprise us by a 
 night attack. The night passed in quiet- 
 ness, save the commotion of the elements, 
 which became truly awful. The evening 
 had been light ; for the sky, though 
 troubled like, was clear ; and the moon at 
 the full. But at midnight the thaw com- 
 menced ; the winds howled, and the black 
 clouds hung over the pale mountains, and 
 whirled in eddies so terrific, that my heart 
 was chilled within me ; and my spirit 
 shrunk at the madness of mankind, to be 
 thus seeking one another's lives, amid the 
 terrors of the storm and the commotion of 
 conflicting tempests. I spent the night in 
 fasting and prayer, fervently committing 
 us and our cause to the protection of the 
 Almighty. 
 
 My noble friend had no more rest than 
 myself. He lodged in the same house 
 with me down on the shore, but in a dif- 
 
262 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 ferent apartment ; messengers arrived 
 every half hour, and still he was impa- 
 tient for the return of the next. About 
 four in the morning he sent for me, and on 
 hasting to his apartment, I was grieved to 
 the heart at seeing him so much agitated. 
 He was lying on his field couch with all 
 his clothes on, save his coat, and his head 
 swathed with flannel above his tasselled 
 night cap. When I went in, he was com- 
 plaining to his attendants of the uncertainty 
 in which Sir Duncan kept him, and saying 
 it was most strange that it could not be 
 ascertained whether an army withstood us, 
 or only an adverse clan. I saw he wished 
 it the latter, and that with an earnestness 
 that greatly discomposed him ; his attend- 
 ants seemed even shy of communicating 
 their true sentiments, and sided with their 
 lord in conjecturing that the troops that 
 opposed our march, was only a party raised 
 by some of the chieftains of Lochaber, to 
 impede and harass us in the pursuit. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 263 
 
 When the Marquess perceived me, he 
 called me to him, and addressed me with 
 his wonted courtesy, asking how I did, 
 and how I had rested, but, without giving 
 me time to answer, began a complaining 
 of headach and fever: said it was most 
 unfortunate in our present circumstances, 
 but that it behoved not him to complain, 
 seeing it was the Lord's will to lay that 
 affliction on his unworthy servant. My 
 heart failed me when I heard him speak 
 in this guise. I could not answer him, 
 but taking his hand, I felt his pulse, and 
 found both from that, and the heat on his 
 skin, that he was fevered to a considerable 
 degree. I knew it arose sheerly from 
 agitation and want of rest, but I had not 
 the face to tell him so, only I desired him 
 to compose himself until the morning, and 
 that then the fresh air and the exercise of 
 the muster would invigorate his spirits ; 
 and that in the mean time I would go out 
 
264 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 and see that all was safe, and the martial 
 lines in proper order. 
 
 I took my cloak, mounted my horse, 
 and with a heavy heart rode out to the 
 plain on which our army lay in close files, 
 flanked by the old fortress and a bay of 
 the Firth on the left, and an abrupt steep 
 on the right. The morning was dismally 
 dark, and the rain and sleet pouring in tor- 
 rents, but the wind w^as somewhat abated. 
 I rode about for some time among the 
 lines, and was several times challenged in 
 Gaelic, for in the hurry at head quarters, 
 I had neglected to bring a guide with me. 
 I tried to find my way back again, but 
 could not make it out, for not a man could 
 I find who could speak English, until at 
 length I was brought to the young laird 
 of Kilkreman, and he spake it but right 
 indifferently. I asked him to lead me to 
 Auchenbreck, he replied as well as he 
 could, that it might not be easily done, for 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. ^65 
 
 he had been moving about all night from 
 line to line, keeping every one on the alert. 
 I asked him sir Duncan's opinion of this 
 army that seemed' to have risen out of the 
 earth.' — 
 
 " Sir Duncan is shy of giving his opinion," 
 said he, *•' but from the concern that he 
 manifests, it is apparent that he dreads 
 danger." 
 
 " What is your own opinion ?" said I. 
 " I would not give a rush for the dan- 
 ger," said he. " It is merely caused 
 by Keppoch's men, and the tail of the 
 Camerons, collected to harass us a little. 
 I will undertake with my Glenorchy re- 
 giment alone, to drive them like a herd of 
 deer. If Montrose have come from Loch- 
 ness since Friday morning, across the Braes 
 of Lochaber, he and his army must have 
 eome on wings." 
 
 Not knowing the country, I had nothing 
 to say ; but in searching for sir Duncan, 
 we came among the lowland regiment, 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 which we brought with us from Dumbar- 
 ton. A group of these were in warm dis- 
 cussion on the present state of affairs. 
 Campbell addressed them in Gaelic ; but 
 I held my peace, eager to hear their 
 sentiments. 
 
 " Wha is they ?" whispered one. 
 
 " Hout, hout, — twa o' our heeland ofi&- 
 sher's, — ^they dinna ken a word we're 
 speakin." 
 
 " Then, David, what have ye to say to 
 my argument ?" 
 
 " I have to say, John Tod, that nana 
 kens what Montrose will do but them 
 that hae foughten under him, as I hae 
 doon. His plans are aboon a' our capa- 
 cities : for let me tell ye, John, if ye be 
 gaun to calculate on ony o' Montrose's mea- 
 sures, ye maun fix on the ane that's maist 
 unlikely to a' others that could be contrived 
 be mortal men." • 
 
 " But dear Davie, man, the thing's 
 impossible." 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 267 
 
 " It's a grit lee, man. I tell ye, John 
 Tod, he does a thing the better that it's 
 impossible." 
 
 ". Hout, hout ! there's nae argxiifying wi' 
 you ava gin ye say that. But Davie, ye 
 see, if the way be that lang, an' that rough, 
 that a single man coudna' travel it in a 
 black-weather day, how could a hale army 
 traverse it through snaw and ice ?" 
 
 " It's a' that ye ken about the matter, 
 John Tod. Do ye no ken that Montrose's 
 army's a' cavalry?" 
 
 " What ? his fit sodgers an' a' ? Are 
 a' his bare hurdied clans mimtit on horses ?" 
 
 " Ay, that they ir, John. Fit an' 
 horse an' a' is turned cavalry. Have nae 
 they ta'en awa near three thoosand o' the 
 pick o' the horses in a' Argyle ? Ay, when 
 they came down the deel's stairs, every 
 man had a pony to ride, an' ane to carry 
 his wallet : and let me tell ye, Jock Tod, 
 thae ponies can travel a hundir mile i' the 
 day ; an' for roads, they like an ill ane far 
 
 N 2 
 
S68 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 better nor a good ane. I'm neither a pro- 
 phet, nor a prophet's son, but I venture to 
 predict that Montrose, an' a' his clans at 
 his back, will rise out o' the stomach of 
 that glen the morn, an' like a flood frae 
 the mountains, bear the red-haired Camp- 
 bell's, an' us wi' them, into the waves o' 
 the sea." 
 
 " Fat pe te Sassenach tog saying ?" said 
 young Kilrennan. 
 
 " He is threatening to drive his enemies 
 into the waves of the sea," said I. 
 
 " He will drive them to the rocks in te 
 first place," said Campbell. Shortly after 
 that we found Sir Duncan of Auchenbreck, 
 whose care and concern for his kinsmen 
 could not be equalled, and with him I had 
 a conference of considerable length. He 
 had been able to discover nothing. If 
 there was an army, it was kept in close con- 
 cealment, but he was disposed to think 
 there was one, else the flying parties would 
 not have been so bold and forward. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. ^69 
 
 " They are at this moment," said he, 
 " hovering so nigh our columns there on 
 the right, as to be frequently exchanging 
 volleys with them by v^ay of salutation. 
 A band of Caterans v^ould scarcely dare to 
 do so. But if God spare us to see the light 
 of day, our doubts shall soon be at an end." 
 
 " Do you mean to begin the attack, or 
 to await it ?" said I. 
 
 " I never wait an attack," returned he ; 
 " for my kinsmen have not experience in 
 military tactics enough to repel one, by 
 awaiting it firmly, or forming and wheel- 
 ing at the word of command, in which one 
 single mistake would throw all into irre- 
 mediable confusion. I must begin the at- 
 tack, and then I can depend on my Camp- 
 bells for breaking a front line to pieces 
 with the best clans among them." 
 
 I then took him aside, and in his ear 
 told him of the state in which I left the 
 Marquess ; that he really was HI, and, as I 
 judged, somewhat delirious. 
 
270 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 He sighed deeply, and said a sight of 
 him mounted at the head of his men, was 
 better than a thousand spears; that he 
 never could understand his chief, for he 
 had seen instances in which he shewed 
 the most determined courage, but that, 
 most unaccountably, he had not the com-* 
 mand of it at all times, and never when 
 most required. " As it is," continued he, 
 " we must never expose him in his pre- 
 sent nervous state, to set a ruinous example 
 to the men, who adore him. Do you, 
 therefore, detain him till the battle is fairly 
 begun, and then, when the first step of 
 the race is taken, you shall see him the 
 bravest of the brave." 
 
 I applauded the wisdom of Sir Duncan, 
 and said it was the very step I was 
 anxious for him to take, being certain that 
 the Marquess, in his present state of tre- 
 pidation, would, only derange his mea- 
 sures ; and, at all events, I was sure he 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 271 
 
 would not suffer the army to be moved 
 out of their present strong position to be 
 led to the attack. 
 
 " In the name of God keep him to 
 yourself, — keep him to yourself," said he 
 vehemently. " Do you call that a strong 
 position? It is the very reverse for a 
 highland army. We are too closely 
 crammed together, and an attack of an 
 hundred horse from that ridge would ruin 
 our fine array in one instant. That a 
 strong position ! I would not give yon 
 ridge of rock for a thousand of such 
 positions. Good morrow. My kindest 
 respects to my chief, and tell him all is 
 safe. I must be going, and see what is 
 going on yonder ;" for at that time some 
 volleys of musketry echoed fearfully among 
 the rocks up towards the bottom of Ben- 
 Nevis. 
 
 I called Sir Duncan back for a moment, 
 and intreated him not to engage in battle 
 till the sabbath was over, if it lay in his 
 
272 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 power to avoid it ; for I dreaded that the 
 hand of God would be laid in a visible man- 
 ner on the first who broke that holy day 
 by shedding the blood of their brethren 
 and countrymen. But he only shook his 
 head, and said, with his back towards 
 me, " We warriors are often compelled 
 to that which we would most gladly 
 shun." 
 
 The day began to break as I left him, 
 and I could not help contemplating once 
 more the awful scene that hung impending 
 over these ireful and kindred armies. The 
 cliffs of the towering hills that overhung 
 them were spotted by the thaw, which 
 gave them a wild speckled appearance in 
 the grey light of the morning, and all their 
 summits were wrapt in clouds of the 
 deepest sable, as if clothed in mourn- 
 ing for the madness of the sons of men. 
 The thought, too, that it was a sabbath 
 morning, when we ought all to have been 
 conjoined in praising and blessing the name 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 273 
 
 of our Maker, and the Redeemer of our 
 souls ; — while, instead of that, we were all 
 longing and yearning to mangle and deface 
 the forms that bore his image, and send 
 their souls to their great account out of 
 the midst of a heinous transgression. The 
 impressions of that sabbath-morning will 
 never depart from my heart ; and since 
 that day, February the 2d, 1645, I have 
 held gloomy impressions as a sure fore- 
 token of bad fortune. 
 
 There were 500 Glenorchy men, com- 
 manded by my late acquaintance young 
 Archibald Campbell, of Kilrennan, son to 
 Campbell, of Bein-More, with whom he 
 had lately threatened to annihilate the 
 whole host that beleaguered us. These, 
 at day-break, were advanced toward the 
 right, to take possession of a ridge that 
 commanded the last entrance from an 
 hundred glens and ravines behind. They 
 were attacked in a tumultuous and irregu- 
 
 N 3 
 
274 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 lar manner, apparently by a body of men 
 squatted here and there on the height, 
 which, as soon as the Campbells gained, 
 they quitted, retreating toward the hills, 
 and calling in Gaelic to one another. I 
 saw this movement and retreat, and never 
 beheld aught more conclusive. I was 
 convinced they were a herd of caterans, 
 sent to harass us and retreat to their in- 
 accessible fastnesses on the approach of 
 danger. With this impression fixed on 
 my mind, I went in again to my noble 
 friend, in excellent spirits. I found him 
 equipped for the field, but looking even 
 worse than before, though pretending that 
 he was a great deal better. I assured 
 him of what I believed to be the truth, 
 that the opposing army was nothing more 
 than some remnants of the malignant clans 
 collected after depositing their spoil, to 
 attend us on our march, and impede it as 
 much as lay in their power ; for that I 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 275 
 
 had myself seen them put to flight by the 
 Glenorchy regiment, and chased to the 
 hills like so many wild goats or ragged 
 kyloes. 
 
 The spirits of the Marquess brightened 
 up a little, but there either was a lurking 
 disease, or a lurking tremor, that had over- 
 come him. He lifted his hand to his 
 brow, and gave thanks to God that we 
 were thus allowed to enjoy his holy day 
 in peace and quietness ; he then asked for 
 Mr. Law, and being told that he was on 
 board the galley, he proposed that we 
 should go to him, and join in our morning 
 devotions. 
 
 The Marquess's splendid galley. The 
 Faith, lay within a half bowshot of 
 the shore, immediately behind the house 
 where we quartered, but the store-ship 
 lay farther away beyond the mouth of 
 the river. A little gilded boat with pen- 
 nant and streamers, and having The 
 Hope painted in golden letters on her 
 
276 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 stern, bore us on board, and we had not 
 well put off from the shore till the thun- 
 ders of musketry and field-pieces began 
 anew to echo among the rocks. The Mar- 
 quess lifted his eyes to Ben-Nevis, and 
 remarked what a tumultuous sound was 
 produced by the storm and the rushing 
 torrents; (for by this time the floods of 
 melted snow that poured from the moun- 
 tains were truly terrific;) he made no allu- 
 sion at all to the sounds of the battle that 
 mingled in the uproar, which were then 
 quite audible, although it was but partially 
 commenced. 
 
 He was the first conducted on board. 
 There were eight or nine of us, and I was 
 about the last, or rather I think the very 
 last. Every one having something to take 
 on board with him, I had a good while 
 to sit astern, and I observed the Marquess 
 lift his eyes to the hill, and instantly his 
 countenance changed from dark to a deadly 
 paleness, and from that to a hvid blue. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 277 
 
 My very hairs rose on my head, for I had 
 bad forebodings, and I dreaded that his 
 fine army was broken. I hasted on board, 
 and soon was aware of the cause of his 
 alarm. It was the bray of trumpets 
 audibly mixing with the roar of the ele- 
 ments, producing an effect awfully sub- 
 lime, but appalling to those who but now 
 hoped to spend a sabbath in the exercises 
 of devotion. 
 
 " Is not that the sound of trumpets I 
 hear ?" said Argyle. 
 
 " It is, my lord," said I. 
 
 " In the name of God, what does it 
 portend ?" said he. 
 
 " It portends, my lord, that Montrose 
 is leading a regiment of horse to the 
 onset." 
 
 " Then God prosper and shield the 
 right," cried he emphatically ; " Mr. Law, 
 let us to our devotions shortly, and commit 
 our cause to the Lord of Hosts. Then to 
 
27^ REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 the battle-field, where our presence may 
 be much wanted." 
 
 Mr. Law led the way to the cabin. I 
 did not go down. I could not ; for with 
 all the desire to join in prayer that a poor 
 dependent creature could inherit, I wanted 
 the ability; so much were my thoughts 
 and my eyes riveted on the scene before 
 me. 
 
 The Marquess had a curious gilded tube 
 on board, with glass in it, which brought 
 distant objects close to the eye. I got 
 possession of this, and saw the battle 
 with perfect accuracy. Auchenbreck had 
 put his troops in motion to the right, 
 in order to begin the attack ; he had 
 also taken a position on a broken rising 
 ground behind the valley. The Glen- 
 orchy regiment of 500 men still kept 
 their position in advance to the right, 
 and it was there the battle began. They 
 were attacked by a regiment of Irish, 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 279 
 
 headed by some brave officers, and as they 
 out-numbered ours, the Glenorchy men 
 lost ground reluctantly, and were beaten 
 from their commandmg station. They 
 were forced to give way, but were in no- 
 wise broken. There appeared to be no 
 horses in this part of the battle, but the 
 three regiments of McDonalds, who were 
 all on the right, were flanked on both 
 sides by strong bodies of horse. The Ca- 
 merons, Stewarts, and some other inland 
 clans, formed the centre, and the other 
 two Irish regiments were behind. Our 
 lowland regiment was on the left, the rest 
 being all Campbells. I cannot now dis- 
 tinguish them by the names of their colo- 
 nels ; but, to give them justice, they ap- 
 peared all alike eager and keen on the 
 engagement ; and there is not a doubt but 
 their too great intensity on revenge ruined 
 the fortune of the day. 
 
 The Glenorchy regiment, as I said, was 
 beaten back, and this being in view of the 
 
280 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 whole army, there was an instant call, 
 from rank to rank, for support to brave 
 young Bein-More. Auchenbreck ordered 
 off the third line to reinforce the Glenor- 
 chy regiment, and then such a rush took 
 place towards that point, that it appeared 
 like utter madness and insubordination. 
 But so eager were the Campbells to make 
 up the first appearance of ,a breach in their 
 line, that they left both their centre and 
 left wing uncovered and weakened. Mon- 
 trose lost not a moment on beholding this : 
 he galloped across in front of the McDo- 
 nalds, and shouted to them to charge. 
 They were not slack ; pouring down into 
 the valley, in three columns, they at- 
 tacked the Campbells with loud shouts. 
 The latter received them bravely; their 
 lines bowed and waved, but did not 
 break; and I could not distinguish that 
 very many fell on either side. But Mon- 
 trose now, at the head of a large body of 
 horse, made a dash off at the right, with 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 281 
 
 a terrible clang of trumpets and other 
 noisy sinful instruments, as if he meant to 
 place himself in the rear of our army. 
 
 The pangs that I felt at this moment 
 are unutterable. When the Campbells 
 made the rush to the right, they quickly 
 repelled the Irish, and drove them out of 
 my sight ; but when Montrose and the 
 M 'Donalds came with such force on our 
 left, then quite weakened, little as I knew 
 of military tactics, I trembled for the fate 
 of the day. Auchenbreck was as brave an 
 officer as lived, but he had been used to 
 command troops regularly trained, and he 
 tried to manoeuvre this army in the same 
 manner. It would not do. In bringing 
 his force round to support the left, now in 
 such jeopardy, the whole body of the 
 troops got into most inextricable confusion, 
 very much occasioned by the clamour and 
 appearance of the horse. Alack ! if they had 
 known how little they had to fear ! The 
 greater part of the horses was merely an 
 
282 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 appearance, and no more ; they were new 
 listed, and sufficiently awkward, as were 
 also the men who rode them. I saw them 
 capering and wheeling, and throwing their 
 riders, affirighted almost to madness at 
 the trumpets and shots; yet with these 
 ragged colts did that mighty renegade 
 amaze the hearts of the army of the cove- 
 nant. 
 
 If Auchenbreck had but called out— 
 " See, yonder are the McDonalds beating 
 our brethren, run down the slope, and cut 
 them all to pieces," I aiii sure they would 
 have done it or fallen in the attempt ; but, 
 in place of that, he tried to manoeuvre the 
 army by square and rule, till the whole 
 went wrong, and then every man saw he 
 was wrong without the power of putting 
 himself right. The whole army was, for the 
 space of an hour, no otherwise than an 
 immense drove of highland kyloes all in a 
 stir, running hither and thither ; some- 
 times with a swing the one way and 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 283 
 
 sometimes the other, as if driven by blasts 
 of wind. All this while, they never 
 thought of giving way, although the 
 Camerons were in the midst of them, 
 slaughtering them like sheep ; the fierce 
 M*Donalds breaking through and through 
 their irregular line, and the horse flanking 
 them on the side next the sea. 
 
 For a long time I could distinguish 
 Montrose's front in reg\ilar columns bear- 
 ing onward through a mass of confusion, 
 but at length the two armies appeared to 
 mingle in one, and to move southward 
 with a slow and troubled motion. Still 
 the army of the Campbells did not break 
 up and run. Every man seemed resolved 
 to stand and fight it out, could he have 
 known how to have done it, or found sup- 
 port on one side or the other. They knew 
 not the art of flight; they reeled, they 
 staggered, and waved like a troubled sea, 
 but no man turned his back and fled. To 
 
284 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 rally the front was impossible, for the 
 clans were through and through it ; but I 
 saw several officers attempting to rally 
 lines in the rear, and so glad were the 
 Campbells of anything like a rallying- 
 point, that they rushed towards these em- 
 bryo files with an eagerness that in a few 
 minutes annihilated them. 
 
 The lowland regiment, commanded by 
 Colonel Cobron, behaved exceedingly well. 
 It was never broken : when the retreat 
 began, I saw that regiment defile to its 
 left, lean its left wing on the southwest 
 turret of the huge old castle, and sustain 
 for a space the whole power of Montrose's 
 right wing. The horse never attempted 
 to break them, but a strong regiment of 
 the McDonalds, by some styled the Ranald 
 regiment, drew up in front of the low- 
 landers. These either did not like their 
 appearance, or liked better to smite the 
 Campbells, for they passed on to the gene- 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 285 
 
 ral carnage, and the lowlanders kept their 
 gi'ound, and took quiet possession of the 
 castle. 
 
 The only other thing that I noted in 
 the general confusion was a last attempt of 
 Auchenbreck to turn the left of Montrose's 
 line up nigh to the bottom of the steep. 
 A highland regiment was pushing onward 
 there, said by some to be the Stewarts, 
 whether of Athol or Appin I wot not, as 
 if with intent to gain the glen and cut off 
 the retreat. Against these Sir Duncan 
 went up at the head of a small number of 
 gentlemen, but the gallant hero w^as the 
 very first man that fell, and the rest 
 fought over him till they were all cut 
 down. The rout by degi'ees became ge- 
 neral, and the brave and high-spirited 
 Campbells were slaughtered down without 
 the power of resistance. 
 
 However much was said to mitigate the 
 loss sustained that day, it was very great ; 
 for in fact that goodly army was almost 
 
286 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 annihilated. When the flyers came to 
 the river of Glen-Levin, it was roaring 
 like a sea, and covered with floating snow 
 and ice. It was utterly impassable by 
 man or beast. The Campbells had no 
 alternative, for they chose rather to trust 
 the God of the elements than the swords 
 of their inveterate foes. They plunged in 
 like sheep into the washing-pool. Scarcely 
 a man of them escaped! They were 
 borne by the irresistible torrent into the 
 ocean in a few moments, where we saw 
 their bodies floating in hundreds as we 
 sailed along. And moreover, in endea- 
 vouring to drag a large body on board, the 
 rope broke, and they were all drowned 
 likewise. 
 
 This is a true description of that fatal 
 engagement, which need not be doubted, 
 for, though I write from memory, the im- 
 pressions made on my mind that day were 
 not such as to be ever obliterated. I can- 
 not state the loss, for I never knew it, nor 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 287 
 
 do I believe the Marquess ever knew it or 
 inquired after it. As far as I could judge, 
 from a distant view, there was not a man 
 escaped, save a few hundreds that forced 
 their way to the steep, and scattered 
 among the rocks on the south and west 
 sides of Ben-Nevis. 
 
 I must nov/ return back to where I left 
 off; namely, at the commencement of 
 prayers on board of Argyle's meteor gal- 
 ley The Faith. 
 
 Mr. Mmigo Law, instead of making the 
 prayers short that morning, as the Mar- 
 quess had ordered him, made them as long 
 again as usual, for which he was sharply 
 reproved afterwards ; but after my 16x6. 
 the Marquess had kneeled down and joined 
 in the homily, he could not with any de- 
 gree of decency leave it. 
 
 When he came up, two pages were 
 waiting orders. They had been sent ex- 
 press from the army. I heard him saying 
 — ^" Tell Sir Duncan ?iot to attack, but 
 
^88 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 keep his strong position in which I placed 
 him. But I will go with the orders my- 
 self." 
 
 " No, no, my lord, do not mention it 
 now," said I. " It is too late. The battle 
 will be won or lost before you can reach 
 it and give an order." 
 
 " I will go ; I must go ;" said he, ve- 
 hemently. " No man shall hinder me, to 
 go and either conquer or die at the head 
 of my people." 
 
 I held him by the robe* The two 
 henchmen waited in the boat. " Speak to 
 him, Mr. Law," cried I. " Speak to my 
 lord. Would it not be madness in him to 
 go ashore now, and perhaps derange Sir 
 Duncan's plan of fight, and then, whatever 
 evil betides, my lord will be blamed." 
 
 Mr. Law, who was a powerful man, 
 -—though not so tall as the Marquess, yet 
 twice as thick, — came forward, and clasped 
 his brawny arms round above the Mar- 
 quess's, at the same time addressing him in 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 289 
 
 the words of Scripture — " Nay, thou shalt 
 not depart ; neither shalt thou go hence ; 
 for if these thy people fly, they will not 
 care for them, and if half of them die they 
 will not care for them, for lo ! art thou 
 not worth ten thousand of them; there- 
 fore, is it not better that thou succour 
 them out of the ship ?" 
 
 The Marquess, thus compelled, was 
 obliged reluctantly to give up his resolu- 
 tion, which he did with many groans and 
 gTievous complaints. I was resolved he 
 should not go, for I knew Sir Duncan 
 dreaded him, and so did I ; therefore I 
 carried my point half by wiles. 
 
 It has been reported all over this coun- 
 try that he was in the battle, and fled 
 whenever he saw his rival Montrose and 
 the royal standard. No such thing : he 
 never was in the field that morning. He 
 arranged all the corps the evening before, 
 and gave out general orders ; slept at head- 
 quarters, and only went on board when 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
290 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 he believed Montrose to be a hundred 
 miles off, and the army of the Campbells 
 to be in no danger. He was afterwards 
 restrained by main force from going ashore, 
 which would only have been selling his 
 life for nothing, as the day was, in effect, 
 irrecoverably lost at an early hour. The 
 lowland regiment defended themselves in 
 the old fortress against the whole of Mon- 
 trose's conquering army, till he was 
 obliged to grant them honourable terms, 
 and they all returned to their homes in 
 peace. The strength of the mighty, the 
 brave, and the Christian clan Campbell, 
 was by that gTievous blow broken for 
 ever. The Faith and Hope sailed discon- 
 solate down Lochaber. Argyle and I, and 
 seven others, bore straight to the Clyde, 
 and from , thence hasted to Edinburgh, 
 where we were the first to lay the matter 
 before the Committee of Estates, and re- 
 ceived the nation's thanks for our good 
 behaviour. 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 291 
 
 [I had great doubts of the Baillie's sin- 
 cerity in this, till I found the following 
 register in Sir James Balfour's Annals, 
 vol. iii. p. 272-3: 
 
 " Wedensday, 12 Feb. Sessio I. 
 
 " This day the Marquese of Argyle 
 came to the housse and maide a fulle re- 
 latione of all hes praeeidingis sence his 
 last going away from this. 
 
 " The Housse war fully satisfied with 
 my lord Marquese of Argylis relatione 
 and desyred the pressydent in their names 
 to rander him hartly thankis for his gi*it 
 painis and trauellis takin for the publicke 
 weille and withall intreated to continew 
 in so ladable a coursse of doing for the 
 goode peace of the countrey." 
 
 The battle was on the 2d ; this was on 
 the 12th ; so that before they sailed round 
 the Mull of Kintyre they must have lost 
 very little time in examining the loss 
 sustained or the state of that ruined coun- 
 try. 
 
 o 2 
 
296 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 days. From that time forth he had no 
 more heart for business ; and his poUtical 
 interest in the city being at an end, he 
 retired from society and traffic, and pined 
 in secret over the miserable and degraded 
 state of his country, and the terrors that 
 seemed once more to hang over the re- 
 formed rehgion. He could not go to his 
 door without seeing the noblest head in 
 the realm set up as a beacon of disgrace ; 
 the lips that had so often flowed with the 
 words of truth and righteousness falling 
 from their hold, the eye of majesty decay- 
 ing in the socket, and the dark grey hairs 
 bleaching in the winds of heaven. This 
 was a sight his wounded spirit could not 
 brook, and his bodily health and strength 
 decayed beneath the pressure. But he 
 lived to remove that honoured head from 
 the gaol where it had so long stood a 
 beacon of disgrace to a whole country ; to 
 carry it with all funeral honours into the 
 land which it had ruled, and deposit it in 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 293 
 
 " From the first day that Charles le- 
 sumed the sceptre of his fathers, nay from 
 the hour that Argyle placed the crown on 
 the young monarch's head, the fortunes of 
 my noble friend began to decline. He 
 soon perceived that the king was jealous 
 of him, and therefore he parted from his 
 company, and left him to his fate. He had 
 for twenty years been at the head of 
 Scottish affairs, both in church and state ; 
 and much labour and toil did he undergo 
 for the good of his country, but now the 
 summer of his earthly glory was past, and 
 he was left like a withered oak standing 
 aloof from the forest he had so long 
 shielded from the blast. 
 
 " When General Dean brought him pri- 
 soner to Edinburgh, I got liberty to attend 
 him in his confinement, and not a day 
 passed over my head in which I did not 
 visit him. I had always regarded him 
 both as a good and a great man, with 
 some few constitutional failings ; but liis 
 
 o 3 
 
^92 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 These are the most notable passages in 
 the life of this extraordinary person ; and 
 it is with regret that I must draw them 
 to a close, in order to variegate this work 
 with the actions of other men. He was a 
 magistrate ; a ruling elder of the church ; 
 sat in three Scottish parliaments, and lived 
 to see many wonderful changes and revo- 
 lutions. He at length triumphed over his 
 old inveterate foe the Marquess of Hunt- 
 ly, receiving him at the Water Gate as 
 a state prisoner, and conducting him to that 
 gaol from which he never again emerged 
 till taken to the block. But the lively 
 interest that the Baillie took in this bloody 
 affair, both with the church and state, I 
 am rather inclined to let drop into obli- 
 vion ; while, on the other hand, the man- 
 ner in which he speaks of the death of his 
 old friend and benefactor, does honour to 
 his heart and the steadiness of his prin- 
 ciples. I shall copy only a few sentences 
 here, and no more.] 
 
LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. ^95 
 
 live. But during a long life I learned to 
 view our state trials of Scotland as a mere 
 farce ; for what was a man's greatest 
 glory and honour this year, was very 
 like to bring him to the block the next. 
 What could be a surer test of this than to 
 see the good Marquess of Argyle's grey 
 head set upon the same pole on which his 
 rival's, the Marquess of Montrose, had so 
 lately stood." 
 
 [The other circumstances mentioned by 
 the Baillie are recorded in every history 
 of that period. But he prayed with and 
 for his patron night and day during his 
 last trial ; dined with him on the day of 
 his execution, took farewell of him at the 
 foot of the scaffold, and running home, be- 
 took him to his bed, from which he did 
 not rise for a month. He could not believe 
 that the country would suffer a deed so 
 enormous to be committed as the sacri- 
 ficing such a man as Argyle, nor would he 
 credit the account of his death for many 
 
294 REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE 
 
 character never rose so high as when he 
 was plunged in the depth of adversity. 
 
 " When he and I were in private, and 
 spoke our sentiments freely, he did not 
 think highly of the principles or capacities 
 of Charles the Second ; for his principles, 
 both civil and religious, inclined him to a 
 commonwealth, or a monarchy greatly re- 
 stricted. It was said the young king soon 
 discovered something so contracted and 
 selfish in his character, that he was glad 
 to be rid of his company ; . but I knew his 
 character better than the profligate monarch 
 did, and such a discovery never was made 
 by me. There was no man truer to his 
 friends or more generous to his dependants, 
 and from the support of the Protestant 
 religion he never once swerved. I was 
 twice examined on his trial, and could 
 have told more than I did regarding him 
 and Cromwell. One could not say that 
 his trial was unfair, admitting the principle 
 on which he was tried to have been rela- 
 
 .1- 
 
^ 
 
 LIFE OF AN EDINBURGH BAILLIE. 297 
 
 the tomb where the bones of the noble 
 martyr were reposing. Then returning 
 home, the worthy BailUe survived only a 
 few days. He followed his noble and 
 beloved patron into the land of peace and 
 forgetfulness. His body was carried to 
 Elgin, the original burial-place of his 
 fathers, and by a singular casualty, his 
 head laid precisely at the Marquess of 
 Huntly's feet.] 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 G. Woodfall, Printer, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London. 
 
INTERESTING WORKS, 
 
 JUST PUBLISHED, 
 
 BY JAMES COCHRANE AND CO., 
 
 11, WATERLOO-PLACE. 
 
 In one volume, post 8yo, price 10s. 6d., 
 
 JOURNAL OF THE HEART 
 
 VOLUME THE SECOND, 
 Edited by Lady Charlotte Bury. 
 
 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM'S EDITION OF BURNS, 
 
 Uniform with the Popular Series of the Works of Byron and Scott, 
 Complete in eight volumes small 8vo., splendidly illustrated from 
 Drawings taken on the spot, by D. O. Hill, Esq. Price 55, each. 
 
 THE LIFE AND WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 ROBERT BURNS ; 
 BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 " The Life of Burns, by Allan Cunningham, surpasses all the 
 biographies that have been prefixed to the modern republications of 
 men of genius. Without excepting Southey's Nelson, it equals the 
 best of the various lives that have been published during the present 
 century. The staple of the work is the product of years, perhaps 
 of a whole life." — Sj>ectatQr. 
 
 " Altogether we anticipate a popular edition of one of the most de- 
 servedly popular poets that ever lived, from the practical pen of one so 
 naturally fitted to cope with the subject. * * * We should be unjust were 
 we to wthhold that praise which we trust will recommend it most de- 
 servedly to wide public encouragement." — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " Cunningham's edition of Burns has greatly pleased us : there is 
 an absence of that cant which every editor of Burns has, more or 
 less, exhibited. Hitherto, Burns and Sir Walter Scott have been 
 the only Scotchmen who have risen superior to the conventional 
 humbug and cant of society. We are glad to see that Mr. Cunning- 
 ham has the manliness to imitate those eminent masters." — Times. 
 
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