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BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OF

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

ORIGINALLY EDITED BY ROBERT CHAMBERS.

NEW EDITION,

REVISED THROUGHOUT AND CONTINUED

REV. THOMAS THOMSON,

EDITOR OF THE " COMPREHEN'SIVF- HISTORY OF ENGLA.ND," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS AUTHENTIC PORTRAITS OX STEEL.

VOLUME I.

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LONDON;
LLACKIE AND SON. l'.\TERNOSTER ROW

.■\N"I> (iL.XSCOW .XNLi KDIXi'L Ki.ii
1870.

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PUBLISHERS' PREFACE.

The first edition of the Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen
was edited by Mr. (now Dr.) Robert Chambers. It was issued in 4 vols, demy
8vo, and completed in i8T,4.^An his preface the Editor says: —

"A biographical dictkmary of eminent natives of Scotland has been re-
garded as a desideratum in our national literature for the greater part of a
century. Such a work was successively contemplated by Sir David Dal-
rymple and Mr. William Smellie, each of whom proceeded so far with the
design as to write a few of the articles. When the Editor of the present
Work began a few years ago to inquire into the literary and historical
antiquities of his country, he found the desire of possessing a dictionary of this
kind not in the least abated, but very little hope entertained that, under the
existing prospects of literature, it would be possible to present such a book
to the public. He proceeded, nevertheless, perhaps rather under the influence
of a peculiar enthusiasm than any wiser or more considerate motive, to take
upon himself a task which at least two of his predecessors had failed to
accomplish, and for which he could not but feel himself to be in many respects
imperfectly qualified. Sometime after beginning his labours, a fortunate
alliance with his present Publishers, who had projected a similar work,
removed many of the original difficulties, and he was enabled to commence
the publication in 1833.

"In now taking a retrospective view of his labours, he sees, with sonic
regret, passages which he could amend, and even one or two articles which,
upon a more rigid estimate of merit, he would be disposed to omit. He has
much satisfaction, however, in reflecting that very (c\v instances of error in
point of fact have been indicated to him; so that he is enabled to hope that
his Work, upon the whole, makes that near approach to correctness, which is
the most valuable feature in a book of reference."

The second edition, completed in 1855, consisted of a reprint of the four
volumes of the first edition, tlie stereot\-pe plates o( which were rexisetl iiinkr
the inspection of the Publishers, and of a fifth \-olume written niostl\" b>" the

vi PUBLISHERS' PREFACE.

Rev. Thomas Thomson. In his preface to the fifth volume Mr. Thomson
says : —

"A full national Biography for Scotland, from the earliest period till 1834,
was accomplished by the Work, the publication of which was completed
during that year, under the title of 'Lives of Illustrious and Distin-
guished Scotsmen,' of which the first four volumes of the present is a
re-issue. But since the period of its first publication, circumstances have
occurred through which a large addition to the original collection was urgently
demanded. The close of the last, and the earlier part of the present century,
have constituted an epoch in the history of the Scottish mind, such as our
country, prolific though it has been of eminent men, has never previously
enjoyed. But of these illustrious Scotsmen of our own day, the greater part
have died since the year 1834, while they were so numerous as well as
distinguished, tiiat nothing less than an entire volume seemed necessary for
their memorial. If in this estimate it should be alleged that a mistake has
been made — that the worth which our own eyes have beheld, and over which
the grave has so recently closed, has in some instances been rated higher than
a future time and the increasing experience of society will ratify — still we
trust it is a mistake which the succeeding generation will be easily disposed to
pardon.

"The author of this additional volume of the 'LiVES OF ILLUSTRIOUS
AND Distinguished Scotsmen' has only to add, that the following memoirs
owe nothing more to him than the care of editorial revision: viz. those of
Joanna Baillie, Rev. Dr. Robert Balfour, James Bell, John Burns, ^Ll)., David
Dale, Colonel John Fordyce, George Gardner, Charles IMackintosh, James
Montgomery, and Thomas Thomson, mt)., f.r.s. These were derived from
sources of information to which he either had no ready access, or were con-
nected with subjects to which he thought he could not render such ample
justice as they merited. For the authorship of the rest of the volume, what-
ever may be its merits or defects, he claims the entire responsibility."

When the lapse of time seemed to render a new and enlarged edition of
this Dictionary necessary, it was resolved to reset the whole Work, so that the
biographies in the original work and in tlie supplemental fifth volume, and the
large number of new memoirs requiring now to be introduced, might all be
fused into one general ali)habet. The opportunity thus presented for revising
the entire Work was taken advantage of. Some memoirs which seemed to
have extended to an undue lengtli were retrenched, and others that either
seemed too curt, or respecting the subjects of whicli additional information had
become available, were partially amplified, while, following out the more rigid
estimate of merit hinted at in the preface of the original edition, a few others
were altogether omitted. The editor, Mr. Thomson, entered upon the task for
which he was so eminently qualified quite con auiorc. He revised the whole

PUBLISHERS* PREFACE. vii

of the lives in the five volumes of the second edition in the manner indicated,
and wrote all the hundred and forty-seven additional memoirs by which the
present edition is so greatly enlarged, with exception of those of John
Crawford, William Richard Hamilton, William Jordan, Horatio M'Culloch,
R.S.A., J. Beaumont Neilson, John Phillip, R.A., Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpc,
James Smith of Jordanhill, Andrew Wilson, Thomas Graham, D.C.L., F.R.S.,
and probably a few others, which were contributed by relatives or intimate
friends of the deceased persons commemorated, or written by gentlemen
specially conversant with the departments of knowledge in which the sub-
jects of the memoirs were eminent. Mr. Thomson had just finished his
editorial labours by completing the memoirs for the Supplement at the end
of the third volume, with exception of a couple of lives added since, when
the hand of death arrested his career before the final proofs had passed
through the press. An interesting memoir of this indefatigable literary
labourer, contributed by his widow, has been appropriately placed in the
Supplement.

There being no more interesting and instructive history than the lives of the
men by whom history is made, there has been added to the work a full Chrono-
logical Index of the memoirs of which it is composed, by means of which the
reader is enabled to peruse them in the sequence of their dates, and thus
convert this Dictionary into an admirable biographical history of Scotland, of
its kind the most complete that has hitherto been published. In addition
there is appended an Alphabetical Index, in which is registered the principal
authorities and sources whence the materials of the biographies were derived.

In bringing the publication of this important Work to a conclusion, the
Publishers feel gratified in being able to point to the entire fulfilment of the
promises made in the prospectus. For unquestionably "Among the biogra-
phies will be found a large number of an cxceedingl)' instructive character,
calculated to form incentive examples to young and ardent minds, and
numerous instances of men who have risen from humble circumstances and
attained to high positions, and of those who have succeeded in the pursuit of
knowledge in spite of the greatest hardships and difficulties." And all must
confess that it forms "a comprehensive record of the achievements of those, in
ever}- walk of life, whose memories are cherished by their countr}-nien, and
whose deeds form the history of their country; of those who, by their encrg\-,
wisdom, or bravery, their patience, industry, learning, or writings, ha\'c been
influential in preserving its freedom or maintaining the rights of its people;
who have been the leaders in the progress of national ci\ilization ; and whose
exertions have raised their country to that proud eminence which it now
occupies among the nations of Europe."

Glasgow,,-//;-//, 1S70.

A

BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OF

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

A.

ABERCROMBY, Tfie Honourable Alex-
ander (Lonl Abercromhy), a distinguished lawyer
of the latter part of the i8th century, and an elegant
occasional writer, was the youngest son of George
Abercromby of Tullibody, in Clackmannanshire,
and brother of the celebrated Sir Ralph Abercromby.
He was born on the 15th of Octolier, 1745. While
his elder brotliers were destined for the army, Alex-
ander chose the profession of the law, \vhich was
more consistent with his gentle and studious charac-
ter. After going through the ordinary course of
classes at the university of Edinburgh, he became,
in 1766, a member of the Faculty of Advocates. He
was at this early period of his life the favourite of
all who knew liim, not only for the uncommon hand-
si^meness of his person, but for the extrem.e sweetness
of his disposition. Being given to the gaieties of
fashionable life, he had little relish for laborious
employment; so that, for some years after his admis-
sion into the Faculty of Advocates, his splendid
abilities were well-nigh obscured by indolence or
frivolity. Roused at length to exertion, he engaged
with ardour in all the duties of his profession, and
soon became eminent for professional skill, and dis-
tinguished as a most eloquent pleader. His reputa-
tion and business rapidly increased, and soon raised
him to the first rank at the Scottish bar. In May,
1792, he was appointed one of the judges of the
Court of Session, when, in compliance with the
custom of the Scottish judges, he adopted tlie title of
Lord Abercromby; anil, in December following he
was called to a seat in the Court of Justiciary. " In
his judicial capacity he was distinguished by a pro-
found knowledge of law, a patient attention, a clear-
ness of discernment, and an unbiassed impartiality,
which excited general admiratiim." His literary
performances and character are thus summed up by
iiis frien<l Henry Mackenzie, who, after his death,
undertook the task of recording his virtues and
merits for the Royal Society: — "The lal)orious em-
ployments of his profession did not so entirely engross
him, as to preclude his indulging in the elegant
amusements of polite literature. He was one of that
society of gentlemen who, in 1779, set on foot the
perio(iical paper, published at Edinburgh during that
and the subsoijucnt year, under the title of the
A/irror: and wiio afterwards gave to the world an-
other work of a similar kind, the Louui^cr, published
in 17S5 and 17S6. 'i"o these papers he was a verv
valuable coiUrilmtor. being the author of n papers
in the M/nvr and nine in the Lcun^cr, His papers

VOL. I.

are distinguished by an ease and gentlemanlike turn
of expression, by a delicate and polished irony, by a
strain of manly, honourable, and virtuous sentiment."
Mackenzie states that they are also characterized bv
an unaffected tenderness, which he had displayed
even in his speeches as a barrister. After exempli-
fying almost every virtue, and acting for some years
in a public situation with the undivided applause of
the world. Lord Abercromby was cut off by a pul-
monary complaint at Falmouth, whither he had gone
for his health, on the 17th of November, 1795.

ABERCROMBY, John, the author of several
esteemed works on gardening, was the son of a re-
spectable gardener near Edinburgh, where he was
born about the year 1726. Having been bred by
his father to his own profession, he removed to
London at the early age of eighteen, and became a
workman in the gardens attached to the royal palaces.
Here he distinguished himself so much by his taste
in laying out grounds, that he was encouraged to
write upon the subject. Llis first work, however,
in order to give it greater weight, was pulilished
under the name of a then more eminent horticulturist,
Mr. Mawe, gardener to the Duke of Leeds, under
the title of Ma-i^'s Gardciicri CaUmiar. It soon
rose into notice, and still mamtains its place. The
editor of a subsequent edition of this work says, "The
general principles of gardening seem to be as cor-
rectly ascertained and clearly described by this
author, as by any that have succeeded him." And
fiirther, "The style of Abercromby, though some\\ hat
inelegant, and in some instances prolix, yet appears,
upon the whole, to be fully as concise, and at least n:^
correct and intelligible, as that of some of the more
modern and less original of his successors." Al)er-
cromby afterwards jiublished, under his own name.
the C'nnrrsdl Dktioiary of Gaydoiin^ iinJ J^ctitrr:.
in 4to; which was followed, in succe>>ion. by tl;c
GardLitcrs' Dictionary, the Gardiiu-ys /hi:iy .-Is.-:.'-
ta)it, the Gardriicrs' J'adc- Micum, the Ksldia:
Gardoicr and Ilol-bcd J-'owr. the Ih!-hcu.<c Gar-
dciicr, and numerous other work<, mo>t ot \\lr.c:i
attained to popularity. Alx-rcroniby. alter a u-eli;l
and virtuous life, died at London in iSC'. agt^i
about eiiihtv vears.

tlie

ABERCROMBIE. J-min. M.D.. wa^ o,
latest of that medical" scliool (f wiiiJ; Sc-ilai.'
is so iu>t'y i^nniii. He wa- horn in .Vi'L-r^iccr.. 1.1:
the lull of October. I 761, and wa, ;oii uf ihe Rev

1

JOHN ABERCROMBIE, M.D.

Mr. Abercrombic, who for many years was one of the
ministers of that town, and distinguished by his
piety and worth. The excellent training which
John enjoyed under such a parent, imparted that
high moral antl religious tone by which his whole
life was subsequently characterized. After a boy-
hood spent under the paternal roof, and the usual
routine of a classical education, he was sent, in con-
sequence of his choice of the medical profession,
to the university of Kdinburgh, at that time distin-
guished as the lx;>t medical school in tiie emjiire.
llere he applied to his studies with indefatigable
■ diligence, and while his fellow-students marked his
progress with admiration, they were not less struck
with the moral excellence of his character, and the
deep, practical, unohtru>ive piety by which, even
thus early, his whole life was regxilated. It was
this confirmed excellence of character, expressed
alike in action and conversation, combinetl with his
high professional talents and reputation, that after-
wards won for him the confidence of his patients,
and imparted to his attentions at the sick-bed a charm
that, of itself, was half the cure. When the usual
prescril)ed course of study at the medical classes was
tinishe<i, Mr. .\t)ercroml)ie gr.aduated at the uni-
versity of Kdinburgh on the 4th of June, 1S03, while
only in his twenty-second year, the subject of his
thesis l)eing Dc Fatmiate Alpiua. He then went
to London, and after a short period of study at the
scho<^)ls and hospitals of the metropolis, returned to
Edinburgh, and was admitted a fellow of the Royal
College of Surgeons on the I2t]i of November, 1804.
On this occasion his probationary essay, submitted
to the jiresident and council, entitled On Paralysis
of the I^riL'cr Kxtrcmitics from Diseased Spine, was
characterized by such clearness of thought and per-
spicuity of style, as fully mdicated the eminence
tiiat awaited him not only in his professional capa-
city, but also in the ranks of authorship.

Thus prepared, I)r. .\bercrombie, though still
young, and almo>t a stranger in Kdinburgh, resolved
to estal)li>h himself at once as a physician in tlie
northern capital, in--tead of commencing his career
in some more humble district. He accordingly took
a house in Nicolson ."street, and as a general or
family practitioner his re])utation continued to grow
from year to year without interruption. Even this,
however, was not enough for his active and benevo-
lent mind; and therefore, notwithstanding the in-
crease of business, and its teni]iting emoluments, he
gave much of his time to attendance on the poor, as
i>nc of the medical ofTicers of the Royal Public Dis-
jK-n^ary. Still <leeming his own ])ersonal exertions
insufficient, he would not re>t untd he had imparted
his enthu-.ia-.m to rithers; and therefore, wlien his
re|)Utation in clinical knowledge had gathered round
him a ho>t of pujiils cmulous t<i follow his example,
he divided the city into di-^tricts, to each of which
a few of the^e students were attached for medical
sujK.-rinten lence. In this way, while the health of the
liumhlcst of the population of I'.diubvirgh was cared
f. ir, an efficient cla^s of experienced ])liysicians was
trained f >r tiie kingdom at large. liesides this im-
portant service, i>n l>eiiig appointed vaccinator along
with I )r^. (lillespie and I'.ryce, he was enaliled to
take with them an active ]iart in intro'lucmg the
practice of the Jennerian discovery into Scotland.

At length, when, after a course of years, the jiro-
fc->sional exiKrrience and reputation of I)r. Aber-
crombic had reached their height, an event occiirnd
by which it was hoped their excellence would be
duly honoured. This was a vacancy in the chair
of medicine in the university of I->linburgh, through
the death of I )r. Grcgorv in 1S21. On this occasion

Dr. Abercrombie added his name to the list of
candidates, while his friends were sanguine in the
hope of his success. But town-councils are not
always infallible judges of scientific attainments,
and his application was unsuccessful. The follow-
ing list of his writings, which he presented to the
])rovost and town-council of Edinburgh, on announc-
ing himself as candidate for the chair, will suffi-
ciently show how his hours of literary leisure, amidst
a throng of jjrofessional occupations extending over
the preceding course of years, had been occupied
and improved: — On Diseases of the Spinal Marrow.
On Dropsy; particularly on some Modifications of
it to/iich are successfully treated by Plood-letting.
On Chronic Inflammation of the Brain and its
Membranes, including Researches on Hydrocephalus.
On Apoplexy. On Palsy. On Organic Diseases of
the Brain. On a Remarkable and Dangerous Affec-
tion, producing Difficulty of Breathitig in Infants.
On the Pathology of the Intestinal Canal. Part
I. — On Ileus. Ditto. Part II.- — On Inflam»iatio)i
of the Bcnvels. Ditto. Part III— On Diseases of
the Afucous Membranes of the Bozcels. On the
Pathology of Consumptive Diseases. On Ischuria
Penalis.

Afterthe decease of Dr. Gregory, Dr. Abercrombie,
although unsuccessful in liis a])plication for the chair
of medicine, succeeded him as consulting pliysician,
in which situation his services were often in demand,
not only in Edinburgh, but over the whole of vScot-
land. Pie was also appointed physician to the king
for Scotland — a mere title, it is true, but at the same
time one of those honorary titles which often stamp
the value of the man, and prove a passport to the
substantialities of eminence and wealth. In 1834,
his reputation was so completely fixed, that the uni-
versity of Oxford, departing from its usual routine
in behalf of the alumni of Scottish colleges, conferred
on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Medicine,
and in the following year he was elected lord-rector
of the Marischal College of Aberdeen. Besides
these, he held other offices of distinction, most of
which were connected with benevolent societies. In
tliis way his life went onward, and while he increased
in wealth and professional reputation, his ]iiety made
him the friend of the good, and his benevolence the
honoured of the poor. But all was brought to
an abrupt termination by his sudden death, at his
house in York I'lace, on the 14th of November,
1S44. On the morning of that day, ha\ing break-
fasted at nine o'clock, he retired to his jnivate room,
while several patients were waiting for him, and his
carriage standing at the d(ii)r. As nearly an hour
elapsed, his servant, alarmed at such unusual delay,
entered the room, and found his master l}ing ex-
tended and lifeless on the floor, his death having
been apparently all but instantaneous. It was found,
on vi. post mortem examination, that llie cause of his
tleath was the bursting of a coronary artery. Thus
unexpectedly was closed the life of one whom all
classes esteemed, and whose loss is still fell and re-
membered.

Dr. Abercrombie was distinguished not only
as a most eminent and successful medical i)racti-
tioner, but alsf) as an able and eloquent writer.
.\t first his exertions in authorship were confined
to the I'.dinhurgh Medical and .Surgical Journal,
and other similar jirofessional ])eriodicals; but when
his literary streni;th was matured, he jiroduced a
separate treatise entitled Pathological and Practical
Researches on Diseases of the Brain and the .Spinal
Cord, Ivlinburgh, 1828, 8vo. This work, vhich
a!)ounds in pure scientific knowledge, and evinces
his ]irofuund research into mental character, as con-

PATRICK ABERCROMBY

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

nected with physical condition and action, was fol-
lowed in the same year by another of still hij^her
merit, having for its title Pathological and Prac-
tical Researches on the Diseases of the Intestinal
Canal, Lmer, and other Viscera of the Abdomen,
Edinburgh, 1828, 8vo. These, however, though so
highly meritorious, were but prelusive efforts to
something still more important; and after a careful
study and arrangement of the materials which he
had been accumulating for years, he produced two
works; the one entitled Inquiries concerning the
Intellectual Po^cers, and the Investigation of 7'ruth,
Edinburgh, 1830, 8vo: and the other, I he Philo-
sophy of the Moral Feelings, London, 1833, ^^'O-
Upon these works, of which the latter is a sequel to
the former, his literary reputation will chiefly rest;
and they will always continue to be prized by the
reflective mind, from the views which they unfold of
the intellectual and moral nature of man, and the
harmonious combination which exists between the
truths of science and the revelations of Christianity.
Independently, however, of these writings, so dis-
tinguished by their profound medical, ethical, and
metaphysical knowledge, and so practical in their
bearings. Dr. Abercrombie's pen was employed on
the subjects of humble every-day usefulness, and
pure unmixed religion and vital godliness; so that
shortly after the publication of his Philosophy of
the Moral Feelings, he produced his Treatise on
the Aforal Condition of the Linoer Classes in Edin-
burgh; and subsequently. The FJemenls of Sacred
Truth, which were first published singly and at
intervals, and afterwards collected into a small
volume. "These tracts," an able reviewer has ob-
served, "reflect the highest honour on Dr. Aber-
crombie. It is beautiful to see an individual of his
professional celebrity thus dedicating his talents and
a portion of his time to religious instruction. Such
an example is above all praise."

ABERCROMBY, Patrick, historian, was the
third son of Alexander Abercromby of Fetterneir,
in Aberdeenshire, a branch of the house of Birken-
bog in Banffshire, which again derived its descent
from Abercromby of Abercromby in Fife. Francis,
the eldest son of Abercromby of Fetterneir, was
created Lord Glassford in 16S5; but as the patent,
by an extraordinary restriction, was limited to his
own life only, the title did not descend to his chil-
dren. Patrick Abercromby was bom at Forfar in
1656, and was educated at the university of St.
Andrews, where he took the degree of Doctor in Medi-
cine in 16S5. His family being eminently loyal, the
young physician is said to liave changed his religion
to please James VH., who consequently made him
one of the physicians of the court. A proceeding so
<lishonest and time-serving was speedily and severely
punished; for, at the Revolution, Abercroml)y was
deprived of his appointment. For some years after
he ajipears to have lived aliroad; but he returned to
Scotland in the reign of Queen Anne, and devoted
himself to the study of national antiquities. In
1707, he published a translation of M. Beauge's
very rare book, F Histoire de la Guerre d'Fcosse,
1556, under the title of The History of the Cam-
pagnes 1 548 (7//</ 1549; "being an exact account of
the NLirti-il Fxpeditions performed in those davs bv
tiie ."^cots an<i French on the one hand, and tlie
English and tiieir foreign auxiliaries on the other:
ilone in French by Mons. Beauge, a French gentle-
man; witli an introductor)' preface by the Translator."
In the preface, the ancient alliance between Scotland
and France is strenuously asserted. This curious
French work, which gives a complete account of the

war carried on by the Popish government of Cardinal
Beatoun, aided by the French, against the English
under Protector Somerset, was reprinted in the
original Ijy Mr. Smythe of Methven for the Bannatyne
Club, 1829, along with a preface, giving an account
of Abercrondjy's translation. The great W(jrk of
Dr. Abercromby is in two volumes, folio, entitled,
The Martial Achiez'ements of the Scots Nation. He
tells us in the preface, that, not venturing to write
regular history or biography, he had resolved to re-
late the deeds of all the great men of his country, in
a less ambitious strain, and with a more minute at-
tention to small facts, than is compatible with those
styles of composition. He also, with great modesty,
apologizes for his manner of writing by saying,
" When my reader is told that 'twas my fate to spend
most part of my youth in foreign countries, to have
but viewed, en passant, the south jjart of Britain, and
to have been conversant with Roman and French
rather than with English authors, he will not expect
from me those modish turns of phrase, nor that exact
propriety of words, Scotsmen, by reason of their
distance from the fountain of custom, so seldom
attain to." The first volume of the Martial Achieve-
ments wse^ published, in 1711, by Mr. Robert Free-
bairn, and shows a respectable list of subscribers.
About one-half of it is occupied by the early fabulous
history of Scotland, in which the author, like almost
all men of his time, and especially the Jacobites,
was a devout believer. It closes with the end of the
reign of Robert Bruce. The second volume appeared,
with a still more numerous and respectable list of
subscribers, in 171 5; it was partly printed by Free-
bairn, and partly by Thomas Ruddiman, who not
only corrected the manuscript, but superintended its
progress through the press. This is said by Chalmers
to have been the first tyjjographical effort of Ruddi-
man. Abercromby's Martial Achieventoits is upon
the whole a very creditable work for a Scottish anti-
quary of that period; the author is not superior to
the credulity of his age and party, but he is eminently
industrious, and his narrative is written in an enter-
taining style. The work shows a wide range of
authorities, and is liberally interspersed with contro-
versial discussions of the points most contested by
antiquaries. Dr. Patrick Abercromby died poor in
1 7 16, or, as other writers say, in 1726, leaving a
widow in distressed circumstances.

ABERCROMBY, Sir Rai.ph, a distinguished
general, under whom the British arms met their first
success in the French revolutionan.- war, was the
eldest son of George Abercromby of Tullibody, in
Clackmannanshire, a gentleman of ancient and re-
spectable family, and of Maiy, daughter of Kaljih
Dundas of Manor. lie was born at Menstrie, in th.e
parish of Logic, on the 7th October, 1734. His
education seems to have been regarded with more
care than was usually manifesteil by the ."Scottish
country gentlemen of the early and middle ]'arts of
the last century. After passing through the cu^to^la^y
course at Rugbv, he became a student, fir.-t in the
university of lOdinburgh, and subsequently in that of
Ciottingen. He entereil the army, as cornet in the
3d dragoon guards. May 23. 1756, and liccan'.e a
lieutenant, in the same regiment, in the year 17(10:
which rank he held till AjTil, 1762, when he obtained
a company in the 3d horse. In tliis regimeiU lie r'-e,
in 1770, to the rank of majnr, and in 1773 to that c :
lieutenant-colonel. He was included ;n ilic 1>". ''!
brevet-colonels in 17S0, and in 17S1 \\.!- made
colonel of th.e 103d. or king's Iri-h ir.i'.-ir.ry. a ikw
regiment, whicli ^\■as broke:! at tlie ]'oai.c 1:1 '7^3'
when Cu!>.'nel Aberv'runibv was iilaccd en ha.i-i'ay.

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBV.

It may be noticed in passing that he represented the
shire of Kinross in the British parUament from 1774
till 17S0; but made no attempt to render himself
conspicuous, either as a party-man or as a politician.
In September, 17S7, he was promoted to the rank
of major-general, and next year obtained the com-
mand of the 69th foot. From this coqis he was, in
1792, removed to the 6th foot: from that again to
the 5lh; and in November, 1796, to the 2d dragoons,
or Scots Cireys.

On the breaking out of the French revolutionary
war, Abercromby held tlie local rank of lieutenant-
general, and servetl with di^tinguishcd honour in the
campaigns of 1 794 and 1795, under the Duke of
York. He commanded the advanced-guard in the
affair of Cateau (April 16, 1794K in which Chapuy,
the French general, wxs taken ]'>risoner, and thirty-
five pieces of cannon fell into the hands of the
British. In the reverses that followed, the British
armv escajx-d entire destruction solely by the mas-
terly mana'uvres of Al>ercromby, who was second in
comm.and. He was wounded at Nimeguen, in the
montli of ( )ctoI)er following; notwithstanding which,
the ardui>us service of conducting the retreat through
Holland in the dreadfully severe winter of 1794, was
devolved wholly upon him and General Dundas.
Than this retreat nothing could be conceived more
calamitous. The troops did all that could be ex-
pectevl from them in their tr)ing situation. Oppressed
by numbers, and having lost all their stores, they
made good their retreat in the face of the foe, amidst
the rigours of a singularly severe winter; while for
the removal of the sick, nothing could be procured
but open waggons, in which they were exposed to
the intense severity of the weather, to drifting snows
and heavy falls of sleet and rain. The mortality, of
course, was very great. The regiments were so
scattered, marching through tlie snow, that no returns
could be made out, and both men and horses were
foun'l in great numbers fro/en to death. "The
march," says an eye-witness, " was marked by scenes
of the most calamitous nature. We could not pro-
cee<l a hundred yards without seeing the dead bodies
of men, wtjmen, children, and horses, in every di-
rection. One scene," adds the writer, "made an
impressirjn on my mind which time will never be able
to efface. Near a cart, a little further in the com-
tnon, we perceived a stout-lo<iking man ami a beauti-
ful young woman, with an infant about seven months
oil at the breast, all three frozen dead. The mother
had m')st certainly died in the act of suckling her
child, a>, with one breast exposed, she lay upon the
drifted -now, the milk, to all aii]jearancc, in a stream
drawn from t!ie nipple by the babe, and instantly
congealed. The infant secme<i as if its li]is had just
then bjcn disengaged, and it rcposecl its little head
upon the mother's ho-oni, with an ovcrllow <jf milk
frozen as it trickled down from its mouth, 'iheir
countenances were jK-rfectly coiri])osed and fresh, as
if they had only been in a sound and tranijuil shun-
l)er. " The liritish army reached 1 )evcnter after in-
credible exertion, on the 27th of January, 1795; but
they were not ab!_' to maintain the position, being
closely jiur-ued by a well-aii])oiiited army, u])wards
of 50,000 stning. They continued their ]>rogress,
alternately fighting and retreating, till the eml
of March, when tlie main bodv, now reduced one-
half, reach'-d Itremen, where they were embarked
f,r F.ngland.

While the French were making tho<;e gigantic
cfTorts at home which confoun'led all previous cal-
culations in I'.urfvpean warfare, their struggles .-ibro.id
were equally startling. They repossessed themselves
in the West Indies of (iuadeloupe and St. I.ucia,

established a landing upon several points in the
island of Martinique, and made partial descents on
the islands of St. Vincent, Grenada, and Marie
Galante. In these various incursions they plundered,
in the several islands, property to the amount of one
thousand eight hundred millions of livres (about
;^72,ooo,cxx)). To put an end to these ruinous
depredations, a fleet was fitted out in the autumn of
the year 1 795, for the purpose of conveying a military
force to the West Indies; and the charge of the land
troops was given to Sir Ralph Abercromby, with
the appointment of commander-in-chief. He took
the command, and hastened the embarkation; and
although the equinox overtook them, so that several
of the transports were lost in the Channel, the fleet
made the best of its way to the W'est Indies, and by
the month of March, 1796, the troops were landed
and in active operation. St. Lucia was speedily
captured by a detachment of the army under Sir
John Moore, as were St. Vincent and Grenada by
another under General Knox. The Dutch colonies,
Demerara, Essequibo, and Berbice, on the coast of
Guiana, likewise fell into the hands of the British
about the same time, almost without stroke of
sword. The remainder of 1796 having been thus
employed, Sir Ralph made preparations for attack-
ing, early in 1797, the Spanish island of Trinidad.
For this purpose, the fleet sailed with all the trans-
ports, from the island of Curacao on the morning
of the 15th February, 1797, and next day passed
through the Barns into the Gulf of Bria, Avhere they
found the Spanish admiral, with four sail of the line
and one frigate, at anchor, under cover of the island
of Gasj^agrande, which was strongly fortified. The
British squadron immediately anchored opposite, and
almost within gunshot of the Spanish ships. The
frigates, with the transports, were sent to anchor
higher up the bay, at the distance of about five miles
from the town of Port d'Espagne. Dispositions were
immediately made for attacking the town and the
ships of war next morning by break of day. By
two o'clock of the morning, however, the Spanish
stjuadron was observed to be on fire. The ships
burned verj' fast, one only escaping the conflagration,
which was taken possession oi by the British. The
Spaniards, when they set their sliips of war on fire,
had also evacuated the island. The troops under
Sir Ralph Abercromby were of course landed
without opjiosition, and the whole colony fell into
the hands of the P)ritish. Sir Ralph next made an
attack upon Porto Rico, in which he was unsuccess-
ful; and shortly after he returned to Britain, and was
received with every mark of respect. lie had, in
his absence, been comiiliniented with the colonelcy
of the second dragoons or Scots Greys, and nominated
governor of the Isle of Wight. He was now (1797)
advanced to the dignity of the Bath, raised to the
rank of a lieutenant-general, and invested with the
lucrative governments of Fort Cleorge and Fort
Augustus.

The distuib.'d state of Ireland at this time calling
for the utnio-l vigilance, Sir Raljih .Mieicmniby
was a])])<iinte 1 to the command of the forces in that
unhap))y country, where he exerted himself most
strenuously, tliough with ]>artial success, t<j su]i])ress
rebellion and preserve order. He was ]iarticularly
anxious, by the strictest disci])line, to restore the
reputation of the army; for, according to his own
emphatic declaiation, it had become more formidable
to its frien<K than to its enemies. ])uriiig this com-
mand he did not require to direct any military
o]ierations in jierson; and the Marquis Cornwallis
having received the double ap])ointnient of lord-
lieutenant and commander-in-chief of the foixes, Sir

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

Ralph transferred liis head-quarters to Edinburgh,
and, on 31st of May, assumed the command of the
forces in Scotland, to which he had Ixsen appointed.
In the year 1799, an expedition having been
planned for Holland to restore the Prince of Orange
to the stadtholdership. Sir Ralph was again selected
to take the chief command. The troops destined
for this service sailed on the 13th of August, under
convoy of the fleet commanded by Vice-admiral
Mitchell, and, after encountering heavy gales, came
to anchor o(T the Texel, on the 22d of the month.
On the 27th the troops were disembarked to the
south-west of the Helder point, without opposition.
.Scarcely had they begim to move, however, when
they were attacked by General Daendels, and a
warm but irregular action was kept up from five
o'clock in the morning till five in the afternoon,
after which the enemy retired, leaving the British in
possession of a ridge of sand-hills stretching along
the coast from south to north. In this day's evolu-
tions the enemy lost upwards of looo men, and
the British about half that number. Encouraged
by this success, Sir Ralph Abercromby determined
to seize upon the Helder next morning, when he
would be in possession of a seaport, an arsenal, and
a fleet. The brigades of Generals Moore and Burrard
were ordered to be in readiness to make the attack
early in the morning; but the garrison was withdrawn
through the night, leaving a considerable train of
artillery, a naval magazine, thirteen ships of war,
and three Indiamen, which fell into the hands of the
British without opposition. Admiral Mitchell im-
merliately stood down into the Texel, and offered
battle to the Dutch fleet lying there; the whole
of which, consisting of twelve sail of the line,
surrendered to the British admiral, the sailors refus-
ing to fight, and compelling their officers to give up
tlie ships for the service of the Prince of Orange.
Taking the surrender of the fleet as the criterion of
Dutch feeling, the most extravagant hopes of the
success of the expedition were entertained by the
jieople of England ; but the sentiments of the
Hollanders, generally, were not as yet in unison
with those of the sailors, and every precaution was
taken for defence. The British army, in the mean-
time, left the sand-hills and took up a new position,
tiieir right extending to Petten, on the German
Ocean, and tlieir left to Oude Sluys on the Zuyder
Zee. A fertile country was thus laid open to the
invaders; while the canal of Zuyper, immediately in
front, contributed to strengthen their position, enabl-
ing them to remain on the defensive until the arrival
of additional forces. At daybreak of I ith -Sejitember,
the combined Dutch and French army attacked the
centre and right of the British lines, from St. Martins
to Petten, with a force of 10,000 men, which ad-
vanced in three columns; the right, composed of
Diitcli troops commanded by General Daendels,
against St. Martins; the centre, under De Monceau,
upon Zuyjier Sluys; and the left, composed entirely
of Frencli troops under General Bnine, upon
Petten. The attack, particularly on the left and
centre, was made with the most daring intrepidity,
but was rcinilsed l)y the British, anil the enemy
lost upwards (if looo men. On this occasion.
General Sir Juhu Moore was ojiposed to General
Bnme, and distinguished himself by the most masterlv
manoeuvres; and, had tlie British been snfficientlv
numerous to follow up tiieir advant.ige. the United
Provinces might have shaken otT the French voke
even at this early period. The want of numbers
was felt too late; but, to remedy the evil, the
Russian troops engaged for the expediti(Mi were
hastily embarked at the [lorts of Cronstadt and

Revel, to the number of I7,cxx), under the command
of General D'Hermann, and were speedily upon the
scene of action. The Duke of York now arrived as
commander-in-chief; and his army, with the Russians
and some battalions of Dutch trooj)s, formed of
deserters from the Batavian army and volunteers from
the Dutch ships, amounted to upwards of 36,000
men, a force considerably superior to that under
Generals Daendels and Brune. In consequence of
this, the Duke of York, in concert with D'Hermann,
made an immediate attack upon the enemy's position,
which was on the heights of Camperdown, and along
the high sand-hills extending from the sea, in front of
Petten, to the town of Bergen-op-zoom. The enemy's
deficiency of numbers was far more than counter-
balanced by the advantages of their position; im-
proved, as it was, by strong entrenchments at the
intermediate villages, and by the nature of the ground,
intersected by wet ditches and canals, whose Ijridges
had been removed, and the roads rendered impass-
able, either by being broken up, or by means of
felled trees stuck in the earth, and placed horizontally,
so as to present an almost impenetrable barrier.
The attack, however, notwithstanding all disadvan-
tages, was made with the most determined resolution,
early on the morning of the 19th of September, and
was successful at all points. By eight o'clock in the
morning, the Russians, under D'Hermann, had made
themselves masters of Bergen-op-zoom; but they no
sooner found the place evacuated, than they flew
upon the spoil, and began to plunder the citizens
whom they had professedly come to relieve. The
vigilant enemy seized the opportunity to rally his
broken battalions, and, being reinforced from the
garrison at Alkmaar, attacked the dispersed Russians
with so much impetuosity, that the latter were driven
from Bergen-op-zoom to Schorel, with the loss of
Generals D'Hennann and Tcherchekoff, wounded
and taken prisoners. This failure of the Russians
compelled the other three columns of the British
army to abandon the positions they had already
stormed, and return to the station they had left
in the morning. For this disappointment 3000
prisoners taken in the engagement was but a poor
recompense; while the impression made upon the
minds of the Dutch by the conduct of the Russians
was incalculaljiv injurious to the objects of the
expedition. The conflict was renewed on the 2d
of October, by another attack on the whole line
of the enemy, the troops advancing, as before, in
four columns, under Generals Abercromby, D'Esson,
Dundas, and Pulteney. The centre ascended the
sand-hills at Campe, and carried the heights of
-Schorel; and, after a vigorous contest, the Russians
and British obtained possession of the whole range
of sand-hills in the neighbourhood of Bergcn-o;i-
zoom; but the severest conflict, and that %\hie!i
decided the fate of the day, was sustained l>y tl;e
first column under Sir Ralph .\bercroniby. He liad
marched without opposition to within a mile of
Egmont-op-zee, where a large body of cavalry and
infantr}- waited to receive him. Here Sir John
.Moore led his brig.ide to the charge in person; he
was met by a counter-charge of the enemy, and ihc
conflict was maintained til! evening \\ ith unexani] led
fury. The Marquis of Huntly. wlio, with his regiment
(the ninety-second), was (.■minesitly (listing;;isb.t'!,
received a wound bv a nnisket-ball in the slinui'ier;
and General Sir John Moore, after receivii'.g t\\o
severe wounds, Mas reluctantly carried ott ti.e tie!'!.
Sir Ralj-ih .\l>ercroml)y had two horses s!;..; v.r.^ier
him, but he continue'! to animate tlie tn.-]- !.y Ir.s
exam]Vie, and tlie iiTi-t i!esrer:i;e cii"r;< >■': tl-e
enemy wcvc uiia\ ailing. Tlieir I'j-s in t;;;s u^.ys

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

engagement was upwards of 4000 men. During
the night they abandoned their posts on the Lange
Dyke and at Bergen-op-zooni, and next day tlie
British took up the positions that had been occupied
by the French at Alkmaar and Egmont-op-zee.
Brune having taken up a strong position between
Beverwyck and tlie Zuyder Zee, it was determined to
dislotlge him before the arrival of his daily-exj)ected
reinforcements. In the first movements made for
this purpose the British met with little opposition;
but the Russians uiuler General D'Ksson, attempt-
ing to gain a height near Buccum, were suddenly
charged by an overwhelming b.xly of the enemy.
Sir Ralph .VlKTcromby, observing the critical situa-
tion of the Russians, hasteneil with his column to
support them. The enemy also sent up fresh forces,
and the action, undesignedly by either party, became
general along the whole line, from I.emmen to the
se.a, anil was contested on both sides with the most
determined obstinacy, .\bout two o'clock in tlie
afternoon, the right and centre of the .\nglo- Russian
army iK'gan to lose grounil, ami retire upon Egmont;
where, with the co-operation of the brigade under
Major-general Coote, they succeeded in keeping the
enemy in check during the remainder of the day.
Evenmg closed over the combatants, darkened by
deluges of rain; yet the work of mutual destruction
knew no intermission. The fire of musketiy, wliich
ran in undulating lines along the hills, with the
thunder-flash of the artillery, and the fiery train of
the death-charged shell, lighted up with momentary
and fuful blaze the whole horizon. About ten
o'clock at night, woni out by such a lengthened
period of exertion, though tlicir mutual hostility
was not in the least abated, the contending parties
ccascil fighting, and the British were left in posses-
sion of the ground upon which they had fought,
with upwards of 2000 of tiicir companions lying
dead .nround them. General Brune was, in the
course of the night or next morning, reinforced
by an ad 1 tion of 6ooo men, and the ground he
occup td was by nature and art rendered nearly
impregnab'e. The British Lay through the night
expo-cd t > the weather, which was terrible, on the
naked -an i-hills; their clothing drenched, and their
arms and ammunition rendered useless by the rain.
Nor was th'j inho>pitality of the people' less than
that of the dements; the greater part being violently
ho>>tiie, and the remainder sunk in supine indifference.
Retreat was tlieref )ro a measure of necessity, and
next night, the 7th of October, about ten o'clock,
ami<Kt a deluge of rain, the troo]is marched back to
their fmner station at I'etten an<l .Mknmar, which
they reached without immediate pursuit or any
seri'iu-. lo>s. T.i embark, however, upon sucli a
shore, and in the face of such an enemv, without
great h-.. was inip.s^jble; an<l, to ])revent the
unncce--ary efl'ii^i..n -.f hlool, .in armistice was ])ro-
ivjsed by the Duke of \'ork, till the troop, should
be quietly embarked. T!ie I'rench general wa-,
willing to accede to the ])roi>nsal, provided the
Dutch fleet were restore i. anil'all forts, dyke-,, \c.
cSl-c, left as they h.ad been taken; or, if any im-
provements h.ad lieen made ujion them, in their
impr..ved state. To the lir-t j.art of the iir-ipo^al
the duke utterly refiised fir a moment \n listen; and,
>)eing in po^e^^ion of the principal dvke-, he
threatened to break them down an<l inundate the
country. The fleet wa- not given uji; but in lieu
thereof, .Sooo French and Hutch prisoners, that had
l)ecn taken previous to this campaign, were to l)e
restored, with all that had been taken in it. the
Dutch seamen cxccj>ted. The trooi)s were inst.inily
embarked, and safely handed in England, with the

exception of the Russians, who were landed in the
islands of Guernsey and Jersey. Though this ex-
pedition totally failed in its main object — the libera-
tion of Holland — it was not without advantage.
The capture of the Dutch fleet, in the then state of
affairs, was of very considerable importance. Nor
was the impression it left upon the enemy of the
superior skill of British officers, particularly of the
sul)ject of this memoir, and the daring valour of
British troops, without its use in the succeeding
periods of the war.

.Sir Ralph Abercromby, now a universal favourite,
and esteemed the most skilful officer in the British
service, was appointed in the month of June, 1800,
to command the troops sent out upon a secret ex-
pedition to the Mediterranean, and which were for
the time quartered on the island of Minorca, where
he arrived on the 22d of June. The very next day
the troops were embarked for Leghorn, where they
arrived on the 9th of July; but in consequence of an
armistice between the French and the Austrians,
they were not allowed to land. Part of them now
proceeded to MaUa, and the remainder sailed back
to Minorca. Sir Ralph himself returned to that island
on the 26th of July, and on the 3d of .September the
troops were again embarked, and on the 14th the
fleet came to anchor off Europa Point in the Bay of
Gibraltar. On the 20th the armament sailed for the
Bay of Tetuan to procure water, and on the 23d
returned to Gibraltar. In a few days the fleet was
again ordered to rendezvous in the Bay of Tetuan;
and, on the 30th of October, the whole, consisting of
u])wards of two hundred sail, came to anchor off
Cadiz, and preparations were made for landing the
troops without delay. On the 6th the troops got
into the boats, and everything was ready for the
disembarkation. In consequence of a flag of truce
from the shore, the landing was delayed, and in the
afternoon the troops returned to their respective
ships. The negotiations between the commanders
having failed, the order was renewed for disembark-
ing the troops next day. This order was again
countermanded about midnight; the morning became
stormy, and at break of day the signal was made for
the fleet to weigh, and by the afternoon the whole
fleet was again under sail. Part of the forces were
now ordered for Portugal under the command of
General Sir James Pulteney, and the remainder for
Malta, where they arrived about the middle of
November. Than this sailing backwards and for-
wards, nothing was ever exhibited more strongly
indicative of extreme folly and absolute imbecility in
the national councils.

It was now resolved by the liritish government
to drive the I'Vench out of J{gy]")t, and the armament
which had uselessly rolled about the -Mediterranean
for so many months, was a]ipointed for that purpose.
.Sir Ralph Abercromby, accordingly, embarked at
Malta on the 20th of December for the B.ay of
Marmorice, on the coast of Caramania; where cavalry
horses were to be procured, and stores collected for
the expedition, which, it was calculated, would sail
for .'Mexandria by the 1st of January, 1801. Many
things, however, occurred to retard their jirepara-
tions. Among others of a like nature, three hundred
horses, jnirchased by order of Lord I'dgin, the British
ambassador at Constantinople, were found, when
tiiey arrived at Marmorice, so small and s(^ galled
in tiieir backs, as to be of no use, so that it was
found necessary to shoot some, and to sell others at
the low jiricc of a dollar a-])iece. It was believed
that Lord Elgin had paid for a very different descrip-
tion of horses, but the ])ersons to whose care they
iiatl Ik'cu c(jnfided had found their account in chaiu:-

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

ing them by the way. Good horses were procured
by parties sent into the country for that purpose;
but the sailing of the expedition was in consequence
delayed till the end of February, instead of the first
of January, as had been originally intended; and
from the state of the weather, and other casualties,
the landing could not be attempted liefore the 8th
of March, on which day it was accomplished in
Aboukir Hay, in a manner that reflected the highest
honour on the British troops. During this delay
Bonaparte had found means to reinforce his army in
Egypt, and furnish it with all necessary stores; and
the weather preventing the immediate disembarka-
tion of the troops, enabled the French to make
every preparation to receive them. The sand-hills
which form the coast they had lined with numerous
bodies of infantry, and every height was bristling
with artillery. A most tremendous discharge of
grapeshot and shells from the batteries, and of
musketry from the infantry that lined the shore,
seemed for a moment to stay the progress of the
boats as they approached. But it was only for a
moment. The rowers swept through the iron
tempest to the beach; the troops leaped on shore,
formed as they advanced, and rushing up the
slippery declivity without firing a shot, drove the
enemy from their position at the point of the bayonet.
Successive bodies, as they were disembarked, pro-
ceeded to the help of their precursors; in spite of
every obstruction, the whole army was landed before
night; and Sir Ralph Abercromby, advancing three
miles into the country, took up a position with his
right resting upon Lake Madyeh or Aboukir, and his
left stretching to the Mediterranean. On the 1 2th
he moved forsvard to attack the French, who were
most advantageously posted on a ridge of sand-hills,
their right towards the sea, and their left resting
ujjon the canal of Alexandria. On the morning of
the 13th, the army marched in two lines by the left,
to turn the right tiank of the enemy. Aware of this,
the Frencii, with their whole cavalry, and a con-
siderable body of infantr)-, poured down from the
heights and attacked the heads of both lines, but
were repulsed by the advanced-guard, consisting of
the 90th and 92d regiments, with incomparable
gallantry. Tlie first line then formed into two, and
advanced, while the second line turned the right of
the French army, and drove it from its position.
The enemy, however, made a regular retreat, and
contested every inch of ground till they had reached
the heights of Nicopolis, which form the principal
defence of Alexandria. Anxious to carry these
heights, .Sir Ralph .\bercroml)y unfortunately ordered
forward the reserve under Sir John Moore, and the
second line under General Ilutcheson, to attack (the
latter the right, and the former the left) both flanks
at once. Advancing into the open plain, they were
exposed to the whole range of the enemy's shot,
which they had it not in their power to return; and,
after all, the jiosition was f<nind to be commanded
by the guns of the forts of Alexandria, so that it
could nut have been kept though tliey had stormed
it. They were accordingly withdrawn, but with a
most seriiHH loss of men; and the British army took
up the ground from which the enemy had' been
driven, occupying a position with its right to the
sea and its loft to the canal of .Vlexandria; a situa-
tion of great advantage, as it cut off all communica-
tion with Alexandria, cxcc]n by the wav of the
desert. In this action. Sir Ralph was nearlv
envelo]3cd in the charge of the French cavalrv, and
was only saved by tlie intrepidity of the 90th
regiment. The garrisun of Aboukir surrendered on
the iSth; but to cuuiUcrbalance this advantage,

the French commander-in-chief, Mcnou, arrived at
Alexandria from Cairo on the 20th, with a rein-
forcement of 9CXX) men. Expecting to take the
British by surprise, Menou, next morning, March
the 2 1 St, between three and four o'clock, attacked
their position with his whole force, amounting to from
1 1,000 to 12,000 men. The action was commenced
by a false attack on the left, their main strength
being directed against the right, upon which they
advanced in great force and with a prodigi<jus noise,
shouting, "Vive la France! Vive la Re])ubli'iue 1"
They were received, however, with perfect coolness
by the British troops, who not only checked the
impetuosity of the infantry, but repulsed several
charges of cavalry. Greater courage was perhaps
never exhibited than on this occasion: the different
corps of both nations rivalled each other in the most
determined bravery, and presented the extraordinary
spectacle of an engagement in front, flanks, and rear,
at the same time; so much were the contending
parties intermingled. Nine hundred of Bonaparte's
best soldiers, and from their tried valour denominated
Invincibles, succeeded in turning the right of the
British, between the walls of a large ruin and a
battery. Three times did they storm the battery,
and three times were the successive jiarlies ex-
terminated. Getting at last into the rear of the
reserve, the 42d and the 28th regiments charged
them with the bayonet, and drove them step by
step into the inclosure of the ruin; where, between
600 and 700 of them being already stretched life-
less on the ground, the remainder called out for
quarter, and were made prisoners. Not one of them
returned. Equally determined was their attack on
the centre, and it was there repelled with equal
success. A heavy column having broken through
the line, the cavalry accompanying it wheeled to
their left and charged the rear of the reserse; but
this charge was broken by the accidental state of
the ground, which had been excavated into pit-
holes about three feet deep, for the men to sleep in
before the arrival of their camp equipage. Over
these holes they had to make their charge, and in
consequence were completely routed, more than 300
of them being left dead on the spot. P'inding all
his movements frustrated, Menou at length ordered
a retreat, which he was able to effect in good
order; the British having too few cavalry to pursue.
His loss was supposed to be between 3000 and
4000 men, including many officers, among whom
were General Raize, commander of the cavaln.-, who
fell in the field, and two generals who died of their
wounds. The loss of the l>ritish was also heavy,
upwards of seventy officers being killed, woundc<l,
and missing. Among these was the lamented com-
mander-in-chief. Having hastened, on the hi.--t
alarm, towards the cannonading. Sir Ralph nni>t
have ridden straight among the enemy, who had
already broken the front line and got into its rear.
It was not yet day, and being unable to distinguish
friend from foe, he must have been enii)arra»cd
among the assailants, but he was extricated by tlie
valour of his troops. To the fir>t -oldicr that (.air.e
up to him. he said, "Soldier, if you know nie. il.'i: t
name me." A French dragoon, at the nioincnt. con-
jecturing the prize he had l(3>t, r(^iie uji to Mr K-il; n.
and matie a cut at him, but not being ni-ar eiv r.j^h,
only cut through the clotho, ami gra/cl tlu- ^'ts■.n
with the point of his sabre. The dragocn's ]i"r>e
wheeling about, brought him again to -iic >.!i.-;rgc,
and he made a second attempt by a !oii:'.^-c. but the
sabre passed bet\\-een Sir Ralph',- >i'!c r.ui h;- ngh.t
arm. The dragoon l)e;iig at the ii;-;."i!.t .-!^ t dLao,
the sabre remained with the geiier.;!. .\:>':'Ut the

3

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY

EARL OF ABERDEEN.

same time it was discoveretl that he had been
wounded in the thigh, and was entreated to have
the wound examinetl; but he treatetl it as a trifle,
and would not for a moment leave the field. No
sooner, however, had the enemy begun to retreat,
and the excitement of feeling under which he had
been acting to subside, than he faintetl from pain and
the loss of blootl. His wound was now examined,
and a large incision made in order to extract the
ball, but It could not be found. He was then put
upon a litter, and carried aboard the Foudroviint,
where he langui.shed till the aSth, when he dieil.
His botly was interred in the burial-ground of the
commandery of the grand-master, untier the walls
of the castle of St. Elan, near the town of Valetta
in Malta.

Of the character of Sir Ralph Abercromby there
can be but one opinion. Bred to arms almost from
his infancy, he appeared to be formed for command.
His dispositions were always masterly, and his
success certain. He had served in .\merica, in the
West Indies, in Ireland, in the Netherlands, in
Holland, and in Egypt; and had in all of these
countries gainetl great distinction. In the two
latter countries, esjiecially, he jierformed services
that were of incalculable advantage to his country.
The battle of the 2 1st of March, or of Alexandria,
while it decided the fate of Egypt, left an impression
of Briti>h skill an<l of Britisli valour upon the minds
of lx)th her friends and her enemies, that materially
contributed to the splendid results of a contest longer
in continuance, and involving interests of greater
magnitude, than Britain had ever before been en-
gage<l in. The manner in which he repressed the
licentiousness of the troops in Ireland was at once
magnanimous and elTective; and he ended a life of
dignifie<l exertion by a death worthy of a hero.
"\Vc have su,--tained an irreparal.)le loss," says his
successor, "in the ]>erson of our never enough to
be lamented commander-in-chief, Sir Ralph Aber-
cromby; but it is some consolation to those who
tenderly loved him, that, as his life was honourable,
so was his death glorious. His memory will be
rccorde<l in the annals of his country', will be sacred
to every l'.riti>h sol'lier, and embalmed in the recol-
lection of a grateful posterity." '

.Sir Ralph .Miercromhy was married to Mary
.\nne, d.iughter of John .NIenzies of Fernton, Perth-
shire; by whom he had issue four sons and three
daughter^, who survived him. On the official
account reaching England of the fate of her lamented
husband, his wid'iw was elevated to the ])eerage,
-May 2Slh. iSoi, as Baroness .Xhercromby of .Vbou'kir
and Tullib'Kiy, with remainder to the heirs-male of
the <lece.ascd general; and, on the recommendation
of his in.ijesty, the House of Commons, without one
dissentient voice, granted an annuity of two thousand
jHDumis to I„ady .Ahercronihy, and tlie next two
succeeding male heirs of the l,o<ly of Sir Raljili
AI>ercromi)y, to whom the title of Baron .•\i)ercronil)v
.should de-cend. The House of Conim'>ns, farther,
sensible of the great merits of this distinguished
British commander, voted a monument to his

' The f.ll'.wlns p.incKvnc ii;>^in Sir Kali.li in :in'.t)icr
ch.iractcr was wnttcn lx;f.iri; liis (Ic.th; " .As a u.uniry K-Mitlo
man, ever attentive to all within llie (iflcof hu in.veiniMii,
he >iland< high in the C'.tunati'in I'f his neichlciurs mv\ <l(.p<,n-
dants; an'l when his mihlary gl'iry shall have fallen into
oblivion, It will !<; gratefully reinenil«r'-'l that he was t!ie
frien'l of the 'lestitutc jvK.r. the jiatrm nf useful kn.wle'li;-,
anri the promoter of cdiiration ainnig the meanest if liis
cottagers: as an instance it may 1)C nientioncil. that in the
vilhgc of Tullil)fi<!y, on his paternal estate, a reading scho.il,
iini'er his immediate insp»;<-tion. was established many years
\i:i'-V." --Cam/>l>fli'l ynurnry through .ScctlatiJ, ^to, li-jz,

memor)', at the public expense, which was subse-
quently erected in St. Paul's Cathedral.

ABERDEEN, George Hamilton Gordon,
Fourth Earl of. This distinguished Conservative
statesman was the eldest son of George, Lord Haddo,
eldest son of the third ICarl of Aberdeen, and was
born in Edinburgh on the 28th of January, 1784.
He was not only bom but educated in Toryism; and
on being sent at the early age of ten to England, his
chief guardians and directors were William Pitt and
Lord Klelville. While he was thus trained to politi-
cal life, its particular bias in politics was also deter-
mined; and the Tory boy was father of the future
legislator and statesman. His classical education
was conducted first at the school of Harrow, and
after\vards at St. John's College, Cambridge. His
father. Lord Haddo, having previously deceased, the
subject of our memoir, on the death of his grand-
father at the commencement of the present century,
became Earl of Aberdeen. As the short-lived peace
of Amiens opened Europe to liritish tourists, the
young earl availed himself of the opportunity by
visiting France, and other parts of the continent,
and collecting that practical knowledge of men
and things which was afterw-ards available in his
future career; he also visited Greece, the adopted
country of the scholar and man of taste, and returned
to England through Turkey and Russia. This visit
to Greece, the oppressed and fallen, where every-
thing was in such contrast to its old heroic monu-
ments and remembrances, and the classical taste and
knowledge which he brought to such a study, awoke,
as was natural, the young earl's highest enthusiasm;
and on returning home, one of his first acts was to
establish the "Athenian Society," an essential rule
of which was that every member should have visited
Greece. He also contributed to the Edinburgh J\e-
view an elaborate article on the Topography of
Troy; and wrote an introduction to Wilkins' transla-
tion of Vitruvius, in which he illustrated the beauties
of the ancient Grecian architecture. But such
ardour, however commendable in itself, was turned
by his opponents into ridicule, the full brunt of which
was brought to bear against him by Lord Byron him-
self, the most enthusiastic of Philhellenists; vho, in
his English Baj-ds and Scotch Reviewers, dubl)ed
him as "that travelled thane, Athenian Aber-
deen." But something deeper than mere jiolitical
picjue may have embittered the sarcasm of Lord
Byron. The estate of Gicht, which should have de-
scended to his mother, had been sold by her improvi-
dent father to Lord Haddo, and the poetical jieer
may have felt indignant that the carl, however inno-
cently, had supi^lanted him in the family possession.

In 1804 the iCarl of Aberdeen took the degree of
M..'\. at the university, and in 1806, when he had
arrived at the age of twenty-two, he commenced his
imhlic life by being elected a representative ])ccr of
.Scotland. The condition, however, of jniljlic affairs
was such as might well daunt a young as](irant for
])olitical jilace and responsibility. The peace of
.Amiens had been quickly tenninated, and the war
resumed more violently than ever. The victory of
Trafalgar, indeed, had secured our sujiremacy by
sea; but this was more than counterbalanced by the
successes of Na])oleon on land, which already had
made him the arbiter of the fate of luiro]ic. Welling-
ton had not as yet a]ipeared upon the scene; and our
military exi>cditions, unwisely planned, had generally
ended in disaster and defeat. In such a state of
affairs, when the wisdom of the oldest and most ex-
lierienced of our politicians was at fault, the conduct
of the youthful senator was characterized bv modest

EARL OF ABERDEEN.

discretion; and although he steadily supported his
party, his voice was seldom heard in the arena of dis-
cussion and debate. It was not indeed as a political
orator that he was to win his way to influence and
distinction, and this general silence distinguished the
whole of the earl's public career to the end. Hut his
talents were not the less felt; so that after the reverses
of Napoleon in Russia, he was selected for a task of
peculiar difficulty and delicacy: this was to detach
the Emperor of Austria from the interests of Bona-
parte, although his son-in-law, and induce him to
unite with the allied sovereigns for his overthrow.
That the Earl of Aberdeen should have been chosen
fur such a mission — on the success of which the fate
of Europe depended — shows the estimation in which
he was held, although as yet he was scarcely thirty
years old. The result of his negotiations justified
the choice of our statesmen; and his proceedings at
the court of Vienna, as British ambassador, form an
important portion of the history of the period. But
instead of a full detail, we can only give a passing
notice of their effects. Austria was, in the first in-
stance, persuaded to become neutral; she next ven-
tured to mediate between the contending parties;
afterwards, to perform the part of mediator with
effect, she found it necessary to suspend the alliance
subsisting between her and France; and finally, in
1 8 13, she joined the coalition against Napoleon.
The reverses of the French arms in the Peninsula,
the indecisive victories of Bonaparte at Liitzen and
Bautzen, the promise of a large subsidy from the
British government to aid .Vustria in the straggle, and
the prospect of reconstructing her broken dominion
upon the downfal of the conqueror of Europe, were
inducements too alluring to be disregarded; and the
Emperor of Austria became the hostile opponent of
a son-in-law whose day of prosperity was evidently
drawing to a close.

In those subsequent victories by which the armies
of Bonaparte were overthrown, the Earl of Aberdeen,
from his attendance on the Emperor of Austria, saw
a large amount of the horrors of war in their worst
forms — an experience which may either have created
or confirmed that love of peace and non-intervention
by which his administration was afterwards char-
acterized, and for which he was so heavily blamed.
He witnessed the fights of Liitzen and Bautzen;
after the battle of Dresden Morcau died in his
quarters; with Humboldt he rode over the field of
Leipsic, when it was freshly torn by the ploughshare
of military destruction; and on one occasion, near
Chaumont, both emperor and ambassador, with their
whole diplomatic staff, had to ride for their lives to
escape the enemy, and never draw bridle until they
had reached Dijon, about thirteen leagues distant.
But besides a knowledge of the evils of war, with
which such incidents made him personally acquainted,
his situation as ambassador brought him frequently
into cont.act with Trince Metternich and other foreign
statesmen, by whose society his Conservative prin-
ciples are supposed to have' been strengthened, and
his policy as foreign minister of Britain afterwards so
materially iniluenced. .-\fter securing the Emperor
of .\u>tria to the cause of the alliedsovereigns, the
llarl of Aberdeen was commissioned to withdraw
Joachim Murat. King of Naples, from the cause of
his brother-in-law Napoleon, who had trained him to
greatness, and to whom he owed everything. Diplo-
niacy has duties every wliit as stern and unmerciful
as those of war, al;hi)UL;h they are more coollv and
dispassionately performe<i; and the task of Aberdeen,
which was to sow dissension among the kindred of
the falling hero, and detach them from his cause,
was by no- means pleasant, however justified by

political necessity. Here also the carl was success-
ful; and he "of the snow-white plume," the crowned
dragoon who had so often in battle been Bonaparte's
right arm, joined the allies, on the pr<jmi-.c of l)eiiig
confirmed in his Neapolitan throne. These aliena-
tions of his best supports, by which the downfal of
the French emperor was insured more effectually
than by his reverses in the field, were chiefly owing
to the young Scottish statesman who, silently and
with his pen, was directing those movements un<icr
which the greatest of confjuerors succumbed. The
earl remained in attendance upon the Austrian
emperor until the termination of the war, and was
present as British ambassador at Chatillon, where
the congress of the allied sovereigns was assembled.
When so many difficult claims were to be adjusted,
it was necessary that Britain, the j^aymaster of the
war, should be fully representetl; and thither ac-
cordingly Lord Castlereagh, our foreign secretarj-,
and .Sir Charles Stuart (afterwards Marquis of Lon-
donderr\) were sent as colleagues to .Aberdeen and
Lord Cathcart. It was a curious destination, by
which two Irishmen were balanced by two Scots, as
if the fervour of the one nation was to be kept in
check by the proverbial cautiousness of the other.
At the termination of the war in 1814, the I'^arl of
Aberdeen was advanced to a British peerage by the
title of Viscount Gordon.

On the return of the earl to England with the high
political prestige he had won, it might have been ex-
pected that he would devote himself to ]niblic life, and
take an important place in the administration. But
previous to his mission to Vienna, his wife, a daughter
of the first Marquis of Abercorn, whom he had
married in 1805, died; and it is not impossible that
in his acceptance of such an onerous charge, he
sought the solace of a young widowed heart in the
bustle of occupation. Be that as it may, when he
returned home, he again sought domestic happiness
by marrying the widow of \iscount Hamilton, the
sister-in-law of his former wife, and mother of the
second Marquis of Abercorn. Living aloof from the
turmoil of politics and the allurements of ambition.
he now devoted himself to those classical studies for
which he had shown an early predilection, inter-
mixed with exertions for the improvement of his
estates and the comfort of his tei-;antry. I lis
passion among these raral employments was chiefly
the jilanting of trees, so that whole fore.-ts of which
his old age saw the maturity, were the reward of his
early exertions. In this peaceful manner his life was
spent until the year 1S28, Avhen the Tories acquired
the ascendency. In this case Lord Aberdeen was
not to be overlooked, and under the administration
of the Duke of Wellington he became secretan.- of
foreign aftairs. In this important office he w.is
enabled to realize his youthful aspirations in behalf
of (Greece. That country, after a lone:, ruinous, and
doubtful straggle against the overwb.elming ]io\\cr
of Turkey, had taken fresh courage from the inter-
ference of England, f>ance. and Russia in its bel'.alt,
and the naval victory which the united lleets iif the^e
three powers had olitained over the Turco-Kgyj.tian
lleet in the battle of Navarino. In con-equencc ol
this promising change, the (ireeks had renewed the
unequal struggle, and, chiefly throv.L^h t!;e retf.r:i
of "'.Vthenian Aberdeen" to jiolitical r,t;:ce. tb.c.r
efforts were successful; and the erection o! tb.e jriiic;-
pal states of tlrecce into an indepcniler.t Ildletr.c
kingdom was the result. It was the first of a >er;cs
of experiments in a great jiolitical problem, the \\ork-
ing of which was reserved fortlie ninetcer.t!; cw.W.ry.
and that still awaits solution. It may lie cr;];,-.! t!ie
problem of the re-urrection of nation-. .\ i.ation.

KARL OF ABERDEEN.

after a life of eight or ten centuries, has finished its
natural term of existence, anil wlien it expires its
place is occupied by some young successor, who runs
a similar career. But can a defunct nation live over
aj^in ? The trial has been made in our own day, first
with Clreece, and afterwards with Italy, while the
final is>ue is still an uncertainty.

With the exception of this interference in behalf
of Greece. Lord .-\berdeen, as secretary for foreign
atTairs, most scrupulously adhered to his principle of
non-intervention. Thus, when Louis I'liilijipe was
recognizeil by the French as tlieir king, insteail of
stickling lor the rights of the elder branch of tiie
Bourbons, he at once assented to the change, lie
rcfuscl to involve tliis country in a war for the dis-
j)l.acenient of l)v)m .Miguel from the u>urped throne
of Portugal ; anil when the quadruple alliance was
fonned by Lord I'almerston b.-tween England,
France. .Spain, and Portugal, Lord .\berdeen was
opposed to the measure. He al>o was anxious to
maintain our peaceful relationships with Austria
and Rus-i.a, when the popular feeling of Britain was
inclined for war. But these pacific tendencies, uniler
which our island became prosju'rous, were desjiised
as the etTects of a timid or selfish policy; and his
lordship was alternately reproached or ridiculed as
the friend of foreign despots, and the secret enemy
of British liberty. \'ery ditTerent was the view
entertained in foreign courts, wliere he was regarded
as a wise, humane, disinterested statesman. The
same peaceful character regidated his conduct in
reference Ui our disputes witii America, and it was
under ius direction that Lord .\sii!:)urton negotiated
those diificuit <)uestions about b jundaries by whicli
a threatened war between Britain and liie United
States was ha]>pily averted.

The first tenure of office held by Lord Aberdeen
as fjreign secretar)- was b. ought to a close in 1S30,
by the accession of WUiiam IV., and the passing of
the ref irm bll. But whetlier in or out of oflice,
his pilitical cliaracter was so well established, that
his opinions had always weight and intUience witli
the rulnig i)owers. In 1X34, during .Sir Robert
Beel's brief administration, he held office as colonial
r^ccretary, and again under tiiat statesman in 1841,
as fire:gii secretary; and he rendered material aid
to Sir I\oi>jrt in carrying the repeal of the corn-
laws. a:ii the ref)rins connected witli our com-
merce. In tiiis matter of tile corn-laws, he was
not obli^'ed, iiketiie premier and many of our states-
men, to unreail iiis own declarations and falsify his
former promises, as he had long seen tiie justice as
well as ilie necessity of a repeal. The same consist-
ency regulat.'d his con<luct in voting for liie re]ieal of
the te>t and cori)oration acts, feeling as a I'resby-
terian ;li.H the eucliarist was prof.uied -.viieii use<l as
a i|uali!i>ation fir pu!)lic oliice.

.\s I.Mi.j .\l>crdeeii was one of tlie few .Scottish
not)lemeii who adhered to the national church of his
own coun'ry, the events that led to tile disrui)tion in
1S43 could not fail to secure his anxious attention.
Tlie two ]..iities into wliicli the Ciiurcii of Scotlan<l
had b_-e:i i'Hig divided, had at lengtii come to lioMile
is-,ue; and a conflict was inevitalile, in wliich one
or the otiier [larty inu^t go to t!ie wall. liis en-
deavour^ t > reconcile tliem, and prevent such a con-
sequerice, were l>otli sincere and earnest. I'ut tlic
questiMii in debate among the contending clergvinen
w.is so li'tle understi..i'l l)y the laity, and the ])olitics
of the cliiirch are so dilTereiil from those of the state,
tliat theli'-aling measures of mere dipiomatisi^, wliicli
migiit jirevent two nations from going to war, will
sometime- only aggravate a theological controversy.
Each party is persuaded that its cause is that of eter-

nal truth— that not a single pin of the sacred taber-
nacle can be yielded u]3 without ruining the whole
fabric — and that whosoever suggests such concession,
can only be a Cjallio, who cares for none of these
things. Such in the present case was the fate of
Lord Aberdeen, and his statesmanlike proposals
for their mutual reconciliation: his healing measure
for that pui]X)se was supposed only to have hastened
on the disruption which it sought to avert. The
church was rent asunder, and while each party
claimed to be the only true Church of Scotland, his
])lan, called Lord Aberdeen's Act, which had been
at once rejected by the Free Church, has been found
by the other an impracticable device, and a blunder
in ecclesiastical jiolity. It will be well when states-
men cease to legislate in religious doctrines which
they cannot understand, and in a spiritual govern-
ment with which they should not meddle.

On the retirement of .Sir Robert Peel after the
corn-law bill had been carried, the I'^arl of Aber-
deen followed his example, and on the melancholy
and sudden death of the former, the earl was recog-
nized as the heal of the party called the Peelites.
Although small in numbers, and suffering under the
odium occasioned by the abolition of the protection
duties, they were still powerful from their position
and political talents. This was acknowledged when
both Whigs and Tories had failed to carry on the
government, so that on the downfal of the Derby-
Disraeli ministry in 1852, the earl was called upon to
form a new administration. lie comjdied, and suc-
ceeded by forming a coalition not of one, but of all
parties, so that tlie new cabinet was composed of
members of every shade of political opinion from the
ultra-Tory to the extreme Radical. .Such a stretch
of liberality, while it was demanded by the necessity
of the occasion, would have found few statesmen
capable of imitating.

The first great trial of the new government with
Lord .\bci'deen at its head, was the Russian war.
The pacihc iirinciples by which his political life had
been governed had now become with him a second
nature, while the benefits of the long peace which
had generally jirevailed in Europe during forty vears
seemed to warrant their iiro])riety. Here his lordship
was ]ilaccd in a manifest dilemma. A bold and de-
cisive course might cither arrest the outlu'eak, or bring
it only tile sooner into action. Dismayed by the un-
certainty of such an experiment. Lord .Aberdeen tem-
porized, first in the ho])e that war might be averted,
and afterwards, that although declared it would not
be carried out. In this vacillation he was seconded
by some of the ablest members of the cabinet, so that
when the Crimean war broke out the country was
only half ])rc[)ared. On the events of this glorious
1)111 unfortunate war we shall not here dwell: it is
enough to state, that the ju-eparations to meet it
were so defective, and tlie mode of carrying it on so
unsatisfactory, tliat the ]-iublic discontent compelled
the cabinet to resign. His lonlshi]) quitted office
on the30tli of January, 1S55, and retired into private
life; and while he carried with him the esteem of all
jiaities, who acknowledged him to have been a wise
and u|)right statesman, notwithstanding the defects
of his administration, he was honoured by the
queen with the order of the (Jaiter in acknowdcdg-
ineiit of his ])ulilic services.

While his lordsliip's ])olitical career had thus on
the whole been illustrious, and so beneficial to his
country, it was iii])riv.Tte life that his amiablequalities
weie best felt and ajipreciated. He was enthusi-
astically beloved by his tenants, to whom he was
ever an indulg<-iit creditor; none of them were dis-
trained fir rent or ejected for its non-payment; and

JOHN ABERNETHY.

while all of them were comfortable, not a few
of them became rich under such a kind considerate
landlord. He also showed, even when worn out
with years and sickness, that however attached to
peace with foreign powers, and non-intervention
in their <}uarrels, he was ready to prefer war to
peace when the honour or safety of the country was at
stake. This he showed in the volunteer movement,
when apprehensions of a foreign invasion called
forth such an armed demonstration. The earl was
one of its strongest supporters, and his tenantry
raised the second rifle corps in Aberdeenshire, which
had his son, the Hon. Arthur Hamilton Gordon,
for its captain. One of his last public acts was to
give a proof of his heartiness in this patriotic move-
ment. On the 2d of October, i860, the earl invited
the officers of the Methlic and Turves Volunteer
rifles (his own tenants) to Haddo House, and pre-
sented to each of them a handsome and valuable
sword, bearing an inscription and the name of the
donor — and this, too, when he was so weak that he
was obliged to sit on a couch, and had hardly
strength to lift the weapons. His lordship died on
the 14th December, i860, at Arg)ll House, London,
aged seventy-si.x.

ABERNETHY, John, an eminent surgeon and
writer on physiolog)'. The birth and parentage of
this gentleman were so obscure, that it is impossible
to say with certainty v.hether he was a native of
Ireland or of .Scotland. It is even affirmed that he
was himself ignorant of the country of his birth.
Upon the supposition that he was born in Scotland,
his name is introduced in the present work. The
date of his birth is given loosely as 1763-64. His
parents having brought him in his infancy to London,
he commenced his education at a day-school in Loth-
bury, where he acquired the elements of classical
literature. Having afterwards been bound appren-
tice to Mr. Charles Blick, surgeon to St. Bartholo-
mew's Hospital, he had the advantage of attending
that noble institution, where he eagerly seized every
opportunity of making himself practically acquainted
with his profession. He also had the advantage of
attending the lectures of Mr. John Hunter, at the
time when that gentleman was commencing the de-
velopment of those great discoveries wliich have made
his name so famous. The curiosity which those dis-
coveries excited in the public at large, was felt in an
uncommon degree by Mr. Abernethy, whose assiduity
and ardour as a pupil attracted the notice of tlie
lecturer, and rendered the latter his friend for life.

While as yet a very young practitioner, his repu-
tation procured for ^Ir. Abernethy the situation of
assistant-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's; and he soon
after commenced a course of lectures in the hospital,
which, tliough not very successful at first, became in
Lime the nio>t frequented of any in London, so as to
lay the foundation of a medical school of the highest
reputation in connection with this institution. On
the death of Sir Charles Blick, his former master,
Mr. Abernethy, now considered as the best teacher
of anatomy, pliysiology, and surgery in the metro-
polis, wa- elected surgeon to the hospital.

The fir>l publications of Mr. Abernethy were a few
physiological e-says, and one on lumbar abscess,
which, with some additions, formed his first volume,
published 1793-97, in Svo, under the title of .SV^;-.
gical and PhysioU\-ical EiSiiys. These were char-
acteri;rcd by the same strong sense, and plain and
forcilile illu>tration. which marked everything that
flowed from his tongue and pen till the end of his
life. In 1S04 ajipeared another volume, entitled
Siir^ii-a! Ol'sm-jtwis, containing' a Classijicaticn of

Tumours, with Cases to illustrate the History of each
Species; an Account of Diseases, ikic. ; and, in 1 806,
Suri^ical Obsenalions, Part Second, containing an
Account of Disorders of the Health in general, and
of the Digestive Organs in particular, -u'hieh accom-
pany Local Diseases, and obstruct their Cure. The
fame of these treatises soon spread, not only through-
out England, but over the continent of Europe; and
the French surgeons, especially, did homage to the
masterly spirit they evinced. Bold and successful
operations, practical and lucid descriptions, original
and comprehensive views, all combined to enhance
the great reputation of the author, and to elevate the
character of the national school of which he was so
bright an ornament.

In 1 8 14 Mr. Abernethy received what might be
considered as the highest honour which his profession
had to bestow, in being appointed anatomical lecturer
to the Royal College of .Surgeons. An anecdote
illustrative of his sound integrity is told in reference
to this era of his life. A fellow of the college having
remarked to him, that now they should have some-
thing new, Mr. Abernethy seriously asked him what
he meant. " Wiiy," said the other, " of course you
will brush up the lectures which you have been so
long delivering at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and
let us have them in an improved form." " Do you
take me for a fool or a knave?" rejoined Mr. Aber-
nethy. "I have always given the students at tlie
hospital that to which they are entitled — the best
produce of my mind. If I could have made my lec-
tures to them better, I would instantly have made
them so. I will give the College of .Surgeons pre-
cisely the same lectures, down to the smallest details."
In the year of this honourable appointment, he pub-
lished An Inquiry into the Probability and Ra-
tionality of Mr. Hunter s Iheory of Life; being the
subject of the two first lectures delivered before the
Royal College of .Surgeons of London. The aim
of these lectures was to elucidate the doctrine pre-
viously laid down by Mr. Hunter, that "life, in
general, is some principle of activity added by the
will of Omnipotence to organized structure, an
immaterial soul being superadded, in man, to the
structure and vitality which he possesses in common
with other animals." Of this work, it is generally
allowed that the intentions are better than the philo-
sophy.

Previously to this period, Mr. Abernethy had pub-
lished other treatises besides those already named.
One of the most remarkable was Surgical Obser-
vations on the Constitutional Origin and 'J'realvicnt
of Local Diseases, and on Aneurism, Svo, 1^09.
His memorable cases of tying the iliac artery for
aneurism are detailed in this volume; ca.-es which
may almost be said to form an era in adventurous
surgical experiment. Mr. Abernethy also wrote
works on Diseases jrsenilling .Syf/iilis, and on
Diseases of the L'rethra ; On Injuries of ti:e Hiii-i
and Miscellaneous Subjects: and another volume ot
Physiological Essays. He was likewise the ar/.hor
of the anatomical and physiological articles in Kee-
Cyclopedia, previous to the article Caiui. Ann'ng
his various accom]:)lishments must i)e ranked a
considerable acquaintance with chenv.-try; .ir.'l
one of his numerous honours is the h.iv.iig, in c";v.-
]>anywith Mr. Howard, discovered. Uihi.inaiing r.'.er-
cury.

Besides his business as a lecturer. Mr. A:>err.c;i;y
cnjoved avast and lucrative prac;:ce as a si;r.,-ei>r..
His manner in both capacities w.is !n.irke>! :■; ni.-r.y
eccentricitie<. Init particularly in the latter. He i."i;'d
not endure the tedious and confused :-iarra:.\c~ w hi>.:i
j-aticiUi arc apt to lay before a cjr.sult.r.g surgcjn,

JOUX ABERNETIIY ALEXANDER ADAM.

and, in checking these, wr.s not apt to regard much
the rules of goo«.i-breeding. Considerable risks were
thus encountered for the sake of his advice; but this
wxs generally so excellent, that those who required
it were seldom afraid to hai^ard the slight offence to
their feelings with which it was liable to be accom-
}ianie<l. >lany anecdotes of Mr. Al>emethy's ren-
counters with liis jxitients are preserved in the pro-
fession. The two following are given in Sir James
Eyre's recent work, 'I'hf Stomach aitd its Dijificul-
tus: — *' .\ ven.- talkative lady, who had wearied the
temper of .Mr. .VlK-rncthy, which was at all times im-
patient of gabble, was told by him the first moment
that he could get a chance of speaking, to Ix; good
enough to put out her tongue. ' Now, pray, madam.'
said he, playfully, ' kci/>\\. out.' The hint was taken.
He rarely met with his match, but on one occasion
he fairly owned that he had. He was sent for to an
innkec}^>or, who had had a quarrel with his wife, and
who had score<l his face with her nails, so that the
]K)or man was bleeiling antl much di>figurcd. Mr.
.•VlH-rnethy considered this an o|:)portunity not to be
lo>t for admonishing the offender, and said, ' -Nfadam,
are you not ashamed of yourself to treat your husband
thu>; the hu>l)and, who is the he.id of all, your head,
madam, in fact?' 'Well, doctor,' fiercely retorted
the virago, 'and may I not scratch my own head?'
L'jHin thi> her friendly adviser, after giving directions
f )r the i)enefit of the patient, turned upon his heel,
and Confessed himself beaten for once." Hut abrupt-
ness and rudeness were not his only eccentricities.
He carried practical benevolence to a j^itch as far
fr.im the common line as any of his other ]KCuliarities.
Where poverty and disease jirevented patients from
waiting u])on him in his own house, he was frequently
known, not only to visit them constantly, and at
inconvenient distances, without fee or reward, but
generously to supply them from his own purse with
wh.it their wants required. I'erhaps the most strik-
ing, <jut of the numerous anecdotes which have been
relate<l of him, in illustration of his eccentricities, is
one "lescriptivc of his courtship, or rather of his no-
tourtship. " While attending a lady for several
weeks, he observed those admira!)Ie qualifications in
ber daughter which he truly esteemed to be calcu-
lated to make the marri.-ige state happy. .Accordingly,
on a .Saturday, when taking leave of his patient, he
.iddrc-.sc! her to the following purport: — ' \'ou are
now so well that I need not see you after Monday
next, vslieii I shall come and pay you my farewell
visit, iJ'.it, in the meantime, I wisji yr)u and your
daughter seriou>lyto consider the ]iropos.i] I am now
ai> >ul to nnke. It is abrupt and unceremonious, I
am aware; but the excessive occiipntion of niv time
by my ]>r.)fe>si..iial duties affords me no lei-'ure to
a'.comjvlidi what I desire by the more ordinary course
of atteniKin and soln italiou. My annua! receipts

amount to £ , an<l I can settle £ - on mv

wife; my chiiader is generally known to tlie )niblic,
so that voii may readily ascertain \\ liat it is. 1 jiave
seen in your da-.ighter a tender and alfectioiiat.M iiild,
an as^idti His and careful nurse, and a gentle and
ladylike member of a family; siu h a persi.n nuist lie
all that a lrid)and cild (ovet. an-l 1 offr mv hand
and f)nune f-.r her aci.e])ta!Ki-. On .Monday! wiien
I call. I ^hali ex]>e(t your d'-teriniiialion; (or I really
have not time for the r-nitine of courtship.' In this
humour the lady was wooed and wriii, and tlj'- union
proved f )rtiinate in every req^ect. .A haj^jner couple
never existed."

-After a life of great activity, and whii h jproved of
niu: h imrne'Iiate and remote -crvice to mankind, the
s;;b;ect of this memoir expired, at EnficM, <iii the
20th of .\pr 1, iSji.

ADAM, Alexander, an eminent grammarian
and writer on Roman antiquities, was born at Coats
of Ikirgie, in the jxarish of Rafford and county of
.Moray, about the month of June, 1741. His father,
John Adam, rented one of those small farms which
were formerly so common in the north of Scotland.
In his earlier years, like many children of his own
class, and even of a class higher removed above
]ioverty, he occasionally tended his father's cattle.
Heing destined by his parents, poor as they were,
for a learned profession, he was kept at the parish
school till he was thought fit to come forward as a
bui-sar at the university of Aberdeen. He made
this attempt, but failed, and was requested by the
judges to go back and study for another year at
school. This incident only stimulated him to fresh
exertions. He was prevented, however, from renew-
ing his attempt at Aberdeen, by the representations
of the Rev. Mr. Watson, a minister at Edinburgh,
and a relation of his mother, who induced him to try
his fortune in the metropolis. He removed thither
early in the year 1758; Ijut, it appears, without any
assured means of supporting himself during the pro-
gress of his studies. For a considerable time, while
attending the classes at the college, the only means
of subsistence he enjoyed consisted of the small
sum of one guinea per quarter, which he derived
from Mr. Alan Macconochie (afterwards Lord Mea-
dowdmnk), for assisting him in the capacity of a tutor.
The details of his system of life at this period, as
given by his biographer Mr. Henderson, are pain-
fully interesting. " He lodged in a small room at
Restalrig, in the north-eastern suburbs; and for this
accommodation he paid fourpence a-week. All his
meals, except dinner, uniformly consisted of oatmeal
made into porridge, together with small beer, of
which he only allowed himself half a bottle at a time.
When he wished to dine, he purchased a penny loaf
at the nearest baker's shop; and, if the day was fair,
he would des])atch his meal in a walk to the ]Meadows
or Hope Park, which is adjoining to the southern
])art of the city; but if the weather was foul, he had
recourse to some long and lonely stair, which he
would climb, eating his dinner at every step. By
this means all expense for cookery was avoided, and
he wasted neither coal nor candles; for, when he was
chill, he used to run till his blood began to glow,
and his evening studies were always prosecuted under
the roof of some one or other of his companions."
There are many instances, we believe, among .Scottish
students, of tlie most rigid self-denial, crowned at
length by s]dendid success; but there is certainly no
case known in which the self-denial was so chastened,
and the triumph so grand, as that of Dr. Adam. In
1 76 1, when he was exactly twenty, he stood a trial
for the situation of head teacher in George Watson's
Hospital, Edinburgh, and was successful. In this
place he is said to have continued about three years;
during which he was anxiously engaged in cultivat-
ing an intimacy with the classics — reading, with
great care, and in a critical manner, the works of
I Iciodotiis, Tiuicydides, Xenophon, Cicero, and
l.i\y. His views were now directed towards the
ciiureli. and he was on the eve of being licensed as
a )ireacher of the gospel, when suddenly a prospect
opened before him of becoming assistant, with the
hope of being eventually the successor, of Mr.
Mniheson, rector of the high-scluiol. This ajipoint-
nieiit he obtained, and in I 771 the increased infirmi-
tus of Mr. Mathieson threw the whole of this charge
into the hands of Mr. .Adam.

'1 he time when he assumed this respectable office
«as very fortunate. I'.very de]iartment of knowledge
in Sco'.land wa^ at this period adorned by higher

f0 . r ■ ■,

ALEXANDER ADAM

names than had ever before graced it; and hence the
office of master in the principal elementary school of
the country presented to a man of superior qualifica-
tions a fair opportunity of distinguishing himself.
This opjiortunity was not lost upon Mr. Adam. He
devoted himself with singular assiduity to his duties;
and under his auspices the school gradually increased
in numbers and reputation. Soon after his appoint-
ment he began to compose a series of works to facili-
tate tile stuiiy of the I^tin language. 1 1 is Kmiimcnts
of Latin and English Grammar were published in
1772, and though composed in a style which aj)-
peared to the generality of teachers as a dreadful
schism and heresy, met witli the approbation of a
discerning few, whose praise was sufficient to over-
balance the censure of the multitude. 1 1 is offi;nce
consisted in the novel attempt to teach the gram-
matical rules of Latin in English prose, instead of
Latin prose or verse, which latter had been the time-
honoured fashion of the schools both of England and
Scotland since the days of the Reformation. The
daring innovator was assailed with a storm of abuse
by numerous individuals, more especially by those of
his own profession.

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

Tile next work of Dr. Adam is entitled ,-/ Siinnnarv
of GL\r:;raphy and History but the date of the first
edition is not mentioned by his biographer. In 1791
lie pul)lislied ills excellent compendium of Roman
Ant'i.jnitics, and in iSoo iiis Classical flio::;raphy;
for tlie copyright of the former he received ^600,
and for that of the latter ;i{^300. Dr. Adam's last
and perhaps his most ial^orious work was his l.atni
Dictionary, put)lisiied in 1 805. Towartis tlie lie-
ginning his illustrations are brief, but, as he proceeds,
tiiey gradually liccome more copious. It was his
intention to add an English-and- Latin ]"iart, and to
enlarge the other to a con-^idcralile extent. In this
flivourite plan he liad made some progress at the
time of his death.

On the I3tli of I>occmI)er, iSoo. Dr. ,\dam was
seized in the iiigli-scliool with an alarming indi--]io-
sition, -^x-hicli iiad all tiic appearance of apoplexy.

ROBERT ADAM.

13

Having been conducted home, he was put to betl,
and enjoyed a sound sleep, which appeared to have
arrested the progress of the disease, fur he was after-
wards able to walk about his room. Tlie apoplectic
symptoms, however, returned in a few day^, and he
fell into a state of stupor. His last words marked
the gradual darkening of tiie ray of life and intellect
beneath this mortal disorder. He said, "It grows
dark, boys — you may go — " his mind evidentlv
wandering at tiiat moment to the scene where he had
spent the i^etter part of his life. This twilight soon
settled down into the night of death: he expired
early in the morning of the 1 8th I)ecenii)er, 1S09.
The death of the amiable and excellent Dr. Adam
operated among his numerous friends and admirers
like a shock of electricity. Men of all ages and de-
nominations were loud in lamenting an event which
had bereaved them of a common Ijcnefactor. Tlie
effect of the general feeling was a resolution to
honour him with what was at that time a verv* rare
circumstance in Scotland — a public funeral.

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

ADA^I, RoRKRT, an eminent architect, was
born at Edinburgh in the year 172S. His father,
William Adam, of .Maryburgh, in the county ot
Fife, also distinguished himself as an arch:toi.t:
Ho]ietoun House and the Royal Infirmary at IJliii-
burgli are specimens of his abilities. Robert. tl;e
secontl son, inherited his father's ta>te, and livi.;! i:i
a time more favourable to its develo]mient. He w:"--
educated in the university of E(lintn;r:,di. vliore \.c
enjoyed the kind attentions of Robert>o;i, .'-^niitli. :.vA
Ferguson, all of wliom were his father's Irin-.'is. A->
he advanced in life he was on friendly and ir/.inir.tL-
terms with Archibald. Duke o\ Argvic, Sir (/I;.-;::..-
Town^hcnil. and the Earl of Mnnsiicld. Al'..!;t tli.'
vear 1714. with a view to iniiMove hi^ kni i\\ Ic'l^;'- "t
architecture, ho tnivollcd on the C'ntincr.!. r.r.'l re-
sided three years in Italy, nliere lie ~r.r\cye'l tb.c
niagniliccp.t specimens of l\oni."in .nrJiito. 'urc. the
buil<iin_L;-; of the ancients, in liis oj ;!.;>':■.. le.rg th'.-
proper ~ch.,>' I of the r.rcl'.;:ccir.'..d .-tU'ler.:. Put

14

riOBERT ADAM

while lie beheld with much pleasure the remains of
the public buiUlinj^s of the Romans, he regretted to
perceive that hardly a vestige of their private houses
or villas was anywhere to be found. The interest
which he felt in this particular branch of Roman re-
mains, and Iiis anxiety to behold a good specimen of
the private buildings of this wonderful peojile, induced
liim to undertake a voyage to Sjialatro, in Dalniatia,
to visit and examine the palace of Dioclesian, where,
after his resignation of the cm]>ire, in 305, that
emperor spent the last nine years of his life. He
sailetl from \enice in 1754, accompanied by two ex-
perienced draughtsmen and M. Clcrisseau, a French
antiiiuary and arti^t. On their arrival at .Spalatro
they found that the palace had not sutTerctl less from
dilapidations by the inhabitants, to j^rocure materials
for building, than from the injuries of time; and that,
in many i)laces, tlie ver)- ft)undations of the ancient
structures were covered with modern houses. ^Vhen
they began their labiturs the vigilant jealousy of the
goveniinent was alarmed, and they were soon inter-
rupted; foi, sus|H;cting their object was to view and
make plans of tlie fortitications, the governor issued
a peremptory order, commaniling them to desist.
It was only through the inlluence and mediation of
(Jeneral (Ir.eme, the commander-in-chief of the
\'cnetian f>rces (probably a Scotsman), that they
were at length ])erniitte.l to resume their labours; and
in five weeks they tnii>hccl plans and views of the
remaining fragments, from which they afterwards
executed perfect designs of the whole building. Mr.
Adam soon after returned to England, and speedily
r-)se to profcs>ional eminence. In 1762 he was ap-
]M)inted architect to their majesties, and in the year
f)llowing h_' i)ublished, in one ^•^)Iume large folio,
A'li.iis of tlw /\i'tu'c' of the Iii}tp:ror Diodesian at
S^ii'.jtro, 11: Dalm.itia. This ^plendid work con-
tain^ seventy. one ]ilates, besides letter-press descrip-
t!<);i>. lie had at this time been elected a member
of tile Royal and .\ntiquarian .Societies, and in 1768
he w.as elected to represent Kinross-shire in parlia-
ment, wiiich was pr<jl)a!)ly owing to the local inllu-
ence of !»!> family. A seat in the Ilou->e of Commons
being incompatible with emjiloymeiit under the
crown, he now resigned liis oftice as architect to their
maje^tie^; hut continued t(j ]')ro>ccute his professional
career witli increasing reputation, being much em-
ployed by the Kngli^li nobility and gentry in con-
structing new and embellishing ancient mansions.
In the year 177.^ in conjunction with his brother,
James .Adam, wlio abo rose to considerable reputa-
t.on as an .ircllitect, lie commenced 'J'h,- Works in
Ar,'i:t,rlii)\- of R. r.nl J. .U/.iin, which before
1776 hid r.-acliel a fouiih luniilicr. and was a Nvork
of equal .spleiiiour with the one above referred to.
The f '-.ir numbers contain, among (jtlier ])roductions,
Sion House, Caen \Vo.,d. I.utoii Park llouse, the
< iateway of !h" .\diniralty. and the- (ieiieral Register
House at Ivimburgli; all of which have been admired
f)r elegant <lesigii and curecl taste, though the
J. resent .age. in its rage f.r a s.-vere ^iin]ilicity. might
desire the absence* of cc-rtain niimite oninmeiits with
which the .Adams were accustomed to fill ii|) vacant
si)aecs. Kefore this period the two brotln-rs had
reared in I.onrlon that s],leii'li'l iiiMnumeiit of tiieir
ta-te -the .\deiphi, which, however, was too exten-
sive a "-peculation to be I'rofilable. Tliev wrre
obliged ill 1774 to iibtain an act of parliaiiirnt to djs-
])Ose of th-- houses by way of lottery. The c liief
.Scottish 'Icsigris of .\dam, be-i lesth-' K^'gister ( )\\\> l\
were the new ad'htions to the L'iiiv--rsiiv n{ Ivjin-
burgh and the Infirmary of (ilasg.iw. "We have
r.lsr) seen and admired,'" says a biograjih-r. "elegant
designs executed by Mr. Adam, which were intended

PATRICK ADAMSON.

for the South Bridge and South Bridge Street of
lulinburgh; and which, if they had been adopted,
would have added much to the decoration of that
part of the town. But they were considered un-
suitable to the taste or economy of the times, and
were therefore rejected. Strange incongruities," con-
tinues the same writer, "appear in some buildings
which have been erected from designs by Mr. Adam.
Rut of these it must be observed, that they have been
altered or mutilated in execution, according to the
convenience or taste of the owner; and it is well
known that a slight deviation changes the character
and mars the effect of the general design. A lady of
rank was furnished by Mr. Adam with the design of
a house; but on examining the building after it was
erected, he was astonished to find it out of all pro-
portion. On inquiring the cause he was informed
that the pediment he had designed was too small to
ailmit a piece of new sculpture which represented the
arms of the family, and, by the date wdiich it bore,
incontestably proved its antiquity. It was therefore
at)solutely necessary to enlarge the dimensions of the
jiediment to receive this ancient badge of family
honour, and sacrifice the beauty and proportion of the
whole building. We have seen a large public build-
ing wdiich was also designed by Mr. Adam; but when
it was erected the length was curtailed of the space
of two windows, while the other parts remained ac-
cording to the original plan. It now appears a heavy
unsightly pile, instead of exhibiting that elegance of
proportion and correctness of style which the faithful
execution of Mr. Adam's design would have probably
given it. To the last period of his life Mr. Adam
displayed the same vigour of genius and refinement
of taste; for in the sjiace of one year immediatelv
preceding his death he designed eight great public
works, besides twenty-five private buildings, so
various in style, and beautiful in coinposition, that
they have been allowed by the best judges to be
sufficient of themselves to establish his fame as an
unrivalled artist." Mr. Adam died on the 3d of
March, 1792, by the bursting of a blood-\essel, in
the sixty-fourth year of his age, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey. It remains only to be said
that, while his works commanded the admiration of
the public, his natural suavity of maimers, joined to
his excellent moral character, had made a deep ini-
]iression upon the circle of his own private friends.
His brother James, who has been referred to as
associated with him in many of his works, died
October 20, 1794.

ADAMSON, Hf.NRY, a poet of the seventeenth
century, and ]irobably a relative of the subject of the
following article, was the son of James Adamson,
who was dean of guild in I'erth, anno 1600, when
the (](Avrie conspiracy took ])lace in that city. The
poet was educated for the jnilpit, and ajipcars to
have made considerable ])rogress in classical studies,
as he wrote Latin poetry above mediocrity. He en-
joyed the friendship and esteem of a large circle of
the eminent men of that age, jiarticnlarly Drummond
of Hawthorndcn, who induced him, in 163S, to
]niblish a ]K)ein entitled Mirtlifiil Ahisiut^s for the
Ihnth of Mr. Call; being in fact a versified history of
his native town, hill of quaint allegorical allusions
siiitahle to the taste of that age. A new editi(m of
this curious pdciii, which had become exceedingly
rare, was luiblished in 1 774, with illustrative notes
l>y Mr. Jaincs (/ant. The ingenious author died in
l')39, the year alter the jiublication of his poem.

_ ADAMSON, Patiuck, Archbishop of St.
.■\ndrc\V3. '1 his prelate, whose name occupies so

PATRICK ADAMSOX.

15

remarkable a place in the history of the Scottish
reformation, was born of humble parents, in the
town of Perth, in or nigh the year 1543. He
studied at the university of St. Andrews, and, after
having gon.- through the usual course, he graduated
as Master of Arts. His name at this period was
Patrick Consteane, or Constance, or Constantine,
for in all these forms it is written indifferently; but
how it afterwards passed into Adamson we have
no means of ascertaining. At the close of his
career at college, he opened a school in Fife, and
soon obtained the notice and patronage of James
M'Gill of Rankeillor, one of the judges of the
Court of Session, who possessed considerable
political influence. lie had not long been minis-
ter of Ceres, to which he had been appointed, when
we find him impatient to quit his charge; and accord-
ingly, in 1564, he applied to the General Assembly
for leave "to pass to other countries for a time, to
acquire increase of knowledge," but was inhibited to
leave his charge without the Assembly's license.
That license, however, he seems at length to have
obtained, and probably also before the meeting of the
Assembly in the following year, when they published
such stringent decisions against those ministers who
abandon their spiritual charges. Patrick Con-
stance, or, as we shall henceforth call him, Adam-
son, now appointed tutor of the son of M'Gill of
Rankeillor, passed over with his young charge,
who was destined for the study of the civil law, to
Paris, at that time the chief school of the dis-
tinguished jurisconsults of Europe.

Adamson had not been long in Paris when such
adventures befell him as might well make him sigh
f )r the lowly obscurity of Ceres. In the course of
events that had occurred in Scotland during his
absence, were the marriage of Queen Mary and
Henry Darnljy, and the birth of their infant, after-
wards James VI.; and -Vdamson, who at this time
was more of a courtier than a politician, and more
of a poet than eitiier, immediately composed a
triumphant "carmen" on the event, entitled, Scrcn-
issimi et nobilissimi ScotLc, Aiigliir, Franciic, d
liibcrniiC Priiicipis, Hctirici Stiiarti Illtistrissimi
IIiTois, ac Maria: Kcs^iiicr amplissiviiZ Fdii, Gcncth-
liacum. The very title was a startling one, both
to France and England, the great political questions
of which countries it at once prejudged, by giving
them the Scottish queen for their lawful, indisput-
able sovereign. Had this poem, which was pub-
lished a few days after the event, been produced
in England, its author would scarcely have escaped
the Star Chamber; but as it was, he was within
the reach of Catherine de Medicis, to the full as
jealous of her authority as Elizabeth herself
Adamson was therefore rewarded for his Latin
poetry by a six months' imprisonment, which jier-
liaps would have been succeeded by a worse in-
fliction, h.i<l it not been for the mediation of Mary
herself, backed by that of some of her chief nobles.
It did not at that time suit the policy of France to
break with Scotland, and the poet was set at
liberty. Having thus had a sufficient sojourn in
Paris, .Vdam-on repaired with his pupil to Bourges,
where both entered themselves as students of law.
Even here, however, he was not long allowed to
remain in safety. Tiie massacre of St. ]5arthoIomew
— that foul national blot of France, and anomalv
of modern hi>tory -bur-^t out with the sufldenness
of a ti.irnado, an I, ani;d>t the ruin that followed,
no Protestant could be a>>ured of his life for a
single hour. .Vdamson had his full share of the
danger, and narrowly escajied by finding shelter
in a lowly hostelry, the mister of which was after-

wards flung from the top of his own house, and
killed on the pavement below, for having given
shelter to heretics. While immured in this dreary
confinement for seven months, and which he fitly
termed his sepulchre, Adamson consoled himself
with Latin poetry upon themes suited to his con-
dition; one attempt of this nature being the tragedy
of Herod, and the other a version of the book of
Job. As soon as he was able to emerge, one of
the first uses which he made of his libL-rty was to
return home and resume those ministerial labours
which he had good cause to regret he ever had
abandoned.

This return was at a critical period; for the arch-
bishopric of St. Andrews was at that time vacant,
and, notwithstanding the Presbyterian doctrine '~A
parity, which had been laid down as a fundamental
principle of the Scottish church, the chief prelatic
offices were still continued, through the ovcrljearing
influence of those nobles who now directed the
government. But it was from no love of Episcopacy
in the abstract that these magnates continued such
charges, obnoxious though they were to the church
and the people at large, but that they might derive
from them a profitable revenue as lay proprietors
of the livings. In this way the Earl of Morton had
acquired a claim to the revenues of the archbishcipric
of St. Andrews, and only needed some ecclesiastic
who could wear the title, and discharge its duties,
for a small percentage of the benefice. It was a
degrading position for a churchman, and yet there
were too many willing to occupy it, either from
love of the empty name, or an ambitious hope of
converting it into a substantial reality. Among
these aspirants for the primacy of Scotland, Patrick
Adamson was suspected to be one; and it was thought
that he hoped to succeed through the intluence of
his patron, M'Gill of Rankeillor. These surmises
his subsequent conduct too well justified. But
Morton had already made his election in favour of
John Douglas, who was inducted into tlie otTice,
notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of John
Knox. The conduct of Adamson on this occasion
was long after remembered. The week after the
induction, and when the greatest conccjurse of
people was expected, he ascended the puli^it and
delivered a vehement and sarcastic sermon against
the episcopal office as then exercised in .Scotland.
"There are three sorts of bishops," he said; "my
lord bishop, my lord's bishop, and the Lorti's
bishop. My lord bishop was in the Papistry; my
lord's bishop is now, when my lord gets the bene-
fice and the bishop serves for nothing but to make
his title sure; and the Lord's bishop is t!ie true
minister of the gospel." He saw that, lor tlie
present at least, he could not be jirimate of St.
.Vndrews, and therefore turned his attenti'.n to tlie
more humble otTices of the church. Aii'i there,
indeed, whatever could satisfy the wishes ot' a .simple
presliyter was within his reach; for he \\a- r."t oi.Iy
in general esteem among his brethren, bi:t liiglily
and justly valued fir his scholarsliip, and liis cate-
cliism of Calvin in Latin liernic verse, wlii^!'. he \\?A
written in France, and was about to jr.i'Ksh ir.
Scotland with the approbation of the tleiier.d .\--
sembly. He now announceil his willin.;rie~- to re-
sume the duties of the mini-tr}-; and the t-wn ■ 1
Paisley became his sjihere oi' duty. acC' U'iir.^ !■■ '.he

j appointment of the .\sse:nMy. In aii'iiti";-. '<■• '.!••-.

' he was subse-iuently appointed c^ 'nimis-:. •r.er i-l
Gallowav, an otVice which rcseniMcd tli.it c ; .1 1 >Iii'ji
as to its duties, but dive-ted of all its ; :e-eir.i:ie;Ke

i anfl emolument. Some •>!' tlie ho-t ir.eu . i ;!ie k'.rk
had undertaken this thankl-.s-s uiV;ce with a"..iCrity,

i6

PATRICK ADAMSON.

and dischargeil its duties with diligence, but such
was not the case with I'atrick Adamson; and when
his remissness as a commissioner was complained of
to the General Assembly, he acknowledged the
justice of the accusation, but pleaded in excuse that
no stipend was attached to the office.

Of the labours of Adamson while minister of
Paisley no record has been preserved. His time
there, however, w.as brief, as a new sphere was
opened to his ambition. The great subject of
an.xicty at this period in the church was the con-
struction of the /)W,i' of Policy, otherwise called the
SaonJ Poo': of Disciplnu; and procuring its ratifi-
cation by the government; but the chief obstacle in
the way was the Karl of Morton, now regent, whose
principal aim, besides enriching himself with the
ecclesiastical revenues, was to bring the two churches
of England and Scotland into as close a conformity
as jK)ssible, in order to facilitate the future union of
the two kingdoms under the reign of his young
master, James \'I. Here it is that we find Adamson
busy, ile b-jcame an active negotiator for the Book
of i'oluy, and while he managcil to secure the confi-
dence of the lea<iing men in the churcli, he ingrati-
ated himself into the favour of the regent; so that
when the latter chose him for his chaplain, the
brethren seem to have hojied that the accomplish-
ment of their purpose would l)e facilitated by having
such an advocate at court. But never were ecclesi-
astics more thoroughly iiisap])ointed in their hopes
from such a quarter. The archbisho)iric of St. An-
drews had again become vacant, and .Morton nomin-
ated Adamson to the see, who, on receiving tlie ap-
pointment, began even already to show that he would
hold it iiuL'pendently of the authority of tlie churcli
by refusing to submit to the usual trial and examina-
tion <jf the .\ssembly. While chaplain to the regent,
he had been wont, while preaching and giving his
glosses upon texts of .Scripture, to say, "The i)roi)het
would mean this" — a phrase so usual with him on such
occasions that his hearers coultl not help noticing it.
At length, when he became ])rimale of .Scotland,
Captain .Moiitgomery, one of the regent's officers,
exclaimed, with dry humour, "I never knew what
the prophet meant till now I'' As Adanison's enter-
ing into the archbish<jpric was such an act of con-
travention to the authority of the church, the As-
sembly, at one of its meetings in 1577, resolved to
institute jirifcecdings against the ofTender. Ihit even
this formidable danger he was able to avert for the
time with his wonted craft. He ]in;fessed the
utmijst Iniinility, and offered to lay d<jwn his office
at the feet of the .Assembly, and be or(lere<l at their
ple.isure, l)Ut represented h(jw desirable it would be
t ) p')-.tpon'.- all such proceedings until tlic Book of
Policy had l>.-en finished, and ratified by the regent.
The matter was thu-. reduced to a mere question of
lime, and his sugge^tiorl prevailed.

'Ihe great suliject now at i^-ue wa^ the l^ook of
p.cclcsHUticil /W/<j' -the M.agna Charla of the
Church of Scotland -upon the ]).assing of which its
rights and lil)ertics as a national church were at stake.
It wa>, as might have l)cen expected, completely
pre^byterian in its <ii..ci]iliiie, an<l subversive of that
cpi-CM])al nde which the court was labouring to
estal.ilis!i. .\mong these enactments it was decreed
that no hi^hoj) should be designated by his til It', Imt
hi-s own name, as a brutlier, seeing he iielniigcd to a
church that has but one Lord, even (lirist that no
bisho|)S should thencefirtli be a]ipointed in it; and
that no ministir shnild accejjt tlie office on pain of
deprivation. .Against such cr)nclu>ions it is not
Wonderful that .\damson demurred. I'.ut a^ himself
and thj iJidiop of Aberdeen constituted the entire

minority in the Assembly, his opposition went no
further than to procrastinate any final conclusion.
But the Policy was at length concluded, and ready
to be presented to the government, and for this
Adamson h.ad reserved his master-stroke. The book
was to be subscribed l)y every member individually,
but this form the archbishop opposed. "Nay," he
said, "we have an honest man, our clerk, to sub-
scribe for all; and it would derogate from his faithful-
ness and estimation if we should all severally sub-
scribe." The brethren assented to the proposal,
although some of them seem to have entertained a
lurking suspicion that all was not right; so that Mr.
Andrew Hay, minister of Renfrew, could not help
exclaiming, "Well, if any man comes against this,
or denies it hereafter, he is not honest." He stepped
up to Adamson, and said to him in the presence of
three or four by-standers, "There is my hand, Mr.
Patrick; if you come against this hereafter, consent-
ing now so thoroughly to it, 1 will call you a knave,
were it never so publicly." The Jkwk of Policy was
to be jircsented to the Lords of Articles for ratifica-
tion on the part of the government; and strangely
enough, Adams-^n was commissioned to present it.
Morton and the lords asked him if he had given his
assent to these enactments, to which he answered
that he had not, and that he had refused to subscribe
to them. Here was a loophole of escape for the
council: the Archl)ishop of St. Andrews had with-
held his assent, and they could do no less than follow
the example. The book was rejected, and the
ministers were left to divine the cause of the refusal.
But Andrew Hay, on incpiiring of several members
of council, who told him the particulars, and laid the
whole blame of the refusal on Adamson, soon saw
that he had a pledge to redeem; and on the arch-
bishop passing Ijy at that instant, he griped him by
the hand, looked him angrily in the face, and ex-
claimed, in presence of the others, "O knave, knave,
I will crown thee the knave of all knaves!" It is
enough to add here, that the Book of Policy, after
having been delayed three years hunger, was in 158 1
thoroughly ratifietl and ordained in every point, and
orderetl to be registered in the books of the Assembly.
As for Adamson, we find him employed during this
interval in preaching in St. Andrews, lecturing in
the college, and attending the meetings of the
(ieneral Assembly, but with no greater authc^rity
than that of the ordinary brethren. But symptoms
even already liatl shown that the court favour upon
which he was willing to build was but a sandy
foundation, for his powerful ]iatron, the I'.arl of
.Morton, ha<l been brought to the block. lie j^re-
]iared himself, therefore, to recognize the authority
of the kirk in the doctrine of bishojis, to which he
had been op]iosed, and even gave his subscription to
the articles of the Jiook of J\ilicy, which he had
hitherto withheld. This was in .St. Andrews,
before the celebrated Andrew Melville and a parly
of his friends who were assembled with him. Jhit
all this was insufficient: he must also secure the
favour of the party in ]iowcr, wliatever for the time
it might be; and for this pur])ose he ])assed over to
Ldinburgh, and took his seat in the Convention of
Lstates. Here, however, his recei)lion was so little
to his liking, tliat he found he mu-t side wholly with
the kirk. He therefore addressed himself to the
niinisteis of Ivlinburgh with jirofcssions which
his sul>se(iuent conduct showed to be downright
liyi>ocrisy. lie told them that he had come over to
tlie court in the spirit of Balaam, on purjiose to curse
the kirk and do evil; but that (iod had so wrought
with him, that his heart was wholly changed, so that
he had advocated and voted in the churcli's behalf —

PATRICK ADAMSON.

17

and that hencefortli he would show further and further
fruits of his conversion and good meaning. This self-
abasing comparison of himself to Balaam must have
staggered the unfavourable suspicions of the most
sceptical; at all events, it did so with the apostolic
John Duric, who rejoiced over the primate's conver-
sion, and wrote a flattering account of it to James
\relville. The latter, in consequence, visited Adam-
son upon his return, and tolfl him the tidings he had
received, for which he heartily thanked God, and
offered the archbishop the right hand of Christian
fellowship. The other, still continuing his penitent
grimace, described the change that had passed upon
him at great length, which he attributed to the work-
ing of the .Spirit within him. Perhaps he overacted
his part, for Melville only observed in reply, "Well,
that Spirit is an upright, holy, and constant Spirit,
and will more and more manifest itself in effects; but
it is a fearful thing to lie against him!"

It was indeed full time for the Archbishop of St.
Andrews not only to recover his lost credit with the
kirk, but the community at large. He was generally
accused of the vices of intemperance and gluttony;
he was noted as an unfaithful paymaster, so that he
stood upon the score of most of the shopkeepers in
the town; and what was still worse, he was accused
of consorting with witches, and availing himself of
their unlawful power! We of the nineteenth century
can laugh at such a charge, and imagine it sufficient
not only to disprove itself, but weaken all the other
charges brought against him. But in the sixteenth
century it was no such laughing matter; for there
were not only silly women in abundance to proclaim
themselves witches, but wise men to believe them.
Even the pulpits of England as well as .Scotland re-
sounded with sermons against witchcraft; and the
learned and wise Bishop Jewel, while preaching be-
fore Eli/.aboth, assured her majesty that the many
people who were dying daily, in spite of all the aid
of leechcraft, were thus brought to their end by spells
and incantations. While this was the prevalent be-
lief, a person having recourse to such agency was
wilfully and deliberately seeking help from the devil,
and seeking it where he thought it could best be
found. Now Adamson, among his other offences,
had fallen into this predicament. He was afHicted
with a painful disease, which he called a "fcedity;"
and being unable to obtain relief from the regular
practitioners, he had recourse to the witches of Fife,
and among others, to a notable woman, who pre-
tended to have learned the art of healing from a
physician who had appeared to her after he was dead
and buried ! This wretched creature, on being ap-
prehended and convicted of sorcery, or what she
meant to be such, was sentenced to sufter death, as
she would have been in any other country of Europe,
and was given in charge to the archbishop for exe-
cution. But the woman made her escape, and this,
it was suppo-^ed, she did through Adamson's con-
nivance. .Xfter this statement, it needs scarcely be
wondered at that foremost in the accusations both
from the pulpit and in church-courts, the crime of
seeking aid from Satan should have been specially
urged again>t him. The m.an who will attempt "to
call spirits from the vasty deep," incurs the guilt of
sorcery whether they come or not.

While such wa-> tiic evil jilight to which the arch-
bisho]) was reduced, and out of which he was trving
to struggle as he best could, the condition of pul)lic
afifiiirs was scarcely more ]iromising for his interests.
In the Assembly held in .\pril, 1582. he had seen
Robert Montgomery, Archbisliop of Glasgow, who
was his constant ally in every ejiiscopal movement,
arraigned at their bar, reduced to the most humbling

VOL. I.

confessions, and dismissed with the fear of deposition
hanging over him. In the same year, the Raid of
Ruthven had occurred, by which' the roval power
was coerced, and presbytery established in greater
authority than ever. Dismayed by these ominous
symptoms, Adamson withdrew from ])ublic notice
to his castle of St. Andrews, where he kept himself
"like a tod in his hole," giving out that his painful
"fcedity" was the cause of his retirement. But at
length the sky began to brighten, and the primate to
venture forth after a whole year of concealment.
The king emancipated himself from his nobles of the
Raid, and came to .St. Andrews, upon which the
archbishop, flinging off his sickness like a worn-out
cloak, resumed his abandoned puljiit with royalty
for an auditor, and preached such sermons as were
well fitted to ingratiate himself into the favour of the
young sovereign. They were furious declamations
against the lords of the Raid, against the ministers
of the kirk by whom they had been countenanced,
and against all their proceedings by which the head-
long will of James had been reduced within whole-
some limits; and these, too, were delivere<l in such
fashion, as, we are informed by James Melville, " that
he who often professed from the pulpit before that
he had not the spirit of application, got the gift of
application by inspiration of such a spirit as never
spoke in the Scriptures of God." Among the other
effects of the Raid of Ruthven, was the 1 anishment
of the king's unworthy favourites, the Earl of Arran
and the Duke of Lennox, the former from the royal
presence, and the latter from the country-; and Len-
nox took his exile so much to heart, that he died
soon after he arrived in France, while James con-
tinued to bewail his loss. Here, then, was a favour-
able theme for the archbishop. The chief offence
alleged against Lennox was, that though outwardly
a Protestant, he had not only lived, but even died, a
Papist; and from this stigma it was .-\damson's main
effort to clear the memory of the departed. He there-
fore boldly asserted, in his sermon, that Lennox had
died a good Protestant, and in proof of this he ex-
hibited in the pulpit a scroll, which he called the
duke's testament. It happened unluckily for the
preacher, however, that an honest merchant woman,
who sat near the pulpit, looked narrowly at this
important document, and saw with astoni.-hment
that it was an account of her own, which she had
sent to the archbishop for a debt of some four or five
years' standing, but which, like other reckonings of
the kind, he had left unpaid !

.•\damson's loyalty was soon rewarded, and in a
way that best accorded with his wishes. He was to
be employed as ambassador or envoy from the king
to the court of London. What was the osten>il)Ie
object of his mission does not appear; but its real
purport was, the suppression of Presbyteriani>m in
.Scotland, and the establishment of such a form of
Episcopacy in its stead as might make the union C'l
the two countries more comjilete, when James .-hould
become king of botli. But in such .in office tlie
messenger behoved to go warily to work. a> f.Iiza-
beth was apt to take fire at every movement t!~.at
pointed to a succession in her throne. Ar.oth.er
serious difficulty interposed in the ven.- tlireshold ut
the archbisho]>'s dej^arture. He had aheai!}' been
charged before the probvten.- of St. .Andrews, as
corruj)t both in life and doctrine: tb.e trial w.-- re-
moved to the svnod. and was finally remitic] t" :!>:
General Assembly, at whose bar he nn;>t -i-.^tih' !;:ni-
sclf, or lie deposed for noii-ajij.earance; aivi i.e t:.'.;-^
felt himself between the boms ff a dileiiin.a in w!;:c:i
his compearance or absence miglit i^e ei:.:a:iy l.Tt.-i.
If, however, he could onlv get the trial ^;c:a}c i i:r.'.:l

2

PATRICK ADAMSON.

he had accomplished his mission, he might then
brave it, or quash it with impunity. He therefore
calle<l sickness to his aid, and pretended that he was
going to the wells of Spa, in Germany, for the re-
covery of his health; and this was nothing more than
reasonable, even though he should take London by
the way. Forth therefore he went, unhin<iered and
unsuspected; and, if there is any tnith in Thi-
L^i^cmi of thf I.ymmars /.//<•, a satirical poem
written by Rol)ert Semple, tlie archbisho])'s conduct
during this embassy was anytliing but creditable to
his employers. His chief aim, indeed, seems to have
been to replenish his extenuated purse; and, provided
this was accomplished, he was not scru]iulous about
the means. Even horses, books, and gowns came
into his permanent possession under the name of
loans. His approach to tlie palace for his first, and,
as it turned out, his last audience, was equally un-
seemly, for he useil the hallowed wall of the jwlace
of the virgin queen with as little fastidiousness as
if it had l>een the ding)- habitation of some Scottish
biron in one of the closes of the Canong.ate, so that
a porter, who espied him from the gate, rushed out
and rebuked his indecorum with a cudgel. But,
amidst all his Scapin-like tricks in the English
metropolis, fmm which he seems to have derived for
the time a comfortable revenue, Adamson was not
unmindful of the real object of his journey, which he
pursued with a diligence worthy of a better cause.
He endeavoured to enlist the prejudices of the (jueen
against the mmisters of Scotland, and such of the
nobility as favoured them; he consulted with tlie
bishops upon the best means of conforming the
Scottish to the English church; and, aware of the
puqwse of his own court to l)anish or silence tlie
iK'st of the clergy, he wished them to send learned
and able ministers to sup])ly the pulpits of those who
were to Ik; displaced. 15ut. not content with this,
he endeavoured to bring the Kirk of Scotland into
<iiscredit with the foreign reformed churches of
France, Cieneva, and Zurich, by sending to them a
list of garbled or distorted jiassagcs as propositions
extracted from the Scottish Confession, and craving
tlieir o]iinion as to their soundness. It was a crafty
device, and might have been attended with much
mischief, had it not been that an antidote to the
bane was at this time in England, in tlie jierson of
Mr. .Andrew Melville, a more accomplishe(i scholar,
as well as a more al)le and eloquent writer, than
.\dam'»on him-;elf. He drew iq) a true statement of
the su!)iccts propounded, and sent tliem to the for-
eign churches by which the archbishop's design was
fru'itrated. I!ut tlie work of mere ecclesiastical di]i-
lomacy iloes nut seem to have been sufficient for the
restless .•\dam>f)n, so that he was susix-ctcd of in-
triguing with the French and S|>anish ambassadors,
and connecting him-elf with the jilot of Throckmor-
ton, the object of which was tlie liberation of Marv
and the restoration of I'opery. It was a strange
^•)erif)d of jilots and con'.])iracies, where I'roteslant,
Pajiist, and Puritan, jiriest and layman, fireigner
and Englisliman, were often mingled together as in
a sctlhing and bubtiling cauldron, for tlie concoction
of a charm by which a cure for every |)ublic evil was
tfi be effected. It wa-, immediately on the detection
of this Throckmorton cons])ira('y, and the ap]irelien-
sion of its author, that the archbishop secretly with-
drew from England and returned home, after having
been employed fully six montl's in these and other
such devices in London.

While Adam'ion had thus l)ccn occui>icd in Eng-
l.ind, the government at I'.onie had not been idle;
and the worthless Ivarl fif .Arran, who, since the
suppression of the Raid of Ruthven, had recovered

the royal favour, proceeded to put his plan in execu-
tion of silencing, imprisoning, and banishing the
best and most disting\iished of the Scottish clergy.
It was thus that the tlocks were to be brought to
helplessness, and a new order of shepherds intro-
duced. The list of the persecuted was a large one;
but among the most illustrious of these were some
of the most distingiushed lights of the Scottish re-
formation, such as Andrew Melville, John Davidson,
Walter Balcanquhal, and Janieg Lawson. Of these
we can only particularize tlie last, as his closing
scene was but too intimately connected with the
history of Patrick Adamson. Lawson had been the
friend and fellow-labourer of Knox, whom he suc-
ceeded as minister of Edinburgh; and in this im-
portant charge, while he was closely connected with
all the principal ecclesiastical movements of the
period, he was distinguished by his gentleness, self-
denial, and piety. Put these were the very qualities
that now marked him out as a victim; and the im-
perious Anan did not hesitate to threaten that,
though his head were as big as a haystack, he would
make it fly from his shoulders. Lawson knew that
his life was aimed at, and, like several of his brethren
thus circumstanced, he fled to England, and took
up his residence at London, in one of the lanes
leading from Cheapside. Put the uncongenial cli-
mate, and, above all, the defection of many of his
flock during his absence, so heavily afflicted him,
that he fell into a disease, of which he died in little
more than a month. Upon his death-bed, the English
who visited liim were edified with his pious remarks,
which they carefully treasured up for their families
and accjuaintances; and his last prayers were for mercy
in behalf of those who would neither enter the king-
dom of God themselves, nor suffer others to enter
therein. And will it be believed that Patrick Adam-
son, the man for whom in especial he had so prayed,
conceived the idea of perverting such a death-bed
to his own political purposes? But so it was. He
s.at down with the pen of a ready writer, and composed
an elaborate testament in Lawson's name, in which
the dying man was made to abjure all his Presbyter-
ian principles, to grieve over them as deadly sins, to
recommend the government of the cliurch by bishops,
and enjoin imjilicit obedience to the king's authority.
It was indeed a bold exploit in literaiy forgery; but,
at this jieriod and afterwards, \\hen the jien outran
the activity of the jmtss, and communities were so
separated, it was easy to make a fraud of this kind,
where tlie locality was transferred to London, to pass
current in the streets of Edinl)urgh. There is no
doubt that thus the archbishop had calculated; but,
like many very cunning jieople, he in this instance
betrayed himself by his over-scrupulous dexteritv.
Thus, not content with making Lawson recant all
the jirinciples of his well-spent life with a hurry that
was inconceivable, and laud ciiisco])al rule with an
unction and earnestness which the Archbishop of
Canterbury himself could not have surjiassed, he also
made him, in exhorting his old co-]iresbyters, to
vent a malignity of sentiment, and drolling bitterness
of satire, such as, whether living or dying, Lawson
could not and would not have used. But it fortun-
ately happened that proof still stronger than inferen-
tial evidence was at hand, to convict this imjiudent
forgery; for Lawson himself had written his last
testament, \\liich was witnessed with the honoured
names of .Andrew Melville, James Carmichael, John
Davidson, and Walter P.alcan(iuhal.

After his return from I'Lngland, Adamson did not
lie idle; he zealously joined the king and Arran in
their ])ersecution of the best adherents of the kirk,
under which, not only the princii;al ministers, but

PATRICK ADAMSOX.

19

also the chief of the nobility, were fugitives in Eng-
land. His pen also was soon in requisition for a
more dignified work, at least, than that of blacken-
ing the memory of a departed brother; it was to
advocate, defend, anil justify certain obnoxious mea-
sures of James and his favourite, that had passed
through the parliament in 1584, and were generally
unpopular, buth on account of their anti-presbyterian
spirit in religion and their despotic tendencies in
civil rule. This task Adamson accomplished, and
with such plausibility and ingenuity, that his apology
was not only in high favour with the king, but widely
popular in England, so that it was inserted in the
appendix of Holinshed's History as a true picture of
the religious state of Scotland. But this was not his
only reward. Although he was still a suspended
presbyter, with his trial by the General Assembly
hanging over him, and accounted a very Julian the
Apostate by his former brethren, yet he was now to
be confirmed in his primacy, with all the high rights
and immunities that could be comprised within the
otTice. This was announced by a royal letter, under
the great seal, and, as such, was indignantly termed
by the ministers the King's bull, "giving and grant-
ing to his well-beloved clerk and orator, Patrick,
Archbishop of St. Andrews, power, authority, and
jurisdiction to exercise the same archbishopric by
himself, his commissioners, and deputies, in all
matters ecclesiastical, within the diocese of St. An-
drews, and sheriffdoms which have been heretofore
annexed thereto." In this way he would be able to
sit as presiding moderator in that Assembly where
he should have stood as a culprit, and to silence the
charges which he could not answer. But this, his
culminating point, was also that of his downfal.
The banished lords, who had withdrawn themselves
to England, now took counsel upon the oppressed
state of their country, and resolved to redress it after
the old Scottish fashion. They therefore approached
the border, where they could communicate with
their allies, and appoint musters of their retainers;
and at length, all being in readiness, Angus, Mar,
(jlammis, and the Ilamiltons entered Scotland, and
rapidly marched to Stirling, at the head of eight
thoiLsand armed men, to reason with their misguided
sovereign. lie soon found himself, like many of
his ancestors, the pupil of force and necessity, and
was compelled to yield to their stern remonstrances;
while Arran was again, and for the last time, ban-
ished into that obscurity from which he should never
have been summoned.

The return of the exiled lords, and the banish-
ment of Arran from court, produced a l:)reathing in-
terval to the kirk; and the ministers who had been
dispersed, warded, or silenced, were restored to lib-
erty and their charges. It was now time, therefore,
to redress the evils that had t)een inflicted upon the
church, and these too by members of its own body,
during tlie last two years of trial, if its polity and
discipline were to be something more than a name.
It was a stern duty, a* Adamscm was soon to feel.
He h.ad laixmred for the eversion of the kirk, and
the ]icrsecutiiin of iis ministers, under an unconstitu-
tional authority against which he had protested and
subscribed; and fur all this he must answer before
the court to which the assize of such delinquencies
pertained. Tiie symxl of St. Andrews, wliich had
been closed tluring the persecution, was to be re-
opened; and their first work was to be the trial of
their own archltislio]). whom their laws recognized
as a simple presbyter, and nothing more. This
solemn meeting was therefore convoked in .Vpril,
15S6. to wiiich a great concomsc assembled; and
thither also came the archbishop, '"with a great

pontificality and big countenance," for he Ixjasted
that he was in his own city, and possessed of the
king's favour, and therefore needed to fear no one.
He also placed himself close by the ])reacher, who
was Mr. James Melville, as if determined to outbrave
the whole assembly. The discourse was a vindica-
tion of the polity of the church, and a rehearsal of
the wrongs it had suffered; and then, "coming in
particular," .says Melville himself, "to our own Kirk
of Scotland, I turned to the bishop, sitting at my
elbow, and directing my sjjcech to him personally,
I recounted to him, shortly, his life, actions, and
proceedings against the kirk, taking the assembly
there to witness, and his own conscience before God,
if he was not an evident proof and example of that
doctrine; whom, being a minister of the kirk, the
dragon had so stung with the poison and venom of
avarice and ambition, that, swelling exorljitantly out
of measure, threatened the wreck and destruction of
the whole body, unless he were timeously and with
courage cut off." To this formidable appeal the
archbishop endeavoured to answer, but it was oniv
with frivolous objections and threats of the king's
displeasure, while his courage was so utterly gone
that he could scarcely sit, far less stand on his feet.
But the business commenced, the process was entered
into, and Adamson left the meeting. He was in-
vited to return, but he sent for answer that the synod
was no judge to him, but he to it. He not only
persisted in refusing to appear, but sent such answers
to the charges against him as only aggravated the
offence. Nothing remained but to inflict upon him
the final sentence of the church, which was done
accordingly.

The doom so long suspended had thus fallen at
last; but still the primate would not yield. He ral-
lied himself for a desperate counter-movement, and
penned, by his own sole authority, a sentence of
excommunication against the two Melvillesand some
of his principal accusers in the synod, which he sent
by a boy, accompanied by two of liis jackmen ; but
when this most informal missive was read in the
church, the audience were as little moved as if he had
excommunicated the stones of the building. He
also sent a complaint against these proceedings to
the king, with an appeal from the authority of the
synod, to his majesty, the estates, and the privy
council. On tlie arrival of Sabbath, he jirepared
for a decisive effort, by preaching in the church in
spite of tlie sentence. But just \\hen he was about
to ascend the pulpit, a mischievous rumour reached
his ear, that several gentlemen and citizens had
assembled in the new college, to take him out of
tiie pulpit, and hang him; and, terrified at the report,
lie not only called his friends and jackmen to the
rescue, but fled from the church, and took refuge in
the stee]->le. And yet the whole cause of tl;e stir
was nothing more than tlie assembling of a few
gentlemen and citizens in the new college, to attend
the preaching of Andrew Melville, instead of that of
an excommunicated man I The archbishop's friends
f )llowed him to the stee]ile. to .assure him of has
safety; but so desperate was his fear, that tliey c ■,■.!■!
scarcely drag him out by force. \\ hile he \\ .> li;ii!-
led, half-carried down the High Street, and thro,— ii
the north gate towards his ca-;le, an unlucky -tr.iy
hare, terrified at the coming <lin. suddenly >:.u-:i.d
u]i, and fled before tlier.i. fiven this incident c idd
imjiart some gravity to the >ceiie. It ^^.l~ a ].■ -j ■.;'..-ir
belief at that time in Scotland th.at a wiu':. \vlKn
jnirsued, usually a-.-umed the form of a !:-;c. r..i're
eftectually to in-ure her escape; and th.e a;'] e.irance
of the p<ic)r animal at s;;c:i a time .ml j !ace n.a':c
the people declare th.\t it \\ as U'j etiier tl..-;;i the

PATRICK ADAMSOX.

prelate's witch, abandoning her master, to make
good her own safety.

We have already stated that Adamson appealed
against the sentence of excommunication, to the
authority of the king. In this singular appeal, he
declaimed with great learning and marvellous jjlausi-
bility about the right of royalty to interpose against
ecclesi.istical as well as civil tyranny; and as he
hail already made out, as he thought, his own case
to he one of undue ecclesiastical opjiression on the
part of his enemies, the conclusion was jilain, that
the king could lawfully release him from the spiritual
sentence. He wound up his reasoning with the
following supposition, to which, he well knew,
James would not be insensible: " IJesecching your
m.ijesty to consider and weigh witli your highness'
self, nobility, and council, how dangerous a thing it
is to put such a sword in such men's hands, or to
sutler them to usurp further than their duty; whereby
it may come to pass, that as r.lshly and unorderly
they have jiretendedly excommunicated the first man
of your majesty's parliament (albeit unworthy), so
there rests nothing of their next attempt to do the
same to your majesty's self" The king's i)ride
was roused at such a thought, and he arrogantly
re<juired the ministers to rescind their sentence,
threatening them with the deprivation of their rights
and stipends in the event of a refusal. The General
Assembly met in May the same year, when these
conditions were proposed, and the members were in
sore strait how to act, for most of the restoretl lords,
after l>eing replacetl in their possessions, had left the
cliurch to shift for itself At length a medium
course was ado])ted by tlie Assembly, and that, too,
only by a small majority. It was, that the arch-
bishop "should be holden and repute in the same
ca>e and condition that he was in l)efore the holding
of the synod of St. Anilrews, witliout jirejudice,
decerning, or judging anything of the jiroceedings,
process, or sentence of the same synod." It was a
strange decision, by which Adamson was allowed
to teach, preach, and exercise his clerical functions,
excommunicated though he still was; while the
jmlpits, by royal decree, were not only to be jmtent
to his entrance, but the students of St. Andrews
were C'immanded to attend his lectures in the old
cijjlege as heretofore. This violence, as miglit be
expected, pro<luced counter-violence, so that lil)els
Were thrown not only into the arclibishop's chamber,
but the [lulpits in which he i)tTiciate<l, threatening
him With death for his intrusion. .Xiid as if all lliis
had n<)t l>een enough, he added to his further dis-
quahhcations, by inability to ]>ay his dcbl^, in conse-
quence (jf which he was, according to the practice of
the Scottish law, denounced a rebel, ami put to the
horn. This case was brouglu before the .'\sseinbly
of June, 15S7, because many ])eo]ilc had demurred
to attend his ministrations while he lai)ouied uinkr
such fk-grading disabilities. The .Assembly, howtvcr,
decided that these were of a civil r.ither than an
ecclesiastical character, and referred them to the king
for a'lju>tment.

In the very same year and month, while .Xdamson
was in tliis miserable i)light--an excomnuinicated
ministfrr and an outlawc<l j-relate- the first man in
the parliament, and yet a denounced rebel because
he could not pay his dehls — a gleam of royal sunshine
fell upon hini, which was destined to l)e the last.
The celebrated I )u I'.artes v,-.ited Scotland, and
James was desirous that the learned poet should see
the two most accom[)lished scholars in .Scotland- -
.•\ndrew .Melville and Patrick .Adamson. To .St.
Andrews, accordingly, the royal ri);-A;Y repaired ; and
thj first notice which Melville had of the visit was

from the king himself, who bluntly told him that he
had come with the illustrious foreigner, to have a
lesson from him in his class-room. Melville would
have excused himself, on the plea that he had already
delivered his ordinary lecture in the forenoon. "That
is all one," said the king; "I 7nust have a lesson,
and be you here within an hour for that effect." In
less than an hour the professor was in readiness,
and commenced such a lecture, as made the king
wish himself once more among the deer in Falkland.
It was an eloquent extemporaneous oration, in which
he vindicated Christ's right of sovereignty over his
own church, and refuted and exposed the acts of
parliament that had been lately enacted subversive
of the kirk's authority. James went home in no
very pleasant mood, and remained in a fume the
whole evening. On the next morning it was Adam-
son's turn, who was not likely to trespass in the
same fashion. During the interval, he had prepared
a "tightencd-up abridgment" of his previous year's
lectures, in which he attempted to vindicate the
royal supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs, and justify
the steps that had been taken for that purpose.
Andrew Melville, who attended as an auditor, took
notes of the archbishop's arguments; and without
further study, caused the college bell to be rung
after a short interval, to announce a new lecture.
The king, who had not yet digested the lesson of
yesterday, sent a warning to Melville to be moderate,
otherwise he would discharge him; to which the
other replied, that his majesty's ear had already been
abused by Adamson's errors and untruths, which he
could not allow to pass unquestioned, unless his
breath were stopped by death itself — but that still,
he should be careful to behave himself most
moderately and reverendly to his majesty in all
respects. The king was satisfied with this assur-
ance, and repaired to the class-room, where Adam-
son was also in attendance; and he craved and ob-
tained the royal permission to reply, should any-
thing be alleged against his doctrine. The two
strong champions were now standing front to front
in the lists — and never had king of Scotland so
delighted in the hurtling together of man and horse,
and the shivering of spears, as did James in the pro-
sitect of an intellectual tournament, where dexterous
syllogisms and home-thrust arguments were the only
blows in circulation. But here Melville changed
his tactics, in a way that would have puzzled the most
exiJcrienced master of fence. He had no longer a
controversy with ]';]iisco]iacy, but with I'opery, the
great common enemy of Protestantism at large; and
thus secure of the symjialhy of his audience, he ex-
tracted from the works of the Pojiish authors the
strongest arguments they had adduced in defence of
their system, for the purpose of refuting them. l?ut
these arguments were the very same a\ hich Adamson
had used in the forenoon, in favour of the s])iritual
government of kings and bisho])sI There, however,
tliey stood among the ranks of the uncircumcised;
and as such, they were attacked with an amount of
.Scripture and learning, and a force and fervour of
eloquence, as com])letely swe]it them off the field.
It was now the arclil)isho])'s turn to bestir himself,
but he was dumb— dumb as the l)ench he sat upon.
.At last, the king advanced to the rescue; and after
making several logical distiu;^7ios, ujion which he
harangued for some time, he ended by commanding
the students to reverence and obey his archbishop.
When James departed, Du Bartes stayed behind a
whole hour, conversing with Andrew Melville, after
which lie mounted his horse, and rejoined his
majesty. The king wished to know the opinion of
1 the foreigner upon the two men they had heard; to

PATRICK ADAMSON

SIR ANDREW AGXEW.

which Du Bartcs replied, that they were both
learned men, but that the prelate's lectures were
conned and prepared, while Melville had a great and
ready store of all kinds of learning within him; and
that his spirit and courage were far above the other.
In this correct estimate James completely agreed.

From this period the life of Adamson was but a
brief and mournful record. After his late discom-
fiture, he became weary of teaching in the college,
and seems to have remitted it in a great measure to
his successful rival. The ministrations of the pulpit
could not console him, as the audiences either avoided
him as an excommunicated man, or tarried and
listened as to the voice of an intruder. Fresh com-
plaints were made against him in the church courts,
of having collated unworthy persons to benefices
within his diocese. And, to crown all, he finally
lost the favour and protection of the king, whom he
had served only too well, but who was now weary
of an archbishop buried under debt and disgrace,
and whose season of working seemed well nigh over.
Broken in health as well as in spirit, it might have
been thought that James would at least have suffered
such a faithful servant to depart in peace; but as if
his own ungrateful hand, and no other, ought to
deal the final blow, he alienated from him whatever
of the revenues of his diocese he was still permitted
to enjoy, and bestowed them upon the young Duke
of Lennox, the son of his early favourite. In 1591,
Adamson was dying a heart-broken man, and unable
to procure for himself and his family even the
common necessaries of life. But besides hollow
friends, he had generous enemies, and these last
came for\vard in the hour of his extremity. Such
especially were the two Melvilles, whom he had
persecuted in the season of his ascendency, but who
now supported him for several months at their own
expense. At last, he was reduced to such miserable
shifts, that he entreated a charitable collection to be
made for him among the brethren in the town of St.
Andrews; and as an inducement, he offered to repair
to the pulpit, and there make open confession of his
offences. This, indeed, his sickness prevented him
from accomplishing; but he rendered an equivalent,
in a distinct "Recantation," which he subscribed,
and sent to the synod of St. Andrews. Besides thus
showing how little he had cared for Episcopacy,
and how much he had used it for his own aggrandize-
ment, he evinced tlie force of his early and long-
concealed convictions in favour of Presbyterianism,
by the remorse which he now felt at the thought of
his excommunication, and his earnestness to be
absolved from the sentence; and to this effect he
sent a supplication to the presbyter)' of St. Andrews.
They deputed two of the t)rethren, one of whom was
James Melville, to examine him, and, if they judged
fit, to release him. As soon as the dying man saw
Melville, he rose up in bed, plucked the night-cap
from his head, and exclaimed, "Forgive, forgive
me, f)r God's sake, good Mr. James, for I have
offended and done wrong to you many wavs!"
Melville spoke to him of hi:; sin against Christ and
his church, exhorted him to repentance, with the
assurance of mercy from God if he repented, and
forgave him with all his heart. His excommunica-
tion was then spoken of, and he was asked if he
acknowledged its lawfulness. To this his emphatic
reply, which he repeated again and again, was,
"Loose me, fir Christ's sake I" His state and
petition were fully reported to the presbyter\-, and
he was fortliwith absolved. Even yet, as appears
from his "Recantation." he had hoped to struggle
through this his last illness; and he jirofessed in it
his earnest desire and purpose to commence a better

life, and repair the evils he had inflicted upon
religion and the church. But his new-born sincerity
was not to be thus tried, and he died in the lowest
depths of his humiliation and repentance. His
character is thus strongly and briefly summed up by
James Melville, who knew him well, and witnessed
his career from its height to its mournful termina-
tion:— "This man had many great gifts, but espe-
cially excelled in the tongue and pen; and yet, for
abusing of the same against Christ, all use of both
the one and the other was taken from him, when fie
was in greatest miser>' and had most need of them. In
the latter end of his life, his nearest friends were no
comfort to him, and his supposed greatest enemies,
to whom indeed he offered greatest occasion of
enmity, were his only friends, and recompensed
good for evil, especially my uncle Andrew, but
found small tokens of any spiritual comf(jrt in him,
which chiefly he would have wished to have seen at
his end. Thus God delivered his kirk of a most
dangerous enemy, who, if he had been endowed with
a common civil piece of honesty in his dealing and
conversation, he had more means to have wrought
mischief in a kirk or country', than any I have known
or heard of in our island."

As will be surmised from the foregoing account,
Patrick Adamson was both an able and a voluminous
writer; but most of his productions were merely
written for the day, and have passed away with the
occasions in which they originated. Some of them
he never purposed to acknowledge, while others
remained unpublished in manuscript. Most of these
he confessed and regretted in his "Recantation,"
declaring, that if it should please God to restore his
health, he would change his style, "as Cajetanus
did at the Council of Trent." His principal v.ritings
were collected and published, in one quarto volume,
by Thomas Volusenus (Wilson) in 1619; but not-
withstanding their undoubted excellence, it may be
questioned if they are now at all known beyond the
library of the antiquary-. It appears that on be-
coming minister of Paisley, Adamson married the
daughter of a lawyer, who survived him, and by
whom he had a family; but all record of them has
passed away, so that he may be said to have been
the last, as he was the first, of his race. The precise
date of his death has not been mentioned; but it was
in the latter part of the year 1 59 1. Such was the
career and end of the great antagonist and rival of
Andrew Melville.

AGNEW, Sir Andrew, of Lochnaw, Br.rt.,
Lieutenant-General. The family of Agnew lays
claim, and probably with justice, to a more illustrious
antiquity than most of our Scottish noble houses.
The Agnews entered Scotland in the reign of
David II., where they acquired the lands of Lochnaw,
and were invested with the offices of heritable con-
stables and sheriffs of Wigtonshire.

The subject of the present memoir, and fifth
baronet of Lochnaw, was bom in 16S7. and \\ as the
eldest son of a family of twenty-one children. This
was a tndy patriarchal numl)cr; but he lived nln-iost
to equal it, being himself ultimately the father il
seventeen sons and daughters by one mother. t!ie
daughter of Agnew of Creoch. Sir Andrew cm-
braced the militan,- profession at an early jer:'"!. ns
many of his family had dor.e, and wa> ."ii .i::;cer in
the great Marlborough campaigns, as we tii^u li.ni a
cornet in the second regiment ot dragoons it ."^cots
Greys at the battle of Ramilics. when he !;.n'l ju^t
reached his nineteenth year. It w.i< in tliis c.iiac.ty.
and under such training, that besii'.es being .1 -'Kiltul
and successful otnccr, he became ii;st;ng'.;oI".ed 1 y

SIR ANDREW AGNEW.

those deeds of personal daring, as well as eccentric
peculiarities of manner, that long made him a
favourite in the fireside legends of the Scottish
peasantry. Among these, we are told, that on one
occasion having been appointed to superintend the
interment of the slain after one of the continental
engagements, his ortlerly came to him in great per-
plexity, saying, "Sir, there is a heap of fellows
lying yonder, who say they are only wounded, and
won^t consent to be burietl like the rest: what shall
1 tlo?" "liup.- them at once," cried Sir Andrew,
"for if you take their own word for it, they won't
be deail for a hundred years to come 1 " The man,
who understood nothing beyond tiie word of com-
mand, made his military salaam and went off with
full purpose to execute the order to the letter, wiien
he was checked by a counter-order from his superior,
who perhaps little thought that his joke wouhl have
been carried so far. On another occasion, when an
engagement was about to commence, he jiointed to
the enemy, and thus briefly an<l ]Mthily addressed his
soldiers: "Weel, lads, ye see tliese loons on the hill
there: if ye dinna kill them, tliey'll kill you."

When the battle of Dettingen took jiiace, which
occurred in 1743, where George II. commanded tlie
British troops in person. Sir Amirew Agnew hekl
the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and was appointed to
keep a pass at the outskirts of the British army,
through which an attack of the French was ajipre-
heniied. ( )n this post of danger the kniglit of
I.ochnaw stationed himself with his regiment of
.Scots Fusileers as coolly as if he hail been upon the
boundary of one of his own f\rms in Wigtonshire.
One day, while at dinner, he was informed that
there were symptoms of a coming attack — that the
enemy's cavalry were mustering at no great distance.
"The loons I" cried .Sir .\ndrew indignantly; "surely
they will never hae the impudence to attack the
Scots Fusileers!" and f)rthwith ordered his men to
finish their dinner quietly, assuring them that they
would fight all the better for it. He ccmtinued
eating and encouraging his officers to follow his
example, until the enemy were so nigh, that a
shiit struck from his hand a bone which he was in
the act of picking. "They are in earnest now !" he
cried, and drew up his men to receive the enemy,
who came on at full charge. They were a jxHtion
of the royal hnusehold troops, the |)icked and best-
disciplinc<l soldiers of France, mounted U]:)on heavy
and p')werful horses, and armed with cuirasses that
were buckled close to the saildie, so that the jioint
of a bavfinct could not easily fmd entrance vvitiiin
their steel panoply. .Sir .\ndrew, who knew that it
W.XS u>clc^s to abide such an avalanche of man and
horse, ordered his soldiers not to fiie until they saw
the whites of their enemy's eyes, to take aim only at
their hor>cs, and open their ranks as soon as a charge
was made ujion ihem. This skilful manonivre
succeeded as he had f )reseen — the French horses were
brought down in he.Ti)s, their riders easily bayonetted,
and the far-famed hou^ehoM troojjs were driven back
with heavy lo>.-;. After the battle, ( ieorge II. ob-
served, "Well, Sir .\ndrew, I hear that your regi-
ment was broken; that you let the Fn-ncli cavalry
in u]ion you." "N'es, ]>lea-e your majesty." replied
the gallant humouri-,!, "but they didna gang back
ag.aiii."

The most imjiortant military service, however, in
which .Sir .Vndrew .Xgnew was engaged, w.is the
defence of Blair ('a>tle against the troc)iis of ijie I're-
tender, during the insurrection of 1745 6. ( )n the
arrival of the Duke of ( 'umberland in I'erth, to take
the command of the royalist army, he found it
necessary to occui)y and garrison Blair Ca.^tle, the

seat of the Duke of Athol, then absent, for the
purpose of suppressing the disaffected of the district,
and cutting off the communications of the rebels by
the great roads between the southern and northern
parts of the country. For this service Sir Andrew
was selected, and despatched thither with a detach-
ment of three hundred soldiers. Not only was no
siege expected, but the place was ill fitted to sustain
one; for it was scantily supj^lied with provisiors,
and had no artillery or military stores, while the
soldiers had only nineteen rounds of ammunition per
man. Of all this the rebels seem to have been
apprised, and accordingly, on the morning of the
17th of March, 1746, Lord George Murray (the
Pretender's lieutenant-general). Lord Naime, Mac-
pherson of Clunie, and other Jacobite leaders, re-
solved to recover the castle, and open their com-
munications. They came, therefore, in great force,
captured the detached parties that were without the
castle, and suddenly aj^peared before the fort itself,
while such a visit was neither expected nor desired.
Most commanders in such a situation would have
abandoned the .""ort as untenable; but Sir Andrew
had not thus learned his military lessons under the
great Marlborough: he resolved to defend it to the
last, notwithstanding its impoverished condition, and
thus give time for the collection of those forces by
which the insurrection was soon after extinguished at
Culloden. He therefore issued strict orders to his
garrison, now reduced to 270 men, to save their
ammunition with the utmost care; and, as there
were no provisions in the castle but some bread and
cheese, he commanded these to be dealt out in small
daily rations.

As the obtaining of Blair Castle was of the
utmost importance to the rebels, Lord George
Murray, their ablest commander, commenced the
siege in due form. He began by a summons to
surrender; and knowing the old knight's fiery temper,
he wrote to him to this effect, not upon decent
foolscaj), but a ])iece of shabby gray paper. But
who was to enter the lion's den, and beard him with
such a missive? No Highlander could be found to
undertake the task, so that it was intru.sted to a
comely young servant maid of Blair Inn, who had
found favour in the eyes of Sir Andrew's young
officers while they resorted there, and who thought
that they would not allow her to be harmed. She
a])]iroached the garrison, taking care to avoid being
shot by waving the ])a]ier over her head like a flag
of truce. When she delivered her credentials, she
earnestly entreated the officers to surrender, assuring
them that the Highlanders were a thousand strong,
an<l would di>ii:; the castle about their ears; Init this
friendly warning they t)nly received with peals of
laughter, telling her that they would soon set these
Highlanders a scam]iering, and visit her at the inn
as before. No one, however, would deliver the
summons to .Sir .\ndrew, exce])t a timid lieutenant
of the company, whose nerves were further unstrung
by the use of strong waters; but no sooner did the
old knight hear the first sentence read, than he burst
forth into such a storm of wrath, and uttered such
fearful threats of shooting the next messenger through
the head who dared to jiropose a surrender, that the
lieutenant look to his heels, while Molly, who stood
at the bottom of the stairs, and heard the whole, fled
across tile fields like a startled hare. She told her
eni]>loyers, waiting in the churchyard (jf ISlair, the
roiilt of luT mission, who laughed heartily at the
rage of Sir .Amlrew. .Still further to jirovoke him,
and ])erha])s tempt him to a rash sally, they threw
large stones at the \\alls, accom])anie<l with biting
jokes at his ex[)ense; but fieiy though his temper

SIR ANDREW AGNEW

SAINT AIDAN.

23

was, and impatient of ridicule, he was too wary a
soldier to afford them such an advantage. In the
meantime, the more serious work of the siege went
on with vigour, and, though the walls of Blair Castle
were of great thickness, the assailants not only used
common, hut also hot shot, in the hope of setting the
building on fire. The wood, being luckily not very
combust ii)le, only smouldered as it received the balls.
Hut the chief confidence of the rebels was to star\-e
tlie garrison out, knowing how scantily it was sup-
plieil; and for this purpose they strictly blockaded
the place, while their best marksmen were ordered
to keep u]) a close fire wherever a man showed him-
self. This last incident suggested to the officers of
the castle a practical joke at the expense of their
commantler, whom they loved, feared, and laughed
at when they dared. They got one of his old
uniforms ; and having stuffed it with straw and
furnished the figure with a spy-glass, they placed it
at a small turret window, where it looked like no
other than Sir Andrew himself reconnoitring the
enemy below. The rifles q( the assailants were all
brought to bear upon it, and the best marksmen of
the Highlands continued to riddle this deceptive
wisp, until .Sir Andrew himself, wondering why this
point should have been selected for such a hot attack,
ascended the turret, and there he saw this other
identity standing under fire, as stiff, fearless, and
imperturbable as himself! He was in a towering
rage at the irreverent joke, and resolved that the
l)erpetrat()r should not escape a share of it. The
wag was ordered to go to this spot so full of risk,
and carry the pupjiet away, Sir Andrew gruffly pro-
nouncing this retributive sentence: "Let the loon
that set it up, just gang up himsel' and tak' it down
again."

Beyond all military calculation, Sir Andrew
.Vgnew, with miserably scanty means, had made
good his position from the 17th of March to the end
of the month. Longer than this, however, it was
impossible to hold out, as the provisions of the
garrison were exhausted, so that nothing seemed to
l)e left them but a desperate sally, or immediate
surrender. A faint chance indeed tliere might be
of some messenger stealing through the leaguer, and
carrying tidings of their condition to the Earl of
Crawford, who was then at Dunkeld with a strong
force of Hessians. This was now attempted, and
the gardener of Blair Castle undertook to be the
messenger. The gate was opened without noise; he
stole out unperceived, mounted a horse, and rode
cautiously down the avenue to the highway; but
immediately a firing and pursuit commenced, and,
on tlie following day, a Highlander was seen mounted
on the gardener's horse, so that the garrison thought
he must have been either killed or taken. On tlie
1st of .Xjiril, however, they were startled by an un-
expected mes>enger; this was no other than Molly
of the inn, formerly the envoy of the rebels, who
now came with the joyful intelligence that they had
broken up their encampment, and gone away to
D.ilnacardoch. Sir .\ndrew, who was not only
wary but short-sighted, would not tnist the news',
and abode a (Lay longer in his hunger-bitten hold,
when an officer arrived from the Earl of Crawford,
to say that his lordshi]i himself was on the road with
his cavalry, and would arrive within an hour. Such
was the case; for the gardener's horse, being alarmed
at the firing, had thrown him, and been capturetl by
the Iligldanders, so that he had made his journey to
Dunkeld on foot. Wlien Crawford arrived. Sir
Andrew drew up his soldiers to receive him, and
thus addressed the o.arl: •'My lord, I am verv glad
to see you; but, by all tliat's good, you have been

very dilatorj-; we can give you nothing to eat."
The earl laughed good humouredly, and invited Sir
Andrew and his officers to dine with him — an invita-
tion that was never more welcome, jK'rhaj.s, than at
the present crisis. The summer-house in the garden
was immediately turned into a dining-room, the table
was plentifully covered with substantial dishes and
excellent wines, and the lialf-starved and doomed
defenders of Blair Castle were translated, as if bv
magic, into the regions of safety, hilarity, and good
cheer.

After the siege was thus raised, .Sir Andrew
Agnew's gallant defence was not forgot. He and
his soldiers were publicly thanked by the Duke of
Cumberland, and soon afterwards he was promoted
to a colonelcy of marines. In 1747, in ccmsequence
of the abolition of the many old feudal offices in
Scotland, his hereditary sheriffdom of Wigtcjnshire
was among the number; but he received ^,^4000 as
a compensation from government. In 1750 he was
appointed governor of Tinmouth Castle, in room of
the Duke of Somerset. He died, with the rank of
lieutenant-general, in 1771, at the age of eighty-four,
and was succeeded by his fifth son, .Sir Stair Agnew,
who was bom October 9, 1734. His father, who at
that period was absent on foreign ser\'ice, found at
his return the infant nestled in the maternal bosom.
"What's this ye hae got, Nelly?" he asked, as this
was the first intelligence he had of the event.
"Another son to you, Sir Andrew," she answered.
"And what do you call this boy?" "I have called
him Stair, after the earl, your commander." "Stair,
Sir Stair," repeated the knight, whistling the sibilant
sounds through his teeth — "Sir .Stair, .Sir Deevil I
It disna clink weel, Nelly." The sounds, however,
were at last united, whether they clinked or not, for
the child, by the death of his elder brothers, ulti-
mately succeeded to the baronetcy of Lochnaw.

AIDAN, S.MNT, Bishop of Lindisfame in the
seventh century, was originally a monk in the island
of lona, and afterwards became a missionary in
England. The causes that brought Aidan to England
were the following: — Oswald having recovered the
kingdom of Northumbria from its pagan op]:)ressors,
by a signal and surprising victor}-, his piety attributed
this success to the aid of the tnie God, whom he had
invoked; and the first movement of his reign was to
arrest the growing heathenism of his people, and
recall them to the Christian faith. For this jmrpose
he applied, however, not to the Italian monks, as
his uncle had done, but to the Culdees of lona;
among whom he had been sheltered in his early
youth, during the disasters of his family, and by
whom he had been carefully educated. The mes>age
was gladly received liy the Culdee brethren, and
Corman, a learned monk of their order, was forth-
with sent to Northumbria. But the savage manners
of the people appalled him, their inability to compre-
hend his instnictions disgu>ted him, so that, despair-
ing of their conversion, he speedily relurne<l home.
While he was giving an account of his mission, and
describing the N'orthumbrians as a race ot imiM-acti-
cable savages, a voice of rebuke \\"as suddenly lio.ir 1
in the assembly: "Brother, it seems to nie iluit y^ur
want of success w.is owing to a \\ant <>t c<in'ie~>;i-;;-
sion to your hearers. \'ou sliould tir-t ha\e tc'i
them with milk, according to the apo-t'i'.ic rule,
until they were fitted to receive stronger f' '-:. -\d
eves were turned ujion the speaker, wiio wa- Avian.
It was unanimously .agreed by ihc a~-ciii: '.>' ti.at .'.e
was the fittest ju-r.-on to attempt the c -r.vcrsi' ■!! ot
the Northumbrians, aivi, on tlic c!'.ar:,'f "! c:ng pro-
posctl to him, he cordially agreed. He arrived in

24

S AIN'T AIDAN

England A.D. 634, and repaired to the court of king
Oswald. And now a missionary work commenced
in the Northumbrian kingdom such as missionary
annals can seldom parallel, for both king and monk
went hand in hand in the duty. Aidan, being a
Celt, was either wholly ignorant of the Saxon
language of his hearers or imperfectly acquainted
•with it; but, when he preached, Oswald was ready
to inteqiret his aildresses. The happiest results at-
tended these joint labours. The ancient idolatry
was utterly thrown aside, and Christianity established
over Deira and Hernicia. Still further to confirm
this change, Aidan prevailed upon the king to trans-
fer the episcopal see from York to Lindisfarnc, or
Holy Island, a bleak peninsula upon the coast of
Northumberland, which probably the Culdee pre-
ferred from its resemblance to his own beloved lona,
and here accordingly a monastery was erected,
which Aidan supplied with monks from his own
count r)-.

After the death of Oswald, who was slain in battle,
the kingdom of Northumbria was once more parted
into two sovereignties, those of Deira and Bernicia; in
the former of which Oswin was appointed king, and
in the latter Oswiu. It was, however, a peaceful
conjunction; and Aidan still continued, as before,
to preside over the church of Northumberland. The
character ol Oswin appears to have fully resembled
that of his amiable jiredecessor, and the Bishop of
I-indisfarne seems to have loved him with a still
higher atTcction than even that which he bore for
Oswald. Amidst the obscurity of that remote period,
and the shadowy character of its actors, Bede tells
us a touching stor\', in which the simple manners of
the times, as well as the intercourse between the
king and the bishop, are brought out in strong relief.
Oswin had once presented to Aidan a fine horse. It
hap]iened that one day, as the Culdee was riding
forth, he met a poor man who asked of him an alms,
and .\idan, having no money, bestowed on him the
horse and its rich trappings. The king on hearing
of this was displeased, and could not refrain from
expressing his resentment when Aidan next dined
with him. "Why were you so lavish of my favour,"
he said, "as to give away my jiad to a beggar? If
you must needs mount him on horseback, could you
not have given him one of less value? Or, if he
wanted any other relief, you might have supplied
him otherwise, and not have parted so easily with
my gift." "\'ou have not carefully considered this
matter," replied .\iilan, "for otherwise you could
not set a greater value on the son of a mare, than
on a son of (i-. i." In tliis way the affair ended f<;r
the present. .Not long after, when the king returned
fp.m hunting, he saw tlie bislio]!, and, remembering
what had lately occurred, lie laid a-ide his sword,
threw himself at llie g...)'! u\:u\\ feet, and asked
his forgiveness for the rude words he had uttered.
.•\idan. grieve<l to see the king in this jiosture, im-
mediately rai>e'l him, and declared that tlie whole
matter was forgot. .Xft^r this interview, however,
Aidan was observed to be very sad; and, on bein"
asked the cause by ^oine of his iiionk>, he' burst into
tears, ami replied. "How can I be (itlurwise than
afllicted? I f)resec that Oswin's life will be short,
for never have I beheld a jirinee so hunible. His
tem[H-r is too heavenly to dwell long among us, and,
truly, the nation does not deserve the blessing of such
a ruler." This mournful jireiiiction was soon after
accomplished by the death of ( )s\vin, who was assas.
sinated in .August, 651 : and ,\idan took the matter
s ) deeply to heart, tliat he died a fortnight after.

Such is the little that we know of .Saint Aidan,
the apostle of Northumberland and BishoiJ of Lindis-

WILLIAM AIRMAN.

fame. That he was great and good, and that he
accomplished much, is evident from the old chroni-
cles, and especially from the history of venerable
Bede, from whom the foregoing brief account has
been chiefly gathered.

AIRMAN, WiLLi.vM, a painter of considerable
merit of tiie last century, was bom in Aberdeen-
shire, October 24, 1682. His father was William
Aikman of Cairney, a man of eminence at the
Scottish bar, who educated his son to follow his own
profession. But a predilection for the fine arts, and
a love of poetr)', which gained him the friendship of
Ramsay and Thomson, induced the youth to give
up studying for the law, and turn his attention to
painting. Having prosecuted his studies in paint-
ing for a time at home under Sir John Medina, and
also in England, he resolved to visit Italy, that he
might complete his education as an artist, and form
his taste by an examination of the classic models of
antiquity; and accordingly, in 1707, having sold his
paternal estate near Arbroath, that he might leave
home untram.nelled, he went to Rome, where,
during a period of three years, he put himself under
the tuition of the best masters. He afterwards
visited Constantinople and Smyrna, where the
gentlemen of the English factory wished him to
engage in the Turkey trade; an overture which he
declined; and returning to Rome, he there renewed
his studies for a time. In 1712 he revisited his
native country, and commenced practising his pro-
fession; but though his works were admired by the
discerning few, he did not meet with adequate en-
couragement, the public being too poor at that time
to purchase elaborate works of art, and the taste for
such works being then too imperfectly formed. At
this period he formed an intimacy with Allan Ram-
say, whose portrait he afterwards painted. John,
Duke of Argyle, who equally admired the artist and
esteemed the man, regretting that such talents should
be lost, at length prevailed upon Aikman, in 1 723,
to move with all his family to London. There,
under the auspices of his distinguished friend, he as-
sociated with the most eminent British painters of
the age, particularly Sir Godfrey Kneller, whose
studies and dis]30sitions of mind were congenial
with his own. The duke also recommended him to
many people of the first rank, particularly the ICarl
of Burlington, so well known for his taste in archi-
tecture; and he was thus able to be of much service
to Thomson, who came to London soon after him-
self, as a literary adventurer. He introduced the
jxjet of T/w Seasons to the brilliant literary circle
of the day — Pope, Swift, Cay, Arbuthnot, cVc. — and,
what was perhaps of more immediate service, to Sir
Roljert Walpole, who aimed at being thought a friend
to men of genius. Among the more intimate friends
of Aikman was William Somervillc, author of 'J'/te
C/iasc, from whom he received an elegant tribute of
the muse, on his painting a full-length portrait of
the poet in the decline of life, carrying him back, by
the assistance of another jiortrait, to his youtliful
<lays. This ])oem was never published in any edition
of .Somerville's works. Aikman painted, for the Earl
of liurlington, a large ]ncture of the royal family of
Lngland; all the younger branches being in the
middle comiiartnient, on a very large canvas, and on
one hand a full-length portrait of f^)ueen Caroline;
the i)icture of ilie king (George H.)— that king who
ne\er could endure "boetry or bainting," as he
styled the Xwu arts in his broken English — intended
for the ojiposite side, was never finished, owing to
the death of the artist. This was perhaps the last
[licture brought towards a close by Aikman, and it

HEW AIXSLIE

WILLIAM AITON.

is allowed to have been in his best style; it came
into the ])ossession of the Duke of Devonshire by a
marriage alliance with the Burlington family. Some
of his earlier works are in the possession of the
Argyle and Hamilton families in Scotland; his more
mature and mellow productions are chiefly to be
found in England, and a large portion at Blickling,
in Norfolk, the seat of the Earl of Buckinghamshire;
these are chiefly portraits of noblemen, ladies, and
gentlemen, friends of the earl. lie died, June 4,
1 73 1, at his house in Leicester Fields, and, by his
own desire, his body was taken to Scotland for in-
terment; his only son, John (by his wife Marion
Lawson, daughter of Mr. Lawson of Cairnmuir, in
Peeblesshire), whose death immediately preceded his
own, was buried in the same grave with him, in the
Greyfriars' Churchyard, Edinburgh. A monument
was erected over the remains of Mr. Aikman, with
the following epitaph by Mallet, which has been
long since obliterated: —

" Dear to the good and wise, dispraised by none,
Here sleep in peace the father and the son.
Ky virtue as by nature close allied,
The painter's genius, but without the pride.
Worth unambitious, wit afraid to shine.
Honour's clear light, and friendship's warmth divine.
The son, fair-rising, knew too short a date;
But O how more severe the parent's fate!
He saw him torn untimely from his side.
Felt all a father's anguish — wept, and died."

In his Style of painting Aikman seems to have
aimed at imitating nature in her most simple forms;
his lights are soft, his shades mellow, and his colour-
ing mild and harmonious. His touch has neither
the force nor the harshness of Rubens; nor does he,
like Reynolds, adorn his jiortraits with the elegance
of adventitious graces. His compositions are dis-
tinguished by a placid tranquillity, rather than a
striking brilliancy of effect; and his portraits maybe
more readily mistaken for those of Kneller than for
the works of any other eminent artist.

AINSLIE, Hew. Tliis poet, whose songs in
the Scottish dialect have obtained considerable popu-
larity, was born April 5th, 1792, at Bargeny Mains,
in the parish, of Dailly, Ayrshire. He was first
educated by a private tutor at home, afterwards at
the parish school of Ballantrae, and finally at the
academy of Ayr. On leaving tlie academy, he
became assistant landscape ganlener on the estate
of Sir Hew Dalrymple Hamilton, a situation which
he afterwards exchanged at the age of sixteen for
that of a lawyer's clerk in Glasgow; but the confine-
ment of the office being injurious to his health, he
removed to Roslin, and subsequently obtained a
clerkship in the Register Office, Edinburgh.

Like most of the tuneful class. Hew Ainslie was
a poet from his early years, and had composed verses
before he left his native Carrick. The practice was
not neglected when his age was more matured, and
in consequence of a visit to Ayrshire in 1820, his
poetical ardour hurst forth into authorship under the
title of ,•/ r.'I^-rima^r to the Land of Burns. The
volume thus entitled was a duodecimo of 271 pages,
printeil at Deinford, "for the author," in 1S22, and
amidst jokes, stories, and descriptions connected
with the history of our gre.at Scottish bard, it was
more plentifully interspersed with Ainslie's own
poetry, which his narrative seems mainly intended
to introduce. This mixture of prose and verse
makes a very lively and readable book, and as such
the /V/^vv'w.j^v brougiu the author int(3 considerable
notice.

In the meantime .Mnslie had married, had f n;nd
the salary of his clerkshiii in the Rc;^;ster House

too small to maintain his family, and had moreover
discovered that he was not likely to be enriched by
cultivating poetry as a regular occupation. He
wisely therefore resolved to emigrate to the I'nited
States, where the field was open to industrious en-
terprise, and where his chances were better both for
health and pros|)erity. He accordingly arrived at
New York in 1822, purchased a farm,' and settled
on it for three years. Still haunted h<nvever by
the restless eccentricity and love of change that
characterizes poets, he joined the Socialists of New
Harmony, under their leader Robert Owen; but
after a year's experience he renounced the system,
and set up as a brewer first at Louisville, and after-
wards at New Albany. But his premises having
been destroyed by accident, he changed his occupa-
tion to that of the erection of mills and factories,
and finally settled in Jersey, a suburb of New York.
Thus far we have been enabled to trace the course
of Hew Ainslie in America, and until 1855, '"
which he published a volume of Scottish Son:^s,
Ballads, and Poems, at New York; but after this
period our information deserts us, so that we neither
know how he prospered in his old age, nor in what
year he died. That he had never ceased, hc)wever,
to cultivate poetry as his first love, or to remember
Scotland with a fdial devotedness, his last jiublica-
tion is a satisfactory proof. Their Scottish raciness
is as complete as if he still trode his native heather,
instead of having been a sojourner for more than
thirty years in America. Their merit also is so far
above mediocrity, that they will be remembered and
cherished in Scotland long after the history of their
author is forgot.

AITON, WiLLi.VM, an eminent horticulturist and
botanist, was born, in 1 73 1, at a village in the
neighbourhood of Hamilton. Having been regtdarly
bred to the profession of a gardener, as it was and
still is practised by numbers of his countr\men, with
a union of manual skill and scientific knowledge, he
removed to England in 1754, and, in the year fol-
lowing, obtained the notice of the celebrated Philip
Miller, then superintendent of the physic garden at
Chelsea, who employed him for some time as an
assistant. The instructions which he received from
that eminent gardener laid the foundation, it is said,
of his future fortune. His industry and abilities were
so conspicuous, that, in 1759, he was pointed out
to the rrincess-dowager of Wales as a fit person to
manage the botanical garden at Kew. His profes-
sional talents also procured him the notice of .^ir
Joseph Banks, and a friendship commenced w]ii(.!i
subsisted between them for life. Dr. Solander ai.d
Dr. Dryander were also among the number of b.is
friends. The encouragement of botanical studies
was a distinguished feature of the reign of GeC'igc
III., who, soon after his accession, determined i"
render Kew a repository of all the vegetable riclu-s
of the world. Specimens were accordin,,'!}' ] r^curcd
from every cpiarter of the glol.)e, ami jilaccd ur.ikr
the care of Mr. Aiton, who showed a -uri-ri-iii:;
degree of skill in their arrangemem. I mkr !i:-
superintendence a variety of inqn-ovenur.ts ti^^k
place in the ]")ian and edifices of Kcw t nU'lci;-. tiil
they attained an undoubted eminence over every I'Jier
botanical institution. In 17S3, on a vac.uxy recur-
ring in tiie superintendence of the jilea-ure-g.'.iiier.s r.t
Kew, Mr. Aiton received the aji; > ':i;;r..U'.i tn^m
George HI., but was, at the same time. | (.rniiiteil
to retain his more inqiortai.t ntncc. Il.s i.il'Murs
]iroved that the king's tavours were r.i ■: \'.\ be-towed;
l"'ir, in 17S0. he j ubr.shcd an el.ib ■::■.:<: descrip-
tion of the plants at Kew, under 'iic l.ik- II:rtus

26

ALEXANDER ALES ■

WILLIAM ALEXANDER.

A'^wi'Hsis, 3 vols. Svo, with a number of plates. In
this production Mr. Aiton gave an account of no
fewer than 5600 foreign plants, which had been intro-
duced from time to time into the English gardens;
and so highly was the work esteemed, that the whole
impression was sold within two years. A second
and improved edition was published by his son,
William Townseiul Aiton, in 1810. After a life of
singular activity and usefulness, ilistinguishcd more-
over by all the domestic virtues, Mr. Aiton died on
the 1st of Fel)niary, 1793. of a schirrus in the liver,
in the sixty-tinrd year of his age. lie lies burieil in
the churchyard at Kew, near the graves of his distin-
gui>he<l friends, ZolTany, Meyer, and (Gainsborough.
He was succeeded by his son, Mr. William Town-
send .Mton. who was no less esteemed by George
III. than his father hail been, and who for fifty
years ably superintendeil the botanical department
at Kew, besides taking charge of the e.xtensive
plexsure-groumls, and being employed in the im-
l)rovcment o{ the other royal gardens. In 1841 he
rctiretl from office, when .Sir William J. Hooker
was api^ointetl director of the botanic gardens. Mr.
Aiton died at Kew in 1S49, aged eighty- four.

ALES, or ALESSE, Ale.xanpf.r, a celebrated
the'>logian of the sixteenth century, was born at
Edinburgh, April 23, 15CXJ. He is first found in the
situation of a canon in the cathedral of St. Andrews,
where he di>tinguished himself by entering into the
prevalent controversy of the day against Luther.
His zeal for the Roman Catliolic religion was stag-
gered by the martyrdom of Patrick Hamilton; but
it i> not iimhalile that his doubts would have been
carried further, if he had not suffered persecution for
the slight degree of scepticism already manifested.
iJeing obliged to lice from St. Andrews, he retired
to (jerniany, where he became a thorough convert
to the rrotestant doctrines. The reformation in
England induced .Ales to go to London, in 1535,
where he was highly esteemed by Cianmer, Latimer,
.and Crmnwell, wIkj were at that time in favour
with the king. Henry regarded him als(j with
fav(nir. and use<l to call him "'his scholar."' Upon
the fall of Croinweli, he was oljjiged to return to
(Jermany. where the I'lector (jf lirandeninirg ap-
pointed him professor of divinity at l''rankfort-u])on-
the-Oder, in 1540. As a reformer Ales did not
always maintain tiie most ortiiodox doctrines; hence
he was ohhgcd, in 1542, to tlee from his chair at
l-'rankfort, and betake himself to Leipsic. He s]5ent
the remainder of hi^ life in that city, as iirofessor of
divinity, and clied in 1565. His works are:— I.
Dc- .Wrfisitiitf it Mcntt.^ Iioiii<ritm Opcrtim, Dispiitalio
J'r^>/\>jitii ni Ci!il>ri Anidcinui lyipsicij. ad 2() A ('7'.
15S0. 2. C'jinmrnl.ini iii l:i\ui.-diu»i Jotuiuis, ct in
!ttriiini/:ic- /-.//-A'A/w ./(/ 'fniuitlhum. 3. l-.xf'ositio in
/';,:/w<'j D.r.id:!. 4. Dc Jn lifnatioii,; loiilra Os-
cjudrum ^. Pi- San, la Trniitat,; mm Con/iita/ioii,'
Error ii I'.ii, tifiiii. (1. J\,:poinu> ad Iri-iii/a d duo;
Artiiulo! 'J'hoolo-orutn J.cTaiiiinsiiiiii. The fifth in
this I:-.t is the mo^t favourable sjieciinen of his
al).litie^.

ALEXANDER, Wii.i.iam, an eminent noble.
man, st:U'>ni.'in, n-id ]ioet of the reign of |ame^ \'l.
and riiarle-. I. The original rank of thi> ]ur-onnge
was that of a small landed proprietor or laivd; but lie
was elevated, by dint of hi^ various accoiniilisjirneiit-,
and through the favour of the two sovereiL'ii^ al)ove-
mentioned, to the rank of an eaii. His fainilv,
which pf)s^cssed the small estate of Meiistrie, near
Stirling, is said to have derivecl the name Alexander
from tlie prenomen oi their ancestor, Alexander

Macdonald, a Highlander who had been settled in
this property by the Ivarl of Argyle, whose resi-
lience of Castle Campbell is in the neighbourhood.
William Alexander is supposed to have first seen the
light in 15S0. He received from his friends the best
education which the time and place could afford, and
at a very early age he accompanied the young Earl
of Argyle u])on his foreign travels, in the capacity
of tutor. Previous to this period, when only fifteen
years of age, he had been smitten with the charms
of some country beauty, "the cynosure of neighbour-
ing eyes;" on his return from the Continent he wrote
no fewer than a hundred sonnets, as a ventilation to
the fervours of his breast; but all his poetry was
in vain, so far as the lady was concerned. She
thought of matrimony, while he thought of love, and
accordingly, on being solicited by a more aged
suitor, in other respects eligible, she did not scniple
to accept his hand. The poet took a more sensible
way of consoling himself for this disappointment
than might have been expected; he married another
lady, the daughter and heiress of Sir William Erskine.
His century of sonnets was published in London in
1604, under the title of Aurora, cotitaifiifig the
First Fancies of the Author's Youth, by W. Alex-
ander, of Menstrie. He had early been introduced
to royal notice; and when James removed to London,
in 1603, the poet did not remain long behind, but
soon became a dependant upon the English court.
In this situation, however, he did not, like most
court poets of that age, ernploy his pen in the adula-
tion of majesty; his works breathe a very different
strain: he descanted on the vanity of grandeur, the
value of truth, the abuse of power, and the burden
of riches; and his moralizings assumed the strange
shape of tragedies — compositions not at all designed
for the stage, but intended to embody his sentiments
u]ion such subjects as those we have mentioned.
His first tragedy was grounded upon the story of
Darius, and ajipeared at Edinburgh in 1603. He
afterwards republished it at London, in 1607, along
with similar compositions upon the stories of Alex-
ander, Croesus, and Ca'sar, under the title of ]\Io7i-
archick 7'ragcdies, by William Alexander, gentleman
of the Princes' Privy Chamber. It woukl thus ap-
])ear that he had now obtained a jilace in the house-
liold of Prince Henry; to whom he had previously
addressed a poem or para'iiesis, designed to show
how the happiness of a sovereign depends upon his
choice of worthy councillors. This poem, of which
no copy of the original edition is known to exist,
except one in the university library at Edinburgh,
was, after the death of Henry, addressed to Prince
Charles, who then became heir-ai)parent; an economy
in poetical, not to speak of court business which
cannot be sufficiently admired. He was, in 1613,
a])pointed one of the gentlemen ushers of the
presence to this unfortunate prince.

King James is said to have been a warm admirer
of the poems of Alexander, to have honoured him
with his conversation, and called him "my ])hilo-
soijliical jioet." He was now aspiring to the still
more honourable character of a divine poet, for
ill 1614, appeared at lulinburgh his largest and
]ierha])s his most meritorious ])roduction, entitled
Doomsday, or the Great Day of jud^inent, which has
been several times reprinted.

Hithert(j the career of Alexander had been chiefly
that of a ])oet: it was henceforth entirely that of a
courtier. In 1614 he was knighted by King James,
ami ap])ointed to the situation of master of recpiests.
In 1621 the king gave him a grant by his royal deed
of tile ])rovince of Nova .Scotia, which as yet had
not been colonized. Alexander designed at first to

WILLIAM ALEXANDER.

27

establish settlers upon this new country, and as an
inducement to the jjurchase of land, it was proposed
that the king should confer upon all who paid a
hundred and fifty pounds for 6000 acres the honour
of a kniglu baronetcy. Owing to the perplexed
l)olitics of the last years of King James, he did not
get this scheme carried into effect, but Charles had
no sooner acceded than he resolved upon giving
it his sujiport. Alexander, in 1625, published a
pampldet, entitled An Encoura:^c?ni:nt to Colonics,
the object of which was to state the progress already
made, to recommend the scheme to the nation, and
to invite adventurers. It is also supposed tliat he
ha'l a hand in A Brief Kclation of the Discoz'ery and
Plantation of Xe'M EnglanJ, and of sundry accidents
therein occurring from the year 1607 to this present
1622: together with the state thereof as it now stand-
eth, the general form of Government intended, and
the division of the whole territory into Counties, Bar-
onies, Sec. King Charles, who probably considered
the scheme in a twofold light, as a means of establish-
ing a new colony, and of remunerating an old
servant at the expense of others, conferred upon Sir
William .-Mexander the rank of Lieutenant of 'Sew
Scotland, and founded the necessary order of knights
baronets of the same territory. The numl^cr of
these baronets was not to exceed a hundred and
fifty, and it was ordained that the title should be
hereditary — that they should take precedence of
all ordinary kniglits and lairds, and of all other
gentlemen, except .Sir William Alexander, and
that they should have place in all his majesty's and
his successors' armies, near and about the royal
standard for the defence thereof, with other honour-
able distinctions of precedency, to them, their wives,
and heirs. The ceremony of infeftment or seasine
was decreed to take place on the Castle-hill of Edin-
burgh, the earth and stone of which were held, by
a fiction, to represent the component particles of
certain baronies and lordships on the other side of
the Atlantic. But the Nova Scotian scheme, what-
ever might have been originally contemplated, de-
generated at last into a mere means of raising money
by the sale of titles; a system too much practised in
the English reign of James VI., and which gained,
as it deserved, the contempt of all honourable minds.
The territory of Xova Scotia afterwards fell into the
hands of the French, who affected to believe that
they had acquired a right to it liy a treaty entered
into with the king of Great Britain, in 1632, in
which the country of Acadia was ceded to them. In
the treaty of peace transacted between the two
countries, in 1763, it was successfully asserted by
the Briti-,h g(jvernment that Xova .Scotia was
tinally distinct from .Vcadia, and accordingly the
territory reverted to Britain, along with Canada.
The country, however, having become the propertv
of otlier individu.als during the usurpation of the
French, it ajipears that the Xova Scotia baronets
have very >li-ht prospects of ever regaining the lands
to which iliL'ir titles were originally attached.

In 162O Sir William .VIex.ander w.as, by the favour
of Charle> I., made secret.ary of state for Scotland,
a:i oftice to which the salary of ;^iOO a year, being
tiiat of a g.>o(l mercantile clerk in the present day,
was then .lUached. In 1630, by the further favour
of his s()verci:,'n, he was raided to the peerage under
the title of \'iscount Stirling; and in 1633, at the
coronation of King diaries in Holyrood Cha]-iel, he
was promoted to the rank of an earl under the same
title. He held the office of secretary during fifteen
years, and gained the credit of being a moderate
statesman in the mid.-t of many violent political
scenes. It duos not appear, however, that he was a

popular character. Such esteem as he might have
gained by his poetry seems to have lx;en lost in con-
sequence of his arts to become rich. .\ jx*rmission
which he acquired, probably in his character of lieu-
tenant of Xovia .Scotia, to coin base money, W-came
a grievance to the community, and procured him
much obloquy. He had erected a splendid mansion
at Stirling out of his ill-acquired gains, and affixed
upon its front his annorial bearings, with the motto
"Per mare, per terras." This was panKlied, as we
are informed, by the sarcastic Scott of .Scotstar\et,
into "Per metre, per turners," in allusion to the
sources of his wealth, the peoj)le believing that the
royal favour had a reference to his lordship's poetr)-,
while turners, or black fart/tini^s, as they were other-
wise called, had been one of the shapes in which this
favour was expressed. The house still remains a
monument of the taste of the poet.

The Earl of .Stirling in 1637 jniblished a complete
edition of his poetical works, under the general title
of Recreations with the A/nses. The work contained
his four "Monarchick Tragedies," his "Doomsday,"
the "Para;nesis to Prince Henr}-," and "Jonathan,
an Heroick Poem Intended, the first book," the
whole revised and very much imjiroved by the
author. He died in 1640, leaving three sons and
two daughters, whose posterity was supposed to
have been completely extinct, till a claimant appeared
in 1830, as descended from one of the younger
branches of the family, and who assumed the titles
of .Stirling and Devon. Considered as a ]ioet,
.■\lexander is entitled to considerable praise. "Ilis
style is certainly neither pure nor correct, which may
perhaps be attributed to his long familiarity with the
Scottish language; but his versification is in general
much superior to that of his contemporaries, and
approaches nearer to the elegance of modern times
than could have been expected from one who wrote
so much. There are innumerable beauties scattered
over the whole of his works, but particularly in his
songs and sonnets; the former are a species of
irregular odes, in which the sentiment, occasionally
partaking of the quaintness of his age, is more
frequently new and forcibly expressed. The powers
of mind displayed in his 'Doomsday' and 'Para-nesis'
are very considerable, although we are frequently
able to trace the allusions and imager.- to the language
of holy writ; and he appears to have l)een less in-
spired by the sublimity than by the awful importance
of his subject to rational beings. A habit of moral-
izing pervades all his writings; but in the 'Doomsday'
he appears deeply impressed with his sul)ject, and
more anxious to persuade the heart than to de-
light the imagination.'' — Johnson and Chalmers'
En:::lish Poets, edit. iSio, vol. v.

The Earl of Stirling was employed in his latter
years in the task of revising the version of the
Psalms jirejiared by King James, \\liich (Uity w as im-
posed upon him by the royal iiaraphra>t liimsclf. In
a letter to his friend Dnimmond of Hawthorr.uen,
28th of .April, 1620, Alexander says, '•Bn.tlKr.
I received your last letter, with the ]i>ahn vdu >cnt,
which I think verv- well done: I had done tb.c -r.n-.c
long before it came; but he [King Janus] prefer- !.i-
own to all else; though, perchance when ymi -ee :!,
you will think it //.v r.vr.V of ti:e ti.roo. X'> irnn
must meddle with that suliject, and tl'.er^N-ye I
a<lvise you to take no more pain> there'.n.. In
consideration of the j^ains wliich the e.irl l;.-.d
bestowed ujion this subject, Ch.ir'.e- I.. < n ihe
28th of December, 1627. grante^I a lic'. :>e i > b;-
lord--hip to print the late ki!iL;'> \e:-;tK' ■ t 'f.o
Psalms CNchi~ive!y fir thiriy-di^e )''.ir~. I he t:r-t
edition a; reared 'at Oxf-'il in 1031. Ti.e kirg

2S

ALEXANDER I.

ALEXANDER IIL

endeavoured to enforce the use of his father's
version alone throughout his dominions; and, if lie
had been successful, the privilege would have been
a source of immense proht to the Earl of Stirling.
l?ut the royal wishes were resisted by the Scottish
church, and were not ver)' respectfully obeyed any-
where else; and the breaking out of the civil war
soon after rendered the privilege entirely useless.'

ALEXANDER I., sumamed J,rr or the /vmv,
King of Scots from i io6 to 1 124, was the fifth son of
>Lircolm IIL by his wife .Margaret of England.
Lord Hailes conjectures that his name was bestowed
in honour of Pope Alexander II.; a circumstance
worthy of attention, as it was the means of introduc-
ing the most common ami familiar Christian name
in Scotland. The date of .Alexander's birth is not
known; but as his four elder brothers were all
under age in 1093, at the death of their father, he
must have been in the bloom of life at his accession
to the throne. He succeeded his brother Edgar,
Januar)' 8, 1106-7, ^^^^ immediately after married
Sybilla, the natural daughter of Henry I. of England,
who h.id married his sister Matilda or Maud. Such
an alliance was not then considered dishonourable.
Alexander was active in enforcing obedience to his
rale, and in suppressing the i)ands of rebels or
robbers with which the northern parts of the king-
dom were infested; but the chief events of his reign
relate to the efforts made by the English church to
assert a sui)remacy over that of Scotland. These
efforts were resisted by the King of Scots with steady
perseverance and ultimate success, although the ]iope
countenanced the claims of the English prelates.
It is to be presumed that this spirit would have in-
cited the Scottish monarch to maintain the indejiend-
ency of his kingdom had it ever been called in
question during his reign. Alexander died, April 27,
1124. after a reign of seventeen years and three
months. As he left no is--ue, he was succeeiled Iiy
Ills next and last surviving brother David, so memor-
able for his bounty to the church. Alexander was
also a jiious monarch. AMred, in his genealogy of
the English kings, says of him that "he was humble
and courteous to the clergy, but, to the rest of his
subjects, terrible beyond measure; high-spirited,
always emleavouring to compass tilings beyond his
power; not ignorant of letters; zealous in establishing
churches, ollecting relics, and jiroviding vestments
and b'ciks for the clergy; liberal even to ]-)rofusion,
and taking delight in the offices of charity to the
poor." His donations to tlie church were very con-
siderable. He made a large grant of lands to the
church of St. .Andrews, increased tlie revenue of the
monastery of Dunfermline which his ])arents had
f nm'led, est.iblislied a colony of canons regular at
home, and built a monastery on Lulicolm in the
Firth of Forth, in gratitude fir having been jue-
served from a tempest on that isl.\nd.

ALEXANDER IL. the only legitimate son of
King William, surnamed the /.i>ii, was born in
H9H. He succeeded his father, I )ecember 4. 1214.
in his seventeenth year, and was crowneii next day at
Scone. Alexander H. is characteri/ed by I'ordun as
a i>ious, just, and brave king -as the shield of the
church, the safeguard of the peoj.le, and the friend
of the miserable. He espoused the cause of the
English barons against King John, whidi led to
mutual depredations between the two sovereigns; l)ut

' Vhr- cori.<ic of th-! K.irl of SlirlinK w;is licposit'ifl in :i Ifj.itlcn
coffin in the family aisle in the chiir. li of Stirling;. al«vL-
gr.un'l. an'l rcm.iincri entire fir up'.v ir-Ji of a huiidrcl ycir^.
— I'nrasrapk Jrom an oLl ncwsp^ip^r.

on the accession of Henry HL to the crown of
England, peace was restored; and in 1221 the
friendly intercourse of the two nations was estab-
lished by the marriage of the King of Scotland to
Joan, eldest sister of the King of England. This
princess died in 1238 without issue; and in the
following year Alexander married Mary de Couci,
the scion of a French house, which, in its motto,
disclaimed royally, and rested for distinction on its
own merits:

Je suis ni roi, ni prince aussi —
Je suis le seigneur de Couci.

During the life of Joan the British monarchs came
to no open rupture, their friendly intimacy being
only occasionally interrupted by Henry discovering
a disposition to revive the claim of homage from the
King of Scotland, which had been given up by
Richard L, and by Alexander insisting on his claim
to the three northern counties of England; but
shortly after the death of Joan national jealousies
broke out, and in 1244 both princes raised armies
and prepared fo.' war. By the mediation, however,
of several English barons, hostilities were prevented,
and a peace concluded. Much of Alexander's reign
was occupied in suppressing insurrections of the
Celtic inhabitants of Scotland. He died, A.D. 1249,
in one of the islands of the Hebrides while engaged
in subjecting Angus, the Lord of Argyle, who re-
fused his homage to the Scottish sovereign. He
left by his second wife one son, who is the subject
of the following article.

ALEXAISTDER III., born at Roxburgh, Sep-
tember 4, 1241, succeeded his father in the eighth
year of his age. He was knighted and crowned
only five days after his father's death — a precipita-
tion adopted to prevent the interference of the King
of England. AVhen only a year old Alexander had
been betrothed to Margaret, eldest daughter of
Henry IIL, a princess of his own age; and in 1251
their nuptials were celebrated at York with great
pomp. On the ground of this union Henry inter-
ested himself in the afifairs of Scotland, and the young
prince was a frequent visitor at the court of his father-
in-law. The English monarch, taking advantage of
Alexander's youth and other circumstances, endea-
voured to prevail upon him to do homage for his
crown and kingdom of Scotland; Init the young
king, with a fortitude and prudence beyond his
years, and which gave promise of his future decision,
resisted the demand, saying that he could not treat
of affairs f)f state without the advice of his ])arlia-
ment. During Alexander's minority the country was
divided into factions, and various struggles for ascend-
ancy took j^lace; but the administration was latterly
committed to fifteen of the leading chiefs or barons.
Alexander had reached the twenty-second year of his
age when his kingdom was invaded by one of the
most formidable armaments that had ever sailed from
Norway. I laco, king of that country, with a fleet of
one hundred and sixty ships, freighted with many
thousand northern warriors, who carried terror to
almost all the shin-es of Europe, sailed towards
Scotland in the summer of 1263, and after making
himself master of the Islands of Arran and Bute,
arrived in the Bay of Largs, near the mouth of the
Clyde, and endeavoured to effect a landing. Here
a Scottish army, under Alexander, assembled to re-
sist the invasion; and here, on the 2d of (J)ctober,
after a furee and bloody contest, the Norwegians
were re]iulsed with great loss. A storm arising com-
jileted the dissijiation or destruction of their fleet.
Ilaco escaped with difficulty through the strait

ARCHIBALD ALISON.

29

between Skye and the mainland, since called Kyle
Hacken, and reaching the Orkneys, died there, as
is said, of a broken heart. By this defeat all the
islands of the western sea, including that of Man,
but excepting those of Orkney and Shetland, sub-
mitted to Alexander.

From this period to the death of Alexander, Scot-
land enjoyed tranquillity, only disturbed by the pre-
tensions of the pope and the encroachments of the
clergy, both of which Alexander was successful in
resisting. Religious crusades were at this time the
rage over Europe, and Scotland did not escape the
infection, as many of her bravest barons perished in
Palestine. In 1274 Alexander attended the corona-
tion of his brother-in-law, Edward I., at West-
minster, and after the custom of the times did
homage for the lands which he held of him in
England. Six months after this, Margaret, (^ueen
of Scotland, died, leaving one daughter and two
sons— Margaret, Alexander, and David. David
died unmarried in 128 1. NIargaret was married in
1282 to Eric, King of Norway, and died in the
following year, after giving birth to an infant
daughter, who received her own name. Alexander
was married in 1283 to the daughter of Guy, Plarl of
Flanders, who died in the following year without
issue. Thus, in the course of a few years, was the
unhappy King of .Scotland deprived of his wife and
all his children — the only remaining descendant of his
body being the Maiden of Nor\vay, as she is called
in Scottish history — an infant grandchild residing in
a foreign land. In 1285 .-Mexander, to provide
against the evils of a disputed succession, at the
request of his nobility, married Joletta, daughter of
the Count de Dreux; but shortly after his marriage,
in riding along a precipitous road, between Burnt-
island and Kinghorn, his horse fell over a rock, and
the unfortunate monarch was killed. This event
took place on the i6th of March, 1286, in the forty-
fifth year of his age, and thirty-seventh of his reign.

With Alexander III. terminated a race of kings,
who, from the accession of Malcolm Cean-Mohr or
Canmore, had distinguished themselves by their ac-
tivity in the administration of justice, and their courage
in maintaining the rights and independence of their
country against a powerful, and too often an insidious,
foe. Few annals of a rude people, indeed, can present
a more remarkable series of patriotic monarclis than
those with whom Scotland was blessed from the
middle of the eleventh to the close of the thirteenth
centur\-, whether we consider their wisdom and im-
partiality as legislators, their prudence as politicians,
or their bravery as warriors; for Malcolm the
Maiden, and the terms upon which William the
Lion effected his release from captivity, must only be
considered as exceptions to tlie general excellence
of their conduct. But with the death of Alexander
III. the peace and prosperity of the country was
broken up; and much as he was lamented by the
people, and gloomy as were their forel)odings on his
decease, no anticipation could exceed the real calami-
ties in which the country was involved by his unhappy
and untimely end.

ALISON. Rkv. .\RCi1n5.\1.n, M..\.. I.L.B. This
distinguished writer on "Taste," was born in Edin-
burgh, .\.n. 1757, and was the son of Mr. Andrew
AliM)n, one of the m.igistrates of that citv. When
he had completed the Usual course of an elementar)-
classical education, he w.-is sent, at the age of fifteen,
to tlie university of dlasgow, where, after the usual
curriculum of Latin, Creek, and Logic, he attended
the lectures of Professor Reid, at tliat time in high
met.iphysical reputation, and fonneJ an intiniacv

with Dugald Stewart, which continued to the end
of his life. Having been so fortunate as to obtain
one of those exhibitions to Baliol College of which
the university of Glasgow possesses the patronage,
Archibald Alison removed to Oxford, where he
completed his course of study, and took the degree
of A.M., and afterwards of LL.B. In 1784 he
also took orders, and married the eldest daughter <T
the celebrated Dr. John Gregory of Ediidnirgh.
His first appointment in the church was to the curacy
of Brancepath, in the county of Durham. After
this, he was appointed to the chapelrj- of Kenley in
Shropshire in 1790, and to the vicarage of Ercall in
the same county in 1794, by the Earl of Darlington,
to whom the patronage of both livings belonged;
and in 1797 he was presented to Roddington by the
lord-chancellor. In 1791 also, the small prebend
of Yatminster Secunda, in the cathedral of Saiisbun*-,
was conferred upon him by Bishop Douglas, .^o
many pluralities have an Imposing appearance; but
their aggregate revenue amounted to nothing more
than ;^8oo per annum. Circumstances soon led to
Alison's removal to his native city, having been in-
vited by Sir William Forbes and the vestry of the
Episcopal chapel in the Cowgate of Edinburgh, to
become senior minister of that charge. I le removed
to Edinburgh in 1800, and continued to preach in
the Cowgate, until the congregation removed from
that murky locality to the handsome chapel of .'^t.
Paul's, in York Place. In 1831 .-Mison, now an
old man, and subject to severe attacks of pectoral
disease, was obliged to desist from his public
labours, and confine himself to the private society
of his friends, in which the evening of his days was
tranquil and happy. The high reputation whieh he
had attained both as a preacher and writer, and h!s
amiable personal qualities, endeared him to the most
distinguished literary characters for which Edinburgh
was now at the height of its fame; and he was in
constant intercourse, among others, with Dugald
Stewart, Dr. Gregory, Lord Woodhouselee, Pro-
fessor Playfair, Dr. Thomas Brown, Sir James Hall,
and Thomas Campbell. Besides these, he had been
in familiar acquaintanceship with the illustrious of
the end of the last centuiy, such as L)r. Adam
Smith, Dr. Adam Ferguson, Dr. Robertson, and Dr.
Blair. He \\as indeed the literary Nestor of the
day, who chronicled the remembrances of the great
and good of a past generation for the instniction ci
their successors. Another congenial spirit, thouj^h
in a different walk of intellect, whose society he
especially valued, was Mr. Telford, the celebrated
engineer; and it was pleasing to witness the zc.l
of the veneral;le pair, while Telfortl unfolded Iiis
scientific j^lans for the improvement of their nnti\e
.'^cotland and its fair capital. The death of .Xrthi-
bald Alison occurred in 1839, at the age of eiL^lity-
two. By his wife, who died in 1S30, he had s!x
children, of whom three survived him, and oi-,e "I
them, Sir Archil)al<l .Alison, is kr.nwn to most of m'.r
readers as the autlior of the Il.sicry cf Ii.urc^c j'j\rn
tJw Frcjuh RcvolKtioi.

Of the Rev. Archibald Alison's life .-1? an .'.r.th. r
it is now necessary to sjx-ak. His 7:s:<!_'s i 'V .'-.i'
Xalinr and J^rinci/hs of 'J'tistc, the work I'V \vli cli
he is best known, was publislied s.t early as i7',o.
l)ut attracted little notice. Not di>coura,-eii 1 } tie
cold reception of a suliiect which had 1. rnicd ;!.■.,■
chief study of his !i(V. Alis-n. after he \\:A hetr f r
some years settled in lM;riiur.;!i, rti i::.i -h.td li:s
Essays \s\\\\ consideral ^le addit'ici.s in iSll. He
had nciw ^^. in f.ir hinv-elf a more iavcv.raMe c..~'-s 1 t
readers; and he was su fnrtr.nate .is :■> t::M a ei:l' '_;.-t
iu Francis Jc!'frey. then the Ar;^:.;rd:u. of ciit.cs.

3°

DAVID ALLAN.

and through the Edinburi^h Rcvi\~v, at that time the
paramount oracle of the literar}' world. A very
]X)\verrul and beautiful article forthwith appeared in
that periodical upon the lontj-neglecled work; and
the consLMjuence w.is that the JCssitys immediately
took their place as the stantlard of the Xiitutr aiui
Principlis of TasU. The jiresent generation can
well remember how their boyhooil and youth were
familiarized with it, and how the pulpit and the
press did hom.ige to its authority. liut time has
sobered down thisenlhu>iasm, anil Alison is reckoned
neither to liave invented a new theory (for its lead-
ing idea ha'.l l)een distinctly announced by David
Hume); nor to have sifted it with the most philoso-
phical analysis, or expressed it in the happiest
language. But who shall arrest our fleeting emotions
produced by the sublime and the beautiful, and
reiluce them to such a fixctl standard as all shall
recognize? Longinus, Hiirke, Schlegel, and Alison
have all successively passed away, while the science
of a-sthetics is still accumulating its materials for
future theirists and fresh legislation. The theory
of taste, like that of tiie weather or the tides, is still
the subiect of hypothesis and conjecture. Besides
his principal work of /ijsiiys oit Y'dsU, which has
gone through many editions, both in Britain and
Americ.i, as well as bi.'en translated into French,
Mr. .Mi^on publiNhed two volumes of sermons,
which have aKo been several times republished; and
a "Memoir of Lord Woodhouslee," inserted in the
TraitSiictwns of the Kdinbur:;h Koyal Society, i8l8.
The character of Alison, which is thus given by his
son, was borne out through a long and well-spent
life: — "No m.an who held firm and uncompromising
opinions on the principles of religion and morals,
lo(jked with more indulgence (jn the failings of
other-i, or p.assed through the world in more ]5erfect
charity and good-will to all men. No man who
had lived much in society, could retire with more
sincere pk-a^ure at all periods of his life into domestic
privacy, and into the >olitude of the country. . . .
No man who had attained a higii reputation as a
preacher or an author, was ever more absolutely in-
different to p!>pular a])])lause, as compared with the
con^.ci<)Uine^3 of the performance of duty."

ALLAN, David, a painter of great merit, was
b>rn at .\llo.i, February Ijtii, 1744. lie v.as
the s^)n of Mr. David .v'llaii, >liore-master at that
small port. The mother of .Mian, who>e maiden
name wa-, (iullan, brought him prematurely into
the world, and died a tew days after his birth.' The
young ]jainter had so small a mouth that no innse
could be fiuni in tiie place fitted to give him suck:
at length, nne being heard of, wlm lived at the dis-
tance i.f "-une mile-, he wa. ]i:uked uji in a lia.ket
amidst CMttori. aii<l -ent o!f under the charge of a
man who tarried him on horseback, the journey
being rendered additionally dangemu. by a deep
s;i')W. Tlie hor>e ha]i]iened to slund)le,' the man
fell off. and the tiny b.ilvj wa. ej<-cted from the
basket into the snow, receiving as lie fell a severe
cait u[>on his head. Such were tlie cireuinsianecs
under wh;cli Mr. J)avid Allan 1. onmieiued existence.
Lven after h.iving experienced tiie tender cires (,f
his nurse, mi^firtune continued to harass him. In
the autumn of 1745, wlien he inu-t have been about
eighteen months old, a battery was ereeted at .Mloa,
to defend the jiass.ige of the ionh against the arinv
of I'rincc Ldiarles. While the men were tiring the
cannon f)r experinieiit, the maid intrusted with the
charge of young .Mian ran across the o]K;n s]iace in
fr mt. at the moment when they were dischar'cd,
and he only escaped death by a ha:r-breadth.

His genius for designing was first developed by
accident. 15eing conhned at home with a burned
foot, his father one day said to him, "You idle little
rogue, you are kejit from school doing nothing!
conie, here is a bit of chalk, draw something with it
u])on the floor." He took the chalk, and began to
delineate figures of houses, animals, and other fami-
liar objects; in all of which he succeeded so well
that the chalk was seldom afterwards out of his hand.
When he was about ten years of age, his pedagogue
happeneil to e.xercise his authority over some of
the boys in a rather ludicrous manner: Allan im-
mediately drew a caricature of the transaction upon
a slate, and handed it about for the amusement of
his companions. The master of the ferule, an old
vain conceited person, who used to strut about the
school dressed in a tartan night-cap and long tartan
gown, got hold of the picture, and right soon de-
tected that he himself was the most conspicuous and
the most ridiculous figure. The satire was so keen,
and the laugh which it excited sunk so deep, that
the object of it was not satisfied till he had made a
complaint to old Allan, and had the boy taken from
his school. When cpiestioned by his father how he
had the effrontery to insult his master, by represent-
ing him so ridiculously on his slate, his answer was,
"1 only made it like him, and it was all for fun !"

The father observed the decided genius of his son,
and had the good sense to offer it no resistance. At
this tiirie the establishment of the Messrs. I'^oulis' aca-
demy of arts at Glasgow was making some noise in
the countiy. Allan, therefore, resolved to appren-
tice his son to those gentlemen upon the terms given
out in their prospectus of the institution. On the
25th of February, 1755, when exactly eleven years
of age, the young draughtsman was bound appren-
tice to the ]\Iessrs. Foulis for seven years, to attend
their painting academy in the university of Glasgow.
In Newhall House there is a sketch in oil, done by
him, representing the inside of the academy, with an
exact portrait of Robert Foulis in the act of criticiz-
ing a large picture, and giving instructions to his
l^rincipal painter about it.

In the year 1764 some of his performances at-
tracted the notice of Lord Cathcart, whose seat,
Shaw Park, was situated in Clackmannanshire near
Allt)a. Lady Cathcart introduced him to the notice
of Lady I'' ranees Lrskine, daughter of the insurgent
l'!arl of Mar, and mother of the gentleman to whom
the ]ieerage was restored in 1824; as also to I.ad_\-
Charlotte Lrskine, to Mrs. Al;ercroml)y of Tulli-
body, mother of Sir Ralph; and to some other person-
ages of distinction in the neighbourhood of his birth-
jilace. By the associated jnirses of these kiiul
patrons, Allan was enabled to go to Italy, where he
studied w ith unremitting application for eleven years.
During his lesidence there. Lady Cathcart used to
\uite to him with all the care and affection of a
mother. In 1773, while living at Rome, he gained
the ]irize medal given by the academy of .St. Luke
for the best sjiecimen of historical com|)osili()ri ;
bring the only .Scotchinan who had ever reached
that IioiK.ur, besides Mr. (iavin Hamilton.

-Xfler his return in 1 777, Allan resided for about
two years in London; but, falling into a bad state
of health, he ^\■as <.)rdered home to .Scotland for a
< hange (jf air. Soon after Ids arrival in iMlinburgh,
hewa.s ap]iointed successor to Runciman (deceased),
as master and director of the academy established by
the Board of Trustees for Manufactures and Iiri-
|iroveuieiits, for ihe ])ur])ose of diffusing a knowledge
of the ]irinciples of the fine arts and elegance of
design, ill the various manufactures and works which
re'iuired to be figured and ornamented; a charge for

DAVID ALLAN —

which he was peculiarly well qualified, by the exten-
sive knowledge he possessed of every branch of the
art. He retained the situation till his death.

Allan was much admired for his talents in compo-
sition, the truth with which he delineated nature, and
the characteristic humour which distinguished his
jiictures, drawings, and etchings. There are several
engravings from his pictures, as, "The Origin of
Painting, or the Corinthian Maid Drawing the
Shadow of her Lover," and four in aquatinta by
I'aul Sandby, from drawings made by Allan when
at Rome, representing the sports during the carnival.
.Several of the figures were portraits of persons well
known to the English who visited Rome between
1770 and 1780. There is one caricature by Allan,
which is well known to Scottish collectors : it repre-
sents the interior of a church or meeting-house at
Dunfermline, at the moment when an imprudent
couple are rebuked by the clergyman.. There is a
drollery about the whole of this performance that
never fails to amuse. The alliance of his genius to
that of our national poets, led Allan, in 1788, to
publish an edition of the Gentle Shepherd, with char-
acteristic drawings. He also published a collection
of the most humorous of the old Scottish songs,
each illustrated by a characteristic etching. At his
death, which happened on the 6th of August, 1796,
he left a series of drawings designed for the poems
of Burns in an efjually graphic and humorous style.
There is one property which runs through all the
designs of .\llan, and by which his productions may
be distinguished at the most casual glance: this is a
peculiar elegance of form which he always gives to
the limbs of his figures — elegance to such a degree,
that in many cases it may be pronounced out of
nature.

Allan, by his wife, whom he married in 1788, left
one son, bearing his own name, and who was sent
out as a cadet to India, and one daughter named
Barbara. In jierson, our .Scottish Hogarth, as he
was called, hacl nothing attractive. The misfortunes
attending his entrance into the world were such as
nothing in after-life could repair. "His figure was
a bad resemblance of his humorous precursor of
the English metropolis. He was under the middle
size; of a slender, feeble make, with a long, sharp,
lean, white, coarse face, much pitted by the small-
pox, and fair hair. His large prominent eyes,
(jf a light colour, were weak, near-sighted, and not
very animated. His nose was long an<l high, his
mouth wide, and both ill-shaped. His whole ex-
terior to strangers appeared unengaging, trifling,
and mean; and his deportment was timid and obse-
(juious. The prejudices naturally excited by these
(lisadvantages at introduction, were however dis-
pelled on acquaintance; and, as he liecame easy and
pleased, gradually yielded to agreealile sensations;
till they insensibly vanished, and at last, were not
only overlooked, but, from the effect of contrast,
even heightened the attractions by which they were
so unexpectedly followed. When in company he
esteemed, and which suited his t.aste, as restraint
wore off, liiseye imperceptibly became active, biiglu,
and penetrating; his manner and .address ipiick, lively,
and intere-ling— always kind, polite, and respectful;
his conversati'in open and gay. humorous without
satire, and jihiyfully replete with benevolence, ob-
servation, and ancc'iote."' — ]h\yii'n's edition of the
Gentle Shepherd, iSoS.

The author who thus f )rcibly delineates his ex-
ternal appear.Tnce, gives the following character of
his genius: — "As a painter, at least in his own
country, he neither excelled in drawing, composition,
colouring, nor etfect. Like Hogarth, too, beauty,

GEORGE ALLAN.

3»

grace, and grandeur of individual outline and form,
or of style, constitute no part of his merit. He was
no Corregio, Raphael, or Michael .Vngelo. He
painted portraits as well as Hogarth, belf)W the
middle size; but they are void of all charms of ele-
gance, and of the claro-obscuro, and are recom-
mended by nothing but a strong homely resemblance.
As an artist and a man of genius, his characteristic
talent lay in expression, in the imitation of nature
with truth and humour, especially in the representa-
tion of ludicrous scenes in low life. His eye w.as
ever on the watch for ever)- eccentric figure, every
motley group, or ridiculous incident, out of which
his pencil or his needle could draw innocent enter-
tainment and mirth."

ALLAN, George. This poet and professional
litterateur, whose life unfortunately was too brief to
develope into full maturity the high promise which his
early efforts had given, was the youngest son of J(jhn
Allan, farmer at I'aradykes, near Edinburgh. Hav-
ing adopted the law for his future profession, he be-
came ajiprentice to a writer to the signet; but either
growing weary of dry legal studies, or finding greater
attractions in literature, he abandoned the vocation
almost as soon as he had added W.S. to his name,
and went to London for the purpose of pursuing an
adventurous career as an author. There he soon
obtained the acquaintance of Allan Cunningham, and
Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, who recognized his talents,
and encouraged his literar}' aspirations. But his
strength of nerve and soundness of health did not
correspond with his ardent enthusiasm, so that in
1829 he was fain to accept an appointment in Ja-
maica. The climate of the West Indies not suiting
him, he returned home in the following year, and
soon after obtained the editorship of the Dutnfries
yoitrpial, a respectable newspaper in the Conserva-
tive interests. This situation he continued to hold
for three years with great popularity and success,
when a change in the proprietorship of the news-
paper introduced new measures and a new editor ; and
Allan repaired to lulinburgh, and obtained enqiloy-
ment as litcrarv- assi^tant in the office of the Me>srs.
Chambers. In this situation, while he remained in
it, he was comfortable and happy, \\hile his intel-
lectual energies had full swing; and besides contri-
buting many excellent articles to Chambers' Edii:-
hinxh yonrnal, he wrote extensively in the column-
of the Scotsman newspa]ier. Mr. Allan was al-n
author of a I^ife of Sir ! falter Seott, in one octavo
volume, which enjoyed large jiopularity until it, ^\■ith
its other brethren, was swallowed up by the admirable
memoir written by Lockhart ; and he materially as-
sisted Mr. Beter Macleod in preparing tlie On^:>i,:i
Xational J/elodies 0/ Scotland, to whicli he furn;.-lied
several contributions.

Although still young. Mr. .Mian had aliva-ly ac-
complished so much, and established so l:i']'c:ul a
prospect for the future, tliat in October, I^3I. am;
while only in his 25th year, he ventured <i;i ■■gi\:i\:^'
hostages to fortune." by marrying Mrs, Mary
Hill, a widow, the eldest daughter of Mr. William
I'agan of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan Ciinr.'.r.g-
hain. In 1S34 also, some of his relative-. tbiMiigh
]")oIitical intliience, obtained for him a situ.-.ti' ■!! :n
the stamp-oflice, which insured li;ni a i;i - ierate
competence, but without depriving liini ot iijor-
tanity to jirosecute his literary occii; a::' :-. l''..t
soon at'ter this ]iromis!ng ]M,iiu w.is rea^lu-ii. !.>
career was sud'ieiilv tenninatei. Hi- ir:te.!i- ctual
and ]ioctical ardour had beei". t'"' r.ii;^;; : r t;;e
frame it tenanted; th.e delicate rerv'-us .T^-ani/a-
tion, which had b-th animated ai;d cvA^^ll'.d him,

ROBERT ALLAN-

SIR \VILLL\M ALLAN.

sank under the too close application of his mind;
and he died suddenly at Janeficld, near Leith, on
the 15th of Auijust, 1S35, in the thirtieth year of
his age, leaving behind him a name, both as a prose
writer and a poet, which few so young are fortunate
to establish.

ALLAN, RonKRT. This minor poet, whose
merits however deserve commemoration, was, like
most of his order, of a humble origin, being tlie sou
of a flax-dresser in Kilbarclian, Renfrewshire. He
was born in that vill.age on the 4th November, 1774,
and was the third of a family of ten children. He
followed tlie occu])ation of a muslin weaver; but
having been boru a poet, he relieved his monotonous
occu|utii)n with poetry, so that many of his best
compositions were produced under the regidar click-
ing of his hand-loom. Through his early love of
music and talent for song-writing he became ac-
quainted with tlie poet Tannahill, and lived with
hint on terms of friendly intim.acy. When the Sirot-
tish Minstrel w.as published by K. A. Smith, that
eminent composer set the contributions of Robert
Allan to music; and in 1820 several of Allan's songs
were published in the Ilarp 0/ Kcitf>\-ii<slurc, where
they attracted considerable notice. His popularity
as a writer of songs was n(nv so well established, that
his fricndi thought the time had arrived when his
reputation as a poet might be confirmed, and the
poverty of his K)t amended, by a separate publication
of his own. .Accordingly, a collection of liis poems,
revised by the editorial care of Robert Burns Hardy,
teacher of elocution in Glasgow, was published by
sul)>cription in 1S36; and — unmeritedly, as we think
— proved a failure. Tiiis sufficed to deter him from
any such attemi)t in future.

In the meantime, alllunigh depressed by poverty,
Robert .Mian had married, and was the father of
a numerous family, all of whom were married except
hi-> yinuige-.t s(jn, a ]iortrait-])ainter of great promise,
who had emigrated to the United States. Embittered
by the neglect witli which hi.s poetry had been treated,
and sick of his native country because it was not
governed according to his own political theories, our
poet, now in hi-, sixty-seventh year, resolved to leave
Scotland for ever, and s])end the rest of his days with
his youthful Benjamin in .\merica. (Ireatly against
the wi-h of his friend-;, he sailed to New \'ork; but
the fatigues of the voyage were too much for him,
and he died in that city on the l.^t of June, 1841,
only six ilays after landing.

ALLAN. Sir Wii.mam, R..\., rresi<lont of tlic
Royal >coiti-.h .Academy of Painting. This dis-
tingui-lu-d painter was born at Ldinburgh, in the
year 17S2. and was the son of William .Allan, who
held the humble office of macer in the Court of
Se-.-.ion. Notwith-^landing the circumstances of his
birth, he was de>tined, like other^of the same grade
in Scotland, to uii'h-rgo a classical education, before
his future path in life was selected. Accordingly,
he was sent to the high-school of Ivlinburgli. and
j)laccd under the preceptorship of Mr. William Nicol,
whose inem'iry will descend to posterity more fir
the "|>eck o' maut" which he brewed to sup])Iy one
memorable sitting where Burns was the laureate,
than for all his cla-sjcal attainments, res])i-ctnl)le
though they were. The future artist, however, was
a poor Latin scholar, though .N'icol was a stern and
able teacher. I:i fact, the boy already felt nature
strong within him, sr) that he was sketching the ob-
jects around him with whatever instrument came to
hand, while his class-fellows were occu|)ie'l with thi-
commentaries of Cicsar or the longs and shorts of

Ovid. So keen was this artistic tendency, that the
forms and floor of the class-room were frequently
chalked with his juvenile efforts, while their excel-
lence pointed out the offender who had thus trans-
gressed against academic rule. Another luxury in
which he indulged, was to linger near a group of
boys playing at marbles; and while studying their
attitudes and the expression of their countenances,
he neither thought of the class hour that had elapsed,
nor the punishment that awaited his remissness.
After striving against the bent, Mr. Nicol saw that
he could not transform his pupil into a lover of
Latin and Clreek; but his pupil had long been of the
same opinion. He felt within himself not only his
natural tendency, but a vague conception of the
eminence to which it would lead him; and his usual
reply to jiaternal remonstrance was, "Father, in
spite of all this spending of money in learning Latin,
1 will be a painter." A painter accordingly it was
consented that he should be, but his noviciate in the
profession was sufficiently humble: he was bound
apprentice to a coach-builder in Leith Walk, to
paint the armorial bearings on the panels of carriages.
But Hogarth himself had a less promising com-
mencement. William Allan, although a stripling
not more than thirteen years of age, soon gave such
indications of pictorial excellence, that he was em-
l)loyed in the delicate task of painting certain ana-
tomical preparations at Surgeons' Square Hall. At
the commencement of his labours there, he was
locked up by mistake at night in the room where he
had been occupied all day, and was thus compelled
to spend the hours of darkness amidst the skeletons
and mangled relics of the dead. The hideous effects
upon the imagination of a timid susceptible boy in
such a charnel-house; the sights he saw by the
glimmer of the moon through the crevices of the
window-shutters, and the still more terrible phan-
tasms which his fancy conjured up, formed such a
night of horror as no artist but Fuseli could have
relished. Allan himself was wont at a late stage in
life, and amidst the literary circles of Edinburgh, to
detail tlie particulars of this ghastly bivouac with
a force of description and amount of merriment that
never failed to set the hearers in a roar. It was
making Vorick's skull to speak anew, for tlie mirth
of the present generation.

The high promise of excellence \\hich the coach-
panel ]")ainting of William Allan afforded, so won
upon his employer, that, through the influence of
tlie latter, he was entered in the Trustees' Academy,
\\here he was a pupil for several years; and it is
wcjrlhy of remark that WMlkie entered this school at
the same period with Allan, sat on the same form,
and coi)ied from the same models and drawings.
This circumstance, independently of their mutual
enthusiasm for the art in which tlicy were afterwards
so distinguished, ripened an affection between them
which no jealous rivalry could subsequently disturb.
Their friendship continued unaljated till the close of
Wilkie's life; and Allan was wont, while training
his scholars, to refer to his illustrious fellow-]>u]iil,
as their best model and exam|)Ie. After he had
spent several years in the lessons of the Trustees'
-Academy, wliere he had a faithful and efficient
teacher in Mr. (Iraliam, of whose instructions he
alw,-i_\> .>p(jke with gratitude and respect, Allan went
to Londcjii, and was admitted to the school of the
Roy.il .Academy. On commencing active life, how-
ever, he soon'experienced the difficulties with which
tlie line arts, as a profession, have to contend in the
great inelru])olis of merchandise: his su])eriority was
lint felt with that readiness which his youthful enthu-
siasm iiad anticipated, and the demands upon his

SIR WILLIAM ALLAN.

33

pencil were so few as would soon have been insuffi-
cient to furnish him with a mere subsistence. Like
his countrymen so situated, he resolved to try the
experiment elsewhere, and find or make a home
wherever liis talents could be best appreciated. The
place he selected for trial was Russia, a country still
imperfectly known in general society, and where the
fine arts seemed to have little chance of a cordial
reception, amidst the recent and as yet imperftct
civilization of the people. The boldness of his
choice was also fully matched by scantiness of means
for its execution; for he knew nothing of the Russ
language, was slenderly provided with money, and
had only one or two letters of introduction to some
of his countrymen in St. Petersburg.

Thus inadequately equijiped, the artist-adventurer
threw himself into a career which was ultimately to
lead to fame and fortune. Even the commencement
was attended with a startling omen; for the ship in
which he embarked for Riga was tossed al)out by
adverse winds, and at length driven almost a wreck
into Memel. Thus, contrary to his purpose, Allan
found himself the temporary inh.ibitant of a sea-port
town in Prussia, in the midst of a people to whose
tongue he was a stranger, and with pecuniary re-
sources which a few days would exhaust. Still,
however, his stout heart triumphed over the difficulty.
Having settled himself at an inn, he commenced in
due form tlie occupation of portrait painter, and had
for his first sitter the Danish consul, to whom he had
been introduced by the captain of the vessel that
brought him to Memel. Other sitters followed; and
having thus recruited his exhausted purse, he resumed
his original purpose of travelling to Russia, which
he did by land, passing, on his way to St. Petersburg,
througli a considerai)le part of the Russian army,
which was at that time on its march to the field of
Austerlitz. At St. Petersburg he found an effectual
patron in his countryman, Sir Alexander Crichton,
physician to the imperial family, to whom he was
warmly recommended by Colonel Crichton, the
jihysician's brother, one of his early patrons in Scot-
land, and by .Sir Alexander he was introduced to an
extensive antl fashionable circle of society, wliere his
artistic talents were appreciated, and his opportu-
nities for their improvement furthered. To accom-
plish that improvement, indeed, was so strongly the
desire of his ardent enthusiastic mind, that neither
the motives of personal comfort and safety, nor the
attractive society of the Russian capital, could with-
hold him from a course of adventurous self-denying
travel. lie therefore repaired to the Ukraine,
where he resided for several years, studying the wild
scenery of the steppes, and the still wilder costume
and manners of its inhabitants, with a fearless and
observant eye. He also made occasional journeys
to Turkey and Tartary, as well as to the remote
dependencies of the Russian emi)ire, dwelling in llie
hut of the barbarian serf, or the tent of the wander-
ing nomade, as well as the palace of the boyar and
the emir; and amidst the picturesque tribes' of the
ea.4 and north, with whom he thus freely fraternized,
he enjoyed a daily intercourse with those whom his
le^s adventurous brethren at home are contented to
delineate from the narratives of the traveller or the
waking dreams of the studio. The large collection
which .Mian made of the dresses, armour, weai)ons,
and utensils of ilie various communities among whom
he sojourned, an 1 the life-like case and fidelity of
f )rm, feature, and costume, by which the figures of
his princijial paintings are distinguished, attest how
carefully and how completely he had identified him-
self with Russian. Turk, ami Pule, with Cossack,
Circassian, and Pash.kir. It is much to be regretted

VOL. I.

that he kept no journal of the many stirring scenes
he witnessed, and the strange adventures he under-
went in this novel pilgrimage in quest of the sublime
and the beautiful. That they were pregnant with
interest and instruction, and worthy of a permanent
record, was well evinced by the delight with which
his hearers were wont to listen to his c<jnvi.rsational
narratives, when he happened — which was but rarely
—to allude to the events of his travels. I Ic ai)])ears
also to have become an especial favourite with those
rude children of the mountain and the desert among
whom he sojourned, and whose language, dress, and
manners he adopted, so that he is still rememl)ered
by the old among them as an adopted son or brother,
while in Poland the usual name by which he is
distinguished is Ic Raphael Jicossais — the Scottish
Raphael.

After this romantic apprenticeship, in which he
established for himself a high reputation as a painter
among foreigners, while he was still unknown at
home, Allan resolved, in 1812, to return to his native
land. But the invasion of Russia by Napoleon
obliged him to postpone his purpose; and in addition
to the large stock of ideas which he had alreadv
accumulated for future delineation, he was comjielled
to witness, and treasure up rememljrances of, the
worst effects of war upon its grandest scale — Idood-
shed, conflagration, and famine maddening ever,-
human passion and feeling to the uttermost. On
the restoration of peace in 1814, Allan returned to
Edinburgh after a ten years' absence, and commenced
in earnest the work for which he had undergone so
singular a training. His first effort, which was
finished in 1815, and exhibited in .Somerset House,
was his well-known painting of the "Circassian
Captives;" and after this followed the "Tartar
Banditti," "Haslan Gherai crossing the Kuban,"
"A Jewish Wedding in Poland," and "Prisoners
conveyed to Siberia by Cossacks." But, notwith-
standing the now highly established reputation of
these and other productions, which he exhibited in
his native city, along with the costumes and weapons
of the countries by which his paintings were illus-
trated, a home rejnitation was very hard to establish:
his countrymen, with their proverbial caution, were
slow to perceive the excellences that addressed
them in such an unwonted form, and refused to
sympathize, at first sight, with Poles, Tartars, and
Circassians. It was well, therefore, for Allan that
his labours had already been prized in Russia, so
that he had not been allowed to return home emjity-
handed. He persevered with the same boldness
that had carrietl him onward through the encamp-
ments of the Calmucks or the defiles of the Cauca>u>;
and to all the remonstrances of his relations, who
advised him to leave such unprofitable work and
betake himself to jxirtraits, by which he would gai:i
both fame and money, his invariable answer was.
"I will be a historical painter." His ]ier>eve!aiKe
was at last rewarded. .Sir Waller .Scott. Ji'hn
Lockhart, and John Wilson, with other.--, who were
able to ajipreciate the artist's merits, cunibiiicd tn
purch.ase the "Circassian Ca]nive>" at a ]t:cl-
adeijuate to its value; and having t'.one thi-, thr
individual possession of the painting was (icci'lc'i
among them by lot, in consequence of which i".
became the property of the l-'.arl of \\\iny--.
"Haslan (iherai"and the '•Siberian ]-.\:!i.> .al-'
fiuiiil a munificent ]nu-cha>er in the (.r.ii.i; I '■..kc
Nicholas, late P.mperor of Rus.-ia, wb.cn Ik v;-;:e'I
the Scottish cajiital. Tl:e tide liad t!u:- cl-.n'.gi'i:
and it bore him on to fortur.e, rot only 1:1 ;t..,::ii;.iry
matters, but to what lie h.ad >ti!I m.^rc .v. \\y-.r\ li.c
e.-tal'li-hment of his re- utalioii a? .1 ."-co;-.;-h \ ainler

3

34

SIR WILLIAM ALLAN.

)f histor)'. Although they are so well known, the
following list of his principal productions may here
be fitly introduced: —

The Slave Market at Constantinople —
purchased by Alexander Hill, Esij., and now the
property of Miss Davidson of Durievale, Fife.

John Knox admonishing Mary Queen of
Scots. — This is the well-known scene described by
the Reformer himself, in which the beautiful queen,
irritated by his bold sentiments about the limited
power of sovereigns, and the liberty of their subjects,
burst into tears.

The Ori'IIAN, a scene at Abbotsford, in the
interior of .Sir Walter Scott's breakfast-room.

The Meetinc; of David Deans with his
Dai'ghter Jeanie at Roseneath. In the tale
of the Heart of Mid- Lothian, Sir Walter Scott, after
describing the dress, look, and attitude of the stern
old father, adds, ".^o ha])pily did they assort
together, that, should I ever again see my friends
Wilkie or .Mian, I will try to borrow or steal from
them a sketch of this very scene." This was a fair
challenge, which .Mian gladly accepted, and the
picture of the meeting at Roseneath was the result.

The Regent Mlrrav shot uv Hamilton of
BoTHWELLllAlGH. — In this great event of Scottish
histon.', the painter, instead of confining himself to
the strict historical record, has adopted the poetical
description of ."-iir Walter Scott in his ballad of
Cadzcni'. This gave the artist an opportunity of in-
troducing several personages who were not present
at the scene, such as Jo'.in Knox and the Earl of
Morton.

The Mirder of David Rizzio.

The Fair .Maid of I'erth.— The scene is that
in the glover's house, when Henry of the Wynd was
suddenly awoke on Valentine's morn by the bashful
salute of the fair object of his affections, according
to the established custom of the festival.

The Hatti.e of Preston pans. — The central
and chief object in this painting is the death of
Colonel Gardiner, amidst the small handful of
English infantry whom he joined when his cavalry
had deserted him.

The Ettrick Shepherd's Birthday. — In this
painting, the portraits of the princip.al friends of the
artist and poet are introduced within the interior of
Jl'^'Sg^ hou>e .at Eltrive, after a day spent in trouting
and rambling among the mountains.

The Deaih <if .VKrniiisHop Sharpe.

.•\ rREss-ClANG. — The terrible and heart-rending
fi'ielity and p'nvcr of this delineation have always
jilaced it in tlie f )remost rank of .Ml.an's artistic pro-
ductions. A young man, the son of a fisherman, has
just returned from a long voyage in a merchant ship,
and l)ccn welconicl l>y his i)arents, relatives, and
mistres'i: the triumphant feast is ])rcpare<l, and the
happiness of the jiarty has rtrached its height, when
a prcs>-gang suddenly rudies in, and the sailor-bov
is within their gra^j), and about to be carried off.
The agony of the i)arcnt-,; the fruitless attempt of
the mother to l)rilte the leader of the gang; the
stupor of the aged grandfather and grandmother,
with whom this seems to Ih- the last, as well ns the
most crushing afilicti<;n which a long-s[)ent and now
worn-f)Ut life coidd have in store for them -and
saddest <-f all, the half-dresserl maiden who lias
hurried to welcome her lover's return, hut onlv to
lose him, and who has fallen into an iusensihilitv
that might be mistaken for death — cijm])ose a group
of misery which art has seld<jm c'luallcil, and
})erhaps never surpassed.

These arc but a few of .Mian's many production^,
which were prized by competent judges as master-

pieces of historical painting, and the greater part of
which have been familiarized to the public at large
through the medium of engraving. His labours,
however, were more than once interrupted from ill
health; and at last, a complaint in the eyes sus-
pended his exertions for several years, and threatened
to end in total blindness. By medical advice he
went to Italy; and after sojourning a winter at
Rome, and spending a short time in Naples, he
visited Constantinople, Asia Minor, and Greece, and
returned with recruited health to his beloved studio
in Edinburgh. He became once more a traveller in
1834, being desirous of visiting the romantic and
historical scenery of Spain. His journey on this
occasion extended into Western Barbaiy, and would
have been still further lengthened, but for a sudden
necessity of returning home, after which he con-
tinued to produce many of his best paintings. A
desire also to paint the battle of Waterloo led him
several times to France and Belgium, that he might
collect sufficient materials in costume, scenery, and
incident, and study accurately the field of conflict.
The result was a magnificent view of this great com-
bat of nations, »vhich, at the exhibition of the Royal
Academy in 1843, ^^'^s purchased by the Duke of
Wellington, who testified his approbation of its
truth and accuracy. Allan had now done enough
for fame and fortune, both as artist and traveller;
but in 1844 he again grasped his pilgrim's staff for
a journey into the far north. He visited Russia,
and there produced his painting of "Peter the Great
teaching his subjects the art of Ship-building;" which,
after being exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1845,
was purchased by the Emperor of Russia, for the
winter palace of St. Petersburg. In consequence of
the success of his first painting of Waterloo, he
resolved on producing a second; and, as the former
was delineated as viewed from the French side of the
action, the latter was from the British. Indepen-
dently also of the stirring nature of the subject, his
personal as well as patriotic feelings were engaged
in this fresh effort, for it was intended for the com-
petition of Westminster Hall in 1846. Great, how-
ever, as were its mei'its, it was unsuccessful. It was
afterwards purchased by the Junior United .Service
Club in London, of whose splendid rooms it now
forms a conspicuous ornament. The public honours
which had already rewarded him, might indeed
sufficiently console him under this disa]ipointment ;
for in 1826 he was elected an associate of the Rc)yal
-•\cademy, and in 1835 ^'^ academician. Four
years later, on the death of Watson, he was unani-
mously preferred to the office of president of the
Royal Scottish Academy; and in 1842, after having
been appointed her majesty's limner for Scotland on
the death of Wilkie, he received the honour of
knighthood. He was now also the venerable father
of Scottish painting, and could look around him
with ]:)leasure upon a race of jiromising artists whose
genius his exam]de and labours had kindled in
a de]iartment which, as yet, his countrymen had
almost wholly neglected.

The last jirofessional labour in which Sir \\'il]iam
Allan was engaged was the "Battle of Bannocklnirn.''
into the difficult and comjdicated details of which he
entered with all the insjiiration and vigour of his
best days. The ]K'riod of action selected was the
critical moment when the English, daunted by the
discomfiture of their bowmen, the overthrow of their
s].lendid cavalry am<jng the concealed ]iits, and the
ap])earance of what seemed a fresh Scottish army
descending from the Gillie's Hill, gave w.iy on every
side, and were prc-sed and borne down by the rc^ist-
less effort of the four Scottish bodies, now united

CHARLES ALSTON

into one, with the heroic Bruce at their head. But
this painting, to which he clung to the last, and
touched and retouched with a dying hand, he did
not live to finish, lie died at his house in Great
King Street, Edinburgh, on February 23, 1850. As
a painter. Sir William Allan will long be gratefully
remembered in the annals of Scottish art, for the
impulse which he gave to historical composition.
For this department he was eminently fitted; for his
excellence in painting did not so much consist in
character and colour, as in his admirable power in
telling a story and his general skill in composition,
by which each of his productions is a striking poeti-
cal narrative. Sir Walter Scott, a congenial spirit,
who highly prized and affectionately loved him, was
wont to speak of him under the familiar endearing
name of "Willie Allan."

ALSTON, Charles, M.D., an eminent botanist,
was bom in 1683, in Lanarkshire, and spent his
early years at Hamilton Palace, under the patronage
of the Duchess of Hamilton. Her grace wished him
to study the law, but he preferred botany and medi-
cine, and accordingly, in 1 7 16, set out for Leyden,
where those sciences were at that time taught by the
illustrious Boerhaave. Here he found a great num-
ber of young Scotsmen engaged in the same pursuit,
and all inspired with an uncommon degree of en-
thusiasm in their studies, which they had cauglit from
their master. Alston, after taking his degree as
<loctor of physic, returned to his native country, and
began to practise in Edinburgh. He obtained the
sinecure oftice of king's botanist, through the influence
of the Duke of Hamilton, heritable keeper of Holy-
rood House, to which tlie garden was attached. This
garden he enriched by large collections which he had
ra.ade in Holland, where botanical science was then
more highly cultivated than in any other country in
Europe. In 1720, notwithstanding that a botanical
class was taught in the college iiy a professor of
eminence named Preston, he began a course of
lectures in tlie king's garden. Preston at length
waxing old, Alston was, in 1738, chosen to succeed
him, as ]irofessor of botany and materia medica
united. He was exceedingly laborious in his duties
as a professor, giving a course on botany every
summer, and one on materia medica every winter;
and never sparing any pains which he thought could
be conducive to the jjrogress of his pupils. The
celebrated Dr. Fothergill, in his character of Dr.
Russell, bears ample testimony to the assiduity of
Dr. Alston, who had been his master; and describes
in glowing language the benefit which those who
attended him had the means of reaping, his caution
in s]ieculation, and how laborious he was in experi-
nient. For the assistance of his pupils, he published,
about 1740, a list of the officinal plants cultivated in
the Edinburgh medical garden. Of Linnajus's sys-
icm, which was first promulgated in 1736, Dr. .\lston.
like many other jihilosophers of his daV, was a steady
opponent. He jiublished a paper against it, on the
sexes of plants, in the first volume of Physical and
Literary J-'.ssays, a miscellany which was commenced
at Edinl)urgh in 1751. The controversy which took
place at that period among>t naturalists has now lost
all its interest, seeing that the method of Linna.'u-;.
after serving a useful jiurpose, has been superseded
by the natural system, to the foundation of which
Linnanis in no small degree contributed, liut which
it was left to Jussicu and De Candolle to mature.
Dr. .\lst(}n also contributed some articles to an
Edinburgh miscellany entitled Medical Kssavs; the
most important is one on o]iium. In 1753 he
published an introduction to Dr. Patrick Blair's

ALEXANDER ANDERSON.

35

Index Afaterice Medica, a work which resembled his
own index in a considerable degree. This introduc-
tion was a separate work, and was entitled Tyroci-
nium Botanieum Edinburi^ense. Dr. Alston, as the
contemporary of the first .\Ionro, and professor of a
kindred branch of science, was by no means unworthy
of either his time or his place. He must be con-
sidered as one of those who have contributed to
the exaltation of the college of Edinburgh as a
school of medical science. He died on the 22d
of November, 1760, in the seventy-seventh year of
his age.

ANDERSON, Adam, author of the largest
British compilation upon commercial histor)-, was a
native of Scotland, bom about the year 1692. Hav-
ing removed to London, he was for forty years a
clerk in the .South Sea House, and at length was
appointed chief clerk of the stock and new annuities
in that establishment, in which situation he continued
till his death. He was appointed one of the trustees
for establishing the colony of Georgia, by charter
dated June 9th, 5 Geo. H. He was also one of the
court of assistants of the Scots corporation in Lon-
don. In 1762 he published his work entitled A
Histcrrical and C/irottological Deduction of the Origin
of Commerce, from the earliest acccnints to the present
time; containitig a history of the large commercial in-
terests of the British Empire, &.C., London, 2 vols.
folio. The elaborate character of this work says
much for the industry of the author. It was sub-
sequently improved in a new edition by David
Macpherson, 4 vols, quarto; and a manual abridg-
ment of the work may still be considered a want in
our literature. Mr. Anderson died soon after he
had given it to the world, January- loth, 1 765, at
the age of seventy-three.

ANDERSON, Alexam)?:r, a ver)^ eminent
mathematician, bom at Aberdeen, near the close of
the sixteenth centurv'. How or where he acquired
his mathematical education is not known; he pro-
bably studied belles-lettres and philosophy in his
native university. He comes into notice at Paris,
early in the seventeenth centurj-, as a private teacher
or professor of mathematics. In that city, between
the years 1612 and 1619, he publi>hed or edited
various geometrical and algebraical tracts, which are
conspicuous for their ingenuity and elegance. It is
doulnful whether he was ever acquainted with the
famous Vieta, master of requests at Paris, who died
in 1603; but his pure taste and skill in mathematical
investigation pointed him out to the executors of that
illustrious man — who had found leisure, in the inter-
vals of a laborious profession, to cultivate and extend
the ancient geometn.-, and by adojiting a system <'l
general symbols, to lay the foundation, and begin the
su]ierstnicture of algebraical science — as the jier-oii
most proper for revising and jiuhlishing his valiialile
manuscripts. Anderson, however, did not coiitme
himself to the duty of a mere editor; he enriched the
text with learned comments, and gave neat demon-
strations of those i^rojiositions which had been lei:
imperfect. He afterwards jiroduced a sixcinien . 1
the application of geometrical analy-.i-.. which :-
distinguished by its clearness and cla>-ic ele^Mnee.

The works o'f this eminent ]'er>on .iniount t" ~a
thin quarto volumes, now very >carce. I he-e ate
I. Stipplemcntum Ap^'llcuii Red:::::: s:: c ,:>::;.
probletiiatis hactcuus dcsidcratt cd .Ip :,.>::: /'. ., ■
dt'ctrinain trepi fficreu'i' i; Mar:!:r i,''.\:\:..:. }'.::■::.
Regiisino hii/usi/HC u^^n i!a pridnn ni. '^tutrii':. \k.:
Pari-;. i6l2.'4to. Tlii- tr.ict refer- t^ the ii'Miin
of inclinations, bv v.hich. in ceriain i..i-e~. the ."a J-.-

36

CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON.

cation of the cun'e called the conchoid is superseded.
2. Atrto\o7ta: Pro Zetctico Apolloniani problcinatis a
se jam fridem edito in supplemcnio Apollonii Redriiiz'i.
Being an addition to the former work: Paris, 1615,
4to. 3. The edition of the works of Vieta: Paris,
1615, 4to. 4. Ad Angiilartim Scctioncm Aualytica
Thcorctnata KaOoXiKurrepa, &c. : I'aris, 16 1 5, 4to.

5. {'indicia' Arc/iimcdis, Sec: Paris, 1616, 4to.

6. Alcxandri Andcrsoni Scoti Excrcitationum Mat he-
maticarum Dccas Prima, &c. : Paris, 1619, 410.
All these pieces of this excellent geometrician are
replete with the finest specimens of pure geometrical
exercises that have ever perhaps been produced by
any authors, ancient or modern. Hcsides these,
literary history is not aware of any other publications
by .\nderson, though probably there may have been
others. Indeed, from the last piece it fully ai)pears
tiiat he had at least written, if not published, another,
viz. A Treatise on the Mensuration of Solids, perhaps
with a reference to gauging; as in several problems,
■where he critically examines the treatise of Kepler
on cask-gauging, he often refers to his own work on
stereometn,'.

The subject of this memoir was cousin-german
to^Mr. David Anderson, of Finshaugh, a gentle-
man who also possessed a singular turn for mathe-
matical knowledge, and who could apply his ac-
quirements to so many useful purposes that he was
popularly known at Aberdeen by the name of Davie
Do-a'-things. He accjuired prodigious local fame by
removing a large rock which had formerly obstructed
the entrance to the harl>our of Aberdeen. Mathe-
matical genius seems to have been in some degree
inherent in the whole family; for, through a daughter
of Mr. David Anderson, it reached the celebrated
James Gregory, inventor of the retlecting telescope,
who was the son of that lady, and is said to have re-
ceived from her the elements of mathematical know-
ledge. From the same lady was descended the late
Dr. Reid of Olasgow, who was not less eminent for
his acquaintance with the mathematics than for his
metaj)hy.sical writings.

ANDERSON, CitRiSTOPiiF.R. This excellent
divine, whose wliole life was an uninterrupted career
of conscientious painstaking activity and useful-
ness, was born in the \Ve>t How, Edinburgh, on the
19th of February, 17S2. Being intended for business,
he was entered as junior clerk in a friendly insur-
ance office; but at the early age of seventeen, having
joined the religious body called Indejicndents, and
two years afterwards that uf the English Baptists,
he relinquished his i)rofital)!e clerkship tiiat he might
devote himself tcj the ministerial office over that small
community in lOdinburgh who held his own religious
doctrines. I'"or this ])uri)()se he underwent a liastv
course of study in the university of i;(Hnburgh, which
he completed with almost equal speed at the Baptist
colleges fjfOlney and Bristol, where a twelvemonth's
study of theology was alternated with tiie jiractice of
preaching as an itinerating missionary; and having in
this way qualified himself for the work he originallv
contemplated, he returned to IMinburgh and devoted
himself to the little connmmity that had waited his
arrival. His commencement in the .Scottish metro-
polis, where learned and elofpient ministers ,ire so
abundant and so highly prized, was ns unjiroinisinn- as
his educational training: his usual audience in tiie
small chapel he had hired for the occasion consisted of
from fifty to seventy hearers, while the regular mem-
bers of his flock amounted to fourteen or fifteen
persons, and his call to be their minister exhibited ihe
signatures of not more than thirteen names. So small
a beginning, however, is no measure of the capacitv

of dissenterism under the guidance of a popular
preacher; and his congregation increased until the
small chapel could not hold them, so that they were
obliged to remove to a larger. And while thus suc-
cessful, his labours were not confined to his own par-
ticular locality. He itinerated as an occasional mis-
sionary over several parts of the United Kingdom,
bestowing not only his labours but his money in the
establishment of a home mission in the Highlands;
and in 1810 he originated the Edinburgh Bible
Society, an institution that combined the clergy of
Scotland of almost every denomination into one
body of religious action.

The Rev. Christopher Anderson had now become
a man of considerable note in Edinburgh; and it
speaks much for his diligence and zeal that, notwith-
standing his scanty education, he had been able to
make way among the learned and accomplished, and
become a leader among them in the field of Chris-
tian enterprise. But his natural capacities were
excellent, while his course of action seemed the fittest
school for maturing and improving them. Thus suc-
cessful as a minister, it was natural that such a man
should attempt the work of authorship; and for this
an occasion was soon presented. During his itiner-
ating missionary tours Ireland had fallen within his
range; and from the experience which he acquired of
that country during a considerable sojourn there in
1 8 14, he was induced to publish A Memorial in behalf
of the Native Irish, with a vieiu to their Improz'evtent
in A/oral and Religions Knoi.vledge through the vied-
ium of their 07vn Language. At first it was only
a small pamphlet, but he afterwards expanded it into
a duodecimo volume. Another such attempt was
occasioned by his laying before the Edinburgh Bible
Society, in 1819, a MS. entitled A Memorial respect-
ing the Diffnsioji of the Scriptures, particularly in the
Celtic or Iberian Dialects. His statements on this sub-
ject were judged so important that the society re-
quested him to publish them; and on complying with
their desire, the effect of this production was to in-
crease the exertions for the diffusion of Irish and
(jaelic Bibles beyond all former example. This work
he afterwards enlarged under the title of The A\^tivc
Irish and their Descendants. But besides thus direct-
ing the public attention to the religious wants of
Ireland and the Highlands, Mr. Anderson's author-
ship was called to a subject of domestic and personal
interest. His beloved wife had died: his family of
two sons and three daughters had also passed suc-
cessively away; and these afllictions, by which
he was left alone in the world, had brought on not
merely the appearance, but also the infinnities, of
a premature old age. It was during these heavy
successive calamities, and before the grave had finally
closed upon every member of the family, that he sat
down to console himself by the labours of his pen,
and produced The Domestic Constitution ; or the
/■'aini/v Circle the Source and I'est of National
Stability.

But the chief literar)' production of Mr. Anderson
was The Annals of the English Bible; and, like his
earlier attempts in authorshi]i, it originated in
accident, and was ex]ianded by after-reflection. At
tile tliird centenary of Coverdale's translation of the
Bilile in 1835 he ])reached a sermon on the subject;
and as he had bestowed much attention on it, his
facts Were so new and his views so important to
many of his audience, that they requested him to
jiuiilish the discourse. It was accordingly jnibiished
under the title of I'lie English .Scriptures, their fint
l\c<eplu>u and Effects, including Memorials of Tytidalc,
Enlh, Co-'crilale, and Rogers. The production was
so favourably received by the public that he was re-

JAMES ANDERSON.

37

quested to reproduce it in a more ample form; and
on assenting, he soon found that the task would re-
quire the study not merely of weeks but of years. Un-
dismayed, however, by such a prospect, he addressed
himself to the task; and from the years 1837 to 1845
his researches were prosecuted in the library of the
liritisJi Museum, the Bodleian at Oxford, the univer-
sity library and others at Cambridge, the Baptist
Museum at Bristol, besides numerous private sources,
from all of which he culled such information as filled
several bulky volumes of note-books. But when the
Annuls 0/ the Bible was published the public curiosity
had abated, or been directed into new channels; and
even tliose who felt most interest in the subject were
dismayed at the voluminous dimensions in which it
was presented to their notice. So far therefore as
immediate success was concerned, the work was
a literarj- failure; and no occasion has since occurred
to revive it into popularity. But it is not the less
a valuable production, from which, as from a store-
house, the theologian can at once get those necessary
materials which he would be compelled to seek over
a wide and difficult field of investigation. After
a life of such active usefulness as missionary, minister,
founder and secretary of religious associations, corres-
pondent with foreign missions, and author, the Rev.
Christopher Anderson died at Edinburgh on the l8th
of February, 1852, within a single day of completing
the seventieth year of his age.

ANDERSON, Jamf.s, an eminent antiquary, was
the son of the Rev. Patrick Anderson, who had been
ejected for nonconformity at the Restoration, and
who afterwards suffered imprisonment in the Bass for
preaching in a conventicle at Edinburgh. The sub-
ject of this memoir was born in Edinburgli, August
5th, 1662, and in 1677 is found studying philosophy
in the university of that city, where, after finishing
a scholastic education, he obtained the degree of
Master of Arts on the 27th of May, 1680. He chose
the law for his profession, and, after serving an ap-
prenticeship under Sir Hugh Paterson of Bannock-
burn, was admitted a member of the society of writers
to the signet in 1691. In this branch of the legal
profession the study of written antiquities in some
measure forces itself upon the practitioner; and it
appears that .A.nderson, though a diligent and able
man of business, became in time too fond of the
accessory employment to care much for the principal.
A circumstance which occurred in 1704 decided his
fate by tempting him into the field of antiquarian con-
troversy. The question of the union of the two coun-
tries was then very keenly agitated — on the one side
with much jealous assertion of the national indepen-
dency— and on the other, with not only a contempt
for the boasts of the Scots, but a revival of the old
claims of Englaml for a superiority or paramouncy
over their country. A lawyer named .Vttwood in

1704 published a pamphlet in which all the exploded
pretensions of Edward I. were brought prominently
into view, and a direct dominion in the crown of Eng-
land asserted over that of Scotland. Yox this work,
Mr. .\nderson, thougli altogether unknown to Mr.
Attwooil, was cited as an evidence and eye-witness
to vouch some of tiie mo-.t important original charters
and grants by the kings of Scotland, which .\tlwood
maintained were in favour of the point he laboured
to establish. Mr. Anderson, in consequence of such
an appeal, thought himself bound in duty to his
country to publish what he knew of the matter, and
to vindicate some oi the be>t of the Scottish kings,
who were accused by Attwood of a b.ose and volun-
tary surrender of their sovereignty. Accordinglv, in

1705 he published An Essay, sluncin^ that the C remit

of Seotland is Imperial and Independent, Edinburgh,
8vo, which was so acceptable t(i his country, that,
besides a reward, thanks were voted to him by par-
liament, to l)e delivered by the lord-chancellor, in
presence of her majesty's high commissioner and the
estates, at the same time that Attwood's book, like
others of the same nature, was ordered to Ijc burned
at the cross of Edinburgh by the hands of the com-
mon hangman. Mr. Anderson's publication is now
of little value, except for the charters attached to it
in the shape of an appendix.

This affair was the crisis of Anderson's fate in life.
He had, in the course of his researches for the essay,
collected a large mass of national papers: the studv
of charters was just then beginning to be appreciated
by antiquaries; the enthusiasm of the nation was
favourable, for the moment, to any undertaking
which would show the ancient respectability of its
separate system of government. Under all these
circumstances Anderson found it easy to secure the
patronage of the Scottish estates towards a design for
engraving and publishing a series of fac-similes of the
royal charters previous to the reign of James E, and
of seals, medals, and coins, from the earliest to the
present time. In November, 1 706, he had a parlia-
mentary grant of £'>po towards this object. He then
proceeded vigorously with the work, and in March,
1707, had not only expended the ;^300 granted by
parliament, but ;^590 besides, which he had drawn
from his own funds. A committee reported the facts;
and the estates, while they approved of his conduct,
recommended to the queen to bestow upon him an
additional contribution of ;,^io5o sterling. Another
parliamentary act of grace — and one of the verj-
last proceedings of the Scottish estates — was to re-
commend him to the queen "as a person meriting
her gracious favour, in conferring any office or tnist
upon him, as her majesty, in her royal wisdom, shall
think fit."

Quite intoxicated with this success, Anderson now
gave up his profession, and, resolving to devote him-
self entirely to the national service as an antiquary,
removed to London, in order to superintend the pro-
gress of his work. The event only added another
proof to what is already abundantly clear — that
scarcely any prospects in the precarious fields of
literature ought to tempt a man altogether to resign
a professional means of subsistence. The money
voted by the expiring parliament is said to have
never been jiaid; — the British senate perha])s con-
sidering itself not the proper heir of the Scottish
estates. Apparently in lieu of money, he was
favoured, in 1 71 5, with the appointment of post-
master-general for Scotland; but of this he was de-
prived in little more than two years. What iirogrc>s
lie now made with his great work is not very clearly
known. He is found in 171S adverli>ing that tho>e
who might wish to encourage it '"could see specimens
at his house, above the post-office in Edinlnirgh."
As the expense of engraving must have borne hard
upon his diminished resources, he would api-ear lo
have digressed for some years into an enqiloymeiu
of a kindreil nature, attended with greater faLiiiiie>
of publication. In 1727 he pul)Ii>hed the tw.i t):>t
volumes of his well-known Colh-cticriS rc'dfin^- .\' '■:■:
History cf Mar\\ Qticen of Scotland, Kdinluu-h. 4:".
which was speedily completed by tlie additi'^n y\ two
other volumes. This work contains a Iai:;e ir,.i--
of valuable original docuineirL> ci>nnec:ed \\:.\\ :l;e
Marian controver.-y; but (.iec'rge Chal!ner>. \v Im \\dit
over the same ground, insinuates that there > t<io
much reason to ,-u>]X'ct hi> hone>ty a- a ; ra:'.~L r;;>er.
If the prejudices of tlie two men are fairly lialanced
against the reputations \\hicli they re-;'eet;\e.y bear

38

JAMES ANDERSON.

as antiquaries, we must acknowledge that the charge
may not be altogether groundless.

Anderson died in 1728 of a stroke of apoplexy,
leaving his great work unfinished. The plates were
sold in 1729 by auction at ;^53o, and it was not till
1737 that the work appeareil, uniler the title of
SWc'i/us Diplomatum d Xumismatum Scotiic The-
sauriis, the whole being under the care of the cele-
brated Thomas Ruddiman, who added a most elabor-
ate preface.

ANDERSON, Jamks, D.D., author of a large
and useful work, entitled Koyal Genealoi^es, was
the brother of .\dam Anderson, author of the Con-
vurcial Htstory. He was for many years minister
of the Scots Presbyterian church in Swallow Street,
Piccadilly, and was well known among the jwople
of that persuasion in London by the nickname of
"Hishop .Anderson." lie was a learned but im-
prudent man, and lost a considerable ]iart of his pro-
perty by rash speculations in the South .Sea scheme.
His great work as an author was Koyal Genealogies,
or the Geiualogical Tables of Emperors, Kings, and
Princes, from Adam ( ! ) to these Times, London,
folio, 1732. The compilation of this huge work, in
which he was aided by many eminent personages,
whose families entered into its plan, cost him, accord-
ing to his own account, the labour of seven years.
It is certainly the comi^letest work of the kind in
existence, though with no pretensions to discrimina-
tion. The author says very frankly in his preface,
that "he hxs avoided all terms and expressions that
may give offence to any nation or family, to any
person or party; having nothing to do with the
national controversies of historians, nor with the ec-
clesiastical and religious debates of theologians, nor
with the politics of statesmen, nor with the private
jangles of the critics in a work of this kind, but only
with facts and //(//// truth: so that he has let every
nation enjoy its own faith; and if any find fault, he
hopes they will readily excuse him, not having de-
signed to offend them, and is willing to make satis-
faction if he lives to ])ul)lish a second edition."
Dr. .\nderson al>(j wrote The Constitutions of the
Free Masons, being the chaplain of tliat body in
London. The dates of this worthy man's birth and
death are not ascertained. He lived in a house
opposite to St. James's Church, Piccadilly.

ANDERSON, Jamks, an agricultural and miscel-
laneous writer of great merit, was the son of a farmer
at Hermiston, in the cmintyof Mid- Lothian, where he
was born in the year 1 739. His father <iying when
he was very young, he was educated by his giiardian
to occupy the farm, which accordingly he began to
m.an.age at the early .ige of fifteen. It m.ay be sup-
posed that he could not have been intrusted with so
important a charge if he had not already m.anifested
symptom^ of superior character and intellect; much
Icns, without such iiualitications, could lie have dis-
charged it, as he is said to have done, witli a|)proliri-
tion. In reading some agricultural work> to (jualirv
himself for his duties, lie h.id observed tli.it it would
be of .advantage to study cliemiNtry: he accordingly
attemled the lectures given in the university of Ivjin-
burgh by Dr. Cullen, who, although surprised that
one so young should have formed this resolution, had
soon reason to admire his ])U])irs laudable curiositv
and good sense, and liberally afforded him every en-
couragement. To chemistry he adiled the study of
certain collateral branches of science; so that, when
he entered upon his farm, he was not onlv able to
keep up with his more aged and experienced neigh-
bours, but to adoj)t a number of improvements, which

were speedily found to be of a most profitable nature.
Among his improvements was the introduction of
the small two-horse plough, which since then has so
completely banished the lumbering engine formerly
drawn by a string of cattle. Nor did the necessary
business of his farm preclude all advancement in
knowletlge. He still prosecuted his studies, and
contrived to amass an immense stock of information
upon almost all subjects.

His first attemjits in literature appeared in "Essays
on Planting," in Ruddiman's Weekly Magazine for
1771. In 1777, having previously removed to a large
farm in Aberdeenshire, he published these essays in
a separate volume. In 1776 appeared \i\<i Essay on
Chimneys, in which the princijde afterwards acted
on in the patent Bath stove was first explained. In
the same year with his volume on Planting appeared
various pamphlets connected with rural economy, all
of which were more or less calculated to gratify the
increasing desire of his countrymen for scientific
knowledge upon such familiar subjects. The fame of
these works procured him a very extensive acquaint-
ance with persons of eminence, who wished to profit
by the remarks of so able a practical farmer; and in
1780 the university of Aberdeen acknowledged his
merit by conferring upon him the degree of LL.D.

Anderson had been married in 1768; and a desire
of educating a very numerous family, and enjoying
literary society, induced him, in 1783, to remove to
Edinburgh, leaving the management of his farm to
persons properly qualified. A tract which he had
written on the subject of the fisheries, though not
printed, attracted the attention of the government,
and he was requested, in 1784 to undertake a tour of
the western coast of .Scotland, for the puq^ose of ob-
taining information on this important subject. He
performed the task to the high satisfaction of his
employers, who, however, never offered him any re-
muneration. The result of his labours appeared in
1785 as^« Account of the P7-esent State of the Hebrides
and Western Coasts of Scotlaiul; being the substance
of a Report to the Lords of the Treasury.

Passing over some minor works of Dr. Anderson,
we must make honourable mention of a literary and
scientific miscellany which he commenced in 179 1,
under the title of The Bee. This work was publislied
in weekly numbers at sixpence, and, by its delight-
ful intermixture of useful information with lighter
matters of the belles-lettres, was eminently calculated
for the improvement of the young. It was occasion-
ally embellished with jiortraits, views, and draughts
(jf scientific objects — in, it is true, a very homely
style, but still not much inferior to the taste of the
age. The work ran from the 22d of December,
1790, to tile 2 1st of January, 1 794, when it was at
length reluctantly abandoned, because such a large
pro])()rtion of the subscribers were remiss in their
payments as to induce an absolute loss to the con-
ductor. The cessation of such a meritorious little
]>ul)lication was the more to be regretted, as Ander-
son had only been able, t<jvvards its close, to bring
the assistance of his numerous and distant correspon-
dents into full play. The numbers published form
eighteen volumes duodecimo, and throughout the
whole of that space, we believe there does not occur
one morally reprehensible line.

.Among other papers in 'Jlie Pee \va=, a series of
essays on the ])olitical progress of Britain. Though
only written in what would now be considered a
liberal strain, they a]ipeared in the eyes of the sheriff
as calculated to have an injurious tendency at that
inflamed period; and the learned doctor was accord-
ingly summoned to give up the name of the author.
I his Anderson refused, from peculiar notions as to

JOHN ANDERSON.

39

literary secrecy; he desired to be liimself considered
as the author. After a second and a third applica-
tion, he still refused; and when the printers were sent
for, and similarly interrogated, he charged them, in
the face of the magistrates, to preserve his secret.
All this was the more singular, as his own principles
were known to be eminently loyal. Respect for his
talents and character induced the magistrates to let
the matter drop. The real author, a worthless
person named Callender, being afterwards about to
quit his country for America, waited upon the
authorities, and insinuated that the papers were
written by Lord Gardenstone, a man to whom he
owed many obligations. Immediately on hearing of
this infamous conduct, Anderson came for%vard, and
refuted the charge by avowing Callender himself to
be the real author. The whole of this affair reflects
great credit upon the character of Dr. Anderson.

About the year 1797, this ingenious person re-
moved with his family to London, where he under-
took various works connected with his favourite
study of agriculture. For several years he wrote the
articles on this subject in the Moittlily Kevieio; and
from 1 799 to 1802 he conducted a separate miscellany,
under the title of Recrcattons in Agriculture. P'rom
the last-mentioned date, he devoted himself almost
entirely to the relaxation which advanced years and
severe studies had rendered necessary, and particu-
larly to the cultivation of his garden, which became
a miniature of all his past labours. In 1801 he
married a second wife, who survived him. lie
died on the 15th of October, 1S08, at the age of
sixty-nine.

In his younger days, Dr. Anderson was remarkably
handsome in his person, of middle stature, and robust
make; but the overstrained exertion of his mental
powers afterwards shook his constitution, and hurried
him into old age. Of his abilities, his works exhibit
so many proofs that they may be appealed to with
]")erfect confidence. Although a voluminous writer,
there is no subject connected with his favourite pur-
suit on which he has not thrown new light. But
his knowledge was not confined to one science. He
exhibited, to give only one instance, very considerable
powers of research, when, in 1 773, he published, in
the first edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, an
article under the head "Monsoon." In this he clearly
predicted the result of Captain Cook's first voyage;
namely, that there did not exist, nor ever would be
found, any continent or large island in the southern
hemisphere except New Holland alone; and this was
completely verified on Captain Cook's return seven
months afterwards. Upon the whole, though tlie
name of Dr. Anderson is associated with no scientific
or literary triumphs of great splendour, his exertions,
by their eminent and uniform usefulness, have given
him very considerable claims to respect. A minute
si)ecification of his works is to be found in the Scols
M.tgtiziiic for 1809.

ANDERSON, John, M. A. An eminent Presby-
terian clergyman of last century, grandfather of
i'rofe>s.)r Anderson, the subject of the next article.
Of his early history very little is known, except that
he receiveil a university education, and took his
degree in arts. He was after\vards preceptor to the
great John, Duke of .\rgyle, and he mentions in his
Letters upon the Ckertiires concerning Kirk Sessions
and Presbyteries, that he had resided in Edinburgh
for twenty-five years in early life. He seems also to
have taught a school, and he is upbraided by "Curat
Calder" with having l)een "an old pedantic dominie,
teaching luce dat a.'' It was not, however, till after
his settlement as minister of Dumbarton, that he

became known as an author. The earliest of his
productions that has been discovered is entitled A
Dialogue between a Curat and a Countreyman concern-
ing the English Service, or Common-Prayer Book of
England, which was printed in fiuart<j at Glasgow,
about 1710. The question relative to the form of
prayer used in Scotland immediately after the Re-
formation, was at this time keenly canvassed by the
Scottish Episcopalians and Presbyterians, and the
clergy of the former persuasion had very shortly
before introduced the liturgy into their church service.
(Carstares' State Papers.) Mr., afterwards liishop.
Sage endeavoured, in his Eundamental Charter 0/
Presbytery Examined, to show that the English liturgy
had been used in Scotland for at least seven year's
after the establishment of the Protestant religion.
In this he was opposed by Mr. Anderson, who
adduced many arguments to prove that it was not
the English liturgy that is spoken of by the Scottish
historians, but that used by the English church at
Geneva. Soon afterwards Anderson jiublished a
Second Dialogue (dated 1711), in which, says he,
"there is hardly anything of importance which is
not said in the very words of the writers of the other
side," and in which South, Beveridge, Hammond,
and Burnet are the curates whose sentiments are
opjjosed. A Letter from a Countreyrnan to a Curat
followed the dialogues, and received several answers,
of which we shall only mention one, written by
Robert Calder, an Episcopalian clergyman, the
friend of Dr. Archibald Pitcairn, and printed in his
Miscellatty Numbers relating to the Controzersies abouc
the Book of Common Prayer, &c., folio, 1 7 13. To
this attack Anderson replied in a pamphlet entitled
Curat Calder WJiipt. He soon after published A
Sermon preached in the Church of Ayr at the Opening
of the Synod, on Tit es day the 1st of .April, 1 712,
printed at the desire of the Synod of Glasgow and
Ayr (cpiarto, price sixpence); and in 1714 the work
by which he is best known appeared. It has for its
title, A Defence of the Church Gozernment, Eaith,
IVorship, and Spirit of the Presbyterians, in ansrcer to
a Book entitled An Apology for Mr. Thomas Khiiid,
&c., 4to, and is dedicated to Archibald, Earl of Islay.
About the beginning of the year 1717, Anderson
informs us, "The people of Glasgow were pleased
to move that I should be called to be one of the
ministers of that place" {I^etter to Stewart of Par-
dcK'an, p. l), but the proceedings relative to this
transaction strikingly illustrate the truth of Wodrow's
remark in a letter to Dr. Cotton Mather.^ "We
are biting and devouring one another,'' says the
venerable historian, "and like to be consumed one
of another." After a course of opposition and debate
with which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader.
Mr. Anderson was at length settled in Glasg<iw in
1720, although it appears from M'Ure's Histcry
that the North-west Church, to which he was aji-
pointed, was not founded till 172 1, nor finished for
"a year or two thereafter." Mr. Anderson did not
long survive his call to CJlasgow. — the date of h;--
death has not been ascertained, but his success' ir
was apjjointed in 1723. His controversial writing's
are full of valuable historical informauon, and show
him to have been thoroughly versed in theiil"^';i:a!
literature, but it cannot be too much regretted tl'.it
he so far indulged in intemperate langu.ige. ^^ e
have not alluded to some (if his smaller ] ani] hicts.
which refer merely to subjects ol a tenir'^iary i. r
local nature.

Upon the family tombstune, erected by tr.o w:d
of Professor .Vnderson, over the gr-ive ■>; !;;s i^'r.ir.'l-

' WodtiTivs liist.^ry, new e-iiti ;:. v_I. i. p. Xa\.

40

JOHN ANDERSON.

father, upon the front of the North-west Church,
Glasgow, was inscribed tlie following memorial of
Mr. Anderson: — "Near this place ly the remains of
the Rev. John Andei-son, who was preceptor to the
famous John, Duke of Argylc and Greenwich, anil
minister of the gospel in Dumbarton in the beginning
of the eighteenth centur)-, and in this church in the
year 1 720. Me was the author of Tlu' Dt-feitcc of the
Church-i^irtL-rttmcHt, Faith, Worship, and Spirit of
the Presbyterians, and of several other ecclesiastical
and political tracts. As a pious minister and an
eloquent preacher, a defender of civil and religious
lil>erty, and a man of wit and learning, he was much
esteemet.1; he lived in the reign of Charles II., James
II., William III., .-\nne, and tieorge I. .Such times,
and such a man, forget not, re.ider, while thy country,
liberty, and religion are dear to thee."

ANDERSON, John, F.R.S., professor of na-
tural philosojihy in the university of Glasgow, and
founder of the eminently useful institution bearing
his name in that city, was born in the parish of
Roseneath, in Dumbarton>hire, in the year 1726.
He wxs the eldest son of the Rev. James Anderson,
minister of Roseneath, who was, in his turn, the eldest
son of the Rev. John .\nderson, ]ireceptor to John,
Duke of .Xrgyle, afterwards minister of the gospel at
Dumbarton, and of whom a notice is given in the
preceding article. The subject of tliis memoir,
having the misfortune to lose his father in early life,
was educated by his aunt Mrs. Turner, widow of one
of the ministers of the High Church of .Stirling.
While residing at this town, where he received the
rudiments of learning, he ap])eared as an officer in
the burgher cor])s raised in Februan.-, 1746, to defend
it against the forces of the young Chevalier. His
conduct on this occasion was worthy of his dis-
tinguished ancestor, from whose example he appears
to have derived that attachment to the jirinciples of
civil and religious lilierty which markecl his charac-
ter through life. The carbine and other arms which
he carried on the walls of .Stirling are ])reserved in
the mu>eum connecte<l with his institution at (ilas-
gow. He received the more advanced part of his
education at the college of tilasgow, where, in 1756,
he was aj)pointed professor of oriental languages,
being then in the thirtieth year of his age.

It was not in this s])here that Mr. .Vnderson was
destined to shine with greatest lustre. His mind had
a decided bent towards the exact sciences, and to the
illustration of the arts with which they are connected.
His translation, therefore, to tlie cliair of natural
philoso])hy, which took place in 1760, was highly
agreeable to him, and also most fortunate for the
world. While he took an early opportunity, after
this event, to fulfil an important ])rivate dutv, bv
repaying his aunt for the expensfs of his education,
he enterefl upon the business of his class with an
enthusiastic ardour of ajiplication, which wi- may
safely pronounce to have been without examjilc in
any Scottish university. .\ot contented with the
ordinary duty of delivering a course of kxtures -
though he ])erforme'l that duty in a mantier alone
.sufficient to ol)tain distinction lie was in<l(.fatigal)le
in studying and exem])lifying the applic.ition of
science to mechanical practice; visiting, for this
purpose, the worksho])S of arti/ans in the town, and
receiving, in return for the scientific doctrine which
he had to communicate, a fiill cjuivalent of exjjcri-
mental knowledge. The most estimable charaLtir-
istic of Professor .Anderson, was a liberal and dift'usivc
benevolence in regard to the instructifin of his race.
Under the inspiration <jf a feeling, which was in tli.it
a^'o more rare, and therefore more meritorious, than

it is at present, he instituted, in addition to his usual
class, which was strictly mathematical, one for the
working-classes and others whose pursuits did not
enable them to conform to the prescribed routine of
academical study, illustrating his precepts by experi-
ments, so as to render it in the highest degree
attractive. He continued to teach this anti-toga
class, as he called it, twice every week, during the
session, to the end of his life; and it would not be
easy to estimate the amount of good which he thus
rendered to his fellow-creatures. As an instance of
the liberal good sense by which he was governed in
his eminently useful scheme, it is related that a
mechanic having complained to his assistant, that he
had scarcely time, after leaving his work, to change
his dress before coming to the class, and having
suggested the propriety of the operatives being
allowed to attend without such change, Mr. Anderson
at once acceded to it. His was a mind too strongly
bent on mere usefulness to regard empty form.
Yet, as a lecturer, he is allowed to have himself
exhibited a surpassing elegance of manner. His
style was easy and graceful, his command of language
unlimited, and the skill and success with which his
manifold experiments were performed could not be
surpassed. He excited the interest and attracted
the attention of his pupils, by the numerous and
appropriate anecdotes with which he illustrated and
enlivened his lectures. Enthusiastic in his pro-
fession, his whole ambition and happiness consisted
in the dissemination of useful knowledge; and nothing
afforded him purer pleasure than hearing that any of
his pupils had distinguished themselves in the world.
The only distinct work which he published in con-
nection with his favourite science, was a valuable
one, entitled Institutes of Physics, which appeared
in 1786, and went through five editions during the
next ten years.

At the commencement of those political changes
in France which ended in such unhappy results,
Mr. Anderson, from his ardent and liberal character,
was among those who sympathized with the pro-
ceedings of the emancipated people. Previous to
that period, he had invented a species of gun, tlie
recoil of which was stopped by the condensation of
common air within the l)ody of the carriage. Hav-
ing in vain endeavoured to attract the attention of
the British government to this invention, he went to
Paris, in 1791, carrjing with him a model, which
he presented to the national convention. The
governing party in France at once perceived the
benefit which would be derived from this invention,
and ordered Mr. Anderson's model to be hung u]) in
their hall, with the following inscription over it —
"Tin-; (iiKT OK SciE.NCE TO LiiiEKTY." Whilst he
was in France, he got a six-]50under made from his
model, with which he made numerous experiments
in the neighbourhood of Paris, at -which the famous
Paul Jones, amongst others, was ]iresent; and who
gave his decided approbation of the gun, as likely
to ])rove highly useful in landing troops from boats,
or firing from the round tops or poojis of ships of
war. Mr. Anderson, at this period, took a keen
interest in the transactions which passed before his
eyes. He was present when Louis XVI. was
brought back from \'arennes; and on the 14th of
July, on the toj) of the altar of liberty, and in the
presence of half a million of Frenchmen, he sang
'/;• /Jeiirn with the Pishop of Paris, when the king
look the oath to the constitution, amen being said
to the ceremony by the discharge of 500 ])ieces of
artillery. .As the Emperor of Germany had drawn a
military cordon around the frontiers of France, to
prevent the introduction of French newspapers into

JOHN ANDERSON ROBERT ANDERSON.

41

Germany, he suggested the expedient of making
small balloons of paper, varnished with boiled oil,
and filled with inflammable air, to which newspapers
and manifestoes might be tied. 'I'his was accord-
ingly practised, and when the wind was favourable
for Germany, they were sent off, and descending in
that country, were, with their appendages, picked
up by the people. They carried a small (lag or
streamer, inscribed with a motto, of which the
following is a translation: —

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

Mr. Anderson died, January 13th, 1796, in the
seventieth year of his age, and the forty-first of his
professorship, directing by his will, dated May 7th,
1795, ^'^^^ '^^ whole of his effects, of every kind,
should be devoted to the establishment of an educa-
tional institution in Glasgow, to be denominated
Anderson's University, for the use of the unacademi-
cal classes; so that, even while he was consigned to
the silent dust, he might still, by means of his
honourably acquired wealth, prove of service to those
whom he had benefited so much, during his own
life, by personal exertion. His will was carried into
effect on the 9th of June following, by the magistrates
granting a charter of incorporation to the proposed
institution. According to the design of the founder,
there were to be four colleges — for arts, medicine,
law, and theology — besides an initiatory school.
Each college was to consist of nine professors, the
senior professor being the president or dean. As
the funds, however, were inadequate to the plan, it
was at first commenced with only a single course of
lectures on natural philosophy and chemistry, by Dr.
Thomas Garnett, well known for his numerous
scientific and medical works, and also for his Tour
t/iroiigh the Ilii^hlanJs and part of the Western Isles
of Scotland. This course was attended for the first
year by nearly looo persons of both sexes. In
1798 a professor of mathematics and geography was
appointed. The splendid apparatus and library of
the founder, which were valued at ;i^3ooo, added
greatly to the advantages of the infant institution.
In 1799 Dr. Garnett, being appointed professor in
the Royal Institution at London, was succeeded by
the eminent Dr. Birbeck, who, in addition to the
branches taught by his predecessor, introduced a
familiar system of philosophical and mechanical
information to 500 operative mechanics, free of
all expense, thus giving rise to mechanics' institu-
tions. The .Andersonian Institution was placed, by
the will of the founder, under the inspection and
control of the lord-provost, and many other honour-
able persons, as ordinary visitors, and under the
more immediate superintendence of eighty-one trus-
tees, who are elected by ballot, and remain in office
for life. Since the first establishment of the univer-
sity, as it may very properly be called, it has gradually
been extended nearer and nearer to the original
design of the fiunder. There are now fifteen pro-
fessors, who deliver lectures on surgen,-, institutes of
medicine, chcmi>lry, practical chemistry, midwifery,
practice of me<licine, anatomy, materia medica,
}iharm.icy and dietetics, medical jurisprudence and
police, mathematics, natural ])hilosophv, botanv,
'•^^.^'^'t K^''-^''^P''>'t niodern languages, English litera-
ture, drawing and painting, i\;c. The institution
now possesses handsome and commodious buildings,
which belong to the corporation, and, among other
additions to its means of cultivating and illustrating
science, is an extensive museum of natural history-

and antiquities. Anderson's University must be con-
sidered a wonderful example of the amount of gfxxl
which one man, of no very great material resources,
may do for his kind. The private fortune of one
professor in the original college of Glasgow has here
been found sufficient to produce a new fount of learn-
ing, not unworthy to rank with the old, and of very
great practical utility to the public.

A posthumous work of Professor Anderson, en-
titled Observations on Roman Antiquities betu.ieen
the Forth and Clyde, appeared in 1 804.

ANDERSON, Robert, M.D., the biographer
of Smollett and Johnson, was bom on 7th of Jai.uary,
1750, and was the son of a feuar in the rural village
of Carnwath in Lanarkshire. He received the
earlier part of his education in his native place, and
in the adjacent village of Libberton; was subsecjuently
placed under the tuition of Mr. Robert Thomson,
master of the grammar-school of Lanark; and finally
studied in the university of Edinburgh, where he
commenced attendance upon the divinity class, with
the view of becoming a clergjman. He took the
degree of M.D. at St. Andrews in 1778. In his
early years, when pursuing his studies at Carnwath,
he could find but one congenial mind in the whole
of that rural district; this was an unfortunate yfiuth,
named James Grreme, the son of a neighbour, \\ ho,
after exhibiting considerable powers as a poet, died
in his twenty-second year, and whose reliques were
afterwards included by Dr. Anderson, more perhaps
through the influence of friendship than deliberate
taste, in his edition of the British Poets. Dr. Ander-
son first entered into practice as surgeon to the
dispensary of Bamborough Castle in Northumber-
land; he afterwards removed to Alnwick, where he
married Miss Gray, daughter of Mr. John Gray, a
relation of the noble family of that name. The
declining state of his wife's health, which rendered
a change of air necessary, induced him, in 17S4, to
remove to Edinburgh, where he ever afterwards
resided. He had here the misfortune to lose his
amiable partner, who sank under a consumption,
leaving him with three infant daughters. Dr.
-Vnderson having secured a small independence,
practised no more after this period, but engaged in
such literary avocations as he felt to be agreealjle t'o
his taste, and became the centre of an agreeable
coterie, in which the talents of many a youth of
genius were for the first time brought into notice.
About the year 1793 he began to prepare his edition
of the British Poets, which forms thirteen volumes,
large octavo, and appeared between the years 1795
and 1807. To the works of each poet is prefixed a
biographical memoir by Dr. Anderson. In 1793
he married for his second wife Miss Dale, daughter
of Mr. David Dale, schoolmaster in East Lothian.
.\ collection of the works of Smollett, by l)r. .Ander-
son, with a memoir prefixed, has gone through ei^ht
editions. To the last edition is atVixed a I:ighiy
characteristic likeness of the editor. The nien^'ir
has been published repeatedly in a distinct sli.i] e.
and is a very respectable production. Dr. .\n':er-o!i
also published a Life of Dr. .Siimnel je/: >:.■,':. :.■:.''':
Critical Obsci-tatioiis on his ITivks, whieh lia- j ."i--e>l
through several editions. For se\'ei:\l year- i'e;-re
the end of the eighteenth century. Dr. .\ii<;ei-:. was
editor of the B.dnibur.;h Ma^az:ih\ a r:\ai "t the
Scots ^[t^^az:ln\ more varied and lively in i> 'irMiis.
and which afforded him an opportunity ot I :;:-.!!g
forward the productions ot his young trie;'.>!-. 1 ;:>
work commenced in the year 17S4. .an! at the end
of 1S03 was incoqtorated with the .^■, . .V .I/,.-. ,.•:.■ ?.•■•■ .'
it w.is much indebted to its propriety 'r.Janxs >:l;ba!'.l.

<-

T. G. TORRY ANDERSON

WALTER ANDERSON.

editor of the Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, to Lord
Hailes, and other eminent literary characters.
Among the publications which Dr. Anderson gave
to the world, must be included his edition of the
Works of John Moore, M.D., ■zcith Memoirs of his
Life and U'ritim^s, Edinburgh, 1S20, 7 vols. 8vo;
and an edition of the poems of Robert Ulair, Eilin-
burgh, 1S26, l2mo. The great incident of Dr.
Anderson's literary life was his connection with the
commencement of the career of Thomas Camiibell.
When Campbell first visited Edinburgh in 1797,
being then in his twentieth year, he gained the
friendship of Dr. Anderson, who, on being shown a
copy of elegiac verses, written by him two years
before, when an obscure tutor in Mull, predicted
his great success as a poet. It was through Dr.
Anderson, in 179S, that Camjibell was introduced
to the circle of his distinguished literary associates in
Edinlnirgh; and he it was who encouraged him by
his friendly advice, and assisted him by his critical
acumen, in the jiublication of his celebrated poem,
the /'/i\r'i/res of Hope, for the high character of
which he had, previously to its ajipearance, pledged
his word to the pul)lic. In acknowledgment of his
friendship, the grateful jioet dedicated his work to
Dr. An<lerson. During the later years of his life,
this venerable author, though he indulged as much
as ever in literarj' society, gave no w^rk to the
public.

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

Dr. Anderson died of dropsy in the chest,
February 20, 1S30, in his eighty-first year.

ANDERSON. Rev. T. C. Torkv. This clerical
])oet. tlie son of the Rev. I'atrick Torry, D.D., titu-
lar Hishop of St. .\n(irews, Dunkeld, and Dunblane,
was born at I'eterhead on the 9th of July, 1805.
Having l)ecn taught the elements of learning at the
]iiri>h school of I'eterhead, he afterwards became a
student in .Mari>chal College, .Aberdeen, and the
university of Edinburgh. He was admitted into
holy orders in 1S27. as minister of St. John's Epis-
copal church. I'ortobello; afterwards became assis-
tant in St. (ieorge"s E])iscoi)al chapel, Edinburgh;
ami finally was transferred to the ministerial charge
of St. I'aid's Epi>copal church, Dundee. This
charge he was obliged to resign in 1855, in conse-
'juence of bad health; an<l after this period he resided
on his estate of Eawside, Kincardiiie~.hire, t(j wliich
he had succecdi-d in 1S50, in consequence of the
death of Dr. \'oung, his maternal uncle. Mr.
.Anfler^on died at .Alicrdeen on the 20tli of lune,
I.S56. He was three time-, married, and left at lii^
death a widow and six children. .Although he dili-
gently fultilled the duties of his sacred office, .Mr.
.Anderson was better known by his songs than hi-,
sermon^, some of which attained a wide popularitv,
especially those entitled "The .Araby Maiil," " The
.Maiden's Vow." and "I love the Sea." the music as
well as the words of the-e la>t two songs being lii-,
own com])ONition. It was a union of the musical
and poetical in the same mind, which, however
common among the poet^ of the classical, and niin-
Nirels of the medieval ages, is verv seldom foiiml
among the bards and song-makers of our own day,

and is therefore the more worthy of notice and com-
mendation. Mr. Anderson was also an extensive
C(mtributor to L'oetical Lllustrations of the Achieve-
ments of the Duke of Wellington and his Companions
in Arms, published in 1852.

ANDERSON, Walter, D.D. The era of this
gentleman's birth is unknown; he died at an advanced
age, July, 1800, after having been minister of the
l)arish of Chirnside for fifty years. He is a remark-
able specimen of that class of authors who, without
the least power of entertaining or instructing their
fellow-creatures, yet persist in writing and publishing
books, which nobody ever reads, and still, like the
man crazed by the lottery, expect that the next, and
the next, and the next will be attended with success.
Perhaps Anderson's cacoethes scribcfidi received its
first impulse from the following ludicrous circum-
stance. His parish comprehending the house of
Xinewells, he was often entertained there, in com-
]iany with the brother of the proprietor — the cele-
brated David Elume. The conversation having
turned one day on the success of Mr. Hume as an
author, Anderson said, "Mr. David, I dare say
other people might write books too; but you clever
fellows have taken up all the good subjects. When
I look about me, I cannot find one unoccupied."
Hume, who liked a joke upon an imsuspecting
clergj'man, said, "What would you think, Mr.
Anderson, of a history of Croesus, King of Lydia? —
that has never yet been written." Air. Anderson
was delighted with the idea, and, in short, "upon
that hint he wrotcP Li 1755 was published the
History of Crccsns, King of Lydia, in four parts; con-
taining Observations on the ancient notion of Destiny
or Dreams, on the origin and credit of the Oracles,
and the Principles upon which their Oracles were
defended against any attack. What is perhaps the
best part of the jest, the work was honoured with a
most serio-burlesque notice in the first Edinburgh
Kei'icw, then just started by Hume, Smith, Carlyle,
and other wits — the article being written, we have no
doubt, by the very man who incited the tudiappy
author to his task.

The LListory of Crcesits was also the subject of a
critique in the second number of the Critical A'eT'iczc,
which had then been just started in London by
Smollett. The article in the latter periodical liears
such evident marks of the pen of the distinguished
editor, and refers to such an extraordinary work, that
we shall make no apology for the following extracts.

After remarking that the volume has been chiefly
compiled from the episodes of Herodotus, that it
exhibits a miserable flatness of style, and that all the
facts scattered throughout its 235 pages might have
been related in three or four, the critic proceeds to
say — "We are apt to believe that this is the first
essay of some young historian, who has been more
intent ujion forming his style and dis])laying his
learning, than careful in digesting his jilan and com-
bining his materials; the subject is too meagre to
afford nourishment to the fancy or understanding;
and one might as well attemjn to build a first-rate
man-of-war from the wreck of a fishing-boat, as to
com]iose a regular history from such a scanty ])arccl
of iletarhed oliservations. The com])iler has been
aware of this deficiency, and has filled up his blank
]iaper with unnecessary argument, and a legion of
eternal truths, by way of illustration. What could
be more unnecessary, (or examjile, than a detail of
reasons for doubting the divinity or da'moniacism of
the ancient oracles? Who believes, at this time of
day, that they were either insjiired by the deity or
iiitluciiced by the tlevil? What can be more super-

WALTER ANDERSON WILLIAM ANDERSON.

fluous than a minute commentary and investigation
of the absunlities in the plea of the priestess, when
she was taxed with falsehood and equivocation?
But we beg the author's pardon; he wrote for readers
that dwell beyond the Tweed, who have not yet
renounced all commerce with those familiar spirits,
which are so totally discarded from this part of the
island. There is still a race of soothsayers in the
Highlands, derived, if we may believe some curious
antiquaries, from the Druids and Bards, that were
set apart for the worship of Apollo. The author of
the history now before us may, for aught we know,
be one of these venerable seers; though we rather take
him to be a Presbyterian teacher, who has been used
to expound apothegms that need no explanation."-

The History of Crcesus, King of Lydia, one of the
most curious productions recognized in the history
of literaty mania, is now extremely rare — not by
any means from the absorbing appreciation of the
public, but rather apparently from the very limited
extent of its first circulation.

The worthy author, though perhaps daunted a
little by the reception of his first attempt, in time re-
covered the full tone of his literary ambition; and he
next attempted a work of much larger compass, which
appeared in 1769, in two quarto volumes, under the
title of the History of France durin;^ the Reii:;ns of
Francis //. and Charles IX., to which is prefixed
a review of the General History of the Monarchy
from its origin to that period. The success of this
work was much like that of its predecessor ; yet in
1775 the author published a continuation in one
volume, under the title. The History of France, from
the commence/nent of the reign of Henry ///., and the
rise of the Catholic League, to the peace of Worms and
the establishment of the famous Edict of Xantes in the
reign of Henry IV. In 1783 appeared two further
volumes, embracing the history from the commence-
ment of the reign of Louis XIIL to the general peace
of Munster. But these continuous efforts were not
drawn forth by the encouragement of the public;
they were solely owing to the desperate cacoethes of
the worthy writer, which would take no hint from
the world — no refusal from fame. It is said that he
was solely enabled to support the expense of his
unrequited labour by a set of houses belonging to
himself in Dunse (too appropriate locality I), one of
which was sold for every successive quarto, till at
last something like a street of good habitable tene-
ments in that thriving town was converted into a
row of unrea(lal)Ie volumes in his library. "Dr.
Anderson, "says the Gentleman'' s Magazine, "displays
none of the essential qualities of historic writing, no
research into the secret springs of action, no discri-
mination of character, and no industry in accumulat-
ing and examining authorities. Even as a compiler
he is guided only by one set of materials which he
found in the French writers, and may therefore be
Lon-.ultcd l)y the English reader, as a collection of
their oj.inions, while he is highly censurable in not
having recourse to original papers and documents re-
>pectingtheatTairsof hisowncountrj-. His styleis uni-
formly tame, and defaced by colloquial barbarisms."

In a liicrLiry hi>tory of this deplorable character,
it is gratifying to find that one elfort was at length
judged worthy of some praise. This was a work
sub>equcnt to the above, entitled The Philosophy of
.Indent Creeee iinestigated. in its origin and progress,
f' the era ^ of its greatest cele/'rity, in the Ionian, Italic,
and .■Itheiiian Schools, n'lth remarks on the delineated
tystem of t'lcir founders. His principle in this work,
according to the authority ju>t quoted, a]->pears to
have iiecn " to sup]ily thedeficiencies in Mr. Stanley's
work, antl to give place to remarks upon the mean-

ing employed by the most eminent Grecian philo-
sophers, in support of their physical, theological, and
moral systems ; and to give a fuller and more con-
nected display of their theories and arguments, and
to relieve the frigidity of their bare details by inter-
spersing observations." In this work he displavs
much learning, and is in general both accurate and
perspicuous, although he is still deficient in the
graces of style. Perhaps it would have Ijcen mcjre
successful had it not appeared at the same time
with Dr. Enfield's excellent abridgment of Brucker's
History of Philosophy.

One of the last attempts of Dr. Anderson was a
pamphlet against the principles of the French Re-
volution. This being not only written in his usual
heavy style, but adverse to the popular sentiments,
met with so little sale that it could scarcely be said
to have been ever published. However the doctor
was not discouraged; adopting rather the maxim,
"contra audentior ito," he wrote a ponderous addi-
tion or appendix to the work, which he brought with
him to Edinburgh, in order to put it to the press.
Calling first upon his friend Principal Robertsf)n,
he related the whole design, which, as might be ex-
pected, elicited the mirthful surprise of the venerable
historian. "Really," said Dr. Robertson, "this is
the maddest of all your schemes — what I a small
pamphlet is found heavy, and you propose to lighten
it by making it ten times heavier ! Never was such
madness heard of!" "Why, why," answered Dr.
Anderson, "did you never see a kite raised by boys?'
"I have," answered the principal. "Then, you
must have remarked that, when you try to raise the
kite by itself, there is no getting it up : but only add
a long string of papers to its tail, and up it goes like
a laverock I" The reverend principal was completely
overcome by this argument, which scarcely left him
breath to reply, so heartily did he laugh at the in-
genuityof the resolute author. However, we believe,
heeventuallydissuaded Dr. Anderson from his design.

ANDERSON, William. This poet and mis-
cellaneous writer was bom in the end of December,
1805. He originally studied for the law, but insteail
of entering the profession of a lawyer, he made the
dangerous choice of authorship, and adhered to it
for the rest of his life. It was unfortunate that tlris
choice was made at so early a period, as his excel-
lent natural talents were not directed by a literary
education or extensive reading, by which he miglit
have won both distinction and success. Having
thrown himself into the tide with all the generous
enthusiasm of youth, he was borne along in its whirl,
antl in the career that awaited him it was much that
he was enabled to keep his head above water, and
educate his family for a life of respectaliility and
comfort. As a literary adventurer thus circum>tance(;.
he was ever)'thing by turns — editor or sub-ediinr I'l
newspapers, publi.-hers' literary assistant, conqiik-r
or author of histories and biograidiies, or occa>inn.i:!y
publishing a work at his own ri>k ; while lii> s]'l;eie
of ojieration in these ditTerent capacities was Mine-
times London, sometimes Edinburgh, and occasicn-
ally the provincial towns of England and Scitland.
Like many in a similar situation, he had ik^ iniie; er.-
dent choice either of locality for hi> rt-si'ici'.ce > r
subject for his pen, and in both ca>e> wa- .ir;i;c! t"
and fro by the re(]uiremenis (it tlie pre^s ir tr.e i;:-
gagement oi his ]iubli>her. But l)ra\ely ;.c \"-:g' x
out this battle of life fmm youth to ol,! a;.;e: rin>; lncp.
when his body was racked out of f. .mi ! y .t:: t\-
cniciating malady that had \\a>te'l \:'.\v. I'ir year-,
and when his mmd was cmbitterei ly eMr-:e.u:-
ring diiaj po:ntmcnt, he wai ;t;ll i:.iu-:;;-U.-, ^ti.l

44

ALEXANDER ARBUTHNOT JOHN ARBUTHXOT.

ready for a fresh attempt in authorship, and still
hopeful of the result. Even those who knew no-
thing of him save his indomitable perseverance, won-
dered that it could still make head against such ad-
verse circumstances. Visited at last by heart disease,
the inevitable consequence of a body so distorted by
rheumatism, he had nevertheless gone to London by
sea, when he died suildenly on the 2tl of .\ugust,
lS66, being a few days after his arrival there, and
was buried in the cemetery of Highgate.

The last and also the largest and best work writ-
ten by Mr. .\nderson, and the one througii which
his name will longest survive, is that called The Scot-
tish Xitlhut, publisheii by the Messrs. Lullarton,
Edinburgli, in three large volumes im|X'rial 8vo.
It is not only a biographical record of eminent Scots-
men, but a history of the Scottish clans and dis-
tingui>he<.l families, and contains a mass of valuable
information, which the author was em])loyed many
years in collecting. Li all his multifarious ]5rose
writings, although most of them were written for the
day and upon the spur of urgency, Mr. .Anderson's
style was always distinguished by its elegance and
correctness, its clearness and force. Under hajipier
circumstances, it was evident from these tiiat he
might have held a distinguishetl place in aulhorsliip.
In conversation his wit was remarkable, whether
telling a >tor\- or making an observation, and it as-
sumed every variety of character from the light
and comic to the caustic and severe. Poetry,
however, had been the chief object from the
beginning of Mr. .Anderson's literary affections, and
he only abandoned it with reluctance, when the ex-
jierience of years showed him that it was an unpro-
fitable resource, except to those who had leisure and
talent to reach the loftier summits of I'arnassus.
Mis chief poetical publicaticjns were a small vc^lume
of short poems and songs written in early life —
among which are some of high merit, so that they
have been published in some of our best popular col-
lections; and /,</;/ </j-<77/(' Lyrics, written in matured
life, and which he always regarded as the best of his
poetical productions.

ARBUTHNOT. Ai.kx andkr, an eminent divine
of the reign of James VI., son of tiie laird of
.\rbuthnot, was born in the year 1538. Having
studied langu.ages and i)hilos((])l)y in the university
of .\i)erdecn, ami civil law under the famous Cujacius
at K'lurgL-. in France, he took ecclesiastical orders,
and became in Imn own country a zealous sup])orter
of the Reformation. The period of his entrance into
public life was 1563. when <^)ueen Mary was in ])os-
se>'>:on of the kingdom. His eminent aijilities ?.w.\
ac<|uirements jjointed him out, young as he was, as a
leading man iMlheciuirch, and accordingly hu took a
j)rominent jiart in several (icneral .Asst-iibiics. In
that of 156S he was ai)pointed Ijv his brctlnen to
examine a work entitled ///,• Ai/I of t/ir h'omau
Church, which was ol)jccted to because it stvled the
king the head of the church. The result' of his
deliberations was an order to linssandv iir, the
l)rinter, not to jirint any mure books till lie ha,! ex-
punged this passage, and also taken awav a lewd
song which he had published at the en<l of :ui edition
of the I'salnis. Tlie assembly also ordered that
henceforth no book should be ]nil.li~hed till licenced
by their commission. '•Tims," it has been n--
marke 1, "the reformed cler.^y, who owed their
emancii).ation to the right of j.r.vate judgment, with
strange inconsistency obstructed tlie progress of free
inquiry by taking upon th.emselves the regulation of
the press."

Arbuthnot was soon after aj •pointed niini-.ter of

the parishes of Arbuthnot and Logie-Euchan, and
in 1569 he became principal of the university of
Aberdeen. He was a member of the General
Assembly held at St. Andrews in 1572, in which
strenuous o])position was made to a scheme of church-
government called the Book of Policy, which was
invented by certain statesmen, at the head of whom
was the Regent Morton, to restore the old titles of
the church, and by means of titular incumbents,
retain all the temporalities among themselves. In
the General Assemblies held at Edinburgh in 1573
and 1577, Arbuthnot was chosen moderator; and he
apjiears to have been constantly employed, on the
l^art of the church, in the commission for conduct-
ing the troublesome and tedious contest with the
regency concerning the plan of ecclesiastical govern-
ment to be adopted in Scotland. This commission,
under the name of the Congregation, at length
absorbed so much power, that the assembly was
left little to do but to approve its resolutions. The
]mrt which Arbuthnot took in these affairs gave
offence to James VI., and the offence was increased
by the publication of Buchanan's History, of which
Arbuthnot was tijc editor. It was therefore resolved
to restrain him by an oppressive act of aibitraiy
]5ower; and a royal order was issued, forbidding
him to absent himself from his college at Aberdeen.
The clergy, who saw thcrt the design of this order
was to dejirive thein of the benefit of Arbuthnot's
services, remonstrated: the king, however, remained
inflexible, and the clergy submitted. This persecu-
tion probably affected Arbuthnot's health and spirits;
for the next year, 1583, he fell into a gradual
decline and died. Arbuthnot appears to have
possessed much good sense and moderation, and to
have been well cpialified for public business. His
knowledge was various and extensive; he was a
patron of learning; and at the same time that he was
active in promoting the interests of the reformed
church, he contributed to the revival of a taste for
literature in Scotland. The only prose production
which he has left, is a learned and elegant Latin
work, entitled Orationcs de Orii:;inc ct Dignitate
Juris [Orations on the Origin and Dignity of the
Law], which was printed in 4to at Edinburgh in
1572. Tor some specimens of vernacular ])oetry,
supposed to be his composition, we may refer to
Irving's Lives of tlie Scottish Poets, and M'Crie's
IJfe of A iidrciv JlLeh'ille. His character has received
a lasting eulog)-, in the shape of an e])itaph, from
tile pen of his friend Melville. See Dclititc Poctaruvi
Scotoruiii, ii. ]). 120.

AUBUTHNOT, John, M.D., one of the con-
stellation of wits in the reign of Queen Anne, and
the most learned man of the whole body, was the
son of a .Scottish clergyman, who bore a near rela-
tionshi]^ to the noble family of this name and title.
lie was born at Arbuthnot in Kincardineshire, soon
after the Restoration, and received his education at
the uni\ersitv of Aberdeen, where he took the
degree of .M.l). The father of Arbuthnot was one
of those niendiers of the Church of .Scotland who,
not being able to comply with the Presbyterian
system introduced at the Revolution, were obliged to
resign tlieir charges. He retired to a small estate,
which h(_- ])ossessed bv inheritance; while his sons,
finding ilu-ir prosjiects blighted in their own couiitn-,
were under the necessity of going abroad to seek
their fortune. John carried his Jacobitism, his
talents, and his knowledge of physic to London,
uhere he at first subsisted as a teacher of mathe-
matics. 11;., first literary effort bore a reference to
tliia science: it was an Exaiuinatwn of Dr. Wood-

JOHN ARBUTHNOT.

45

ward's Account of the Deluge, a work which had
been published in 1695, and which, in Dr. Arbuth-
not's estimation, was irreconcilable with just philo-
sojjhical reasoning upon mathematical principles.
This publication, which appeared in 1697, laid the
foundation of the author's literarj' reputation, which
not Ion;,' after received a large and deserved increase
by his /Cssay on the Usefulness of Mathematical
Leariiinj:^. The favour which he acquired by these
publications, as well as by his agreeable manners
and learned conversation, by degrees introduced him
into practice as a physician. Being at Epsom when
Prince George of Denmark was suddenly taken ill,
he was called in, and had the good fortune to effect
a cure. The prince immediately became his patron,
and in 1709 he was appointed fourth physician in
ordinary to the queen (Prince (George's royal consort),
in which situation he continued till her majesty's
death in 1714- I" 1704 Dr. Arlnithnot had been
elected a member of the Royal Society, in conse-
quence of his communicating to that body a most
ingenious paper on the equality of the numbers of
the se.xes; a fact which he proved by tables of births
from 1629, and from which he deduced the reason-
able inference that polygamy is a violation of the
laws of nature. In 1 7 10 he was elected a member
of the Royal College of Physicians.

This was the happy period of Dr. Arbuthnot's
life. Tory principles and Torj' ministers were now
triumphant; he enjoyed a high reputation, a lucrative
practice, and a most honouraljle preferment; he
also lived in constant intercourse with a set of literary
men, almost the greatest who had ever flourished in
England, and all of whom were of his own way of
thinking in regard to politics. This circle included
Pope, Swift, Ciay, and Prior. In 17 14 he engaged
with Pope and Swift in a design to write a satire
on the abuse of human learning in every branch,
which was to have been executed in the humorous
manner of Cervantes, the original inventor of this
species of satire, under the history of feigned adven-
tures. -But the prosecution of this design was pre-
vented by tiie queen's death, which lost .Arbuthnot
his situation, and proved a death-blow to all the
political friends of the associated wits. In the
dejection which befell them, they never went farther
than an essay, chiefly written by Arbuthnot, under
the title of the First BooJk of the Memoirs of Marfiniis
Scriblerus. "Polite letters," says Warburton in his
edition of Pope's works, "never lost more than in
the defeat of this scheme, in the execution of wliich,
each of this illustrious triumvirate would have fiund
exercise for his own particular talents; besides con-
stant employment for those which they all had in
common. Dr. Arbuthnot was skilled in everything
which related to science; Mr. Pope was a master in
the tine arts; and Dr. Swift excelled in a knowledge
1)1 tiie world. Wit they had in equal measure; and
this so large, that no age perhaps ever pro(luce<l
three men to whom nature had more bountifully be-
.-toweil it, or art had brought it to higher perfection."'
We are told by the same writer that the Travels
of Gill! r:r TiwA \\\m Memoirs of a Parish Clerk Wiixc
at first intended as a branch of the Memoirs of
Scriblerus. In njiposition to what Warburton says
of tlie design, we may ]ire>ent what lolmson savs of
the execution. "These memoirs," says the doctor,
in his lite of Pojh', "extend only to the first ]\"irt of
a work projected in concert liy Pope, .'~^wift, and
Arbutlinot. Their iiurp<i^e was to censure the
abuse> of learning liy a tictitiou-. life of nn infatuated
scholar. Tliey were dispersed; the design never
was complete 1: and Warhurton laments its mis-
carriage, aj an evci'it xcry ili^a-truus to iv.lite letter-.

If the whole may be estimated by this specimen,
which seems to be the prfxluction of Arbuthnot,
with a few touches by Pojjc, the want of more will
not Ijc much lamented; for the fjUies which the
writer ridicules are so little practised, that they are
not known; nor can the satire Ix; understood but bv
the learned. He raises phantoms of absurdity, and
then drives them away. He cures diseases that
were never felt. For this reason, this joint pnxluc-
tion of three great writers has never attained anv
notice from mankind." With the opinion of Dr.
Johnson we entirely coincide, so far as the Scriblerus
is concerned; but we think that Arbuthnot was
unfortunate in the part of the design which he
selected, and that, in satirising more jialpable follies,
he might have been more successful. The success
of Swift, in ridiculing mankind in general in his
Gulli-L'er, is surely a sufficient reason, if no other ex-
isted, for the lamentation of Warburton.

At the death of the queen, when it pleased the
new government to change all the attendants of the
court, the immortal suflered with the mortal; Arl)uth-
not, displaced from his apartments at St. Jame^',
took a house in Dover street, remarking philosophi-
cally to Swift that he "hoped still to be able to keej)
a little habitation warm in town." His circumstances
were never so prosperous or agreeable after this
period. With the world at large, success makes merit
— the want of it the reverse; and it is perhaps im-
possible for human nature to think so highly of a man
who has been improperly deprived of some external
mark of distinction and honour, as of him who
wears it without so much desert. The wit, left to
his own resources, and with a rising family to
support, seems to have now lived in some little
embarrassment.

In 1 71 7 Arbuthnot, along with Pope, gave assist-
ance to Gay, in a farce entitled "Three Hours after
Marriage," which, strange to say, was condemned
the first night. A rival wit wrote upon this subject: —

" Such were the wags who boldly did adventure
To club a farce by tripartite indenture;
But let them share their dividend of prai-e.
And wear their own fool's cap instead of bays."

In 1722 Dr. Arbuthnot found it necessar}- for his
health to indulge in a visit to Bath. He was accom-
panied on this occasion by a brother who was a
banker at Paris, and whose extraordinaiy character
called forth the following striking description from
Pope: "The spirit of philanthropy, so hmg dead to
our world, seems revived in him: he is a ]>hilosopher
all fire; so warmly, nay so wiMly, in the right, that
he forces all others about him to be so too. and
draws them into his own vortex. He i> a star that
looks as if it were all on fire, but is all benignity,
all gentle and beneficial influence. If there be otlur
men in the world that woukl serve a friend. }et !:e
is the only one, I l)elieve, that could make even an
enemy serve a friend."' About this time, tlie I'.octi'r
thus described himself in a letter to Swifi: ••.V- l". r
your humble servant, with a great >tone in h> ri.:!:'.
kitlney, and a family of nu-n and w.,me;i to jh-ovkIc
for, he is a- cheerfid in public atT.Tir- a- ever. "

.Arbuthnot. in 1723. wa- cho-cn -eco:v! ccn-or o!
the Royal College of I'liyr-ician-; v.\ \:z- he u_..-
made an Elect, and had the honour to ;ii< r.- ui^c tl'.c
Harveian oration fir l!ie ycc.r. 1 r. 17-7 "■■~' "T"
]>eared his great and learned woik, <.:;;::; 1 .■■■•<
rf Aiieioit ("■.■;;/. ll\:\''':f.'. ,:;/./ .l/:",;.;;' . r- ■:.::;::./
and cxcmrlf.J .■>: /.v,;-.:/ l'::srr-.-f: :: - W- con-
tinued to pr.icti-e |)hy-:c with go...i i-: ■::.:.:.■ ••:i.Jir/\
diverted h> lei-iire hoin^ tiywr;:;:,^ i ,-; ■ r- -f w it
au'.i liumuur. Aino;;- ihc-c r^.v ; ^. v.\'^\.\:- v.^:' : i_.n(.,

45

JOHN ARBUTHNOT.

wliich appeared in 1731, in the shape of an epitaph
upon the infamous Colonel Charteris, and which we
shall present in this place as perhaps the most
f.ivourable specimen of Dr. Arhuthnot's peculiar vein
of talent: —

"Here continueth to rot the body of Francis
Charteris, who, with an inflexible constancy, and
inimitable uniformity of life, persisteil, in sjiite of
age and infirmilies, in the practice of every human
vice; excepting prodigality and hypocrisy; his in-
satiable avarice exempted him from the first, his
matchless impudence from the second. Xor was he
more singular in the undeviating pravity of his man-
ners, than successful in accumulating wealth; for,
without trade or profession, without trust of jjublic
money, and without bribe-worthy service, he ac-
quire<i. or more properly created, a ministerial estate.
He was the only ]>erson of his time who could cheat
with the mask of honesty, retain his jirimeval mean-
ness when possessed of ten thousand a year, and,
having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did,
was at last condenuied to it for what he could not
do. — OhI indignant reader! Think not Ids life use-
less to mankind I Providence connived at his exe-
crable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous
proof and cxamjile of liow small otimation is exor-
l)itant wealth in the sight of (jod, by his bestowing
it on the most unworthy of all mortals."'

Arbuthnot, about this time, wrote a verj' enter-
taining paper on the Altcrcalioits or Scolding of the
AtuUnts. In 1 732 he contributed towards detecting
an<l ])uni»hing the scandalous frauds and abuses that
had been carried on under the specious name of 'J'hc
C/iaritak'i Corporation. In the same year he pub-
])lished his Treatise on the Xatiire and Choice of Ali-
ments, which was followed, in 1733, by his Essay on
the Effects of Air on I/uman Eodies. lie is thought
to have been led to these subjects by the considera-
tion of his own case — an asthma, which, gradually
increasing wiili his years, became at length desper-
ate and incurable. \ little liefore his last publica-
tion, he had met witli a severe domestic affliction in
the l')>s of his son Charles, "whose life," he says in
a letter to .Swift, "if it had so ])leased God, he
would willingly have redeemed with his own." He
now retired in a state of great debility to Hampstead;
from whence, in a letter to l'o|)e, July 17th, 1734, he
gives the following philosophic, and we may add,
touching, account of his condilicjn: —

" I have little dnubi of your concern fjr nic, nor
of that of tlie lady yf)u mention. 1 have nothing to
repay my friend.-, with at present, but prayers and
good wishes. I have tlie satisfactiun to find that I
am as officiously served by my friends, as he that

' Tliis pnr.i;; .n of wickeilnt-ss, who was a native f.f Scotlaiul,
\s thii-s c!<;scriU.-.i l.y l',,pc. hut wi: hclicvc-. as in the tjiitaph
ilsclf. wilii iiui. h i:xa^^";rati..n. " I-ranui^ Charteris, a man
infamous f,r all vices. When ho was an en-.|;;n in the .'irjir.-.
he was rlrutnine'l out r,f the rejjirnent f.r a cheat; he was
Innishc'i linissels, anl tnrne'i <nit of (Ihent. on the .s.une
;icc unit. After a humlre'l Irieks at the K^i'iiiiiK-tahles, he
t .ok to Icniiin;; of n}oney at ex.rliitant interest, au.l on },reat
pcn.iltlcs. at;' innnlatin;; premium. inti;rest, .au'l capital i)ito .a
new capit-il. and sel/ni^ t la minute when the jiavnient hecame
(hie; in a w-.r.!. hy a constant altcntion to the vices, wants,
anj f 'Hies of niankinii, he .ici|iiire'l an immense fjrtune.
He was twice condemnc-l f .r n.pes an.l juriloned, hut the last
time not without imprisoiunent in .\ewy;itc. and lar^e (.onfisc;!-
tions. Hcdijdin .Scotl.ind in 17 u.a;;ed sivty-two. 'the populace-,
at his funeral, raised .a js're;it not, almost tore the l.oily out of
the coffin, and cist dead do;;s. ."ic, into t)ie v,r:i\-<- alon- u,th
it." \Vc may add that the mourners h.id to defend them^clvc-s
from the niolj with tlieir swi,rds. See '/ r,t,/iti,'ns /'/ l-'.iint-
iurgh. One rcmarkahlc feature of C:harteris' ch;iracter is not
;;cnerally known: thou;,;h a hullv and .1 coward, he h.ad his
li^'hting days; he would suffer himself t. Ihj kicked f .rrcfusiu.;
a fhallengc one day, and the next would acc.pt another and
]:ilt tiis man.

has thousands to leave in legacies; besides the assur-
ance of their sincerity. God Almighty has made
my distress as easy as a thing of that nature can be.
I have found some relief, at least sometimes, from
the air of this place. My nights are bad, but many
poor creatures have worse."

In a letter about the same time to Swift, he says
he came to Hampstead, not for life, but for ease.
That he had gained in a slight degree from riding ;
but he was "not in circumstances to live an idle
country life ;" and he expected a return of the dis-
order in full force on liis return in winter to London.
He adds, "I am at present in the case of a man that
was almost in harbour, but was again blown back
to sea; who has a reasonable hope of going to a
good jilace, and an absolute certainty of leaving a
very bad one. Not that I have any jjarticular
disgust at the world, for I have as great comfort in
my own family, and from the kindness of my friends,
as any man; but the world in the main displeaseth
me; and I have too true a presentiment of cala-
mities that are like to befall my country. However,
if I should have the happiness to see you before I die,
you will find that I enjoy the comforts of life with
my usual cheerfulness. . . . My family give
you their love and service. The great loss I sus-
tained in one of them gave me my first shock; and
the trouble I have with the rest, to bring them to a
good temper, to bear the loss of a father who loves
them, and whom they love, is really a most sensible
affliction to me. I am afraid, my dear friend, we
shall never see one another more in this world. I
shall, to the last moment, preserve my love and
esteem for you, being well assured that you will
never leave the ])aths of virtue and honour for all
that is in the world. This world is not W'orth the
least deviation from that w^ay," &c. In such a strain
did this tndy good man discourse of his own certain
and immediate death, which accordingly took place.
February, 1735, in his house, Cork Street, Burling-
ton Gardens, to which he had returned from Hamp-
stead at the approach of winter.

Arbuthnot's character was given by his friend
Swift in one dash: "He has more wit than we all
have, and more humanity than wit." " ArlDuthnot,"
says Ur. Johnson in his life of Pope, "was a man of
great comprehension, skilful in his profession, versed
in the sciences, acquainted with ancient literature,
and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a
bright and active imagination; a scholar with great
brilliancy of wit; a wit who, in the crowd of life, re-
tained and discovered a noble ardour of religious zeal."
Lord Orrery has thus entered moremiinitely into his
character: "Although he was justly celebrated for
\\\\. and learning, there was an excellence in his
character more amiable than all his other qualifica-
tions, I mean the excellence of his heart. He has
shown himself equal to any of his contemporaries in
wit and vivacity, and he was sujierior to most men
in acts of humanity and benevolence. His very sar-
casms arc the satirical strokes of good nature: the\-
are like slaps in the face given in jest, the effects of
wliicli may raise blushes, l)ul no blackness will a]i-
]H.-ar after the blow. He laughs as j(n'ially as nn
attendant upon I'acchus, but continues as sober and
considerate as a rlisci])le of .Socrates."

'i'he wit, to which Swift's was only allowed the
second ])lace, was accompanied by a guileless heart,
aii<l tJK' most ]icrfect sim])Iicity of character. It is
rt-lated of its ])ossessor, that he used to write a hum-
orous account of almost every remarkable event
which fell under his observation, in a folio book,
which lay in his ]iarlour; but so careless was he about
\\\s writings after he was done with them, that,

JOHN ARMSTRONG.

47

while he was writing towards one end of this work,
he would permit his children to tear out the leaves
from the other, for their paper kites. This care-
lessness has prevented many of the works of Dr.
Arbuthnot from being preserved, and no correct list
has ever been given. A publication in two volumes,
8vo, at Glasgow, in 1 751, professing to be his Mis-
cellaneous Works, was said by his son to consist
chiefly of the compositions of other people. He was
s ) much in the habit of writing occasional pieces
anonymously, that many fugitive articles were erro-
neously attributed to him: he was at first supposed
to be the author of Robinson Crusoe. He scarcely
ever spoke of his writings, or seemed to take the
least interest in them. He was also somewhat in-
dolent. Swift said of him, that he seemed at first
sight to have no fault, but that he could not walk.
Besides this, he had too much simplicity and worth
to profit by the expedients of life: in Swift's words,

" He knew his art, but not his trade."

Swift also must be considered as insinuating a certain
levity of feeling, with all his goodness, when he says,
in anticipation of his own death,

" Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay
A week, and Arbuthnot a day I"

though the haljitual cheerfulness of his disposition
may have been all that the poet had in his eye.
The only other work ascertained as Arbuthnot's,
besides those mentioned, is the celebrated Ilistorv
of John Bull, a political allegory, which has had
many imitations, but no equal. He also attempted
poetr)', though without any particular effort. A
philosophical poem, of his composition, entitled
" rXQei 2:EATT0N" [Know Yourself], is printed
in Dodsley's Miscellanies. I f e left a son, George,
who was an executor in Pope's will, and who died
in the enjoyment of a lucrative situation in the ex-
chequer oflke towards the end of the last centur)-;
and a daughter, Anne, who was honoured with a
legacy by Pope. His second son, Charles, who died
before himself, had been educated in Christ Church
College, Oxford, and entered into holy orders.

ARGYLE. .See Campbell.

ARMSTRONG, John, M.D., author of the
well-known poem entitled The Art of Presenung
Health, was born, about 1709, in the parish of
Castleton, Roxburghshire, where his father and
brother were successively ministers. He might
almost be styled a poet by right of birthplace, for
the parish of Castleton is simply the region of
Liddesdale, so renowned for its heroic lays, the
records of deeds performed by the Border reivers,
among whom the family of the poet bore a distin-
guished rank. The rude and predatory character
of this (li>irict had, however, jiassed away l)efore
tlie commencement of the eighteenth centur\-; and
young Armstrong, though his lullabies were no
doubt those fine ol<l i)all.-ids which have since been
published by Sir Walter Scott, seems to have drawn
from them but little of his inspiration. It was .is
yet the fashion to look upon legendary verses as only
fit for nurses an<i children; and nothing was thought
worthy of the term ])oetry, unless it were presented
in trim artificial langii.ige, after the manner of some
distinguished classic writer. It is therefore bv no
means surprising that .Armstrong, though born and
cradled inalancl full of beautiful traditionarv* jioetn-,
looked upon it all, after he had become an eilucateil
man, as only Doric trasli. and found his Tcni]>e
in the bowers of Twiekenliani instead of the lor.clv
heaths of Liddesdale.

Being educated for the medical profession at the
university of Edinburgh, under the elder Monro,
Armstrong, in 1732, took his degree as M.D. with
much reputation, the subject of his treatise being
7'abes I'urulenta. He had ere this period addicted
himself to the composition of verses. We are in-
formed that, to relieve the tedium of a winter spent
in "a wild romantic country" — probably Liddcs<lale
— he wrote what he intended for an imitati<jn of
Shakspeare, but which turned out to resemble
rather the poem of Winter, then just published by
Thomson. The bard of the Seasons, hearing of
this composition, which so strangely and so accitlent-
ally resembled his f)wn, procured a sight of it bv
means of a mutual friend, and, being much jileaseii
with it, brought it under the notice of .Mr. David
Mallet, Mr. Aaron Hill, and Dr. Young, all of
whom joined with him in thinking it a work of
genius. Mallet even requested the consent of the
author to its publication, and undertook that duty,
though he afterwards gave up the design.

Armstrong was probably led by this flattering
circumstance to trj' his fortune in London, where his
countrymen Thomson and Mallet had already gained
literary distinction. In 1735 he is found publishing,
in that capital, a humorous attack upon empirics, in
the manner of Lucian, entitled^;/ Essay for Abridg-
ing the Study of Physic, to which is added, A Dialogue
betwixt Hygeia, ]\Iercury, and Pluto, relating to the
Practice of Physic, as it is managed by a certain
illustrious Society; and an epistle from Usbeck the
Persian to Joshua Ward, Esq. The essay, besides
its sarcastic remarks on quacks and quackery, con-
tains many allusions to the neglect of medical edu-
cation among the practising apothecaries; but the
author had exhausted his wit in it, and the dialogue
and epistle are consequently flat and insi])id. In
1737 he published a serious professional piece.
styled A Synopsis of the History and Cure of tin
Venereal Disease, 8vo, inscribed in an ingenious
dedication to Dr. Alexander Stuart, as to "a person
who had an indisputable right to judge severely fif
the performance presented to him." He probably
designed the work as an introduction to practice in
this branch of the medical profession; but it was
unfortunately followed by his poem entitled 7 hi
Economy of Lore, which, though said to have l)een
designed as merely a Inirlesque ujion certain didactic
writers, was justly condemned for its wann and
alluring pictures, and its tendency to inflame the
passions of youth. It appears by one of the "cascs
of literar}- property," that Andrew Millar, the book-
seller, paid fifty pounds for the cojiyright of th:s
poem; a sum ill-gained, for the work greatly dim-
inished the rcputati(jn of the author. After it lir.l
passetl through many editions, he published (>ne, :n
1768, in which the youthful luxuriances that linl
given offence to better minds were carefully prune'!.
Hut the otTence had l)een already jierpetrateii, ?^:.':
it was too late to undo it.

In 1744 Dr. .\rmstning made -^'ine amende !" r
this iiKliscretion, h)- ])ulilishing 7>)e .Irt cj J^r,:'--
ing Health, a didactic j^oein in hi ink verse, exteni:-
ing through four books, each of wliiih contains ,■
particular l>raiich of the sul>iect. This very nur;-
torious work raised liis re]uit.-;tii 'ii t> a heiglii wi:', :.
his subsequent e'Vur;- ,-carcely si-.-t.-iinci. It -
written in a taste which wi.nilil not iV'W lie C' :'.-;• :i. re ;
very pure or elegant ; hut yet, when tliesuhn: ."i.i
the age are considered, there is ania/-ii^L;ly l.fi.e ;■'
lie condemned. Dr. Warton lias lu-tly ren.aike ;
the refined terms in wliicli the i">et. ,~:t ;Iie c:;d "! :• ~
third IvH.k, lias described an Iji-i.-h ;.:a^;:e. t" the
, tV.'teenth ceritury. ei.t.tled "llie swe.-.;;:.g -ic.^;.i.--.

48

JOHN ARMSTROXC:.

"There is a classical correctness and closeness of
style in this poem," says Dr. Warton, "that are tnily
admirable, and the subject is raised and adorned by
numberless poetical images." Dr. Mackenzie, in his
History of Health, bestowed similar praises on this
poem, which was indeed everywhere readand admired.

In 1741 Armstrong solicited the patronage of Dr.
Bircli, to be appointed physician to the llect then
about to sail for the West Indies; but he does nitt
seem to have obtained the object of his desire. In
1746, when established in reputation \is\\\'i Art of
Prcsen-'.Hi; Htaith, he was appointed one of the
physicians to the hospital for lame and sick soldiers
ix-hind Buckingham House. In 175 1 he published
his poem on Bcitei'olcnci; in folio, a prtxluction which
seems to have come from the heart, and contains
sentiments which could have been expressed with
ct]ual ardour only by one who felt them. His Taste,
an EptstU tea Youit^ Critic, 1753, 4to, is a lively and
spirited imitation of Pope, and the first production
in which Armstrong began to view men antl manners
with a splenetic eye. His next work was less meri-
torious. It was entitled Skt-tc/ws or Essays on I 'arioiis
Sufijcvts, and appeared under the fictitious name of
Lancelot Temiile, Ksq. The critical cxaniinators
of Dr. Armstrong's merits allow to this work tlie
credit of exhibiting much humour and knowledge of
the world, but find it deformed by a perjK-tual flow
of affectation, a struggle to say smart tilings, and,
above all, a disgusting repetition of vulgar oaths and
exclamations — forms of expression to which the poet,
it seems, was also much addicted in conversation.
In some of these sketches, Armstrong is said to have
had assistance from the notorious John Wilkes, with
whom he lived in habits of intimacy; but it is certain
that the contributions of this gentleman cannot have
been great, as the work is mucli inferior to the
literary style of the demagogue of Ayleslnir}', who,
whatever might be his moral failings, is allowed to
have had a chaste clas?.ical taste, and a pure vein of
humour.

Armstrong had sufficient professional interest in
1760 to oi)tain the appointment of physician to tlie
army in Germany. From that country he wrote
/)i!y, a Poem, addressed as an epistle to John Wilkes,
Esij. This lively ]iiece, which professes to embody
an account of all the proper indulgences, moral and
physical, of twenty-four liours, was, it is said, pub-
li>lied in an imiK-rfect shape, by some clandestine
editor. It was never adtled to tlie collected works
of Dr. Armstrong till Dr. Anderson admitted it into
hi-, edition of the Jyritish Poets. After the jieace of
1763, Dr. .\rm>trong returned to London, and re-
sumed his practice, but with no e.ager desire of iii-
crea-iing the moderate conijietency he now enjoyed.
He continued after tliis period ratlier to an.Uic than
to exert him-.elf in literary productions, chietlv s|)end-
ing his time in the society of men of wit and taste
like iiim>elf In 1771 he made a tour into france
and Italy, in conijiany witli the ttlehrated Lusi'li,
who survived lijm for nearly fifty years, and always
>poke higliiy of Dr. .Armstrong's amiable character.
In Italy lie took a temler farewell of liis friend
Smollett, to whom he was much attached, and wiio
elied soon after. On returning home he pid)lisliecl
an account of his travels, under the name (jf /.nine-
lot Temple.

The latter years of Dr. Armstrong's life were
embittered by one of those ([uarrels which, arising
between pcr>ons fjrmerly much attached, aie at
once the most envenomed and the most productive
of uneasiness to the jjarties. In his poem of Day,
he had asked, among other things,

" What cra;ry scribbler reigns the iircscnt wii?"

which the poet Churchill very properly took to him-
self, and resented in the following passage in his
poem of 'Phe Journey: —

" Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of sense,
Read musty lectures on Benevolence;
Or con the pages of his gaping Day,^
Where all his former fame was thrown away,
Where all but barren labour was forgot,
And the vain stiffness of a lettered Scot;
Let them with Armstrong p.ass the term of light.
Hut not one hour of darkness; when the night
Suspends this mortal coil, when memory wakes,
Wlien for our past misdoings conscience takes
A deep revenge, when by reflection led
She draws his curtains, and looks comfort dead,
Let every muse be gone; in vain he turns.
And tries to pray for sleep; an Etna burns,
A more than Etna in his coward breast.
And guilt, with vengeance armed, forbids to rest;
'though soft as plumage from young Zephyr's wing.
His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring;
Ingratitude hath planted daggers there,
No good man can deserve, no brave man bear."

We have no hesitation in saying that this severe
satire was not justified either by the offence which
called it forth or by the circuinstances on which it
was founded. Wilkes, the associate of Churchill,
had lent money to Armstrong on some occasion of
]:)eculiar distress. When the attacks of Wilkes upon
Scotland led to animosities between the two friends,
it was not to be expected that the recollection of
a former obligation was necessarily to tie up the
natural feelings of Dr. Armstrong, and induce him
to submit rather to the certain charge of meanness
of spirit, than the possible imputation of ingratitude.
Neit' er could Wilkes have fairly expected that the
natural course of the quarrel was to be stayed by
such a submission on the part of his former friend.
It would have been equally mean for the obliged
party to have tendered, and for the obliging party
to have accepted, such a submission. There can be
no doubt, therefore, that Dr. Armstrong, in giving
way to resentment against Wilkes, was chargeable,
properly, with no blame except that of giving way
to resentment; and if it is to be supposed, from the
character of the poet in respect of irritability, that
the resentment would have taken place whether
there had been a debt of kindness standing undis-
charged between the parties or not, we cannot really
see how this contingent circumstance can enhance
his offence.

There is unfortunately too great reason to su]i]50sc,
that if the obligation tended to increase the blame
of either parly, it was that of Wilkes, who, from
almost incontestable evidence, ajipears to have made
a most ungenerous use of the advantage he had ac-
quired over his former friend. Not only must he bear
a ])ortion of the guilt of Churchill's satire, which
could have only been written as a transcri)>t of his
feelings, and with his sanction, but he stands almost
certainly guilty of a still more direct and scurrilous
attack u])on Dr. Armstrong, which a]i]ieared in a
much more insidious form. This ^\•as a series oi
articles in the well-known Public Adi'ertiscr, com-
mencing willi a letter signed J)ies, whicli appeared
to proceed from an enemy of the patriot, but, in the
ojiinion of Dr. Armstrong, was written by the ])atriot
Inmself

.\rnistrf)ng died at his house in Kussel Street,
('')vent (ianlen, September 7, 1779, in consequence
of an aeciilental contusion in his thigh, received
while getting into a carriage. He was found, to the
siir])rise of the world, to have saved the sum of
;^2000 (uit of his moderate income, which for many

' 'Wn-. ))'n;m was fall of l.irgj hiatus iUliplicd by asteriiks.

HUGO ARNOT.

49

years had consisted of nothing more than his half-
pay.

Dr. Armstrong was much beloved and respected
by his friends for his gentle and amiable dispositions,
as well as his extensive knowledge and abilities; but
a kind of morbid sensibility preyed upon his temper,
and a languid listlessness too frequently interrupted
his intellectual efforts. With Thomson's Castle of
fndolctice he is appropriately connected, both as a
fiijure in the piece and as a contributor to the verse.
l"he following is his portraiture:—

With him was sometimes joined in silent walk

(Profoundly silent -for they never spoke ,
One shyer still, who quite detested talk;

Oft stung by spleen, at once away he broke.
To groves of pine, and broad o'ershadowing oak,

There, inly thrilled, he wandered all alone.
And on himself his pensive fury wroke:

He never uttered word, save, when first shone
The glittering star of eve—' ' Thank heaven! the day is done 1"

His contributions consist of four stanzas descriptive
of the diseases to which the votaries of indolence
finally become martyrs.

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

ARNOT, Ilrr.o, a historical and antiquarian
writer of tlie eighteenth century, was the son of
a merchant and ship-jiroprietor at Leith, where he
was l)orn, December 8th, 1749. His name originally
was I'ollock, which he changed in early life for
.\rnot, on falling heir, through his mother, to the
estate of H.ilcorino in Fife. As "Hugo Arnot of
IJalcornio, I'.-q.." he is entered as a member of the
Kaculty of .Vdvocates, December 5, 1772, when ju^t
about to complete his twenty-third year. Previous
to this period he had had the misfortune to lose his
father. Another evil which befell him in early life
was a settled a'-thma, the result of a severe cold
which he caught in his fifteenth year. As this dis-
order was always aggravated by exertion of anv kind,
it became a serious ohstniction to his progress at the
bar: some of his jileading-^. nevertheless, were mucli
admired, and obtained for him the ajiplause of the
bench. Perhaps it was this interruption of his ]iro-

VuL. I.

fessional career which caused him to turn his atten-
tion to literature. In 1779 apix-ared \\\s History 0/
Edinburgh, I vol. 410, a work of much research,
and greatly superior in a literary ]>oint of view to
the generality of local works. The styk* of the
historical part is elegant and epigrammatic, with
a vein of causticity highly characteri^^tic of the
author. From this elaborate work the author is
said to have only realized a few pounds of ))rofit;
a piratical impression, at less than half the price,
was published almost simultaneously at Dublin, and,
being shipped over to .Scotland in great quantities,
completely threw the author's edition out of the
market. A bookseller's seeoiid edition, as it is called,
appeared after the author's death, being simply the
remainder of the former stock, embellishe«l with
plates, and enlarged by some additions from the j>en
of the publisher, Mr. Creech. Another edition was
published in 8vo, in 1817.

Mr. Arnot seems to have now lived on terms of
literar)' equality with those distinguished literary and
professional characters who were his fellow-towns-
men and contemporaries. He did not, however, for
some years, publish any other considerable or acknow-
ledged work. He devoted his mind chiefiy to local
subjects, and sent forth numerous pamphlets and
newspaper essays, which had a considerable effect in
accelerating or promoting the erection of various
public works. The exertions of a man of his public
spirit and enlarged mind, at a time when the capital
of Scotland was undergoing such a thorough reno-
vation and improvement, must have been of material
service to the community, both of that and of all
succeeding ages. Such they were acknowledged to
be by the magistrates, who bestowed upon him the
freedom of the city. We are told that Mr. Arnot.
by means of his influence in local matters, was able
to retard the erection of the South Brhf^e of Ediii-
burgh for ten years — not that he objected to such an
obvious improvement on its own account, but only
in so far as the magistrates could devise no other
method for defraying the expense than by a tax upon
carters; a mode of liquidating it which Mr. Arnot
thought grossly oppressive, as it fell in the first place
upon the poor. lie also was the means of prevent-
ing for several years the formation of the present
splendid road between Edinburgh and Leith, on
account of the proposed j)lan (which was afterwards
unhappily carried into effect) of defraying the expense
by a toll; being convinced, from what he knew of
local authorities, that, if such an exaction were once
established, it would always, on some pretext or
other, be kept up.

In 1785 Mr. Arnot published A CoILrtiou rf
Celebrated Criminal Trials in Scotland, 7cith Histeri-
eal and Critieal Remarks, I vol. 4to; a work of ]ier-
haps even greater research than his History oj I-.dni-
burgh, and written in the same acutely metajihy^ical
and epigrammatic style. In the front <.if thi> vohup.e
appears a large list of subscribers, embracing almo-t
all th J eminent and considerable person^ in Scotlaiiil._
with many of those in England, and testifying ot_
course to the literary and personal rc^jiectaliility oi
Mr. Arnot. This work appeared without a ]".;!'-
lisher's name, probably for some rea-on cor.r.ectei
with the following circumstance. < )\v:!ig jHvh.''.]-
to the unwillingne-s of the author to all' iw a >\:i:;cier.t
profit to the booksellers, the whole 1>. -iy ot ti.at
trade in Edinburgh refu>ed to let tlie >ui -cri| :;■ -n
pay)ers and pro^ju^ctuses hang in tluir -r.i'!-: .'-r
which reason the author anu'vancc'l. I'y ir.t,u> ot an
advertisement in the new-paper-, tliat tiu-e r.rt.Lit-
might lie >een in the cotTee-b' 'U-e-. Mr. .\r;i"l re-
ceived the sum of -ix luilidred po;;:i(I> ! •r \\v: c oie^

so

HUGO ARXOT-

SIR ROBERT AYTOX.

sold of this work, from which he would have to pay
the expenses of printing a tliin quarto: it thus hap-
pened that what was rather the least laborious of his
two works was the most profitable.

Mr. Arnot only sur\'ived the publication of his
Criminal Trials about a twelvemonth. The asthma
had ever since his fifteenth year been making rapid
ailvances upon him, and his person was now reduced
almost to a shadow. While still young, he carried
all the marks of age, andaccortlingly the traditionarj'
recollections of the historian of Ktlinburgh always
))oint to a man in the extreme of life. Perhaps no-
thing could indicate more expressively the miserable
state to which Mr. Arnot was reduced by this disease,
than his own halfdudicrous, half-pathetic exclama-
tion, on being annoyed by the bawling of a man
selling sand on the streets: "The rascal I" cried
the unfortunate invalid, "he spends as much breath
in a minute as would ser\e me for a month I" Among
the portraits and caricatures of the well-known John
Kay may be found several faithful, though somewiiat
exaggerated, memorials of the emaciated i^erson of
Hugo Arnot. As a natural constitutional result of
this disease, he was exceedingly /leii'oits, and liable
to be discomposed by the slightest annoyances: on
the other hand, he possessed such ardour and intre-
pidity of mind, that in youth he once rode on a
spirited horse to the end of tiie ])ier of Leith, while
the waves were dashing over it and every beholder
expected to see him washed immediately into the sea!
<)n another occasion, having excited some hostility
by a political pamphlet, and being summoned by an
.anonymous foe to ajipcar at a j^articular hour in a
lonely }iart of the King's Park, in order to fight, he
went and waited four hours on the spot, thus perilling
his life in what might have been the ambuscade of a
deadly enemy. By means of the same fortitude of
character he beheld the gradual ap]>roach of death
with all the calmness of a Stoic philosopher. The
m.agistrates of Leith had acknowledged some of his
public services by the ominous compliment of a piece
i>{ ground in their churchyard ; and it was the
recreation of the last weeks of Mr. Arnot's life to go
every day to observe the prfjgress made by the work-
men in prejjaring tiiis place for his own recc]5tion.
It is related that he even expressed considerable
anxiety le><t his demise should take ])kace before the
melancholy work shoulil be completed. lie died
Novend)er 20th, 17S6, when on tlie point of com-
pleting his thirty-seventh year; that age so fatal to
men of genius that it may almost be styled their
climacteric. He was interred in the tomb fitted up
by himself at .South Leilh.

Besides his historical and local works, he had
puljlished, in 1777, a fancifiil metapliysical treatise,
entitled Xothiii;;, which was originally a ]iaper read
before a \\ ell-known (h.-liating-tiul) styled the Specu-
lative Society; being probably suggested to him bv
the poem of the I-Larl of KuchesUr on the equally
impalj)able sui)ject of S/!,>ir,\ If any disagreeable
reflectifin can rest on .Mr. .ArnoTs mcmorv for the
free sco])e he has given to his niinil in this little
essay — a freedom saiictioneil, if not exc\isL'd, by the
taste of the age -he nnist be lii.-M to have made all
the amends in his jiowcr by the jiroprii-t v of his
deportment in later life; when lie entered heartily
and regularly into the observances of the Scot-
tish I'.piscojial communion, to which Ik- originally
belonged. If .Mr. .\rnot was anything decidedly in
politics, he was a Jacobite, to which paity he be-
longed by descent and by religion, and also perhaps
by virtue of his own peculiar turn of miml. In
modern politics he was quite independent, judging
all men and all measures bv no other standard tlian

their respective merits. In his professional character
he was animated by a chivalrous sentiment of honour
worthy of all admiration. He was so little of a
casuist, that he would never undertake a case unless
he were j^erfectly self-satisfied as to its justice and
legality. He had often occasion to refuse employ-
ment which fell beneath his own standard of honesty,
though it might have been profitable, and attended
by not the slightest shade of disgrace. On a case
being once brought before him, of the merits of
which he had an exceedingly bad opinion, he said
to the intending litigant, in a serious manner, " Pray,
what do you suppose me to be?" " Why," answered
the clietit, " I understand you to be a lawyer." " I
thought, sir," said Arnot sternly, " you took me for a
scoundrel." The litigant, though he perhaps thought
that the major included the minor proposition,
withdrew abashed. Mr. Arnot left eight children,
all very young; and the talent of the family appears
to have revived in a new generation, viz. in the
person of his grandson, Dr. David Boswell Reid,
whose ElcDiotts of Chemistry has taken its place
amongst the most useful treatises on the science,
and who was selected by government, on account of
his practical skill, to plan and superintend the ven-
tilation of the new houses of parliament, in the
prosecution of which object he for several years
conducted the most costly and prolonged, if not the
most successful, experiment of the kind ever made.

AYTON, Sir Robert, an eminent poet at the
court of James VI., was a younger son of Andrew
Ayton of Kinaldie, in Fife, and was born in the
year 1570- From the registers of St. Andrews uni-
versity, it appears that he was incor]:)orated or en-
rolled as a student in St. Leonard's College, De-
cember 3, 1584, and took his inaster's degree, after
the usual course of study, in the year 1588. Sub-
sequently to this, he resided for some time in France;
whence, in 1603, he addressed an elegant panegyric
in Latin verse to King James, on his accession to
the crown of England, which was printed at Paris
the same year; and this panegyric had no doubt
some influence in securing to the author the favour
of that monarch, by whom he was successively ap-
pointed one of the gentlemen of the bed-chamber,
and ]3rivate secretary to his queen, Anne of Denmark,
besides receiving the honour of knighthood. He
was, at a later period of his life, honoured with the
a]ipointment of secretary to Henrietta Maria, (piecn
of Charles I. It is recorded on Ayton's funeral
monument, as a distinction, that he had been sent
to Germany as ambassador to the emperor, with a
work published by King James, which is supposed
to have been his Apolo;^v for the Oatli of Alli-i^nauce.
\i this conjecture be correct, it must have been in
1609, when his majesty acknowleilged a work pub-
lished anonymously three years before, and inscribed
it to all the crowned heads of Euro]5e. During
Ayton's residence abroad, as well as at the court of
England, he lived in intimacy with ati'l secured the
esteem (jf the most eminent persons of the day.
"lie was acciuainted," says .Aubrey, "with all tlie
wits of his time in luigland; he was a great acquaint-
ance of Mr. Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury, wlumi
Air. Ilolihes told me he made use of, together with
lien Joiison, for an i\ristarchus, wlien he made his
e]iistle dedicatory for his translation of Thucyiiides,''
1 o this information A\e may add, as a proof of this
respect on the ])art <_)f Ben Jonson, that in his con-
versations with Drummond of Ilawlhornden, he
said, "Sir Robert .Ayton loved him (Jonson) dearly."

Sir Robert -Ayton died at London, in March,
1637-S, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. He lies

WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUX.

51

buried in the south aisle of the choir of Westminster
Abbey, at the corner of King Henry V.'s Chapel,
under a handsome monument of black marble, erected
by his nephew, David Ayton of Kinaldie; having his
bust in brass gilt, which has been preserved, while
that of Henry, the hero of Agincourt (said to have
been of a more precious metal), has long since dis-
appeared. The following is a copy of the inscrip-
tion:

M. S.

Clarissimi omnigenaq. virtute et cniditione, pr^Esertim
Poesi urnatlssiini equitis, Domini Roberli Aitoni, ex antiqua
ct illustri gente Aitona, ad Ca.struin Kinnadinum apud Scotos,
uriundi, qui a Screnissimo R. Jacobo in Cubicula Interiora
admissus, in Germaniam ad Irap'.Tatorem, Imperiiq. Principes
cum libello Rogio, Regise authoritatis yindice, Legatus, ac
primum Annx, demum Marine, serenissimis Britanniarum
Keginis ab epistolis, consiliis et libcllis supplicibus, nee non
Xenodochio S" Catherinje prajfectus. Anima Crealoris
rcddita, hie depositis mortalibus cxuviis secundum Redeinp-
toris advcntum expectat.

Carolum linquens, repetit Parentem
Et valedicens Marise revisit
Annam et Aulai decus, alto Olympi
Mutat Honorc.

Hoc devoti gratiq. animi
Testimonium optinio Patruo
Jo. Aitonus M L P.
Obiit Ccelebs in Regio Albaula
Non sine maximo Honore omnium
Luctu et Mftrore, .-Ktat. sua; LXVIII.

Salut. Humans M.UCXXXVIII.

AIUSARUM UECUS HIC, PaTRIAEQ. AlLAEQ. DOMIQLE

Et Fokis exemtlar sed ><on imitauile honesti.

The poems of Sir Robert Ayton, for the first time
published together in the Miscellany of the Bannatync
Club (from which we derive these particulars of the
poet's life), are few in number, but of great merit.
He composed no Scottish ])oems, at least none that
have come down to our times. He wrote in English,
and was, indeed, one of the first of our countrvmen
■who composed in that language with any degree of
elegance or purity. It is unfortunate that the most
of his poems are complimentary verses to the illus-
trious individuals with whom he was acquainted, and
of course characterized only by a strain of conceited
and extravagant flattery. Those, however, upon
general topics, are conceived in a refined and tender
strain of fancy, that reminds us more of the fairy
strains of Herrick than anything else. John Aulney
remarks, "that .Sir Robert was one of the best poets
of his time," and adds the more important testimony
that "Mr. John Dryden has seen verses of his, some
of the best of th(2t (i^^e, printed with some other verses."
According to Dempster, Ayton was also a writer of
verses in Greek and P'rench, as well as in Englisli
and Latin. .Several of his Latin poems are preserved
iti the work called Delitne Poetanim Seotoriim, which
was [)rinted in his lifetime (1637) at Amsterdam.

AYTOUN, Wii.i.iAM Edmondstoink. This
recent poet, essayist, ]iopular lecturer, and ]>rofc>sor,
who iu each attained to considerable di.-,tinction, was
born in June, 1813. His father was a writer to the
signi-t, and wa-^ descended from an old and respect-
able family in FiR-^hire. The future professor was
first educateil at the Ivlinhurgh Academy, where he
was noted among hi> young compeers as an ajU
scholar; and afterwards at the university of Edin-
burgli, where he went through the u^ual curriculum.
In th!< lran>it yming Aytoun became the pupil of
John'Wilson. jirofo^-'Drnf moral jihilosophv, in whom
he lo'.ind a kindred spirit, and of whom he sub^e-
(juently became the son-in-law and literary collahor-
ateur; and in this clas-^ he distinguished himself at
the early age of eighteen by his prize ]ioem en-
titled Judith. After finishing hi'^ course at college.
.\ytoun completed his studies in Germany, the liter-

ature of which country h.ad afterwards considerable
influence on the spirit of his own writings. On hLs
return to Edinburgh he passed as a writer to the
signet, but not finding this a congenial occupation,
he turned to the .Scottish bar, to which he obtained
admission in 1840. As an advocate, however, he
had little opportunity of being distinguished as an
eloquent jdeader, being chietly employed as counsel
in criminal ca.ses. His fame was chiefly confined to
the outer or parliament-house, where he was noted as
one of the wits of the day, and an eminent meml>cr
of that light-hearted talented jjarty of lawyers who
were the successors of the "stove school." I'ut such
talents as his could not be confined to imprfimjitu
sayings, and satisfied with the applause they created;
and he produced for Uie principal magazines con-
tributions, both in prose and verse, which indi-
cated a writer of no mean powers. While a contri-
butor to 7'aifs Magazine, he also, in conjunction
with his friend Theodore Martin, commenced the
Bon Gitaltier Ballads, the best collection of that
kind of poetry extant.

The literary talents of Aytoun, which were now
generally recognized, obtained him, in 1S39, a wel-
come admission amongthecontributorsto Blackwood's
Magazine; and in this distinguished periodical he
soon found rivals to quicken his powers, as well as
a sphere for their best exertions. It was there also
that from time to time he published those stirring
national odes which he afterwards gave to the \\ orld
in a collective form, under the title of Lays of the
Scottish Cavaliers. Like most young men of ardent
feelings and literary acquirements, he at the com-
mencement of life had entertained liberal sentiments
in politics, which he afterwards saw fit to change;
and this change, as is usually the case, was into a
farther extreme on the opposite side than if he had
been born and bred a Tor}-. The effects of this con-
version are apparent in his Lays, where cavalier-
devotedness in loyalty is as absolute as it is enthusi-
astic, and the conclusive unanswerable arginnent of
which is, "Thus saith the king." Such Jacobiti;m,
however, in the nineteenth century is so rare, and
withal so harmless, that its extravagance maybe jwr-
doned onaccount of itssingularityand itsdisinterested-
ness. Rut still more anient than his Jacobitism was
his. enthusiastic Caledonian patriotism, that delighted
to dwell upon the ancient remembrances of his coun-
try, and which made him conspicuous as the champion
of a party that lived for a brief period, and whose
great demand was the redress of Scottish grievances.
But the poetic element of his Lays of the Scottish
Caz-alicrs is animated and inspired by either feeling,
so that while I'he Heart cf Bruce, and L'.diiU urgii
after Floddeu, are lyrics ennobled by the purest
national devotcdness, his Buruil March cf Dundee,
and Charles Edward at rtV.r(//7/<j-, are all th.e more
poetical from the fervour of the Jacobite si>ir.t by
which they are characterized. Lut it was not m-jrely
by his poetr}- that Aytoun Ijccame one of ilic mo-;
dir-iinguished ^\■riters in B.'cJc/.'eccd. His t-ssays,
dissertations, and talcs in that magazine were c':i;.illy
jiojiular; and few of its mirth-ins]iiring stunts cm
compete v.ith h.is (ilc;.'Mutch/:in /\\::.':eir.: iV yA:r I
became a ]'ecma;i. How .assiduously aivi e\cli>iVLly
his literary exertions were devoted to th.is oi^e ] eri-
odical mav be nu'lerstood from the fact thr.t, bc^v.etii
the year 1S30. when he f,r< a] I'cared in i-.s j .-.^e-.
until 1S65. the year of liis deatli. he ci r.triii'.iiel n.' le
tinn 120 articles up'. II a great i::\ers:;y i 1 M.i'.ee;-.
but all of t!;em disiinguislied ly m ;;ie ; .•:i:Lu!;;r
excellence.

While Ay!(.r- w-sthusestab:i-hirg ah--' V'- r-ry
rejHilation thii ug!i a n:e'.;;uin g' r.e:.-. y •... - ■.'^..t so

"WILLIAM EDMOXDSTOUXE AYTOUX

WILLIAM BALFOUR BAIKIE.

precarious and evanescent as that of magazine writing,
the chair of rhetoric and bdlcs-lettrcs in the university
of Edinburgh became vacant, and to this professor-
ship he was appointed in 1845. I' ^^'^^ ^ great
change in the hterary Hfe of one who had hitherto
frolicked over the whole field of intellect, and regu-
lated his choice of subjects by the mood of the pass-
ing hour. A systematic course of lectures was to be
delivered; but this was not all — he must train young
tyros to accurate thought and correct graceful com-
position, and bear with those blunders that set the
teeth of a refined critic on edge. He must subject
his pupils to daily oral examination, and revise their
themes and essays pen in hand and with a patience
all-enduring. But on the other hand, every depart-
ment of his course was already familiar to his mind;
in training the youthful intellect he could remember
how his own had been matured; and while leading
them by the same way, he couKl enjoy the luxury of
living over again, and seeing himself reproduced
anew in the pupils who walked in his steps. His
assiduity, hisjiatience, and his sympathy as a teacher,
and the popularity and success with whicli they were
crowned, very soon appeared. A chair which had
hitherto been little regarded, became one of tiie most
popular in the university; and his class-room, which
at first comprised about thirty students, was at the
close of his life attended by a hundred and fifty.

The other particulars of Aytoun's life may be
briefly enumerated. In 1849 he married Jane, the
youngest daughter of Professor Wilson, wlio died
ten years after. In 1S52, on account of the services
he had rendered as a writer to their party. Lord
Derby and his friends acknowledged their oljligation
by apjiointing him sheriff and vice-admiral of Orkney
ar.d .Shetland; and the duties of these offices he
carefully fulfilled, spending for the purpose a con-
sideral)le portion of each summer in these islands.
After four vcars of widowhoo 1, he, in Decemljer,

1 863, married Miss Kinnear, a near relative of his
friends, the Balfours of Trennabie, in Orkney. As
yet in the prime of life, a large amount of happiness
was thought to be still in store for him: but in the
winter of 1864 he sickened, his constitution was
gradually undermined, and he died on the 4th of
August, 1S65.

During such varied activity of a literary life, and
so prolific in its various productions, much that Mr.
Aytoun wrote was upon subjects of political interest
for the day, and therefore they have quietly dropped,
or are dropping, out of notice. His tales, however,
will always be appreciated as veritable pictures of
human nature, and will show how high a place he
would have occupied if he had devoted himself to this
kind of literature. But it is as a poet that he will
be best rememl;ered, and his Lays and touching
songs will be quoted when his political dissertations
are forgot. While he lived, not the least of his
literary distinctions arose from being supposed the
editor of Blackii'ood''s Magazine, and that in this
ofhce he succeeded his father-in-law. Professor John
Wilson. But that both suppositions were entirely
unfounded has been declared by official authority in
the following intimation: — " It was erroneously sup-
posed in some quarters that Mr. Aytoun occupied
the position of editor of this magazine. Indeed, it
seems difficult to persuade our friends at a distance
of what is well known to those nearer at hand, that
the proprietors of this magazine have never, since
its commencement, now nearly half a century ago,
devolved upon others the powers or responsibilities
of an editor. To this system, perhaps, they owe it
that the magazine has preserved a uniform consis-
tency of aim and purpose; and that, while warm in
its advocacy of great views and principles, it has
avoided those petty partizanships and predilections
from which it is so difficult for an ordinary editor to
keep free.'''

B-

BAIKIE, Wii.i.iAM BAi.roiR, M. D., R.X. The
fiel'l of .\frican ex])luration, althougli tlie most
difficult and deadly, has always l)een the favourite
choice of Scottish traveller^. .And wlience this
])eculiarity? It perhaps arises from the national
cliaracter, wliich only becomes more resolute from
ojiposition, and which scorns to suecuml) as long as
there are dangers to surmount or difficulties to be
overcome. Although alnvi^t everv new j^atli of
African discovery contains the grave of sonic un-
firtunate Scottish ex]ilorer who died mi(l-\\a\-, tlie
lonely hilloek only animates some successor to ac-
com]>li-.h what the other has left tiiidonc, instead of
compelling him to pau^e and turn liaek. .Amon:,;
these martyrs of .Afriean discovery, the li-t f u' tlie
present terminates with tlie name of Dr. William
Balfour P.aikie.

This lamented travellrr was the son of Captain
John ]5aikie, R.X*., and was b')rn at Kirkwall,
Orkney, 1S20. yVfter an education at the grannnar-
school of his native town, he went to Edinbui;di,
studied medicine, and highly distinginshed himself
in the medical classes of the iniiverNitv. Having
obtained the degree of M.D. he entered the ro\.;l
navy as assistant-surgeon in .\Iareh 15, 1S4S, and in
this cajiacity served fir sonic time in tlie I'l'/t/gr.
a survevinc: vessel in the Mediterranean. But it w.i-

in lSs5 tliat he was introduced to his proper voca-
tion, bv being sent f)Ut on board the /'Awi/ steamer
as an accredited envoy of the British government,
for the jnirpose of opening up the trade of the
Xiger, forming a trading settlement in the interior of
Africa, and thus bringing the various Xiger expedi-
tions to a ]iractical conclusion. It was while thus
employed that the iron steamer /Jay Spring was
lost in going through some of the rajudsof the river;
l)ut this disaster, instead of discouraging Dr. Baikie,
only made him nuire active and self-reliant. Having
saved all he could from the wreck, he took up his
abode with the wild African tribes, and followed
out his duties as a govermnent commissioner by ex-
]iloring the country in every direction, and entering
into binding engagements with the African ehie-fs
and their people in relation to their traffic with the
British. But while thus em])loyed as a ])ioneer of
eonnnerce and civilization, and collecting vocabu-
laries of the n.ative languages for the pur]iose of
facilitating the intercourse of Europeans with the
natives, his su])plies from home were exhausted, his
horses (iied, aiifl he soon found himself as bare and
helple--^ as the most imjioverished of our y\friean
tiavL-llers. \'ct still zealous to prosecute his \\-ork,

' r.'a.KicooJs Mai;azi):c for ScptijiuLcr, iC',

WILLIAM BALFOUR BAIKIE JOANNA BAILLIE.

53

and another vessel, tlie Sunbeam, being sent to his
relief, he settled at Lukoja, near the junction of the
Chadda with the Niger. The account of it, given by
Dr. Baikie in .September, l86l, invests it with con-
siderable mercantile importance. "The King of
Niipe, tlie most powerful next to the Sultan of
Sokoto, being desirous of seeing a market for Euro-
pean produce here, entered into relations with us,
and undertook to open various roads for the passage
of caravans, traders, and canoes to this place, which
promise has been faithfully performed; I, on my part,
giving him to understand that it was the desire of her
majesty's government to have a trading station here.
... I have started a regular market here, and have
established the recognition of Sunday as a non-trad-
ing day, and the exclusion of slaves from our market.
Alreacly traders come to us from Kabbi, Kano, and
other parts of Hausa; and we hope, ere long, to see
regular caravans with ivory and other produce. The
step I am taking is not lightly adopted. After a
prolonged absence from England, to stay another
season here without any Europeans, with only a
faint prospect of speedy communication, and after
all my experience of hunger and difficulty last year,
is by no means an inviting prospect. But what
I look to are the securing for England a command-
ing position in Central Africa, and the necessity of
making a commencement."

The most serious difficulty which Dr. Baikie had
encountered arose from the precarious character of
his official position. In consequence of the loss of
tlie PUiaJ and other disasters, the foreign office in
i860 recalled the expedition to the Niger; but his
unaided attempts had been so successful, and he had
brought over so many African chiefs to his views by
l)romises of British co-operation, that our govern-
ment cancelled the recal, and ordered the expedition
to be continued. Baikie was therefore enabled to
continue the good work which he had commenced
at his settlement of Lukoja; and after having seen it
securely established, he craved leave of absence in
October, 1S63. The wish he expressed was to see
his aged father, from whom he had been absent seven
years. In June, 1864, the foreign office assented,
in the hope that in the following year he would
return to his African settlement; and Dr. Baikie,
eager to revisit his native home, arrived at Lagos
in October. Had he immediately embarked for
England as he had at first intended, and as he
announced to hi3 expecting friends at home, his
safety might have been insured. But the labour of
arranging his African preparations occupied so much
time, that the favourable opportunity was lost.
Arriving at Sierra Leone, that place so fatal to
European constitutions, he was attacked with illness
which in two short days ended his adventurous
career.

Such is the brief narrative of one wliose travels
and exertions in .-Vfrica would of themselves suftke
to fill a whole volume of interesting biography.
But it was not in action alone that his energies were
expended. His earnest studies in a climate so
enervating and exhausting, his extensive geographical
and physiological observations, his contributi<jns to
scientific societies, and his copious correspondence,
would of themselves furnish an amount of knowledge
about the ]K-ople, climate, and productions of the
interior of Africa as would vastly enrich the store-
house of our African research. Nor were his labours
less abundant in the African languages, so that his
vocabularies of the Ilausa, Fulo. and l-'ulfulde tongues
comprise each of them between three an<l four thousand
words. Out of so large a collection of manuscripts,
and where tliere is so much excellence from which

to choose, we hope that a publication will lie given
as an enduring monument of the sterling worth of
Dr. Baikie. This good work indeed is already in
progress, his numerous journals descriptive of his
travels and researches, now in the foreign office,
having been placed in the hands of Dr. Kirk, the
accomplished African traveller, for revision and
arrangement. The printed communications of Dr.
Baikie are comprised in the following short list : —
Despatches frotu 0/ the A'lger Kxpedition rela-
tive to the Trade of that River, and to the liligihilil-,
of Central Africa as a future Cotton-field. Map.
Folio, 1862. (Blue Book.) — Report on the Geoi^ru-
phical Position of the Countries in the neighbourhood of
the Niger, &c. Map. Folio, 1862. — Obsenations
on the Hausa and Fulfulde Languages. Privately
printed, 8vo, 1862. — iVarrative of an Exploring
P'oyage up the Rivers A'u'dra and Binue (commonly
known as the Niger and Tsada), in 1854: 8vo, 1856.

BAILLIE, Joanna, authoress of Plays on the
Passions, and various other dramatic works and .
poems, was bom on September li, 1762, in the
manse of Bothwell in Lanarkshire. Her father, Dr.
James Baillie, the minister of that parish, and sub-
sequently professor of divinity in the university of
Glasgow, sprang from a family allied to that of the
celebrated Principal Robert Baillie, and likewise to
that of the Baillies of Jerviswood, memorable in the
history of Scotland. All these lines were derived
from the ancient stem of the Baillies of Lamington.
Her mother, also, was one of a race well known in
.Scottish heraldry, for she was descended from the
Hunters of Hunterston, and was the sister of William
and John Hunter, both renowned in the annals of
science. The children, by the marriage of Dr.
James Baillie with Miss Hunter, were Agnes;
Matthew, afterwards the eminent physician; and
Joanna, a twin- — the other child being still-born.

The early youth of Joanna Baillie was passed
among the romantic scenes of Bothwell, where eveiy
element existed to awaken the fancy of the poet;
but when she had attained her sixth year the family
removed to Hamilton, to the collegiate church of
which place her father had been appointed minister.
During her childhood Joanna Baillie was not re-
markable for acquirement, yet, nevertheless, showed
much originality and quickness of intellect. She
made verses before she could read, and soon mani-
fested dramatic talent. She took ever)- opportunity
of arranging among her young companions theatrical
performances, in which her power of sustaining
characters was remarkable, and she frequently wrote
the dialogue herself She was also cons])icuous fur
fearlessness of disjaosition, which in after-years dis-
played itself in moral courage — a virtue often ]iro-
minent in her conduct. Notwithstanding the de-
cided tendency of her mind, she did not become an
author till at a later ])eriod than is usual with th(i>e
who are subject to the strong imjndses of genius.
In 1778 her father died; and in 17S4, hi? wid^w,
with her daughters, having lived for some year.- r.t
Long Calderwood, near Hamilton, procecile 1 t^
London to reside with her son, vho had tliere
entered on his medical career, and who, i:;i.in the
death of his uncle, Dr. William Ilur.tcr. lir.d bcc-!;io
possessed of the house in Great Wimhn;!! Siixl:
which the latter had built and inli.ibitod.

It was in this al)ode that Joanna Baiilio. in 17^,0.
first re>olved upon iiubli.-hing. and tlie n.-uit \\.';-a
small volume of miscellaneous juxMn-, to wIkJi ~!ie
did not affix her name. The.-e (.•v-.ncoil ci'T>; ^-r.i: -.e
talent, hut not the j^owor she at'terw ar!- m.-niv-icii.
In 17'jS >he gavj to tlie wurld, r.L-j an-'iiyr.-. ju.-fy,

54

JOANNA EAILLIE MATTHEW BAILLIE.

her first volume of dramas, in which the true bent of
her genius was fully seen. This was entitled A
Serit-s of Plays, in which it is atUmptcd to Delineate
the Stronger Passions of the Mind, each Passion being
the subject of a Tragedy and a Comedy, and these were
accompanied by an introductory discourse of some
length, in which dramatic composition was discussed,
in which, also, many original views were announced,
together witli the peculiar system she proposed to
adopt. Rich though the period was in poetry, this
work made a great impression, and a new edition of
it was soon required. The writer was sought for
among the most gifted personages of the day, and
the illustrious Scott, with others then equally appre-
ciated, was suspected as the author. The jiraise
bestowed upon Pasil and De Montfori encouraged
the autlioress, and in lSo2, she pul>iished another
volume of plays on the Passions. Although much
o'.)jection w.is made to theopinions she hail enunciated
in the preface to her first dramas, and though the
criticism from an influential (juarter was severe, she
atlhered to her jiurpose, and continued to write on
the same plan which she had at first evolved; for,
in 1S12, she sent forth another volume of plays on
the Passions, and in 1836. three more volumes of
plays, containing some in prosecution of her primary
design, which she thus completed, and some on
miscellaneous subjects. Besides those above-men-
tioned, during the long j^eriod of her career she
j)ubli>hed various other dramas, and all her writings
in this form exhibit great originality, power, and
knowledge of human nature. Her works also are
rich in imagery, and a pure and energetic strain of
poetry pervades them. For the great effects she
produced she was little indebted to study, of which
her pages bear few indications. The characters she
portrayed, the stories on which her plays were
founded, and the management of them, proceeded
almost entirely fr(jm her own invention. She was
the authoress, also, of some poems, as well as songs,
of high merit, among which may be especially men-
tionetl those well-known favourite .Scottish ones
entitled "The bride, she is winsome and bonnie,"
and " It fell on a morning when we were thrang;"
and the lyrical c<>mpo>iti()iis scattered through her
dramas are distinguished i)y their freshness and
beauty. Some of her ))lays were represented on the
stage, but without much success. Passion in them
is forcibly and faithfully delineated, but without
those startling and effective situations calculated to
obtain tlu.-atrical triumph. Unmarried, and dwelling
out of London, she had not those op])ortunities of
frequenting the theatre which are necessary for the
pnxluction of coInpo^itions jiopular in rejiresenfation.
It must l)e remembered, also, that female delicacy

{)laces a limit not only to the exuberance of jiassion,
>ut also to the choice of subjects, which interfered
both with the f)rce and variety of her ])lays.

.After Joanna I5aillie had left Scotland, in 17S4,
she di'l ni)t return to her native land excejit for
occasional visits. Upon the marriage of her brother,
in 1791, with Miss l)enman, tiie sister of flu- Lord
Chief-justice Denman, Joanna P.aillie, with lu-r
mother and si>ter, passed some years at (Ji)lelK>ter,
but subsequently settled at Ilampstead. near I-omion,
where she resi<lcd for more than half a centurv.
Her mother died in 1806, and her sole companion
during the remainder of her life was her sister,
whose character, virtues, and claims upon the
affections rif the ]ioetess arc beniUifully connneni-
orated by her in an address to .Miss .\gnes I'aillie
on her birth-day. The means of Joanna I'aillie
were sufficient ff>r every comfort, and enabled her
to see many of the most distinguished individuals

the great metropolis contained, who, attracted
by her high reputation, her perfect simplicity
of manners, and the talent and shrewdness of her
conversation, resorted freely to her home. Sir
Walter Scott was one of her warmest friends and
most ardent admirers, as many passages in his
writings declare. Joanna Baillie was under the
middle size, but not diminutive, and her form was
slender. Her countenance indicated high talent,
worth, and decision. Her life was characterized by
the purest morality. Her principles were sustained
by a strong and abiding sense of religion, while her
great genius, and the engrossing pursuits of composi-
tion, never interfered with her active benevolence
or the daily duties of life. She died in her house, in
Hampstead, on the 23d day of February, 185 1.

BAILLIE, Matthew, M.D., a distinguished
modern physican and anatomist, was the son of the
Rev. James Baillie, D.D., professor of divinity in
the university of Glasgow. He was born October
27, 1761, in the manse of Shotts, of which parish his
father was then minister. The father of Dr. Matthew
Baillie was supposed to be descended from the family
of Baillie of Jerviswood, so noted in the history of
Scottish freedom; his mother was a sister of the two
celebrated anatomists. Dr. William and Mr. John
Hunter; and one of his two sisters was Miss Joanna
Baillie, the well-known and amiable authoress of
Plays on (he Passions. After receiving the rudiments
of his education under his father's immediate super-
intendence, he began his academical course in 1773,
in the university of Glasgow, where he distinguished
himself so highly as to be transferred, in 1778, upon
.Snell's foundation, to Baliol College, Oxford. Here,
when he had attained the proper standing, he took
his degrees in arts and physic. In 1780, while still
keeping his terms at O.v:ford, he commenced his
anatomical studies at London, under the care of his
uncles. He had the great advantage of residing with
Dr. William Hunter, and, when he became suffi-
ciently advanced in his studies, of being employed to
make the necessary preparations for the lectures, to
conduct the demonstrations, and to superintend the
operations of the students. On the death of Dr.
Hunter, March, 1783, he was found qualified to be-
come the successor of that great man, in conjunction
with Mr. Cruickshank, who had j^reviously been
employed as Dr. Hunter's assistant. His uncle
a])])ointed him by will to have the use of liis splendid
collection of anatomical preparations, so long as he
should continue an anatomical lecturer, after which
it was to be transferred to Cilasgow College. Dr.
Baillie began to lecture in 1784, anil soon acquired
the highest reputation as an anatomical teacher.
He was himself indefatigable in the business of fomi-
ing jireparations, adding, it is said, no fewer than
eleven hundred articles to his uncle's museum. He
])i)ssessed the valuable talent of making an abstruse
and dift'icult subject ]ilain; his prelections were re-
markalile for that lucid order and clearness of ex-
]iressioii which proceed from a perfect conception of
the subject; anil he never permitted any vanity of
display to turn him from his great object of convey-
ing inlormation in the simplest and most intelligible
\\ay, and so as to become useful to his pupils. The
distinctness of his elocution was also much admired,
notwithstanding that he never could altogether shake
ofl the accent of liis native country. In 1795 Dr.
baillie embodied the knowledge he ]:)ossessed through
his own observations and those of liis uncle in a
small but most valuable work, entitled The Morbid
Aihilomy of some of the most important Parts of the
Ilnntau r,ody, wliicli \\as immediately translated

MATTHEW BAILLIE.

into French and German, and extended his name to
every land where medical science was cultivated.
The publication of this little treatise was, indeed, an
era in the history of medical knowledge in this
country. It combined all the information formerly
scattered throu;^h the writings of Bonetus, Lieutaud,
and Montagcii, besides the immense store of observa-
tions made by the ingenious author. The know-
ledge of the changes produced on the human frame
by disease had previously been very imperfect; but
it was now so com|)letely elucidated that, with the
assistance of this little volume, any j)erson previously
acijuainted with morbid symptoms, but unacquainted
with the disease, could, upon an examination after
death, understand the whole malady. Perhaps no
production of the period ever liad so much influence
on the study of medicine, or contributed so much to
correct unfounded speculations upon the nature of
disease, to excite a spirit of observation, and to lead
the attention of the student to fact and experience.
Along with all its excellencies, it was delightful to
observe the extreme modesty and total absence of
pretension with which the author, in the fulness of
liis immense knowledge, ushered it into the world.

In 1787 Dr. Baillie had been elected physician
to St. George's Hospital, a situation which afforded
him many of those opj^ortunities of observation
upon which the success of his work on Morbid Ana-
tomy was founded. In 1789, having taken his
degree of M.D. at Oxford, he was admitted a can-
didate at the College of Physicians, and in the fol-
lowing year had the full privileges of fellowship
conferretl upon him. About the same time he was
elected a fellow of the Royal Society, to which he
had contributed two essays. He served the office
of censor in the Royal College of Physicians, in
1792 and 1797, and that of commissioner under the
act of parliament for the inspection and licensing of
mad-houses in 1794 and 1795.

In 1799 Dr. Paillie relinquished the business of
an anatomical lecturer, and in 1800 resigned his
duties as physician to .St. George's Hospital. Partly
by the inlluence of his fame as an anatomist, and
partly through the disinterested recommendations of
several members of his own profession, he found
himself gradually tempted into the less agreeable
business of a general physician. He was always
resorted to when more than ordinary scientific pre-
cision was rec|uired. About the year iSoi, when
he had attained the mature age of forty, he had be-
come completely absorlied in practice. As a physi-
cian, he possessed, in an eminent degree, a facility
in distinguishing diseases — one of the most impor-
tant qualifications in the practice of medicine, as a
want of accuracy in discriminating symptomatic
from primary affections leads to the most serious
errors; wiiiUt it may be said that, when a disease is
once distinctly characterized, and the peculiarities of
the case defined, the cure is half performed. I labits
-if attentive observation had enabled Dr. Baillie to
know, with great accuracy, the precise extent of the
powers of medicine; indeed, there was no class of
cases more likely to f;\Il under his observation than
those in which they had been abused, younger prac-
titioners being apt to carry a particular system of
treatment beyond its proper limits; Dr.Baillie's
readiness, therefore, in seeing this abuse, rendered
his opinions, in many ca>es, of great value. Yet he
was always scrupulously anxious, through the natural
benignity of his (li>])osition. to use his knowledge
with a delicate regard to the interests of those juniors
whose proce<lure lie was called upon to amend. He
managed, indeed, this ]\-irt of liis practice with so
much delicacv that lie wa^ held in the utmost atTec-

tion and esteem by the younger branciies of the pro-
fession.

Dr. Baillie was remarkable for forming his judg-
ment of any case before him from his own observa-
tions exclusively; carefully guarding himself against
any prepossessions from the opinions suggested bv
others. When he visited a patient, he obser^•ed him
accurately, he listened to him attentively, he put a
few pointed c[uestions — and his opinion was f(jrmed.
Beneath a most natural and unassuming manner,
which was the same on all occasions, was c<mcealed
an almost intuitive power of perceiving the state
of his patient. His mind was always quietly, but
eagerly, directed to an investigation of the symptoms;
and he had so distinct and systematic a mode of
putting questions, that the answers of his patients
often presented a connected view of the whole case.
On such occasions, he avoided technical and learned
phrases; he affected none of that sentimental tender-
ness which is sometimes assumed by a j)hysician
with a view to recommend himself to his patient; but
he expressed what he had to say in the simplest and
plainest terms; with some pleasantrv' if the occasion
admitted of it, and with gravity and gentleness if
they were required; and he left his patient either
encouraged or tranquillized, persuafled that the
opinion he had received was sound and honest, whether
it was unfavourable or not, and that his physician
merited his confidence. In delivering or writing his
opinions he was equally remarkable for unaffected
simplicity. His language was sometimes so plain,
that his patients have been able to repeat to their
other medical attendants every word w hich he had
uttered. In consultation he gave his opinion con-
cisely, and with a few grounds; those grounds being
chiefly facts, rather than arguments, so that little
room was left for disjnite. If any difference or diffi-
culty arose, his example pointed out the way of re-
moving it, by an appeal to other facts, and by a
neglect of speculative reasoning.

In ever}' relation and situation of private life Dr.
Baillie was equally to be admired; and it must be
added, that the same liberal and just ideas which, on
all occasions, guided his conduct as an individual,
ruled him in his many public duties: he never coun-
tenanced any measures which had the appearance of
oppression or hostility towards the mendjers of his
profession. Men seldom act, collectively, with the
same honour and integrity as they would do individ-
ually; and a member of a ]Uiblic body requires an
unu.-.ual share of moral courage, who oppo.-es those
measures cf his associates which he may not him-
self approve of; but if there was one (jualification
more than another which gave Dr. Baillie the
public confidence he enjoyed, and raised him to the
zenith of professional distinction, it was \\\> inllexibic
integrity.

In 1799 Dr. Baillie commenced the pulilication
of A Scries cf Eiii^rarnr^s to illustrate soiiw I'arts oj
Morbid Aim'tpviy, in successive yi?.u7<7///. \\hich were
completed in 1S02. The drawings fnr thi> -jilerjiid
work were done by Mr. Clift. the con-ervnt'.r of tlic
Hunterian Museum in Lincoln's Inn l-ieh'.s; .y>i
they were creditable at once to the taste and lilier.i'.ity
of Dr. Baillie, and to the state o\ art in tl;at <:ay.
Dr. Baillie afterwards published .1 >; .! >::itr::.\:i / 'r-
soription of tlu- Grand i'torus: and thn i:-!:' i;: :h.e
whole course of hi> iirofe-sional life, he c^ •r.-,iil u'.ed
largely to the transactions and nu- ileal oLeL::-!-
of the time. ^Vhen he wa- at th.e liei-h; "1 1::-
popularitv. he enioyeti a hii^her iix' iv.c tijan ar.y
lireceding jilivsician, and whi^b. wa- ■ r.iy ;:-:i-:i" r ;■>
the sum receive<! by one ]iar;icv,;ar c r.'u;;; ■ aarv.
In one of his busiest vears, \\hen he hai scarcely

56

MATTHEW BAILLIE

ROBERT BAILLIE.

time to take a single meal, it is said lo have reached
_;,^io,ooo. He was admitted to have the greatest
consultation business of his time; and it was known
that he was applied to for medical advice from many
distant quarters of the world. From his arduous,
and to his mind often irksome, duties, he enjoyed no
rela.xation for many years, till at length he began to
indulge in an annual retirement of a few months to
the country. On one of the first of these occasions
he paid a visit to the land of his birth, which, during
an absence of thirty years, spent in busy and distract-
ing pursuits, he had never ceased to regard with the
most tender feelings. The love of country was, in-
deed, a prominent feature in his character; and he
was prepared on this occasion to realize many enjoy-
ments which he had previously contemplated with
enthusiasm, in the prospect of once more beholding
the land and friends of his youth. The result was
far different from his expectations. lie found most
of his early companions cither scattered over the
world, in search, as he himself had been, of fortune,
or else forgotten in untimely graves; of those who
survived, many were removed beyond his sym-
pathies by that total alteration of feeling which a
difference of worldly circumstances so invariably
effects in the hearts of early friends, on the side of
the depressed party as well as the elevated.

Dr. Baillie was introduced to the favourable
notice of the royal family, in consequence of his
treatment of the Duke of Gloucester. Being subse-
quently joined in consultation with the king's phy-
sicians upon his majesty's own unhappy case, he
came more prominently than ever into public view,
as in some measure the j)rincipal director of the
royal treatment. The political responsit^ility of this
situation was so very weighty, that, if Dr. Baillie
had been a man of less firmness of nerve, he could
scarcely have maintained himself under it. vSuch,
however, was the public confidence in his inflexible
integrity, that, amidst the hopes and fears which for
a long time agitated the nation on the subject of
the king's health, the opinion of Dr. Baillie ever
regulatetl that of the public. On the first vacancy,
which occurred in l8io, he was appointed one of
the physicians to the king, with the offer of a baron-
etcy, which, however, his good sense and unassum-
ing disposition induced him to decline.

Dr. Baillie at length sunk under tlie weight of
his practice, notwithstanding that for several years
he h.id taken ever>' possible expedient to shift off his
duties to tiie care of younger aspirants. At the last
fjuarterly meeting of the College of Physicians before
his death, when there was a full assemblage of
members, in the midst of the affairs for the considera-
tion of which they were called together. Dr. Baillie
entered the room, emaciated, hectic, and with all
the symptoms of appro.aching dissolution. .Such
was the effect of his sudden and unexpected ajjjiear-
ance, that the ])ublic business was suspended, and
every one present instantly and sjiontaneously rose,
and remained standing until Dr. Baillie had taken
his seat; the incident, though trivial, evinces the affec-
tionate reverence with which he was regarded. Be-
sides the natural claim he had u])on this body, from
his unapproaclied anatomical and medical skill, and
the extraordinary benignity and worth of his char-
acter, he had entitled himself to its ])ecu!iar grati-
tude by leaving to it the whole of his valuable collec-
tion of preparatif)ns, together with the sum of /^6oo
to keep it in order. Dr. Baillie died on tiie 23d
of September, 1823.

Dr. Baillie had married, 5th May, 1791, Miss
Snphia Denman, second daughter of Dr. Deiiman
of London, a distinguished physician, and sister of

Mr., subsequently Lord Denman and Lord High-
chancellor of England. By her he left one son, to
whom he bequeathed his estate of Dantisbourne, in
Oloucestershire; and one daughter. The sums and
effects destined by his will, many of which were
given to medical institutions and public charities,
were sworn in the prerogative court at less than
,,{^80,000.

Dr. Baillie is thus characterized in the Annual
Obituary for 1824: — "He seemed to have an innate
goodness of heart, a secret sympathy with the virtuous,
and to rejoice in their honourable and dignified con-
duct, as in a thing in which he had a personal in-
terest, and as if he felt that his own character was
raised by it as well as human nature ennobled. He
censured warmly what he disapproved, from a strong
attachment to what is right, not to display his super-
iority to others, or to give vent to any asperity of
temper; at the same time he was indulgent to fail-
ings, his kindness to others leading him on many
occasions to overlook what was due to himself; and
even in his last illness he paid gratuitous jjrofessional
visits which were above his strength, and was in
danger of suddenly exhausting himself by exertions
for others. His liberal disposition was well known
to all acquainted with public subscriptions; the
great extent to which it showed itself in private bene-
factions is known only to those who were nearly
connected with him, and perhaps was fully known
only to himself."

BAlXiLIE, Robert, one of the most eminent,
and perhaps the most moderate, of all the Scottish
Presbyterian clergy during the time of the civil war,
was born at Glasgow in 1599. His father, Thomas
Baillie, citizen, was descended from the Baillies of
Lamington; his mother, Helen Gibson, was of the
family of Gibson of Durie, both of which stocks
are distinguished in Presbyterian history. Having
studied divinity in his native university, Mr. Baillie
in 1622 received episcopal orders from Archbishop
Law of Glasgow, and became tutor to the son of the
I'larl of ICglintoune, by whom he was ])resentcd to
the parish church of Kilwinning. In 1626 he was ad-
mitted a regent at the college of Glasgow, and, on
taking his chair, delivered an inaugural oration Dc
Alenfe Agcnte. About this period he appears to ha\e
prosecuted the study of the oriental languages, in
which he is allowed to have attained no mean pro-
ficiency. For some years he lived in terms of the
strictest intimacy with the noble and pious family of
l'"gIintoune, as also with his ordinary, Archbishop
Law, with whom he kept up an epistolary corrcs-
liondence. Baillie was not only educated and or-
dained as an Episcopalian; but he had imbibed from
Principal Cameron of Glasgow the doctrine of passive
resistance. He apj^ears, however, to have been
l)rought over to opposite views during the interval
between 1630 and 1636, which he employed in dis-
cussing with his felh.iw -clergymen the doctrines of
Arminianism, and the new ecclesiastical regulations
introduced into the Scottish church by Archbisho])
Laud. Hence, in the year 1636, being desired by
Archbisho]) Law to preach at I'xlinburgh in favour
of the canon and service-books, he positively refused,
writing, however, ares])ectful ajiology to his lordshi]!.
Lndeared to the resisting party by this coiuhict, he
was chosen to represent the jiresbytery of Irvine in
the General Assembly of 1638, by which the royal
])Ower was braved in the name of the whole nation,
and Iqiiscopacy formally dissolved. In this meeting
Baillie is said to have behaved with great modera-
tion; a term, however, which must be understood ns
only comi)arative, for the expressions used in his

ROBERT BAILLIE.

57

letter regarding the matters condemned are not
wliat would now be considered moderate.

In tile ensuing year, when it was found necessary
to vindicate the proceedings of the Glasgow Assem-
hly with the sword, Haillie entered heartily into the
views of his countrymen. I le accompanied the army
to Dunse Law, in the capacity of ])reacher to the
Earl of Eglintoune's regiment; and he it was who has
handed down the well-known description of that ex-
traordinary camp. "It would have done you good,"
lie remarks in one of his letters, "to have cast your
eyes athort our brave and rich hills, as oft as I did
with great contentment and joy; for I was there
among the rest, being chosen preacher by the gentle-
men of our shire, who came late with Lord Eglin-
toune. I furnished to half a dozen of good fellows
muskets and pikes, and to my boy a broadsword.
I carried myself, as the fashion was, a sword, and
a couple of Dutch pistols at my saddle; but I pro-
mise, for the ofTence of no man, except a robber in
the way; for it was our part alone to pray and
preach for the encouragement of our countrymen,
which I did to my power most cheerfully" {Letters,
vol. i. p. 174). He afterwards states, "Our soldiers
grew in experience of arms, in courage, and favour
daily. Every one encouraged another. The sight
of their no'^les and their beloved pastors daily raised
their hearts. The good sermons and prayers, morn-
ing and evening, under the roof of heaven, to which
their drums did call them for bells; the remonstrance
very frequent of the goodness of their cause; of their
conduct hitherto by a hand clearly divine; also
Leslie's skill, and prudence, and fortune, made them
as resolute for battle as could be wished. We were
feared that emulation among our nobles might have
done harm when they should be met in the lield; but
such was the wisdom and authority of that old,
little, crooked soldier, that all, with an incredible sub-
mission, from the beginning to the end, gave over
themselves to be guided by him, as if he had been
great Solyman. Had you lent your ear in the
morning, or especially at even, and heard in the
tents the sound of some singing psalms, some ]5ray-
ing, and some reading the Scripture, ye would have
been refreshed. True, there was swearing, and curs-
ing, and brawling, in some quarters, whereat we were
grieved; but we hoped, if our camp had been a little
settled, to have gotten some way for these misorders;
for all of any fashion did regret, and all promised to
do their best endeavours for helping all abuses.
For myself, I never found my mind in better temper
tlian it was all that time since I came from home,
till my head was again homeward; for I was as
a man who had taken my leave from the world, and
was resolved to die in that service without return."
This expedition ended in a treaty between the Scot-
tish leaders anci their sovereign, in terms of which
hostilities ceased for a few months. On tlie renewal
of the insurrectionary war next year, Bnillie accom-
jianietl the Scottish army on its march into England,
and became the chronicler of its transactions. To-
wards the end of the year 1640 he was selected by
the Scottish leaders as a proper person to go to Lon-
don, along with other commissioners, to prepare
charges against Archbishop Laud for his innovations
upjn the Scott isli church, which were alleged to
have lieen tb.e origin of the war. He liad. in A]iril,
before the expedition, published a pamphlet entitled
Ladotsinm AvTOKaraKpicns: the Citittcibiirian's Sclf-
C'Vrrieflon ; cr an F.-uioit Demonstration of the
Avoai'ed Arminuinisine, J\\t'en\\ and Tyrannie of
that Faetioti, by their (.non Confessions, which perhaps
}io'nted him out as fit to take a lead in the ])rosecu-
tions of the great Antichrist of Scotti>h I'resbvterv.

Of this and almost all the other proceedings of his
public life he has left a minute account in his letters
and journals, which are preserved entire in the ar-
chives of the Church of Scotland, and in the univer-
sity of Glasgow, and of which excerpts were j)ublished
in 2 vols. 8vo, Edinburgh, 1775. They were after-
wards ])ublished in their entire form by the iJanna-
tyne Club, in 3 vols. 410, in 1 841. '1 liese relicjues
of Mr. Baillie form valuable materials of history.

Not long after his return to his native country, in
1642, he was appointed j(-)int-professor of divinity at
Glasgow, along with Mr. iJavid Dickson, an equally
distinguished, but less moderate, divine. It afl"<jrds
some proof of the estimation in which he was now
held, that he had the choice of this ai-i)ointment in
all the four universities of Scotland. He jierformed
his duties from this period till the Restoration, and
at the same time attended all the General Assemblies
as a member, except during an interval in 1643-6,
when he was absent as adelegate to the Westminster
assembly of divines. In this latter cajiacity he con-
ducted himself in an unobtrusive manner, but fully
concurred in the principles and views of the mure
jjrominent men. It is obser\able from his letters
that, with the pardonable earnestness of his age and
party, he looked upon toleration as a thing fital to
religion, and strenuously asserted the divine right of
the Presbyterian church to be established inccjmjdete
ascendancy and power as a substitute for the Church
of lingland. From 1646 to 1649 he discharged his
ordinary duties as a theological teacher without taking
a leading part in public affairs. But in the latter
year he was chosen by the church as the fittest person
to carry its homage to King Charles II. at the
Hague, and to invite that youthful monarch to assume
the government in .Scotland, under the limitations
and stipulations of the covenant. This duty he exe-
cuted with a degree of dignity and propriety which
could have been expected from no member of his
church but one, who, like him, had spent several
years in conducting high dii:ilomatic affairs in l"-r.g-
land. Indeed, Mr. Baillie appears in ever\' transac-
tion of his life to have been an accom])lished man
of the world, and yet retaining, along with habits of
expediency, the most perfect sincerity in his religious
views. When the necessary introduction of the
malignants into the king's service cau.-ed a strong
division in the church in 165 1, Baillie, as might
have been expected from his character and fcjrmer
history, sided with the yielding or Re>olutioni>t
]iarty, and soon became its jirincijml leader. On
this account he and many other sincere men were
charged by the Protesting and less wurldly ]iarty
with a declension from the high principles of the
covenant, a charge to which he, at lea>t, certainly
was not liable. After the Restoration, though made
principal of his college through court patronage, he
scnquilously refused to accejU a l)i>ho[iric. and did.
not hesitate to express his dissatisfaction with ilie re-
introduction of Episcopacy. His health now iltclin-
ing, he was visited by the new-m."<ie nril;ii:-lv p,
to whom he thus freely expressed himself: "Mr. Ar.-
drew,"said he, "I will not now call vou my lord.
King Charles would have made me one ot il;e>e
lords; but I do not find in the New 'rvstame:.; lb.."t
Christ has any lords in his house." lie c ''!>;■ ii :e-i
this form of religion and ecclesi.-'.stic.T! l; \cr:-n.u'.t .is
"inconsistent with ."^crijiture, ci.'ntr.;:y 1 > j r.ie .\vA
]iriniitive anti'juiiy, and dianietricall}' '■; : ■ ■-<. o to :!;e
true interest of tlie ci'untry." He ox '. .L >. lO^-.
in the sixtv-third vear of his n^e.

Mr. Baillie. besides his /,-.'.V;v .v/.:' _?' .0 y :.V. and
a variety of controversial 11:1:11] ■Idcis. ^-.i.t.-.'i'.e to the
spirit of the times, was tlie ;u;:hor oi" .i :e~;'ec;aL!e

5S

ROBERT BAILLIE.

and learned work, entitled Opus Historicnm et Chro-
nologicum, which was published in folio at Amster-
dam. He was a man of extensive learning — under-
stood no fewer than thirteen languages, among which
were Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriac, Samaritan, Arabic,
and Ethiopic — and wrote Latin with almost August-
ine elegance. He left a large family: one of his
daughters becoming tlie wife of Walkinshaw of Bar-
rowfield, was, by a strange chance, the ancestress of
Miss Clementina Walkinshaw, well known from her
connection with the history of Prince Charles Stuart
— and also grandmother to the celebrated Heni-y
Home, better known under the jutlicial designation
of Lord Kamcs.

BAILLIE, RoRERT, of Jer\-iswood, an eminent
jiatriot of the reign of Cliarlcs II., was the son of
tjeorge Baillie, of St. John's Kirk in Lanarkshire,
cadet of the ancient family of Baillie of Lamington,
who appears to have jnircliased tlie estate of Jervis-
wood, also in Lanarkshire, in the reign of Charles L,
from a family of the name of Livingstone. It is stated
by the Jacobite, Robert Mylnc, in tlie publication
called Foiiiitainhairs Xotcs, lliat the first circumstance
which alienated the mind of Robert Baillie from the
government was his marrying a daughter of Sir
Archibald Johnstone of Warristoun, who, having
borne a conspicuous part in the civil war from tlie
beginning, was executed after the Restoration.
Whatever be tlie truth of this allegation, Baillie
appears before the year 1676 to have been otherwise
allied to the nonconformist party.

The incident which first brought him forward into
view as a subject of persecution -svas one of those in-
terferences in behalf of natural justice, where all sense
of consequences is overborne by the exigency of the
occasion. During the misgovernment of the Duke
of Lauderdale, a wretched jjrofligate of the name of
Carstairs had bargained with Archbishop Sharpe to
undertake the business of an informer u])on an un-
commonly large scale, havhig a troop of other in-
formers under him, and enjoying a certain reward for
each individual whom he could detect at the con-
venticles, besides a share of the fines imposed upon
them. It may be supposed that an individual who
could permit himself to enter upon a profession of
this kincl would not be very scrupulous as to the
guilt of the persons whom he sought to make his
prey. He accordingly appears to have, at least in
one noted instance, pounced upon an individual who
was ]KMfcclly innocent. This was the Rev. Mr.
Kirkton, a nonconformist minister it is true, but
one who had l>een cautious to keep strictly within
the verge of the law. Kirkton was the lirother-in-
law of .\Ir. Baillie of Jerviswood by his marriage to
the sister of that gentleman; and he is eminent in
Scotti.^ii literary history for a memoir of the church
during his own times, which was of great service in
manuscript to the historian Wodrow, and was at
length ])uhl;shed in 1S17. One day in June, 1676,
as Mr. Kirkton was walking along the High Street
of lOdinburgh, Carstairs, whose jierson he <li<l not
know, accosted him in a very civil manner, and ex-
jiressed a desire to speak with him in jirivate. Mr.
Kirkton, suspecting no evil, followed Carstairs to a
very mean-hjoking house, near the common ])risi)n.
Carstairs, who had no warrant to a|i])reluMid or
detain Mr. Kirkton, went out to get one, locking the
door upon his victim.' The unfortunate clergyman
then perceived that he was in some danger, an(l jire-
vailed ujion a ])erson in the house tf) go to seek his
brother-in-law, Mr. I'aillie, and a]>]iri^c him of his

I Liiirnct. Wodrow's account is slightly diftcrunt.

situation. Carstairs, having in vain endeavoured to
get the requisite number of privy-councillors to sign
a warrant, now came back, resolved, it appears, to
try at least if he could not force some money from
Mr. Kirkton for his release. Just as they were
about to confer upon this subject, Mr. Baillie came
to the door, with several other persons, and called to
Carstairs to open. Kirkton, hearing the voices of
friends, took courage, and desired his captor either
to set him free, or to show a warrant for his deten-
tion. Carstairs, instead of doing either, drew a pocket-
pistol, and Kirkton found it necessary, for his own
safety, to enter into a personal struggle, and endea-
vour to secure the weapon of his antagonist. The
gentlemen without, hearing a struggle and cries of
murder, burst open the door, and found Carstairs
sitting upon Mr. Kirkton on the floor. Baillie drew
his sword, and commanded the poltroon to come
off, asking him at the same time if he had any war-
rant for apprehending Mr. Kirkton. Carstairs said
he had a warrant for conducting him to prison, but
he utterly refused to show it, though Mr. Baillie said
that if he saw any warrant against his friend, he
would assist in canying it into execution. The
wretch still persisting in saying he had a warrant,
but was not bound to show it, Mr. Baillie left the
place with Mr. Kirkton and other friends, having
offered no violence whatever to Carstairs, but only
threatened to sue him for unlawful invasion of his
brother-in-law's person.

It might have been expected from even a govem-
ment so lost to all honour and justice as that which
now prevailed in Scotland, that it would have had
at least the good sense to overlook this unhappy
accident to one of its tools. On the contrary, it was
resolved to l)rave the popular feeling of right, by
listening to the complaints of Carstairs. Through
the influence of Archbishop Sharpe, who said that,
if Carstairs was not countenanced, no one would be
procured to apprehend fanatics afterwards, a majority
of the council agreed to prosecute Baillie, Kirkton,
and the other persons concerned. For this purpose,
an antedated warrant was furnished to Carstairs,
signed by nine of the councillors. Tlie Marquis of
Atholl told Bishop Burnet that he had been one of
the nine who lent their names to this infamous docu-
ment. The whole case was therefore made out to
be a tumult against the government; Baillie was
fined in six thousand merks (/'318 sterling)," and his
friends in smaller sums, and to be imprisoned till
they should render payment.

This award was so ojiposite, in every jiarllcular,
to the principles of truth, honour, and justice, that,
even if not directed against individuals connected
with the popular cause, it could not have failed to
excite general indignation. It appears that a re-
spectable minority of the council itself was strongly
opposed to the decision, and took care to let it be
known at court. Mr. Baillie was therefore released
at the end of four months, in consideration of pay-
ment of one-half of his fine to the creature Carstairs.
Lord Halton, however, who was at this time a kind
of pro-regent under his brother Lauderdale, had
interest to obtain tlie dismissal of his opponents from
the council, namely, the inike of Hamilton, the
Karls of Morton, Dumfries, and Kincardine, and the
Lonis Cochrane and I'rimrose, whom he branded,
for their conduct on this occasion, as enemies to the
cluirch and favourers of conventicles.

After this period nothing is known of Mr. Baillie
till the year 1683, when he is found taking a ])romi-
nent share in a scheme of emigration, agitaterl by a

- Wudr'AV says /^^ao sterling, new edit. v. ii, p. 328.

ROBERT I3AILLIE,

SO

number of Scottish gentlemen, who saw no refuge
but this from the tyranny of the government. These
gentlemen entered into a negotiation with the paten-
tees of South Carolina, for permission to convey
themselves thither, along with their families and
dependants. Wliile thus engaged, Mr. Baillie was
induced, along with several of his friends, to enter
into correspondence and counsel with the heads of
the Puritan party in England, who were now form-
ing an extensive plan of insurrection, for the puqiosc
of obtaining a change of measures in the government,
though witli no ulterior view. Under the pretext
of the American expedition. Lord Melville, Sir John
Cochrane of Ochiltree, Mr. ]5aillie, and three others,
were invited and repaired to London, to consult with
the Duke of Monmouth, Sydney, Russell, and the
rest of that party. This scheme was never ])roperly
matured; indeed, it never was anything but a matter
of talk, and had ceased to be even that, when a
minor plot for assassinating the king, to which only
a small number of the party were privy, burst ])re-
maturely, and involved several of the chiefs, who
were totally ignorant of it, in destruction. Sydney
and Russell suflered for this crime, of wliich they were
innocent; and Baillie and several other gentlemen
were seized and sent down to be tried in Scotland.'
The subsequent judicial proceedings were charac-
terized by tlie usual violence and illegality of the time.
Baillie endured a long confinement, during which
he was treated very harshly, and not permitted to
have the society of his lady, though she offered to go
into irons, as an assurance against any attempt at
facilitating his escape. An attempt was made to
])rocure sufficient proof of guilt from the confessions
wrought out of his nephew-in-law, the Earl of Tarras
(who h.id been first married to the elder sister of the
Duchess of Monmouth); but, this being found in-
sufficient, his prosecutors were at last obliged to
adopt the unlawful expedient, too common in those
distracted times, of putting him to a purgative oatli.
An accusation was sent to him, not in the form of an
indictment, nor grounded on any law, but on a letter
of the king, in which he was charged with a con-
spiracy to raise rebellion, and a concern in the Rye-
house Plot. He was told that, if he would not clear
himself of these charges by his oath, he should be
held as guilty, though not as in a criminal court, but
only as before the council, who had no power to
award a liigher sentence than fine and imi^risonment.
As he utterly refused to yield to such a demand, he
was fined by the council in ^6000, being about the
value of liis whole estates. It was then supjwsed that
the prosecution would cease, and that he would escajie
with the doom of a captive. For several months he
continued shut up in a loathsome prison, which had
>uch an effjct upon his health that he was brought
almost to the last extremity. Yet "all the while,"
to use tiie words of Bishop Ihtrnet,- ''lie seemed so
compo>ed, and even so cheerfid, tliat his beliaviour
loiiked like a reviving of the spirit of tlie noblest of
the old Creeks or Romans, or rather of the ]'>rimitive
Ciiristians ami fir^t martyrs in tliose last days of the
churcli." At lengtli, i:)n the 23d of December, 16S4,

1 Mr. R '.:.•. in his (T'-Si-t-.'iitii'ns on Mr. l-'ox s History,
re'.itos th.it the hnp.j r.f a p,ird'in being held out to him, <in
coniiition <if liis .^iviii;; inf 'rm.\tion respecting some friends
supposed to he cn.,M.;ed with him. his answer was, " They
who c\n m.\kc such a proposal to me neither know nie nor my
country:" .">!i expression of which the latter part is amply
justifu: 1 by fact, for. as Lord John Russell has justly obser\-ed,
in his .l/f-w'.o'^ of I.or.i I'.'Uli.itii Russrll. " It is to the honour
of Scotl.md, that [on this occasion! no witnesses came firward
V iluntarilv to accuse their .associates, .as had been done in
England."

- I'urr.ot. being the nephew of Sir .-\rchibald Jcimstone, was
cousin bv r.:arr;.i^o to Mr. Uaillio.

he was brought before the court of justiciary. He
was now so weak as to be obliged to appear at the
bar in his night-gown, and take frequent applica-
tions of cordials, which were supplied to him by his
sister, the wife of Mr. Ker of Graden. The only
evidence that could be pnxluced was the confessions
f(jrced from his friends by torture, one of whom, the
Rev. Mr. Carstairs, afterwards the di.stingui.shcd
principal of the Edinlnngh university, had only
emitted a declaration, on an express promise that
no use was to be made of it. Mr. Baillie solemnly
denied having been accessory to any conspiracy
against the king's life, or being unfavourably dis-
posed to monarchical government. He complained
that his friends had been forced to bring forth untrue
representations against him. Indeci, there can be
no doubt that the whole extent of his offence was a
desire to procure some amelioration of the measures,
and not any change of the members of the govern-
ment; we say desire, because it never cf)uld be proved
that a single step had been taken in the matter, nor
is there the least probability that it would have ever
been heard of, but for the trials of several innocent
persons.

A cavalier and contemporary writer has alleged
that Mr. Baillie conducted himself on his trial in a
very haughty and scornful manner — "very huffy
and proud" is the expression used — but this pro-
bably is only the colour given by a political enemy
to the Roman dignity which Burnet saw in his
behaviour. After the evidence had been adduced,
and when the lord-advocate had ended his charge,
the following remarkaljle dialogue took place be-
tween him and that officer : —

"My lord, I think it very strange that you charge
me with such abominable things; you may remember
that when you came to me in person, you told me
that such things were laid to my charge, but that
you did not believe them. How then, my lord, did
you come to lay such a stain upon me with so much
violence? Are you now convince<l in your con-
science that I am more gxiilty than before? ^'ou
may remember what passed betwixt us in prison."

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

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

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

The assize was empannelled at midnight, and sat
till nine in the morning of the succeeding day, when
a verdict of guilty was returned against Mr. Baillie,
and he was sentenced to be executed that afternoon
at the cross, and his lind)s to lie afterwards exliibited
on the jails of four dilTerent Scottish towns. '1 lie
reason for such jirecipitation was the tear ot h;s
judges that a natural death would disappoint t!ie
wishes of the government, wliich called iinpc-ra;i\ely
at this moment for a public example to terri:>' i's
opponents. ISaillie only said. '"My lord-, tlie ".nie
is short, the sentence is sharp, but \ tliar.k n-.y ( ;."L
who hath made me as fit to die a> v'^ii .tvc to l.'.c.
On returning to tlie prison lie cxpericiicei wh.it
Wodrow describes as "a wondcrhil nir::;rc of j^y,
from the assurance he had th.Tt i:i a few hour.- he
should he inconceivably hap;iy."'

Mr. Baillie was attenfh-d to the -caf;''!! by his
faithful and alVectionatc =:::cr. He \.X'\ ;.rc pared aii

Co

SIR DAVID BAIRD.

address to the people; but knowing that he might
be prevented from delivering it, he had previously
given it to his friends in writing. It is said that
the government afterwards offered to give up his
body for burial, if his friends would agree to suppress
this document. They appear to liave rejected the
proposition. The unfortunate gentleman was so
weak that he required to be assisted in mounting
the ladder: he betrayed, however, no symptom of
moral weakness. Just before being consigned to
his fate, he said, in the self-accusing spirit of true
excellence, "My faint zeal for the Protestant reli-
gion has brought me to this end." His sister-in-law,
with the stern virtue of her family, waited to the last.'

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

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

Mr. Baillie's family was completely ruined by his
forfeiture. He left a son, George Baillie, wlio, after
his execution, was obliged to take refuge in Holland,
whence he afterwards returned with the Prince of
Orange, by wiiom he was restored to his estates.
The wife of this gentleman was Miss Grizcl Hume,
daughter of Sir Patrick Hume of Pohvarth, a fellow-
patriot of Mr. Robert Baillie. The occasion of
their meeting was very remarkable. Miss Grizel,
when a very young girl, was sent by her father from
the country, to endeavour to convey a letter to Mr.
Baillie in prison, and bring back what intelligence
she could, .'^he succeeded in this dirficult enteriirise;
and having at the same time met witli Mr. Baillie's
son, the intimacy was formed, wliicli was afterwards
completed by their marriage.

BAIRD, TiiK I\u;irr IIoNfiiKAiii.r. C]knekai.
Sir D.WII), a distinguislied commander during the
wars of the French revolution, was the second sur-
viving son of William I'aird, I'-sf]., heir, by settle-
ment, of his second cousin. Sir Jolni I'aird (jf New-
byth, Bart. He entered the army, December i6,
1772, as an ensign in the 2d foot, joined the regiment
at Gibraltar, .Vj^iril, 1773, and returned to Britain in
1776. Having l)een jiromoted to a lieutenancy in
177S, he immediately after ol)tained a comi)any in
the 73d, a regiment then just raised by Lord Mac-
leod, with which he sailed for India, and arrived at
Madras, January, 17S0.

This vouni: ret'iment was here at once u^!lcrcd

' " The I.ady Gr.iden, with r more th.in m.isctihne cour.Tge,
attended him nn the sciffoM till he w.is quartered, and went
with the hangman and saw his (luarters sodden, oylc-d, iSic."
' F^untainhalCs Xotes, 117, ii3 . It is scarcely possible for an
individnal accustomed to the feelings of modern society lu
believe such a statement.

into the trying and hazardous scenes of the war
against Hyder Ali, whom the English Company
had provoked by a shameful breach of faith into a
hostility that threatened to ovenvhelm it. In July,
1780, while the Company, exclusive of Lord Mac-
leod's regiment, had only about 5000, men under
arms, Hyder burst into the Carnatic with an army
of 100,000 men, disciplined and commanded by
French officers, and laid siege to Arcot, the capital
of the only native prince friendly to the British. Sir
Hector Munro, commander-in-chief of the Company's
troops, set out to relieve this city on the 25th of
August, expecting to be joined on the 30th by a
large detachment then in the Northern Circars under
Colonel Baillie. On learning this movement Hyder
left Arcot, and threw himself in tlie way of Colonel
Baillie. In order to favour, if possible, the approach
of this officer. Sir Hector Munro, on the 5th of Sep-
tember, changed his position a little, and advanced
two miles on the Trepassore road, which brought
him within a short distance from the enemy. Hyder
tlien detached his brother-in-law Meer Saib, \\\\\\
8000 horse, to attack Colonel Baillie, and after-
wards an additional force of 6000 infantry, 18,000
cavalry, and twelve pieces of cannon, under his son
the celebrated Tippoo. He at the same time made
demonstrations on his front, to keep up the attention
of Sir Hector and the main army. Baillie, though
commanding no more than 2000 sepoys and a iii\:
European companies, gained a complete victory over
the immense force sent against him, but at the same
time sent word to Sir Hector that, unless ]irovision
were made for accomplishing a junction, he must
certainly be cut off. The commander-in-chief held
a council of war, when it was determined at all
hazards to send a reinforcement, for the purpose of
achieving the relief of this gallant officer. A small
force was selected, consisting principally of the
grenadier and infantiy companies of Lord Macleod's
regiment, which, having received strict injunctions
as to the necessity of a secret and expeditious inarch,
set off towards Colonel Baillie's jjosition, under the
command of Colonel Fletcher and Captain Baird.
Hyder Ali had secret intelligence of this movement,
and sent a detachment to cut it off; but Colonel
Fletcher and Captain Baird, having fortunately con-
ceived some suspicion of their guides, suddenly altered
their line of march, and were thereby enabled to gain
their jioint. Hyder was determined that Colonel
Baillie, with his friends, should not advance so safely
to the main army. He therefore, with the most con-
summate ability, and under his own personal inspec-
tion, prepared an andniscade at a particidar ])ass
through which they would have to march. This
part of the road he had occu]:>ied and enfiladed with
several Ijatteries of cannon, behind which lay large
bodies of his best foot, while he himself, with almost
his whole force, was ready to support the attack.
While these real dispositions were made, a cloud of
irregular cavalry was eni])loyed in several motions
on the side of Conjeveram, in order to divert the at-
tention of the English camp.

The morning of the loth of September had
scarcely dawned, when the silent and expectant
enemy perceived Colonel P)aillie's little army advanc-
ing into the very toils planted to receive it. The
amlniscade reserved their fire with admirable cool-
ness and self-command, till the unhajipy Fnglisli
were in the midst of them. The army marched in
column. On a sudden, while in a narrow delile,
a battery of twelve guns poured a storm of giape-
shot into their right (lank. The English faced
al))ul; another battery immediately opened on their
rear. They had no alternative, therefore, but to

SIR DAVID BAIRD.

6l

advance; other batteries met them here likewise,
and in less than half an hour 57 pieces of cannon
were so brouj^ht to bear on them as to penetrate
into every part of the British line. By seven o'clock
in the morning the enemy poured down upon them
in thousands, and every Englishman in the army was
engage<l. Captain Baird, at the head of his grena-
diers, fought with the greatest heroism. Surrounded
and attacked on all sides by 25,000 cavalry, by 30
regiments of sepoy infantry, besides Ilyder All's
European corps, and a numerous artillery playing
upon them from all quarters within grape-shot dis-
tance, yet this heroic column stood firm and un-
daunted, alternately facing their enemies on every
side of attack. The French officers in Ilyder's
camp beheld the scene with astonishment, which
was increased when, in the midst of all this tumult
and extreme peril, they saw the British grenadiers
performing their evolutions with as much precision,
coolness, and steadiness, as if under the eyes of a
commander on a parade. At length, after a dubious
contest of three hours (from six in the morning
till nine), victory began to declare for the English,
when an unlucky accident altered the fortune of the
day. The tumbrils containing the ammunition sud-
denly blew up, with two dreadful explosions, in the
centre of the British line. The whole face of their
column was laid open, and their artiller)' overturned
and destroyed. Tippoo Saib instantly seized the
moment of advantage, and, without waiting for
orders, fell with the Mogul and Carnatic horse
into the broken square, which had not yet time to
form anew. This attack by the enemy's cavalry
being immediately seconded by the French corps,
and by the first line of infantrv-, determined at once
the fate of our unfortunate army. Out of 4000
sepoys and 800 Europeans who had commenced this
engagement, only about 200 of the latter survived.
Colonel Fletcher was among the slain, and Captain
I5aird was wounded in four ]ilaces. When he and
Colonel Baillie, with other captive officers, were
taken before Hyder Ali, the latter gentleman said
to the barbarous chief, "Your son will inform you
that you owe the victory to our disaster, rather than
to our defeat." Ilyder angrily ordered them from
his presence, and commanded them instantly to
prison. The slaughter among the Mysore troops
was very great, amounting, it is said, to three times
the whole British army. When Sir Hector Munro
learned the unhappy fiite of his detachment, he found
it necessary to retreat to Madras.

Captain Baird, with the officers, remained in
a dungeon in one of Ilyder's forts for three days and
a half; he was chained by the leg to another prisoner,
as much of the slaughter in Ilyder's army was
attributed to the grenadiers. At length, in July,
17S4, he was released and joined his regiment at
A rot. In 17S7 he removed with his regiment
(now >tylcd the 71st) to Bombay, and returned to
Madras next ye.ar. On the 5th' of June, 17S9. he
received the majority of the 71st, and in October
ol)tainod leave of absence, ami returned to Britain.
In 1 79 1 he returned as lieutenant-colonel of the
71-t, ar. 1 joined the army under the Marquis
Conuvai!;-. .\s commander of a brigade of sepovs,
he was present at the attack of a number of droogs,
or hili-f'irts. and at the siege of Seringapatam, in
1 79 1 an'! 1702; and likewi-e at the storming of
Tijipo > Sultaun's lines and camps in the island of
Seringnpatam. In 1793 he commanded a briga le
of Ev.r jpe.ins, and was present at the siege of Pondi-
cherry. lie received a colonelcy in 170V In
(,)ctu!)er, I7'i7. he ein'oarked at Madras witli h;^
rcg-inen; i,v Europe; in December, w'r.en he arrive 1

at the Cape of Goo<l Ho])e, he was appointed
brigadier-general, and placed on that staff, in com-
man<l of a brigade. June 18, 179S, he was appointed
major-general, and returned to the staff in India.
In January, 1799, he arrived at Madra-,, in command
of two regiments of foot, together with the drafts of
the 28th dragoons. May 4, he commanded the
storming jiarty at that distinguished action the
assault of .Seringapatam; when, in requital of his
brilliant services, he was presented by the armv,
through the commander-in-chief, with the state sw(jnl
of Tippoo Sultaun, and also with a dress-sword
from the field-officers serving under his immediate
command at the assault.

The eminent merit of I'rigadicr-gencral Baird was
now fully known and acknowledgetl by the govern-
ment at home. He was therefore, in 1800, ap-
pointed to the command of an expedition against
Batavia, but which was afterwards sent to Egypt.
He landed at Coseir in June, crossed the desert,
and, embarking on the Kile, descended to Grand
Cairo; whence he set out for Alexandria, which he
reached a few days before it surrendered to (Jencral
Hutchison. Next year he led the Egyptian-Indian
army overland to India, where he was concerned in
various military transactions. His services, ho\\ ever,
being soon after superseded by .Sir Arthur Wellesley
(afterwards the illustrious protector of Europe), he
sailed for Britain with his staff, March, 1803, and
after a tedious voyage, during which he was taken
prisoner by a French privateer, but afterwards re-
taken, he arrived in England in November.

Sir David Baird was received at the Briti^^h court
with great distinction. In December he received
the royal permission to wear the Turkish order of
the Crescent. In June, 1804, he received the honour
of knighthood; and on the iSth of August following
became a knight -companion of the Bath. With the
increased rank of lieutenant-general he commanded
an expedition which sailed in October, 1S05, for the
Cape of Good Hope. Landing there, January 6,
1S06, he attacked and beat the Dutch army, and en
the iSth received the surrender of the cohny.
Being recalled, he arrived in Britain, April, 1S07,
and was shifted from the colonelcy of the 54''''
which he had held for some years, to that of the
24th, and placed on the foreign staff under Genera!
Lord Cathcart. He commamled a division at the
siege of Copenhagen, where he was twice slightly
wounded; and returned with the army in Novendxr.

After a short period of service in Ireland, Sir
David sailed in command of an armament of io,cco
men for Conmna, wliere he arrived in November,
iSoS, and formed a junction with the army ur.ikr
General Sir Jolin Moore. He commanded the Ur-i
division of that army, and in the battle of Coriinr.r..
January 16, 1809. he lost his left arm.

By tiie death of Sir John Moore in this act;, v.
.Sir David succeeded to the chief command, ar.'! l.r. 1
the honour of communicating intelligence ot tl.e
victory to goverimient. (_^n this (icca.-inn he recent'',
for the fourth time in his liff. the thank- of j r.i^;;,-
ment, and, Ai^il 13, was create'! a baronet, v..: a
very hnninirable ai'niorial bearings a':i;--i\e t'l tie
transactions of his life, .\fter thi> period be r.^v. r
.again appeared i:i active service. In i!sio !..•
married Miss Preston Camid'ell, of Fe.T.t. v. er .'.: i
Lochlane, Perth-hire, by whom lie '.ef: no ;--•,:•,. \-\
1S14 he was j^ronioteil'to t!-e rr.-ik '-( -<j:.^r..l. ?.■:. I
in iSlo became goven-.or 1 f K;r.-a!e ::'i lv'-'.:.::\ r.r. !
in 1S27 of Fort George in the i;' iili ot >C' t!a:,<!.
T!i;> lirave ve'eran died at r.n a'ivar.ce I a,". .\;:c->t
iS. lS::o. a; lii- -eat r.[ Fer:i-. ^v■ r i:: IVrtl-l^ire.
Il.-iadv, vh '-urvive : Iiin; :::. I>4:. create ; a n.e: u-

62

WALTER BALCANQUEL- -ALEXANDER BALFOUR.

ment to his memory on the top of a romantic hill,
named Tom-na-chaistel (i.e. the hill of the castle),
in the neighbourhood of Femtower.

BALCANQUEL, Walter, D.D., an eminent
divine of the seventeenth century, was the son of the
Rev. Walter Balcanquel, who was a minister of
Edinburgh for forty-three years, and died in August,
l6l6. Dr. Walter Balcanquel was born at Edin-
burgh. It has been supposed that he was himself
a minister of Edinburgh; but probably the writer
who makes this statement only mistakes him for his
father, who bore the saine name. He entered a
bachelor of divinity at Pembroke Hall, Oxford,
where, September 8th, 1611, he was admitted a
fdlouK He appears to have enjoyed the patronage
and friendship of King James, antl his first prefer-
ment was to be one of the royal chaplains. In 1617
he became Master of the Savoy in the Strand,
London; which office, however, he soon after re-
signed in favour of Mark Antony de- Dominis,
Archbishop of Spalatro, who came to England on
account of religion, and became a candidate for the
king's favour. In 161S Dr. Balcanquel was sent to
the celebrated synod of Dort, as one of the repre-
sentatives of the Church of Scotland. He has given
an account of a considerable part of the proceedings
of this grand religious council, in a series of letters
to Sir Dudley Carleton, which are to be found in
The Go/Jill Remains of the ever-memorable Mr. yolin
Hales of Eaton, 4to, 1673. In 1621, the Archbishop
of Spalatro having resigned the mastership of the
Savoy, Dr. Balcanquel was re-appointed; and on
the 1 2th of March, 1624, being then doctor of
divinity, he was installed Dean of Rochester. George
Heriot, at his death, February I2th, 1624, ordained
Dr. Balcanquel to be one of the three executors of
his last will, and to take the principal charge of the
establishment of his hospital at Edinburgh. Pro-
bably the experience which he had already acquired
in the management of the Savoy Hospital might be
the chief cause of his being selected for this impor-
tant duty. Heriot appointed Dr. Balcanquel, by
his will, "to repair with all the convenience he can,
after my ilecease, to the town of Edinburgh," in
order to conclude with the magistrates about the
busine.-.s of the hos])ital; allowing him, for his pains,
in addition to the sum of one hundred merks, which
he enjoyed as an ordinary executor, one hundred
pounds sterling, payal)le by two equal instalments —
the first three months after the decease of the
testator, and the second at the completion of the
hospital.

Dr. Balcanquel is entitled to no small commen-
dation fir the able manner in which he discharged
this great and onerous trust. The statutes, which,
in terms of the testator's will, were drawn \\\) by
him, are dated 1627, and do great credit to his
sagacity and ])ractical good sense.

Dr. Balcanquel's next appearance in the ])ublic
concerns of his native cmintry was of a less liap|iy
character. In 163S, when Charles I. sent down the
Marquis of Hamilton to Scotland, to treat with the
Covenanters, the Dean of Rochester accompanied his
grace in the capacity of chaplain. What was his
external behaviour on this occasion we do not k:io\v;
but it was afterwards siu'mised by the Covenanters,
that he had been dejiutcd by Archbisluip Laud as
a sjiy, at once upon the marquis, who was su-pccted
of moderation, and the people with whom he was
dealing. It is asserted by Sir James Balfour, in his
^[emorialls of State, that Dr. Balcanquel also com-
municated intelligence of all that hajijiencd in Scot-
land to Signer George Con, the iMjj;e's legate, "a..

some of his intercepted letters can beare recorde."
Early in the ensuing year was published an apolo-
getical narrative of the court-proceedings, under the
title of His Alajesties Lar;e;e I)eelaratio>i, eoneerniitg
the Late Tumults in Scotland, which by universal
and apparently uncontradicted report was ascribed
to the pen of Dr. Balcanquel. While this work was
received by the friends of the king as a triumphant
vindication of his attempts upon the purity of the
Scottish church, it only excited new indignation in
the minds of the outraged people, who soon after
appeared in arms at Dunse Law, to defend their
religious freedom with the sword. On the 14th of
May, 1639, at the veiy time when the armies were
about to meet on the borders, Dr. Balcanquel, ap-
parently in requital of his exertions, was installed
Dean of Durham. He had now rendered himself
a marked man to the Scottish Presbyterians, and
accordingly his name is frequently alluded to in their
publications as an ''''incendiary.'''' Under this char-
acter he was denounced by the Scottish estates, July
29, 1641, along with the Earl of Traquair, Sir John
Hay, clerk register, Sir Robert Spottiswoode, and
Maxwell, Bishop of Ross, all of whom were regarded
as the principal cruses of the war between the king
and his people. In the Canterhurian^s Self convic-
tion, a pamphlet written in 1641, by the Rev. Robert
Baillie, against Archbishop Laud, he is spoken of
in a style of such asperity, as might have convinced
him that, in the event of a complete triumph of the
Presbyterian party, he would share in the ])roceed-
ings which were now directed against that unhappy
prelate. Accordingly, the very next year, when the
king could no longer protect his partizans. Dr. Bal-
canquel was forced from his mastership of the Savoy,
plundered, sequestrated, and obliged to flee from
London. Repairing to Oxford, he attached himself
to the precarious fortunes of his sovereign, and for
several years afterwards had to shift about from
place to place, wherever he could find security for
his life. At length, having taken refuge in Chirk
Castle, Denbighshire, he died there in a very cold
season, on Christmas day, 1645. ^^^ "■'^^ buried
next day in the parish church of Chirk, where, some
years after, a splendid monument was erected to his
memory by a neighbouring royalist, Sir Thomas
Middleton of Chirk Castle.

BALFOUR, Alexander. This novelist, ]-]oet.
and miscellaneous writer was a native of the jxirish
of Monikie, Forfarshire, and was born on the 1st of
March, 1767. As he was a twin, and born of
parents in humble life, his support in childhood
and means of education might have equally been
])recarious, had he not been sup]5orted in boyhood
l)y a friend of the family, who also bestowed w^on
him such a religious training ns not only developed
his talents, but fitted him fur those adversities which
were afterwards to be Ids lot.

Having received a very limited education at the
parish school, where, however, he distinguished him-
self at the age of twelve years by his attempts in
English composition, Alexander Balfour was a]>])ren-
ticed to a weaver; but disliking this occuiiatitni,
which gave no sco]K' for his growing talents, he
returned home, and betook himself to the more con-
genial attempt of teaching a ])rivate school. In this
way he also taught himself, and during the intervals
of his daily toil gave proofs of his growing jirofici-
ency, by writing several articles for the ])rovincial
newspapers, and also for Dr. Anderson's miscellan)-.
The lice. After he had wielded the ferula long
enough in a rustic seminary to find that he was fit
fjr S'jmelhiiig belter, Balfour in his twenty-sixth

ALEXANDER BALFOUR —

year removed to the thriving town of Arbroath, and
became clerk to a sail-cloth manufacturer, on the
death of whom he entered into partnership in
business with the widow of the deceased; and upon
her death, in 1800, he took another partner into the
firm. A government contract into which they had
entered for supplying the navy with canvas made
their business a prosperous one, and lialfour, now in
circumstances of comfort, was able to cultivate his
literary tastes, and correspond with the learned and
talented of the Scottish capital. Having married
also in 1794, the year after his arrival in Arbroath,
he, in 1814, when he found himself father of a rising
familv, removed to a country residence at Trottick,
near Dundee. Here he also undertook the manage-
ment of the branch of a London house which for
many years had been connected with his own firm,
and into which he embarked his whole fortune.
But it was an unfortunate mercantile speculation, as
in 1815 the mercantile reaction which had occurred
on the sudden restoration of peace ruined the London
establishment, and Balfour found himself reduced
by the unforeseen stroke to utter bankmptcy.

Being thus reduced to his original poverty, with
the bitterness of disappointment and failure added
to it, the subject of this memoir was fain to accept
the situation of manager at a manufacturing establish-
ment in Balgonie, Fifeshire. Resigning this appoint-
ment, he afterwards, in 1818, removed to Edinburgh,
where he became a clerk in the establishment of
Mr. Blackwood, the eminent publisher. Here how-
ever a worse calamity than that of mere bankruptcy
in fortune awaited him, for in 1819 symptoms of
paralysis in his constitution began to appear, which
in October became so confirmed that he was obliged
to be moved in a wheeled chair. It was well that
the vigour of his mind and his literary aptitudes were
still untouched, as these were henceforth to fomi his
only occupation as well as means of subsistence.

Being now an author by compulsion as well as
choice, Balfour bravely girded himself for the task;
and his first production under these circumstances,
and upon which he had been some time previously
employed, was the novel entitled Campbdl, or the
Probationer, which was published in 1819. It was
a subject seUlom attempted, as it comprised the
literary exertions, the privations, the sorrows, and
disappointments of a licentiate of the church scram-
bling for the bare means of life wjiile in search of a
living — the manifold changes of occupation he must
undergo, and the unmerited rebuffs he must endure
in such a pilgrimage, now happily so rare, but
which were so abundant about forty years ago, out
of which Balfour contrived to manufacture a mar-
vellous talc of mirth, pathos, and varied incident.
It was suited to the day and has now passed into
oblivion; but at its appearance it became highly
popular, and being published anonymously, tlie
interot of it was heightened, an<l the public was
an\i<ius to know the name and circumstances of the
author. After tliis his pen was not allowed to lie
idle, and from his wheeled chair his productions
issued with a rapidity that would have been wonder-
ful, had nut auth')r>h:p l)een not merely his only occu-
pation but hi> solace. In the same year that his
novel of ('.'/;///',•// a[)|>eared, he edited the poetical
works of his deceased friend Richard Gall, to which
he also >u]')jilicd a l)iogi-a]i]iical preface. In 1S22 he
produced a three-volunieii novel enlilletl The Far in 0' s
Three Dan^hter;^ and tlii> in 1S23 was followed hv
The Fouitd'.nte; of GleittJiont, or the Smu^eilers Caz\\
also in three volumes. It was unfortunate, however,
that the last two novels proceeded from the Minerva
press, a circumslaace sufikient to condemn them to

•SIR ANDREW BALFOUR.

63

neglect let their merits l>e what they might. It wa.s
not to prose alone that Balfour confined himself,
and in 1820 he j)ubli>>hed Contemplation, and other
JWnts, in one volume 8vo, which added considerably
to his literary reputation. To the Scots Maj^azine
he had long been a contributor, and on the establish-
ment of Constable's EJudmri^li Mcrraziue his services
were secured for it by Thomas I'ringle, its editor.
His contributions to this periodical during tlie nine
years of its existence were so numerous, that of
themselves they would have filled three octavo
volumes; and the articles embraced a variety of
themes, but chiefly the manners of .Scottish rural
life — the theme in which his commencing novel (-f
Campbell had excelled, and in which he showed
himself comjiletely at home. To Constable's Ma^^a-
zine he also contributed many articles in verse, the
chief of which were "Characters omitted in Crabbe's
Parish Register." In these the delineations were so
truthful and striking, and the versification so musical
and terse, that they were perused with jdeasure and
surprise, and thought to be scarcely inferior t(j those
of Crabbe himself. In consequence of this favour-
able reception, Balfour was induced to publish these
sketches in one volume in 1825. In 1827, in con-
sequence of an application from Mr. Joseph Hume,
M.P., Mr. Canning conferred on Balfour a treasury
donation of ;i^ioo, in consideration of his genius and
misfortunes. Alexander Balfour, in addition to his
other literary labours, was until his death a copious
contributor to the Ediuhu7-;;;h Literary Gazette.
The last novel which he published was Ilr^ldand
Mary, in four volumes, a work of considerable
beauty and pathos, and soon after he died on the
I2th of September, 1829. After his death, a volume
of his remains was collected and published under
the title of Weals and IVild-Jlim-ers, by -Mr. D. .M.
Moir, M.D., who also prefixed an excellent memoir
of the author.

During the long illness of Alexander Balfour, and
the necessity of constant labour for the wants of the
day, he bore up not only with resignation ami
patience, but constant cheerfulness. Although so
long a prisoner to his chair, a continual smile was
upon his lips; and notwithstanding an impedimerit
in his s]:)eech, the effect of his malady, his conversa-
tion was always cheerful, and enriched with thouglit
and humour. lie was also rigidly temperate in his
habits, affectionate in his relationships of father and
husband, and religious in his feelings and jirincij'les.
U]K)n few indeed have misfortunes and sufferings sat
more amiably than upon Alexander Balfour.

BALFOUR, Sir Andkkw, Bart., M.D., who first
introduced the dissection of the liumr.n body into
.Scotland, and that at a very superstitious perioi!;
who ])rojected the first hos])ital in the couiury for
the relief fif disease and jioverty at the public exjier.se :
who was the founder of the botanic garden at 1 Jiin-
burgh, and almost the father of the science in Set-
land; who planned the Royal College 1 >f I'h} -ici.Ti> ex
L<liid)urgh; and bequeathed to the juib'.ic a mii-euni.
which at that time would have iieen an orn.inient t"
any miiversity t>r any metrojiolis — \\.-.s the t";.;li ni; i
youngest son of Sir Mich.acl Balfur oi" 1 »i.:,:n} ir.r
in I-'ife, and v,-as l><irn at tliat place on tlie i^tii • :
January. ir>,>0. lie jirosecuted liis sti'.'iies -.n t;.'
university uf .^t. Andrews, v.here he to,.k liis ,li,,;rer
uf.\.M. At this ]ieri"d l:i> educati' 'ii w.is >\:: x; :i:-
teni.Ied by his brother >:r James I'.ali'' iur. li.e Lur.. ;>
antiquary, an.d lyoii kif.g-.^t-arnis to Li'..-!:!'.- 1.. \\\\"
was about thirt_\- years olier lli.m l-.iniseil. .\t col-
lege he fir-t disc' ivt red his attncl.nie:.: to l-tany.
wlricli in hitn is said to b.ave leii to t;:c stU'.iy ct

64

SIR ANDREW BALFOUR.

l)hysic, instead of being, as it generally is, a hand-
maid to that art. Quitting the university about the
year 1650, he removed to London, where his medi-
cal studies were chiefly directed by the celebrated
ILarvey, by Sir Theodore Mayernc the distinguished
physician of King James L, and various other emi-
nent practitioners. He afterwards travelled to Blois
in France, and remained there for some time, to see
the botanic garden of the Duke of Orleans, which
was then the b(?st in Europe, and was kept by his
countrvman Dr. Morison. Here he contracted a
warm friendship for that great botanist, which con-
tinued unimpaired while they lived. From Blois he
went to Paris, where, for a long time, he prosecuted
his medical studies with great ardour. Hccompleted
his eilucation at the university of Caen, from which
he received the degrees of bachelor and doctor of
physic, on the 20th of .September, 1661.

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

On returning to his native country, Balfour settled
at St. Andrews as a physician. "He brought with
him," says Dr Walker, in his Essays on Natural
Ilistoyy, "the best library, especially in medicine
and natural history, that had till then appeared in
Scotland; and not only these, but a perfect know-
ledge of the languages in which they were written;
likewise many unpublished manuscripts of learned
men, a series of antique medals, modern medallions,
and pictures and busts, to form the painter and the
architect; the remarkal^le arms, vestments, and orna-
ments of foreign countries; numerous mathematical,
philosophical, and surgical instruments, which he
not only jiossessed, but used; with operations in
surgery till then unknown in this country; a com-
plete cabinet with all the simples of the materia
vtedica, and new compositions in pharmacy; and
large collections of the fossils, plants, and animals,
not only of ilie foreign countries he traversed, but of
the mo-t distant parts of the world."

Dr. Balfour's merit was too conspicuous to suffer
him to remain long at .St. Andrews. Li the year
1670 he removed to Ivlinburgh, where he imme-
diately came into great practice. Here, among other
improvements, he prosecuted the manufacture of
paper, and was the means of introducing that valu-
able art into the country —though fjr many years it
remained in a state of complete or nearly complete
dormancy; the people deriving stationery articles of
all kinds from Holland. Adjoining to his house
he had a small botanic garden, which he furnished
by the seeds he received from his f)reign correspon-
dents; and in this garden he raised many plants
which were then fn-.>t introcluced into Scotland.
One of his fellow-labourers in tiiis dc])artment was
Patrick Murray (jf Livingston, whom he had initiated
into the study of natural iiistory. This young gentle-
man, who enjoyed an anijile fortune, formcil at his
seat in the country a botanic garden, containing 1000
species of ])Iants, which at that ])eriod was a veiy
large collection. He traversed the wlioh; of France
in que.-.t of the plants of tiiat country; and on hi.

way to Italy he prematurely died of a fever. Soon
after his death Dr. Balfour transferred Murray's col-
lection from Livingston to Edinburgh; and with it,
joined to his own, he had the merit of laying the
foundation of the public botanic garden. The
necessary expense of this new institution was at first
defrayed by Dr. Balfour, Sir Robert Sibbald, and
the Faculty of Advocates. But at length the city
allotted a piece of ground near Trinity College church
for a public garden, and out of the revenues of the
university allowed a certain sum for its support.
As the first keeper of this garden, Dr. Balfour selected
Mr. James Sutherland; who, in 1684, published a
work entitled Hcrtus Edinhurgcnsis. (See Suther-
land.) The new institution soon became consider-
able: plants and seeds were sent from Morison at
Oxford, Watts at London, Marchant at Paris, Her-
man at Leyden, and Spottiswood at Tangier. From
the last were received many African plants, \\hich
flourished in this country.

Such efforts as these, by a native Scotsman, oc-
curring at a time when the attention of the country
seems to have been almost exclusively devoted to
contending systems of church-government, are tndy
grateful to contemplate. It is only to be lamented,
that the spirit which presided over them was pre-
mature in its appearance; it found no genial field to
act upon, and it was soon forgotten in the prevailing
distraction of the public mind. Sir Andrew Balfour
was the morning-star of science in Scotland, but he
might almost be said to have set before the approach
of day.

He was created a baronet by Charles II., which
seems to indicate that, like most men of literary and
scientific character in that age, he maintained a senti-
ment of loyalty to the existing dynasty and govern-
ment, which was fast decaying from the nation.
His interest with the ministiy, and with the munici-
pality of Edinburgh, seems to have always been con-
siderable, and was uniformly exerted for the public
good and for the encouragement of merit.

Upon his settlement in Edinburgh, he had found
the medical art taught in a very loose and irregular
manner. In order to place it on a more respectable
footing, he planned, with Sir Robert Sibbald, the
Royal College of Physicians; and of that respectable
society his brethren elected him the first president.
When the college undertook the publication of a
riiarmacopcTia, the whole arrangement of the viatcria
vicdica was committed to his particular care. P'or
such a task he was eminently qualified by his skill
in natural history. This jierformance made its ap-
pearance in 1685; and, in the ojiinion of Dr. Cullen,
it is superior to M\y f/ian/iaco/'ifia of that era.

Not long bef )re his decease, his desire to promote
the science of medicine in his native country, joined
to the universal humanity of his disposition, led him
to project the foundation of an hospital in Edinburgh.
The institution was at first narrow and confined, but
it survived to be exjianded into full sha])e, as the
Royal Infirmary, under the care of Oeorge Drum-
mond. Sir Andrew died in 1694, in the sixty-fourth
year of his age, after a severe conflict \\\\h the gout
and other jiainfu! disorders; which afforded him an
opportunityof dis])laying, upon theap])r()ach of death,
those virtues and that equanimity which had dis-
tinguished him during his life. His person, like his
mind and manners, was elegant. I le was possessed
of a handsome figure, witli a pleasing and expres-
sive countenance; of a graceful elocution; and, by
his natural disposition, as well as his long intercourse
with the higher ranks in society, of a most courteous
and ]X)lite demeanour. A \)Y\n\. of him was executed
at Paris; l>ut no cojiy is known to exist.

SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

His library and museum were the anxious result
of fourteen years of travellinfj, and between twenty
and thirty more of correspondence. For their accom-
modation he had built an addition to his house when
he had nearly arrived at his fortieth year; but after the
building was completed, he found himself so infirm
as to be unable to place them in that order which he
intended. After his death his library, consistin}^ of
about 3000 volumes, besides manuscripts, was sold,
we sup|)ose by public auction. There is a printed
catalogue still extant. His museum was deposited
in the hall which was, till 1829, occupied as the uni-
versity library. There it remained many years, use-
less antl neglected; some parts of it falling to inevit-
able decay, and other parts being abstracted. "Yet,
even after 1750," says Dr. Walker, "it still continued
a considerable collection, whicii I have good reason
to remember, as it was the sight of it, about that
time, that first inspired me with an attachment to
natural history. .Soon after that period," to pursue
a narrative so deeply disgraceful to the age and the
institution referred to, "it was dislodged from the
hall where it had been long kept; was thrown aside,
and exposed as lumber; was further and further di-
lapidated, and at length almost com])letely demol-
ished. In the year 1782, out of its niiiis and rubbish
I extracted many pieces still valuable and useful,
and placed them here in the best order I could.
These, I hope, may remain long, and be considered
as so many precious relics of one of the best and
greatest men this country has produced."

From the account that has been given of Sir An-
drew r>alfour, every person conversant in natural
history or medicine must regret that he never ap-
peared as an author. To his friend Mr. Murray of
Livingston he .addressed a series of familiar letters,
for tiie direction of his researches while abroad.
Tiicse letters, forming the only literary relics of
15alfour, were subsequently published by his son, in
t!ie year 1700.

BAiiFOUH, Sir James, an eminent lawyer and
public character of the sixteenth century, was a son
of Ralfour of Monquhanny, in Fife, a very ancient
family. In youth, being designed for the church,
he made considerable proficiency, not only in ordinary
literature, but in the study of divinity and law; which
were all alike necessary in those times for an ecclesi-
astic, on account of the mixed character which the
age atlmitted to be assumed by such individuals.
Balfour, while still a young man, was so unfortunate
as to join with the conspirators who, after assassin-
ating Cardinal Beaton, held out the castle of St.
Andrews against the governor .Vrran. He seems.
however, not to have Ijeen a very cordial parti/an of
the consjiirators. John Knox, in his own vigorous
and plain-spoken maimer, styled him the Blasphan-
0!ts Baljatir, on account of his having refused to
communicate along with his reforming associates.
BaUour shared the fate of his companions in being
sent to tile French galleys,' and was confined in the

* The f >!I.i\vitv.,' iiii-.-'iotc of r,.-ilfoiir in connection with Knox
i> rel.itcd liy 1 >r. .M(.ric : -•' I'hc g.Tlleys returned to .Scotl.ind
in suiiiiner 1545, as Mc.\r .is I can collect, and continued for a
considerable time on the e.Lst coast, t.i watch for Knglisli
vessels. Knox's health was now greatly impaired by thf
severity of his conhnement. and he was seized with a fever,
during which his life was despaired of by all in the ship. I'.iit
even in this state his fortitutle of mind remained unsubdued,
and he couif irtcl his fell ow-prisiners with hopes of release.
To their anxious desponding in(U>irics, natural to men in their
situation, ' If he thought they would ever obtain tlieir liberty,'
his uniform answer was, 'Crod will deliver us to his glor\-,
even in this life.' While they lay on the coa-st t)ctwcen
Dundee and St. .Xndrews, .Mr. afterwards Sir James Hairi\ir.
who was conlined in the same ship, desired him to look at the
VUL. I.

same vessel along with Knox, from which he escaped
in 1550, along with the rest, by the tacit permission
of the French government.

Balfour seems to have afterwards joinerl in the
proceedings of the reformers, but only with courtier-
like temperance, and without exhibiting much zeal
in the Protestant cause. He was preferred to the
ecclesiastical ai)pointment of official of Lothian, and
afterwards became rector of Flisk, a parish in his
native county. In 1563 he was appointed by (^)ueen
Mary to be a lord of session, the court then i>eing
cmnposed partly of churchmen and partly of laics.
In 1564, when the commis.sary court was in.stitutcd
in place of the ecclesiastical tribunal, which had been
tlissolved at the Reformation, Balfour became one
of the four c(mimissaries, with a salary of 400 mcrks,
while the others had only 300. In Julv, 1565, the
(jueen extended the further favour of admitting him
into her privy-council.

Balfour was one of those servants of the state who,
being advanced rather on accouiU of merit than birth,
used at all times to give great offence to the Scottish
nobility. It seems to have never been su]i])osed by
this haughty class, that there was the least necessity
for talented or faithful service in the officials em-
])Ioyecl by majesty; birth andyc'/^ziv';/;^ were the only
cpialifications allowed by them to be of any value.
Accordingly, it is not surprising to find that the
same conspiracy which overthrew the "kinless" ad-
venturer Rizzio, contemplated the destruction of
Balfour. He was so fortunate, however, as to escape,
and even derived some advantage from the event,
being ])romoted to the office of clerk-register, in rocm
of Mr. James Macgill, who was concerneel in the
conspiracy. He was also about this time made a
knight, and appointed to be one of the commis-
sioners for revising, correcting, and publi.shing the
ancient laws and statutes of the kingdom.

In the beginning of the year 1567 .Sir James
Balfour was ajipointed governf)r of Edinburgh Castle.
In this important situation he naturally became an
object of great solicitude to the confederate lords,
who, in the ensuing May, commenced a successful
rebellion against (^ueen Mary. It would ajijicar
that Sir James was not now more loyal than man)-
other jiersons who had experienced the favour of
Mnry. He is said to have even been the means of
throwing into the hands of the confederates that
celebrated box of letters upon which they endea-
voured to ground the proof of her guilt. There can
be no doubt that he was at this time in the way of
receiving high favours from the Earl of Murray, who
was tlie chief man ojijiosed to the tlethn^incd (jueen.
lie was, in .Sejitcmber, 1567, admitted by Murray .a
lord of his privy-council, and maile commendator of
the priory of Pittenweem; and in December, a bargain
was accomplished, by which he agreed to accejH a
pension of ^5C)0 and the presidency of the cnurt of
session, in lieu of the clerk-registry, which Murray
wished to be restored to his friend Macgill. .Sir
James continued faithful to the jiarty which opposed
(Jueen Man,- till the death of Murray, January.
1569-70. when he was in some measure c^ni] elk J
to revert to the queen's side, on accoinit of a charci.'
preferreil against him by the succeeding reu'i.!,:.

land and see if he knew it. Thuui,'h at that tin.e
replied. " N'es, 1 know it well. f. r I see the ^t
place where Ciod first opened my ir,'".ith in pu'i h.
and I am fully persuaded, h 'u- ue;ik s-evcr I
that I shall n.it depart ttn^ life till tl'..it niv i-ni;'.:t
his godly name in tlie ^ame place.' 1 his ~*riki
James repeated in the presence I'f many wiiin--
of years tx.-fore Knox returned t.i Sr. .tl,ii;d. .11;
was very little pr-wjiect <^i his w^^rds bti:.^ VLrilie
Kiw.v, ist edit. p. 5j.

"l^v'J
en thL

/. :/;• ,
5

C6

SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

Lennox, who taxed him with a share in tlie murder
of Damley. For this accusation no proof was ever
adduced, but even allowing Sir James to have been
guilty, it will only add another to the list of great
men concerned in the transaction, and show llie
more clearly how neither learning, rank, official
dignity, nor any other ennobling ciualification,' pre-
vented a man in those days from staining his hands
with blood. Balfour outlived Lennox, and was
serviceable in bringing about the pacification between
the king's and queen's party, under Morton, in 1573-
He would appear to have been encouraged by Mor-
ton in the task of revising the laws of the country,
which he at length completed in a style allowed at
that time to be most masterly. Morton afterwards
thought proper to revive the charge brought by Len-
nox against Sir James, who was consequently obliged
to retire to France, where he lived for some years.
He returned in 15S0, and revenged the persecution
of Morton, by producing against him, on his trial,
a deed to which he had acceded, in common with
others of the Scottish nobility, alleging Bothwell's
innocence of the king's murder, anil recommending
him to the queen as a husband. .Sir James died be-
fore the I4tli of January, 15S3-4. As a politician
his time-serving character, and facility with which
he veered from one party to the other, was pithily
characterized by the saying, "He wagged as the
bush wagged." Each change of the political wind
could be discovered by the changes of Sir James.

The Practicks of Scots Lan.', compiled by .Sir James
Balfour of Pittendreich, president of the court of
session, continued to be used and consulted in manu-
script, both by students and practitioners, till nearly
a century after his decease, when it was for the first
time supplanted by the Ijistitiites of Lord Stair.
Even after that event it was held as a curious re-
pertory of the old practices of .Scottish law, besides
fulfilling certain uses not answered by the work of
Lord .Stair. It was therefore printed in 1754 by
the Ruddimans, along with an accurate biograjihical
preface by Walter Cioodal. The work was of con-
siderable service to Dr. Jamieson in his Dictionary
of the Scottish Laii^i^imgc.

BALFOUR, Sir Jami.s, an eminent antiquar}',
herald, and annalist, was l)(jrn about the close of the
sixteenth century. He was the eldest son of a small
Fife laird, Michael Balfour of Denmylne, who de-
rived his descent from James, son of Sir John Balfour
of Balgarvy, a cadet' of the ancient and honourable
house of Balfour of Balfour in l'"ife. James Balfour,
the ancestor of Sir Michael, had olitained the estate
of Denmylne from James II., in the fourteenth year
of his reign, which corresjwnds with 1450-I.
Michael Balfour, the fatlierof Sir James, and als<j of
Sir .Andrew, whose life has l)een already commemo-
rated, was, in the words of Sir Rol/ert Siblxald,
"equally distinguished for military bravery and civil
prudence." He bore the honoural)le office of comp-
troller (jf the Scottish household, in the reign (jf
Charles I., and in 1630 was knigiited at Holyrood
House by fjeorge. Viscount Du])])lin, clmncellor of
.Scotland, under his majesty's s])ecial warrant. This
eminent personage was, by Jean Durham, (laughter
of James Durham of Bitarrow, the father of five
sons, all of whom attained to distinction in ])ul)lic
life, besides nine daughters, who ail funned lionour-
able alliances except two, who died unmarried. I le

' This branch w.is ennobled in 1607, in the yxrsnn of Mlrhn'l
Halfour of B.ilg.irvy, wht), h.iving scrvcl King J.iiiics in
•several embassies to the principal courts of Kiirope, was rrcalcil
Lord Balfour of Burleigh. This peerage was attainted in ( on-
sequcnce of the concern of its occupant in t!ie civil war of '715-

lived to see three hundred of his own descendants,
a number which his youngest son, Sir Andrew, lived
to see doubled.

.Sir Michael Balfour gave his eldest son an educa-
tion suitable to the extended capacity which he dis-
played in his earliest years. This education, of which
the fmits are apparent in his taste and writings, was
accompanied by a thorough initiation into the duties
of religion, as then professed on a Presbyterian model.
The genius of the future antiquary was first exhibited
in a turn for poetry, which was a favourite study
among the scholars of that period, even where there
was no particular aptitude to excel in its composition,
but for which Sir James Balfour appears to have hail
a genuine taste.

No specimens indeed of his poetry have survived,
but the poetical temperament of Sir James, and the
courtly grace which generally is, and ever ought to
be, the accompaniment of that character, is shown
in the following epistle to a lady, which we consider
a very elegant specimen of the English prose of the
age of Charles I., and, indeed, singularly so, when
the native country of the writer is considered: —

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

"Your trcwly affcctional servant."

.Sir James seems to have spent some of the years
subsequent to 1626 in foreign countries, where he is
said to have improved himself much by observing
the manners of nations more polished than his own,
anil l)y forming the acquaintance of eminerit litei'ary
men. At the close of his continental travels he
spent some time in London, and obtained the IVientl-
ship of the distinguished antiijuary Sir Robert Cot-
ton, and also of .Sir William Segar, garter king-at-
arms. He had now turned his attention to the
study of heraldry, and the friendship of these inen
was of material service in the com])letion of what
might be called his jirofessional education. He also
contracted a literary acf|iiaintance with Roger Dods-
worth and .Sir William Dugdale, to whom he com-
municated several charters and other pieces of in-
formation regarding Scottish ecclesiastical antiquities,
which they attached to their Afoiuut.con yhi^licdinon,
under the title Ca-nobia Scotica.

Besides these antiquarian friends, Balfour secured
several others of a more courtly com])lexion, who
W(.'re natives of his own country. He enjoyed the
friendship of .Sir Robert Aytoun, the poetical cour-
tier, with whom he afterwards Ijecame distantly con-
nected bv marriage. He was also on the must

SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

67

familiar terms witli another poetical attendant on the
elegant court of Charles I. — the Earl of Stirling.
His chief patron, however, was George, Viscount
Dupplin, ' who held the high and almost vice-regal
office of chancellor of Scotland. By the recom-
mendation of this nobleman, aided by his own ex-
cellent qualifications, he was created by Charles I.
lord-lyon king-at-arms, a dignified legal office in
Scotland, in which resides the management of all
matters connected with armorial honours, as also all
public ceremonials. Sir Jerome Lyndsay having
previously resigned the office, Balfour was crowned
and installed at Ilolyrood Mouse, June 15, 1630,
having in the preceding month been invested with
the necessary honour of knighthood by the king.
On this occasion Lord Dupplin officiated as royal
commissioner.

Sir James Balfour now settled in Scotland, in the
enjoyment of his office. On the 21st of October he
was married to Anna Aiton, daughter of Sir John
Aiton of that ilk, and in January, 1631, he obtained,
in favour of himself and his spouse, a grant of the
lands and barony of Kinnaird in Fife. In De-
cember, 1633, he was created a baronet by Charles
I., probably in consequence of the able manner in
which he marshalled the processions and managed
the other ceremonials of the royal visit that year.
At this period of peace and prosperity a number of
learned and ingenious men were beginning to exert
themselves in Scotland. It was a peaceful interval
between the desolating civil wars of the minority of
King James and the equally unhappy contest w'hich
was soon after incited by religious and political dis-
sensions. Like soldiers enjoying themselves during
a truce, the people were beginning to seek for and
cultivate various sources of amusement in the more
elegant arts. This was the era of Jamieson the
painter — of Drummond the poet — of the geographer
Pont — and the historians Spottiswood, Calderwood,
Johnston, and Hume." Sir James Balfour, inspired
with the common spirit of these men, commenced
the writing of historj' with as much zeal as could be
expected in an age when, the printing of a written
work being a comparatively rare occurrence, litera-
ture might be said to want the greater part of its
temptations.

Sir James, as already mentioned, had been bred
a strict Presbyterian. In this profession he con-
tinued to the last, notwithstanding that, in politics,
he was an equally firm royalist. In a letter to
a young nobleman (Correspondence, Advocates' Li-
brary) he is found advising a perusal of "Calvine,
Beza, Parens, and \V]iittaker,"as "orthodox writers."

' AftenvarJs created Karl of Kinnoul, on the occasion of
the coronation of King Charles at Edinburgh in 1633. Sir
James Half jur relates the following curious anecdote of liis
lordship. 'I'he king, in 1626, had commanded, by a letter to
his privy council, that the Archbishop of St. Andrews should
Iiave precedence of the chancellor. To this his lordship would
never submit. "I remember," says Sir James, "that K.
Charles sent mc to the lord-chancellor on the day of his
coronation, in the morning, to show him that it was his will
and pleasure, hot onlie for that day, that he wold ceed and
give way to the archbishop; but he returned by me to his
majestie a wcry bniskc answer, which wa.s, that he was ready
in all humility to lay his office doune at his majestie's feet;
hot since it was his royal will he should enjoy it with the
knowen privile^ies of the same, never a priest in Scotland
should sett a f .ot Iiefore him, so long as his blood w.as bote.
Quhcn I had related his answer to the kinge, he said, ' Weel,
l.yone, letts goc to bu>iness: I will not medle farther with
that olde cankered gootish man. at quhose hand ther is no-
thing to be g.ained bot soiire words.'" What makes this
anecdote the more expressively illustrative of the rancour with
which the secular offirers and nobility lx;held the newly dl.,;-
nificd clergy is, that the lord-chancellor had just on the pre-
ceding afternoon been raised to the rank of Karl of Kinnoul.

^ l>.avid Hume of Godacruft, autlior of the //istoy 0/ t/:c

When the introduction of the liturgy imposed by
Charles I. roused Scotland from one end to the
other in a fit of righteous indignation. Sir James
Balfour, notwithstanding his connection with the
government, joined cordially with his countr)mfcn,
and wrote an account of the tumult of the 23d of
July, under the burlesque title of Stoueyfu-lJ J Jay.

Jiut, though indignant, in common with all pe(Ji)le
of his own persuasion, at the religious iimovations
attempted by the government. Sir James appears to
have very soon adopted tlifferent feelings. Like
many moderate persons who had equally condemned
the ill-advised conduct of the king, he after%vards
began to fear that the opposition would produce
greater mischiefs than the evil which w^as opposed.

It was probably in consequence of this feeling that
he retired to the royal hunting-palace of Falkland,
where, and at his seat of Kinnaird, he devoted him-
self to those studies by which the present may be
forgotten in the past. His annals, however, show
that he still occasionally appeared in public affairs in
his capacity of lord-lyon. It is also clear that his
political sentiments mu.st have been of no obtrusive
character, as he continued in his office during the
whole term of the civil war, and was only at last
deprived of it by Cromwell. During his rural re-
tirement at Falkland and Kinnaird, he collected
many manuscripts relative to heraldrj', and wrote
many others in his own language, of which some are
preserved in the Advocates' Librarv', while others
were either lost at the capture of Perth (1651), to
which town he had conveyed them for safety, or
have since been dispersed. Persevering with par-
ticular diligence in illustrating the History of Scot-
land, he had recourse to the ancient charters and
diplomas of the kingdom, the archives of monasteries,
and registers of cathedral churches, and in his library
was a great number of chronicles of monasteries,
both originals and the abridgments; but it is to be
deeply regretted that many of these valuable manu-
scripts fell into the hands of children, or perished in
the flames during the civil w-ars. A few only were
opportunely rescued from destruction by those wliu
were acquainted with their value. The style of
these monastic chronicles was indeed nide and
barbarous- but they were remarkable for the in-
dustrv-, judgment, and fidelity to truth, with which
they were compiled. For some time after the erec-
tion of monasteries in this kingdom, these writers
were almost the only, and certainly the most re-
spectable, observers in literature, as scarcely any
other persons preserved in writing the memory of
the important occurrences of the limes. In the.se
registers and chronicles were to be found an accurate
record of transactions with foreign powers, whether
in forming alliances, contracting marriagcb of st.itc.
or regidating commerce ; letters and bulls of the
holy see; answers, edicts, and statutes of kings;
church rescripts; provincial constitutions; acts ci
parliament; battles; deaths of eminent per>or.>:
epitaphs and inscriptions; and sometimes tlie natural
appearances of the seasons; the prevalent di.-easc-;
miracles an^l prodigies; the heresies that spmng wy.
with an account of the authors and tb.eir ]rL;iiish-
ments. In short, they conimiUed to writing cvcrx-
important occurrence in church and state, tl;at any
question arising in after-ages niiglu be .^ctt'.cc! li\"
their authority, and the unanimous cr'ntiiiiiawiai 01
their faithful and accurate chronicles. In ci l'ect;ng
and preserving tliese manuscripts, Pallour thei(.-l<ir,;
raised a monument to his nienitiry wh;ch tiic latc-t
posterity must revere. For he did sd f:"m a cui-
viction that ihe.-e old and approve: 1 airJv 'r.-. were tl;e
onlv miides to the k;:o\vIe;ii:e of fact^. a.> weii a.s

68

SIR JAMES BALFOUR ROBERT BALFOUR.

to correct evidence and reasoning on the remote
history of Scotland; and he considered them not
only of signal use to himself, but a valuable treasure
to the literature of the country. He therefore per-
severed throughout life in collecting such manuscripts,
without regard to either trouble or expense. The
catalogue wliich he left is still extant,* although
many, as already mentioned, were lost by the depre-
dations of the English and other causes. He formed
with great industry, and at a considerable expense,
a library of the most valuable books on every
subject, particularly in the branches of Scottish
history, antiquities, and heraldry. From these he
extracted every assistance they coukl afford in the
pursuit of his inquiries, and for further aid he estab-
lislied a correspondence with the most respectal)le
living historians, .such as Robert Maule, Henry
^Laule, David Buchanan, Gordon of Straloch, and
Drummond of Hawthornden, all of whom he regarded
through life with the warmest esteem and with the
greatest respect for their talents and accomplish-
ments.

He endeavoured to elucidate our history (which
was then involved in confusion) from tlie examina-
tion of ancient medals, coins, rings, bracelets, and
other relics of antiquity, of which he formed a
separate collection as an appendage to his library.
Observing also from historians that the Romans
had long been settled in Scotland, and had made
desperate attempts to expel our ancestors, both
Scots and Picts, he collected the inscriptions which
they had left on certain stone buildings, and tran-
scribed them among his notes. In compiling the
work to which he gave the title of Annals, our
author was more anxious to supply the deficiencies
of other historians, and to bring to light obscure
records, than to exhibit a continued and regular
history of Scotland. He therefore carefully ex-
tracted from old manuscripts, the names, dignities,
and offices of distinguished public characters, the
dates of remarkable transactions, and every other
circumstance of importance, and arranged them in
separate paragraphs. He was actuated by a generous
disposition to rescue from oblivion and the grave
the memory of illustrious men; for which purpose
he visited all the catliedrals and the principal parish
churches of the kingdom, and examined their sepul-
chres and other monuments, from wliich he copied
the epitaphs and inscriptions, carefully preserving
them in a volume. He deeply interested himself in
some laudable attempts to improve the geography
of .Scotland. .Sir Janies made also a survey of Fife,
his native county, examining particularly ancient
monuments, and the genealogies of the principal
families. He afterwards compiled a description of
the whole kingdom, of wliich tiie manuscript was so
useful to Bleau, that he dedicated to our author the
map of Lome in his Tlu-atnun Scoliu, and em-
bellished it witli the arms of IJalfour.

Zealous in the improvement and knowledge of
heraldr)-, he carefully reviewed, not only the public
acts and diplomas (jf nobility, but the contents of
ancient edifices, temples, and palaces, shields and
sepulchral monuments. When it had become proper,
from his years, to allow the I'rincc of Wales a
separate establishment, an infjuiry was ordered con-
cerning the revenues of the hereditary princes, as
stewards or lords-marshal of Scotland, in which
Balfour appears to have taken ]iart, as we fuid
among his manuscripts the following: "The true
present state of the principality of Scotland, with
the means how the same may be most conveniently

^ Mcmoria Bal/ouriana, p. \<)-zZ-

increased and augmented; with which is joined ane
survey, and brief notes from the public registers of
the kingdoms, of certain infeftmentsand confirmations
given to princes of Scotland; and by them to their
vassals of diverse baronies and lands of the princi-
palitie, since the fifteenth year of the reign of
Robert HI."

In the history of this country he displayed his
uncommon industry in his numerous collection of
manuscripts, in the great assemblage of historical
works in his own library, and in his careful inspec-
tion of the various manuscripts dispersed over the
kingdom, from which he generally extracted the
substance, if he did not wholly transcribe them,
forming a general index to such as were useful in
.Scottish history. Fie m^de several abridgments of
the registers of Scone, Cambuskenneth, and others,
and from the works of Major, Boece, Leslie, and
Buchanan, which, in proper order, formed parts of
his chronological works, along with relations of im-
portant transactions throughout the world. Besides
this he wrote a remarkably concise yet comprehen-
sive IIisio>y of the Alngs of Scotland, from Fergus I.
to Charles I. He also intended to have enlarged
the annals of the Scottish Kings from James I. to
the beginning of Charles II., of which he had finished
the two first James's on a more diffuse and extensive
scale. In other works, he wrote memoirs of James
III. IV. v., of Queen Mary, and of James VI., and
the transactions of Charles I., brought down to his
death. In natural history, he wrote an alphabetical
list of gems, with descriptions, their names and
qualities, and the places where they are produced.
Another work upon the same subject, written in
Latin, exhibited, from various authors, an account
of ingenious inventions or frauds practised in
counterfeiting and imitating precious stones.

.Sir James concluded an industrious, and, it would
appear, a most blameless life, in February, 1657,
when he must have been about sixty years of age.
He had been four times married: 1st, to Anna Alton,
by whom he had three sons and six daughters, and
who died August 26th, 1644; 2d, to Jean Durham,
daughter of the laird of Pitarrow, his own cousin,
who died without issue only eleven months subse-
quent to the date of his first wife's death; 3d, to
Margaret Arnot, only daughter of Sir Janies Arnot
of P'ernie, by whom he had three sons and three
daughters; 4th, to Janet Auchinleck, daughter of
Sir William Auchinleck of Balinanno, by whom he
had two daughters. Yet his family is now extinct
in the male line. The ylnnals and Short J\issages
of State, above alluded to, were, after nearly two
centuries of manuscript obscurity, published in 1824,
in 4 volumes 8vo, by Mr. Janies Ilaig of tlie
Advocates' Library.

BALFOUR, RoRERT, a distinguished philosopher
of the seventeenth century, was jirincipal of (niyenne
College, Bordeaux, anil is mentioned byMorhofas
a celebrated commentator on Aristotle. According
to I)ein])ster, he was "the phoenix of his age; a
philosopher ]irofoundly skilled in the Greek and
Latin languages; a mathematician worthy of being
compared with the ancients: and to those qualifica-
tions he joined a wonderfiil suavity of manners, and
the utmost warmth of affection towards his country-
men." This eminent personage aiipears to have
been one of that numerous class of .Scotsmen, who,
having gained all their honours in climes more
genial to science than Scotland was a few centuries
ago, are to this day belter known abroad than among
their own countrymen. According to the fantastic
Urquhart, who wrote in the reign of Charles L,

DR. ROBERT BALFOUR,

69

"Most of the Scottish nation, never having astricted
themselves so much to the proprieties of words as to
the i<nowledj,'e o( things, where there was one pre-
ceptor of lan;,'uages amongst them, there were above
forty professors of philosopliy: nay, to so high a pitch
did the glory of the Scottish nation attain over all
the parts of France, and for so long a time continue
in that obtained height, by virtue of an ascendant the
I'rench conceived the Scots to have above all nations,
in matter of tl.--ir subtlety in philosophical discepta-
tions, that there hath not been, till of late, for these
sjveral ages together, any lord, gentleman, or other,
in all that country, who being desirous to have his
son instructed in the principles of philosophy, would
intrust him to the discipline of any other than a
Scottish master; of whom they were no less proud
than Philip was of Aristotle, or Tullius of Cratippus.
And if it occurred (as very often it did) that a pre-
tender to a place in any French university, having,
in his tenderer years, been subfendary to some other
kind of schooling, should enter in competition with
another aiming at the same charge and dignity, whose
learning flowed from a Caledonian source, commonly
the first was rejected and the other preferred." It
nevertheless appears that Robert Balfour prosecuted
the study of philology, as well as that of philosophy,
with considerable success. His edition of Cleomedes,
published at Bordeaux, in 1605, ^' Latiiu versa, ct per-
pduo coiniiiciitario illitstrata" is spoken of in the
highest terms of praise by the erudite Barthius.
Other works l)y Balfour are, Gdasii Cyziccni Coin-
vieiitariiis Actorum Nkceiii Coucilii, Roberto Balforeo
inter prete, 1 604, folio; Commeittarius K. Balforei in
Or^anum lAi^icttm Aristotelis, 1616, 4to; and R.
lull for ei Scoti Coinntentariorum in lib. Arist. de
JViilosophia, tomus secundus, 1620, 4to.

BALFOUR, Dr. Robert. — This distinguished
minister of the Church of Scotland was born in
Edinburgh, in April, 1740. He was early trained
by his pious parents to the knowledge and practice
of Christianity. He received his education at Edin-
burgh, and when a mere youth he became a member
of a society which met for religious conversation and
jirayer. The devotional tendency of his mind, thus
early acquiretl, was a prominent feature of his charac-
ter through life. Of his college career no record has
been preserved. In 1774 he was ordained to the
ministry of the gospel in the small rural charge of
l.ecropt, near Stirling. Here he laboured with
nuich acceptance for five years, not inattentive mean-
while to his personal improvement, and in his pulpit
duties giving no doubtful presages of the jirofessional
distinction and influence to which he was destined
to rise. In June, 1779, he was translated to the
Outer High Church of Glasgow, then vacant by the
removal of Mr. Randal (afterwards Dr. Davidson)
lo Edinburgh.

At the time of Dr. Balfour's settlement in Glasgow
evangelical religion was at a low ebb in the Estab-
lished Church throughout Scotland, and Moderatism
was in the ascendant. Dr. Balfour, from the outset
of his ministry, warmly espoused the evangelical
cause, wliich he recommended alike by the power
of his preaching and by the active benevolence and
consistency of his life. His ministry in Glasgow
gave a fresh impulse to the revival and diffusion of
])ure and undefiled religion in the west of Scotland.
Ciiristian missions were then in their infancy, and in
Sc itland met with much opposition from the domi-
nant party in the Est.ii)lished Church. Dr. Balfour
was one of the founders (if the tdasgow Missionarv
Society, which was establislicil in 1796. a few months
after tlie institution of the London Missionary-

Society. He preached a striking sermon at the
commencement of the society, which was one of
the few discourses he ventured on publishing; and
one of his last public acts, twenty-two years after-
wards, was to sign a circular letter as its' president.
The following passage from the discourse just men-
tioned bears testimony to the earnest interest he felt
in the missionary cause, and affords an example of
a style of appeal, which, with the aid of his me-
lodious voice, keen eye, and graceful and fervid
elocution, must have proved singularly animating.
After describing the true missionary spirit and char-
acter, he proceeded — "We invite and press all of
this description to come forward full of the Holv
Ghost and of faith. We cannot, we will not tempt
you with worldly prospects — if you are right-hearted
men according to your profession, you will not seek
great things for yourselves — you must not think of
an easy life — you must labour hard — you must en-
counter difTiculties, opposition, and dangers; for
these, however, you are not unprovided.
We will follow you with our prayers, and with
every blessing in our power to bestow. But what
is of infinitely greater moment and advantage to you
is, that the Lord Jesus, whose religion you are to
teach, will be with you, and that he is greater than
all who can be against you. Depending then on
him alone for your own salvation, and for the salva-
tion of the heathen; seeking not your own jileasure,
profit, or honour, but that he may be glorified in
and by you, and by sinners converted from the error
of their way, be not afraid — be strong and of good
courage. To all who thus devote themselves to his
service we most heartily bid God speed. Fly, ye
angels of grace, from pole to pole, and from the
rivers to the ends of the earth, bearing to all men
the glad tidings of the everlasting gos]:iel; stop not
in this bold flight of philanthropy, till you convey
to the simple sons of the isles the knowledge of the
true God and eternal life — till you arrest the wander-
ings of the roving savage with the wonders of re-
deeming grace — till you dart the beams of celestial
light and love into the dark habitations of ignorance
and cruelty — till you convert the barbarous cannibal
to humanity, to Christian gentleness and goodness.
Hasten to the shores of long-injured Africa, not to
seize and sell the bodies of men, but to save their
perishing souls. Follow the miserable captives to
their several sad destinations of slaver.-, with the
inviting proclamation of spiritual liberty, while you
inculcate the strictest duly to their masters. Speed
your way to India, to repay her gold with the un-
searchable riches of Christ. Meet all the high pre-
tensions of the Brahmin religion and literature, and
all their fatal delusions and cruel impositions, with
the overpowering evidence of the Christian as a
divine revelation — with the fidl luminous display of
evangelical truth and holiness. Cease not. till you
see tlie whole earth filled with the knowledge of the
Lord, as the waters cover the channel of the sea.'"

Dr. Balfour was an eloquent man, Init his w.is nijt
an elocjuence which sought its reward in jM^jnilar
applause. It flowed spontaneously from a licart
deeply imbued with love to the Saviour ami t^ the
souls of men. Earnest preaching matte e.irnc-t
listening, and whilst his rL-jnitation in the ]'ul|':t
continued luiimjiaired to the close of h'.s l;tf. tiie
fruits of his ministry were abundant. nn'I 1;> Jn-
lluence extended far lieyond tlie limits of !:i- "wn
congregation. His jireaching was clear ar.'i .'m-
prehensive; textual, luminous. and ]i. iii-.Ied ; 1. \:;;li-;ing
a remarkable intimacy with the varieties "1 t_ 1
ex]-)erience, and a ]M-ofounil kiioule'l;^e '-t
nature; animated with a warm and ;.ersuasi% e e

r>!ian
nunan

70

ROBERT BALFOUR

EDWARD BALIOL.

ness; faithful and close in applying tlie tnith; anil
exhibiting an exuberant flow of appropriate and
powerful expression. He was not in the habit of
■writing his discourses at full length, but his prepara-
tions for the pulpit were never relaxed. Although
not displaying the plodding habits of the scholar, he
kept up his knowledge of general literature, and
cultivated an acquaintance with tlie works of tlie
best autliors in his own profession. His morning
hours were consecrated to study and devotion. He
possessed the power of readily commanding his
thoughts in the intervals of daily occupation, and
was in the habit, to use his own expression, of
"carrying about" with him the sulijects on which he
intended to preach. His stores of thought and
illustration were ample and exul^erant, and, being
giftetl with a ready utterance, he could on every
occasion express himself with ease and propriety.
Without the appearance of much labour, therefore,
he was able to appear in the pulpit with a felicity
and success to which men of inferior minds find it
impossible to attain after the most laborious efforts.
He seldom engaged in controversy, and did not
often obtmde himself upon the notice of church
courts, for tlie business of which, however, he showed
no want of aptitude. His modesty and humility
prevented him from issuing more than a few of his
more public and elaborate jirodiictions through the
press. An anecdote is related of him, which illus-
trates his disinclination to pulilish, as well as the
readiness with wliich lie couitl draw in an emergency
upon the resources of his richly-stored mind. On
one occasion, after having preached with much
acceptance on the divinity of Clirist, he was waited
upon by a young man, who, on his own part and
that of two companions, preferred an urgent request
that he would print his discourse, assigning as a
reason that it had completely relieved their minds of
doubts which they had been led to entertain on this
momentous doctrine, and that it was fitted to have
the same effect upon the minds of others similarly
situated. On the doctor expressing his aversion to
appear in print, his visitor entreated the favour of a
perusal of the manuscript. In this he was equally
unsuccessful; for it then appeared that the doctor, on
proceeding to the church, had found himself — from
some unwonted and inexj^licable cause — utterly in-
capable of recalling the train of tliought which had
occu]«ed his mind in preparing for the pulpit; and
at the last moment he was under the necessity of
choosing a new text, from which he delivered the
unpremeditated discourse that had produced such a
salutar\' impression upon the minds of his three
youthful hearers.

His attachment to his congregation was evinced
on the occasion of his receiving an offer to be pre-
sented to Lady Olenorchy's cliajiel in Edinburgh,
which he declined, although, in a worldly point of
view, it possessed considerable advantages over liis
charge in Olasgow. He was alike frank, friendlv,
and accessible to all classes of his peo])le, and had
always a kind word for the poor. He showed great
tact in dealing with the humbler members of his
flock, who sometimes came to the good man with
unreasonable complaints. When the old-fashioned
practice of the precentor reading line by line of the
psalm was discf)ntinued, an ancient dame jiresentcd
herself to the minister, to express her concern at the
innovation, at the same time gently reproaching him
for departing from a good old custom of our ])ious
forefathers — a custom, be it remembered, which had
been introduced at a time when few persons in a
congregation were able to read. "Oh, Janet," re-
plied the doctor, in a tone of kindly remonstrance,

"I read the psalm, and you sing it; what's the use
of coming over it a third time?" "Ou, sir," was the
ready answer, "I juist like to gust my gab wi't!"
In process of time "repeating tunes" were intro-
duced in the precentor's desk, and Janet hastened
forthwith to the minister, to lodge her complaint
against the profane innovation. "What's the
matter wi' ye now?" inquired the doctor, as he
welcomed the worthy old dame into his presence.
"The sang tunes, wi' their o'ercomes brocht into
the worship of the sanctuary," quoth she; "it's juist
usin' vain repetitions, as the heathens do." "Oh
dear no, Janet," slyly interposed the doctor, "we
juist like to gust our gabs wi't !"

Dr. Balfour rnarried, in November, 1774, Isabella
.Stark, daughter of Mr. Stark, collector of excise at
Kirkcaldy. She died in October, 1 781. In June,
1787, he married Catherine M 'Gilchrist, daughter
of Mr. Archibald M 'Gilchrist, town-clerk of the
city of Glasgow. She died in May, 1817. These
were not the only instances of domestic bereavement
which he experienced in the course of his life. He
preached on the day after the celebration of the
Lord's supper at Dumbarton, in July, 1786, with
an earnestness and solemnity more fervid and im-
pressive than ordinary, as if his mind were under a
powerful impulse. On his way home he received
information of the death of a beloved and only son,
in circumstances fitted deeply to wound his heart.
Henry, a fine spirited boy, had been left by his
father, then a widower, during an absence of some
days, under the charge of Air. and Mrs. Denniston
of West Thorn, and was accidently drowned in the
Clyde. After recovering from the first paroxysm of
grief occasioned by the heart-rending intelligence.
Dr. Balfour hastened to tender his sympathy to his
deeply afflicted friends, whose kindness had been
permitted to prove the innocent cause of involving
him and his family in this calamity. This he did,
in the first instance, in a letter of touching pathos
and beauty, which afterwards found its way to the
public, and was embodied in a little volume of Letters
addressed to Christians in Affliction, published in
181 7. The death of his son Archibald took jjlace
many years previously, on the day when he preached
the sermon by appointment of the Glasgow Mission-
ary Society. His own death was sudden. On the
I3tli of October, 1818, Dr. Balfour appeared to be
in his usual health and spirits. In the course of the
day he became unwell while walking out with a
friend, and made an effort to return home. But his
illness increasing, he was assisted into a friend's
house in George Street, from which it was deemed
imprudent to attempt to remove him. The symp-
toms were found to be those of apoplexy. He con-
tinued in a state of insensibility till the evening of
the next day, the 14th, when he expired. He died
in the seventy-first year of his age and forty-fifth year
of his ministry.

BALIOL, F.OWARI). King John Baliol had two
sons, Edward and Henry. The former seems en-
titled to some notice in this work, on account of his
vigorous, though eventually unsuccessful, attempt to
regain the crown lost by his father. When King John
entered into the treaty with the King of France, in
1295, it was stijndated in the first article that his son
Edward should marry the daughter of Charles of
Valois, niece to the French monarch, receiving with
her 25,000 livres de Toumois current money, and
assigning to her, as a dowr}', ^^1500 sterling of
yearly rent, of which ;^looo should be paid out of
King John's lands of J-ialii^l, Damjiier, Helicourt,
and Horne, in Frr.nce, and ;^5oo out of those of

EDWARD BALIOL.

71

Lanark, Cadzow, Cunningham,* Haddington, and the
castle of Dundee, in Scotland. This young prince
accompanied his father in his captivity in the Tower,
and was subsequently carried with him to France.
.\fter the death of John Baliol, Edward quietly suc-
ceeded to. the French family estates, upon which he
lived unnoticed till 1 324, when Edward II. com-
manded that he should be brought over to England,
apjiarently for the purpose of being held up as a rival
to Robert Bnice. Whether he now visited England
or not is uncertain; but it would rather appear that
he did not, as in 1326 he was invited by Edward
III. for the same purpose. At this time the English
monarch was endeavouring to secure a peace with
the King of Scots, but at the same time held him-
self prepared for war by mustering his barons at
Newcastle. Me seems to have thought that a threat
of taking Baliol under his patronage was apt to
quicken thedesiresof the Scots for anaccommodation.
Nevertheless, in the summer of this year, the Scots
made a bold and successful incursion into England,
under Randolph and Douglas, and King Edward
was obliged, April, 1328, to consent to the treaty of
Northampton, which acknowledged at once the in-
dependency of the Scottish crown, and the right of
Robert Bruce to wear it. No more is heard of
Edward Baliol till after the death of Bruce, when he
was tempted by the apparent weakness of Scotland
under the minority of David II. to attempt the
recovery of his birthright. Two English barons,
Henry de Beaumont and Thomas Lord Wake,
claimed certain estates in Scotland, which had been
declared their property l)y the treaty of Northamp-
ton; Randolph, the Scottish regent, distrusting the
sincerity of the English in regartl to other articles of
this treaty, refused to restore those estates; and the
two barons accordingly joined with Baliol in his
design. That the English king might not be sup-
posed accessory to so gross a breach of the treaty, he
issued a jiroclamation against their expedition; but
they easily contrived to ship 400 men-at-arms and
3000 infantry at Holderness, all of whom were safely
landed on the coast of Fife, July 31, 1332. Only
eleven days before this event, the Scottish people had
been bereft of their brave regent, Randolph, Earl of
Moray, who was almost the last of those worthies by
whom the kingdom of Bruce had been won and main-
tained. The regency fell into the hands of Donald,
Earl of Mar, in every respect a feebler man. Baliol,
having beat back some forces which opposed his land-
ing, moved forward to Forteviot, near Perth, where
the Earl of Mar appeared with an army to dispute
his farther progress. As the Scottish forces were
much superior in number and position to the English,
Baliol found himself in a situation of great jeopardy,
and would willingly have retreated to his shijw, had
that been possible. Finding, however, no other re-
source than to fight, he led his forces at midnight across
the Erne, surprised the Scottish camp in a state of
the most disgraceful negligence, and put the whole to
the rout. This .action, fought on the 12th of Au-
gust, was called the battle of Dupplin. The con-
(jueror entered Perth, and for some time found no
resistance to his assumed authority. On the 24th
of Septeinl)er he was solemnly crowned at .Scone.
The friends of the line of Bruce, though unable to
offer a formal opi)osition, appointed .Vndrew Morav
o( Bothwell to be regent in the room of the Earl of

is known to h.ive po<;sc-iscd in Cunning-
Ianils:--I.arss. N'.xldcsdale. Scnith.inn.in.

1 "John IU\1

him the foil iwii.^ ^ .. . ^,v....v.. .„.,.. ,,.,.,.

I'nlry. Hiffin, Ciini^hcuch, Drcshom, the frrent b.ironv of
Kihimrnock, together with I! omlinton and Hart>haw; extend-
ing in all to .about £Qi}>xi Scots of valued rent, or alxmt ^ijjCxjo
real rent at present. "— A" t'/v/i^LV/V .lyrsh:>t' /■miiii'u-j.

Mar, who had fallen at Dupplin. At Roxburgh, on
the 23d of November, Baliol solemnly acknowledge*!
Edward of England for his lu\^e lord, and surrendered
to him the town and castle of Berwick, "on account
of the great honour and emoluments which he had
procured through the good-will of the English king,
and the powerful and acceptable aid contributed by
his people." The two princes also engaged on this
occasion to aid each other in all their respective
wars. Many of the Scottish chiefs now submitted
to Baliol, and it does not ajipear improbable that he
might have altogether retrieved a kingdom which
was certainly his by the laws of hereditary succes-
sion. But on the 15th of December, the adherents
of the opposite dynasty suq)rised him in his turn at
Annan, overpowered his h(jst, and having slain his
brother Henry, and many other distinguished men,
obliged him to flee, almost naked, and with hardly
a single attendant, to England. His subsequent
efforts, though not so easily counteracted, were of
the same desultory character. He returned into
.Scotland in March, and lay for some time at Rox-
burgh with a small force. In May, 1333, he joined
his forces with King Edward, and reduced the town
of Berwick. The Scottish regent being overthrown
at Halidon Hill, July 19, for a time all resistance to
the claims of Baliol ceased. In a parliament held
at Edinburgh in February, he ratified the former
treaty with King Edward, and soon after surrendered
to that monarch the whole of the counties on the
frontier, together with the province of Lothian, as
part of the kingdom of England. His power, how-
ever, was solely supported by foreign influence, and,
upon the rise of a few of the hostile Scottish barons,
in November, 1334, he again fled to England. In
July, 1335, Edward HI. enabled him to return under
the protection of an army. But, notwithstanding
the personal presence and exertions of no less a
warrior than the victor of Cressy, the Scots never
could altogether be brought under the sway of this
vassal king. For two or three years Ed\\ard Baliol
held a nominal sway at Perth, while the greater ])art
of the country was in a state of rebellion against
him. The regent Andrew Moray, dying in July,
1338, w-as succeeded by Robert Stewart, the grand-
son of Bruce and nephew of David IL, who having
threatened to besiege Baliol in Perth, obliged him
to retreat once more to England. The greater part
of the countn,- speedily fell under the dominion of
the regent, nor was Edward HI. now able to re-
trieve it, being fully engaged in his French wars.
The Scots having made an incursion, in 1344, into
England, Baliol, with the forces of the northern
counties, was appointed to oppose them. Two
years after this period, when the fatal battle of Dur-
ham and the ca])ture of David II. had again reduced
the strength of Scotland, Baliol raised an insurrec-
tion in Galloway, where his family .connections gave
him great intluence, and speedily penetrated t<> tl.e
central parts of the kingdom. He gained, liowevcr,
no ]iermanent footing. For some years alter tl;;--
period .Scotland maintained a noble struggle iiii'icr
its regent Robert Stewart, against lioth the j rctc:-,-
sions of this adventurer and the jiower <■{ tlic K;r.g
of England, till at length, in 1355- <''. w^aiicil (a;i
with an unavailing contest, and feeling tlie ;t, [ n ach
of old age. Baliol resigned all his claims ww- tl'.e
hands of'Edward III. for the considerat:"ii ■t" 5CC0
merks. and a yearly pension of /2i.<xd. AruT i!i:s
surrender, which was transacted at Kn.xl'-.irgli. .ir.d
inclu<led his personal estates, a- well .i~ h> k:ii,;':' n:,
this imtnrtunate jiriiice retired t" lM-.,:.:la!;il. '■ 1 ne
fate of E<hvard Balinl." say. Lord llailc-.. '-wa^
sin.:ular. la his invasion ol Scollar.d .;v,r;r.g tne

72

JOHN BALIOL.

minority o£ David Bruce, he displayed a bold spirit
of enterprise, and a courage superior to all difficulties.
By the victory at Dupplin he won a crown; some
few weeks after, he was surprised at Annan and lost
it. The overthrow of the Scots at Halidon, to
which he signally contributed, availed not to his re-
establishment. Year after year he saw his partisans
fall away, and range themselves under tiie banner
of his competitor. He became the pensioner of
Edward HI. and the tool of his policy, assumed or
laid aside at pleasure: and at last, by his surrender
at Roxburgh, he did what in him lay to entail the
calamities of war upon the Scottish nation, a nation
already miserable through the consequences of a
regal succession disputed for threescore years. The
remainder of his days was spent in obscurity; and
the historians of that kingdom where he once reigned
know not the time of his death." It may further be
mentioned, that neither these historians, nor the
Scottish people at large, ever acknowledged Edward
Baliol as one of the line of Scottish monarchs. The
right of the family of Bruce, thougli inferior in a
hereditar}' point of view, having been confirmed by
parliament on account of the merit of King Robert,
this shadowy intruder, though occasionally dominant
through the sword, could never be considered the
legitimate monarch, more especially as he degraded
himself and his country by a professed surrender of
its independence, and even of a part of its territory,
to a foreign enemy. He died childless, and, it
would also appear, unmarried, in 1363, when he
must have been advanced to at least the age of
seventy.

BALIOL, JoHX, King of Scotland, was the son
of John de Baliol, of Bernard's Castle in the county
of Durham, a lord of great opulence, being possessed
of thirty knights' fees (equal to ;^i2,ooo of modern
money), and who was a steady adherent of Henry
HI. in all his civil wars. The mother of Baliol
was Devorgilla, one of the three daughters and co-'
heiresses of Allan, Lord of Galloway, by Margaret,
eldest daughter of David, Earl of Huntingdon,
brother of >Ialcolm IV. and William the Lion, kings
of Scotland. The first of the English family of
Baliol was a Xorman noble, proprietor of the manors
of Baliol, Harcourt, Dampat, and Home in I" ranee,
and who, coming over with the Conqueror, left a son,
Guy, wliom William Rufus appointed to be lord
of the forest of Teesdale and Marwood, giving him
at the same time the lands of Middleton and Guise-
ford in Northumberland. Guy was the father of
Bernard, who built the strong castle on the Tees,
called from him Beruard's Castle, luistace, son of
this noljle, was the father of Hugh, wlio was the
father of John de Baliol,' the father of the King of
Scotland.

1 Johndc Baliol has distinguished himself in English literary
history, by founding one of the colleges of (Jxford, which still
l>ears his name. As this institution is connected in more ways
than one with Scotland, the following account of its foundation,
frorn Chalmers llUloryof Oxford, may be read with interest: —
"The wealth and political consecjucnce of John de I'aliol were
dignified by a love of learning, and a l)enevolence of disposi-
tion, which about the year 1263 or 1268, as Wood thinks ,
induced him to maintam certain yjoor scholars of Oxford, in
number sixteen, by exhibitions, i)crhaps with a view to some
more permanent establishment, when he should have leisure
to mature a plan for that purpose. On his death in 1269,
which appears from this circumstance to have been s\idden, he
could only recommend the objects of his bounty to his lady
.and his executors, but left no written deed or authority: and
as what he had formerly given was from his personal estate,
now in other hands, the farther care of his scholars would in
all probability have ceased, had n'H his lady l«;en jiersuaded
to fulfil his intention in the most honourable manner, by taking
i;pon hsrself the future maintenance of them '1 he

The circumstances which led to the appearance of
John Baliol in Scottish history may Ix; thus briefly
narrated. By the death of Alexander HI. the crown
of Scotland devolved on the Maiden of Norway,
Margaret, the only child of Alexander's daughter,
late Queen of Norway. As she was only three years
of age, and residing in foreign parts, the convention
of estates made choice of six noblemen to be regents
of the kingdom during her absence or minority; but
dissensions soon arising among them, Eric, King of
Norway, interposed, and sent plenipotentiaries to
treat with Edward, King of England, concerning the
affairs of the infant queen and her kingdom. Edward
had already formed a scheme for uniting England and
Scotland, by the marriage of his eldest son with
Margaret, and accordingly, after holding conferences
at Salisbur)', he sent an embassy to the parliament
of Scotland on the 1 8th of July, 1290, with full powers
to treat of this projected alliance. The views of
Edward were cheerfully met by the parliament of
Scotland: a treaty was drawn out honourable to both
parties, in which — to guard against any danger that
might arise from so strict an alliance with such a
powerful and ambitious neighbour — the freedom and
independency of Scotland were fully acknowledged
and secured; and commissioners were despatched to
Norway to conduct the young queen into her domin-
ions. But this fair hope of lasting peace and union
was at once overthrown by the death of the princess
on her passage to Britain; and the crown of Scotland
became a bone of contention between various
competitors, the chief of whom were John Baliol,
Lord of Galloway; Robert Bruce, Lord of Annan-
dale; and John Hastings, Lord of Abergavenny. In
order to understand the grounds of their several
claims, it will be necessary to trace briefly their
genealogy.

On the death of the Maiden of Norway, Alex-
ander's grandchild, the crown of Scotland devolved
upon the posterity of David, Earl of Huntingdon,
younger brother, as already mentioned, of the kings
Malcolm and William. David left three daughters,
Margaret, Isabella, and Ada. Margaret, the eldest
daughter, married Allan, Lord of Galloway, by
whom .she had an only daughter, Devorgilla, married
to John Baliol, by whom she had John Baliol, the
subject of this article, who therefore was great-

first step which the Lady Devorgilla took, in providing for
the scholars, was to have a house in Horsemonger Lane, after-
wards called Canditch from Catuiida Fossa in St. ^L^ry
^Lagdalene's parish, and on the site where the present college
stands; and being supported in his design by her husband's
executors, continued the provision which he .allotted. In 1282
she gave them statutes under her .seal, and appointed Hugh de
HartipoU and William de Menyle as procurators or governors
of her scholars. ... In 1284 the Lady Devorgilla pur-
chased a tenement of a citizen of Oxford, called Mary's Hall,
■as a perpetual settlement for the principal and scholars of the
house of Baliol. This edifice, after receiving suitable repairs
and additions, was called New Baliol Hall, and their former
residence then began to receive the name of (Jld Baliol Hall.
The same year she made over certain lands in the county of
Northumberland, the greater part of which was afterw.ards
lost. The foundati(m. however, was about this time confirmed
by Oliver, Bishop of Lincoln, and by the son of the founder,
who was afterwards King of Scotland, and whose consent in
this matter .seems to entitle him to the veneration of the society.
. . . The revenues of the college were at first small, yield-
ing only eightpence per 'avek to each scholar, or twcnty-.seven
poimds nine shillings and fourjjence for the whole /<v (!«««;«.
which was soon found insuflficient. A number of l>enefactors,
however, promoted the purposes of the founder, by enriching
the establishment with gifts of land, money, and church-
livings."

Mr. Chalmers also mentions, that in 1340 a new set of
statutes for the college received, amongst other confirmatory
seals, that of " Edward lialiol. King of .Scotland," namely, the
grandson of the foimder. The seal attached by Devorgilla to
the original statutes contains a portrait of her. She died in
1289.

JOHN BALIOL.

73

grandsoa to David, Earl of Huntingdon, by his
eldest daughter. Isabella, the second daughter of
David, married Robert Bruce, by whom she had
Robert Bruce, the competitor — who therefore was
grandson to tlie Earl of Huntingdon by his second
daughter. Atla, youngest daughter of David, mar-
ried John Hastings, by whom she had John Hastings
— who therefore was grandson to David by his third
daughter. Hastings could have no claim to the
crown wliile the posterity of David's elder daughters
were in b;iing; but he insisted that the kingdom
should be divided into three parts, and that he
should inherit one of them. As, however, the king-
dom was declared in<livisible, his pretensions were
excluded, and the difficulty of the question lay be-
tween the two great competitors, Baliol and Bruce,
— whether the more remote by one degree, descended
from the eldest daughter, or the nearer l)y one degree,
descended from the second daughter, had the better
title.

The divided state of the national mind as to the
succession presented a favourable opportunity to the
ambitious monarch of England for executing a design
which he had long cherished against the independ-
ence of Scotland, by renewing the unfounded claim
of the feudal superiority of England over it. It has
been generally supposed that he was chosen arbitrator
by the regents and states of Scotland in the compe-
tition for the crown; but it appears that liis interfer-
ence was solicited by a few only of the Scottish
nobles who were in his own interest. Assuming
this, however, as the call of tlie nation, and collecting
an army to support his iniquitous pretensions, he re-
questetl the nobility and clergy of Scotland, and the
competitors for the crown, to meet him at Norham
within the P^nglish territories. There, after many
professions of good-will and affection to Scotland,
he claimed a right of lo;d paramount over it, and re-
fjuired that this light should be immediately recog-
nized. The Scots were struck with amazement at
this unexpected demand; but, feeling themselves en-
tirely in his power, could only retpiest time for the
consideration of his claim. Another meeting was
fixed upon; and during the interval he employed
every method to strengthen his party in Scotland,
and by threats and promises to bring as many as
possible to acknowledge his superiority. His pur-
pose was greatly forwarded by the mutual distrusts
and jealousies that existed among the Scots, and by
the time-serving ambition of the competitors, who
were now multiplied to the number of thirteen —
some probably stirred up to perplex the question,
and others perhaps prompted by vanity. On the
day appointed (2d June, 1291) in a plain opposite to
the castle of Norham, the superiority of the crown of
England overthe crown of Scotland was fully acknow-
ledged by all the competitors for the latter, as well as
by many barons and prelates; and thus Edward
gained the object on which his heart had been long
set, by conduct disgraceful to himself as it was to
th')se who had the government and giiardianship of
Scotland in keeping. All the royal castles and
places of strength in the country were put into his
hands, under the security that he should make full
restitution in two months from the date of his award,
and with the ostensible reason that he might have
a kingdom to be-.tow on the person to whom it
sliould be adjudged. I laving thus obtained his wish,
he proceeded to take some steps towards determining
the claim of the comju'titors. Commissioners were
appointed to meet at Berwick; and after various de-
liberations, the crijwn was finally adjudged to John
Baliol, on the 19th of Novemljcr, 1292, and next day
Baliol swore fealtv to Edward at Norham.

Baliol was crowned at Scone shortly after; but,
that he might not forget his dependency, Edward re-
called him into England immediately after his coro-
nation, and made him renew his homage and fealty
at Newcastle. He was soon loaded with fresh in-
dignities. In the course of a year he received no
fewer than six citations to a|)i)ear before Eduard in
the English parliament, to answer private and unim-
portant comidaints which were preferred against him
by his subjects. Although led by an insidious jx/iicy,
and his own ambition, into the most humiliating con-
cessions, Baliol seems not to have been destitute of
spirit, or to have received without resentment the in-
dignities laid upon him. In one of the causes before
the parliament of England, being asked for his de-
fence— "I am king of Scotland," he said, "I dare
not make answer lure without the advice of my
people." "What means this refusal?" said Edward,
"you are my liegeman; you have done homage to
me; you are here in consequence of my summons I"
Baliol replied with firmness, "In matters which re-
spect my kingdom I neither dare nor shall answer in
this place, without the advice of my ])eople." Ed-
ward requested that he would ask a delay for the
consideration of the question; but Baliol, jjerceiving
that his so doing would be construed into an acknow-
ledgment of the jurisdiction of the English parlia-
ment, refused.

In the meantime, a war breaking out between
France and England, Baliol seized upon it as a favour-
able oijportunity for shaking off a yoke that had
Viecome intoleraljle. He negotiated a treaty with
Philip, the Erench king, on the 23d October, 1295,
by which it was agreed to assist one ancnher against
their common enemy, the King of England, and not
to conclude any separate peace. At the same time
Baliol solemnly renounced his allegiance to Edward,
and received from the pope an absolution from the
oaths of fealty which he had sworn. The grounds
of his renunciation were these — That Edward had
wantonly, and upon slight suggestions, summoned
him to his courts; — that he had seized his English
estates, his goods, and the goods of his subjects; —
that he had forcibly carried off, and still retained, cer-
tain natives of Scotland; — and that, when remon-
strances were made, instead of redressing, he had
continually aggravated these injuries. Pldward is
said to have received BalioTs renunciation witli more
contempt than anger. "The fool i.-,h traitor," lie ex-
claimed, "since he will not come to us, we will go to
him." He accordingly raised a large army; and.
sending his brother into France, resolved himself, in
person, to make a total contpiest of Scotland.

While Edward advanced towards Berwick, a small
army of Scots broke into NorthundK-rland and Cum-
berland, and ])lundered the countiy. The ca-tle ni
Werk was taken; and looo men, whom l-idward
sent to jireserve it, falling into an amliusli, weic
slain. An English squadron, also, which l)Iocked I'.ii
Berwick l)y sea, was defeated, and sixteen ct their
ships sunk. But these ]iartial succe--se> were I'l-
lowed by fatal losses. The King of Ijiglaiui %\."-
a brave and skilful general; he coiuluctci a ]M.\\er-
ful army against a weak and di>pirite<l nation, l)ea':e<i
by an unpopular jirince. and distracted by I'ar'.y ar.;-
mosities. His eventual success was tl.ere!' le a~
complete as might have been antic;;. Ue'!. He
crossed the Tweetl at Cold-tream. t.".k Herwi^k. v:A
juit all the garrison and inhal'itaiiis to tl.c >\e. r.i.
The castle of Roxburgh was deliverei! ii'.t'' hi- i.a;i<is;
and he hastened Warenne. Earl of Sr.rrey. f rwanl,
to besiege Dunbar. Warenne wa- t!xre met 1 y tlie
Scots armv, who. aliandiining tlie a '.^ ..:.;.'ige oi tlieir
situation, jioured down tuniultuou~iy y\\ li.e I^iigloh,

74

JOHN BALIOL.

and were repulsed with terrible slaughter. After
this defeat, the castles of Dunbar, Edinburgh, and
Stirling fell into Edward's hands, and he was soon
in possession of the whole of the south of Scotland.

Baliol, who had retired beyond the river Tay with
the shattered remains of his army, despairing of mak-
ing any effectual resistance, sent messengers to im-
plore the mercy of Edward. The haughty Planta-
genet communicated the hard terms upon wliicli
alone he might hope for what he asked; namely,
an unqualified acknowledgment of his "unjust and
wicked rebellion," and an unconditional surrender of
himself and his kingdom into the hands of his master.
Baliol, whose life presents a strange variety of mag-
nanimous efforts and humiliating self-alxasements,
consented to these conditions; and the ceremony of
his degradation accordingly took place, July 2, 1296,
in the cliurchyard of Stracatiiro, a village near Mon-
trose. Led by force and in fear of his life into the
presence of the Bishop of Durliam and the English
nobles, mounted on a sorry horse, he was first com-
manded to dismount; and his treason being pro-
claime.l, they [jroceeded to strip him of his royal
ornaments. The crown was snatched from his head,
the ermine torn from his mantle, the sceptre wrested
from his hand, and everytliing removed from him
belonging to the state and dignity of a king. Dressed
only in liis shirt and drawers, and holding a wliite
rod in his liand, after tlie fashion of penitents, he
confessed that, by evil and false counsel, and through
his own simplicity, he had grievously offended his
liege lord, recapitulated all the late transactions, and
acknowledged himself to be deservedly deprived of
his kingdom. He then absolved his people from their
allegiance, and signed a deed resigning his sove-
reignty over them into the hands of King Edward,
giving his eldest son as a hostage for his fidelity.

The acknowledgment of an English paramountcy
has at all times been so disagreeable to the Scottish
people, and the circumstances of this renunciation of
the kingdom are so extremely humiliating to national
pride, that John Baliol has l^een ever since held in
hatred and contem])t, and is scarcely allowed a place
in the ordinary rolls of the Scottish monarchs. It
must i)e said, however, in his defence, that his first
acknowledgment of the paramountcy was no more
than what his rival Bruce and the greater part of the
nobles of the kingdom were also guilty of; while he
is certainly entitled to some credit for his efforts to
shake otf the yoke, however inadequate his means
were for doing so, or whatever ill fortune he experi-
enced in the attempt. In his deposition, notwith-
standing some equivocal circumstances in his sul^se-
quent histfjry, he must l)e looked upon as only the
victim of an overwhelming force.

The hi^tory of John Haliol after his deposition is
not in general treated with much minuteness Ijy the
Scottish historians, all of whom seem to have wished
to close their eyes as much as possible to the whole
affair of the resignation, and endeavoured to forget
that the principal personage crmcerned in it had ever
been King of Scotland. This history, however, is
curious. The discrowned monarch and his son were
immediately transmitted, along with the stone of
Scone, the records of the kingdom, and all other me-
morials of the national indejiendence, to London,
where the two unfortunate jjrinces were committed
to a kind of honourable captivity in the Tower.
Though the country was reducs-d by the ICnglish
army, several insurrections which broke out in the
subsequent year showed that the hearts of the ]K-ople
were as yet unsubdued. Tlic^c insurgents invariably
rose in the name of the dep'iscd king John, and
avowed a resolution to submit to no otlier authoritv.

It is also worth remarking, as a circumstance favour-
able to the claims and character of Baliol, that he
was still acknowledged by the pope, the King of
P" ranee, and other continental princes. When Wal-
lace rose to unite all the discontented spirits of the
kingdom in one grand effort against the English
yoke, he avowed himself as only the governor of the
kingdom in name of King John; and there is a charter
still extant, to which the hero appended the seal of
Baliol, which seems, by some chance, to have fallen
into his hands. The illustrious knight of Elderslie,
throughout the whole of his career, acknowledged no
other sovereign than Baliol; and, what is perhaps
more remarkable, the father of Robert Bruce, who
had formerly asserted a superior title to the
crown, and whose son afterwards displaced the
Baliol dynasty, appeared in arms against Edward in
favour of King John, and in his name concluded
several truces with the English officers. There is
extant a deed executed on the 13th of November,
1299, by William, Bishop of St. Andrews, Robert
Bruce, Earl of Carrick, and John Comyn the younger,
styling themselves guardians of the kingdom of Scot-
land; in which they petition King Edward for a ces-
sation of hostilities, in order, as they afterwards ex-
pressed themselves, that they might live as peaceable
subjects under their sovereign King John.

There is, however, no reason to suppose that these
proceedings were in accordance with any secret in-
structions from Baliol, who, if not glad to get quit of
his uneasy sovereignty at the time he resigned it, at
least seems to have afterwards entertained no wish
for its recovery. A considerable time before his in-
surgent representatives made the above declaration
in his behalf, he is found executing a deed of the fol-
lowing tenor: "In the name of God, amen. In the
year 1298, on the 1st of April, in the house of the
reverend father, Anthony, Bishop of Durham, with-
out London. The said bishoj) discoursing of the
state and condition of the kingdom of Scotland, and
of the inhabitants of the said kingdom, before the
noble Lord John Baliol; the said John, of his own
proper motion, in the presence of us, the notar}', and
tlie su1)scribing witnesses, amongst other things, said
and delivered in the French tongue to this effect,
that is to say, that while he, the said realm of .Scot-
land, as king and lord thereof, held and governed,
he had found in the people of the said kingdom so
much malice, fraud, treason, and deceit, that, for their
malignity, wickedness, treachery, and other detestable
facts, and for that, as he had thoroughly understood,
they had, while their prince, contrived to poison him,
it was his intention never to go or enter into the
said kingdom of Scotland for the future, or with the
said kingdom or its concerns, either by himself or
others, to intermeddle, nor, for the reasons aforesaid,
and many others, to liavc anything to do with the
Scots. At the same time, the said John desired the
said Bisho]> of Durham, that he would accpiaint the
most magnificent jirince, and his lord, Edward, the
most illustrious King of England, with his intention,
will, and firm resolution in this respect. This act
was signed and sealed by the public notary, in the
presence of the Bishop of Durham aforesaid, and (jf
Ralph de Sandwich, constable of the Tower of
London, and others who heard this discourse."'

We regret for the honour of Scotland, that, exce])t-
ing the iiiitc ni this shameful libel, there is no other
reason for sup]iosing it to be dictated in an insincere
spirit. lialiol now appears to have really enter-
tained no higher wish than to regain his ])ersonal
liberty, and be permitted to spend the rest of his

1 rryiiitc's CotlcciioKS, iii. CC5.

JOHN BALLENTVNE.

75

days in retirement. Accordingly, having at last con-
vinced King Kdward of his sincerity, he and his son
were delivered, on the 20th of July, 1299, to the pope's
legate, the IJishop of Vicenza, by whom they were
transported to France. The unfortunate Baliol
lived there upon his ample estates till the year 1314,
when he died at his seat of Castle Galliard, aged
about fifty-five years. Though thus by no means
advanced in life, he is said to have been afflicted
with many of the infirmities of old age, among which
was an entire deprivation of sight.

BALLENTYNE (or Bellenden), John,—
otherwise spelled Ballaiiden and BalUntyn — an emi-
nent poet of the reign of James V., and the translator
of Boece's Latin History, and of the first five books of
Livy, into the vernacular language of his time, was
a native of Lothian, and appears to have been bom
towards the close of the 15th century. lie studied
at the university of St. Andrews, where his name is
tiius entered in the records: "1508, yo. Balletyu
nut. Lan [(/<;«/«?]." It is probable that he remained
there for several years, which was necessary before
he could be laureated. His education was afterwards
completed at the university of Paris, where he took
the degree of Doctor of Divinity; and, as has been
remarked by his biographer \\Vorks 0/ Bellenden,
i. .xxxvii.], "the effects of his residence upon the
Continent may be traced both in his idiom and lan-
guage."

He returned to Scotland during the minority of
James V., and became attached to the establishment
of that monarch as "clerk of his comptis."

The biographer of Ballentyne, above quoted, sup-
poses tliat he must have been the "Maister Johnne
Ballentyne" who, in 1528, was "secretar and servi-
tour" to .Vrchiljald, Earl of Angus, and in that capa-
city appeared before parliament to state his master's
reasons for not answering the summons of treason
which had been issued against him. We can scarcely,
however, reconcile the circumstance of his being
then a "Douglas's man," witii the favour he is found
to have enjoyed a few years after with James V.,
whose antipathy to that family was so great as pro-
bably to extend to all its connections. However
this may be, Ballentyne is thus celebrated, in 1 530,
as a court poet, by .Sir David Lyndsay, who had
been in youth his fellow-student at St. Andrews, and
was afterwards his fellow-servant in the household
of the king: —

Rut now of late h.is st.irt up heastily
A cunning clerk that writelh craftily;
.'\ plant of poets, called Ballaiitcii,
Whose ornat writs my wit cannot defync;
('••I he into the court authority.
He will prccel Quintin and Renedy."

I:i 1530 and 1 53 1 Ballentyne was cni]iloycd, by
command nf the king, in translating Boece's History,
which had been published at Paris in 1526. The
object of this translation was to introduce the king
and others w!i') had "missed their Latin" to a
knowledge of the history of their country. In the
epistle to the king at the conclusion of this work,
Ballentyne passes a deserved compliment upon his
majesty, for having "dantit this region and brocht
the same to sicken rest, gud peace and trancitiillity ;
howhcit tile same could iioclit be done be your gret
baronis during your tender age;" and also savs. with-
out much tlatten.-, "Your nobill and worthy deidis
proceeils mair be natiirall inclinatii)n and active
enrage, than ony gudly ]ior>uasioun of assisteris."
He also attests his own sincerity by a lecture to tl-.e
king on the difference between tyrannical and just
government; wliich, as a curious s'lecimtn of tl;e

prose composition of that time, and also a testimony
to the enlightened and upright character of Ballen-
tyne, we shall extract into these pages: —

"As Seneca says, in his tragedeis, all ar nocht
kingis that bene clothit with purpure and dredoure,
but only they that sekis na singulare proffet, in dam-
mage of the commonweill; and sa vigikant that the
life of their subdetis is mair deir and jirecious to
them than thair awin life. Ane tyrane sekis rithe.s;
ane king sekis honour, conquest be virtew. .Ane
tyrane governis his realmis be slauchter, dredoure,
and falset; ane king gidis his realme be prudence,
integrite, and favour. Ane tyrane suspeckis all them
that hes riches, gret dominioun, auctorite, or gret
rentis; ane king haldis sic men for his maist helply
friendis. Ane tyrane luftis nane bot vane fleschouris,
vicious and wicket lynimaris, be quliais counsall he
rages in slauchter and tyranny; ane king luftis men
of wisdom, gravite, and science; knawing weill that
his gret materis maybe weill dressit be thair jinidence.
Treuth is that kingis and tyrannis hes mony handis,
mony ene, ancl mony mo memberis. Ane tyrane
sets him to be dred; ane king to be luffet. .-Vne
tyrane rejoises to mak his pepill pure; ane king to
mak thame riche. Ane tyrane draws his pepill to
sindry factiones, discord, and hatrent; ane king maks
peace, tranquillite, and concord; knawing nothing .-a
dammagious as division amang his subdittis. Ane
tyrane confounds all divine and hummane lawis; ane
king observis thaime, and rejoises in equite and
justice. All thir jiroperteis sal be patent, in reding
the livis of gud and evil kingis, in the historj- pre-
cedent."

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

Heaftenvardsadds, in a finely impassioned strain:
— ■" Quhat thing maybe mair i>Ie>and than to se in
this present volume, as in ane cicir mirroure, all the
variance of tyme bygane; the sindr\- chancis of
fourtoun; the bludy fechting and terrible berganis sa
mony years continuit, in the defence of your realm
and liberte; quhilk is fallen to your hieness with gret
felicite, howbeit the saniin has aftinies been ransomit
with maist nobill blude of your antecessoris. Quhat
is he that wil nocht rejoise to heir the knychtly
afarii of thay forcy campions. King Robert Bruce
and William Wallace? The fir.-~t, Ije iiir.ative
desyre to recover his realme, wes brocht to sic
calamite, that mony dayis he durst nocht appeir in
sicht of pepill; but amang desertis, levand on rutes
and hcrbis, in es]ierance of better fortoun; bot at
Ia>t, be his singulare manheid, he come to sic pre-
eminent glore, that now he is reput the maist vrd-
yeant prince that was eftir or before his empire.
This other, of small beginning, be feris curagc ar.d
corporall strength, not only jiut Knglishmen out ot
Scotland, but als, be feir of his awful vi>age. ] i:l
Kdward king of England to tlicht; and held all the
borders fornence .Scotland waist."

Ballentyne delivered a manuscript copy ot ir.s
work to the king, in the summer of 1533, and al-'Ut
the snme time he appears to lia\e i)een eiigai;ed ;r. n
tran>lation of Livy. The following entrie- \:\ ti'.o
treasurer's book ''ive a curious view ot the 1 rcL-

the

irl of

of literar\' labour
(lavs: —

"To Ma!>ter Jolm Ballertyii- i<c
ccpt, fir hi- translating of the ('l^ron\

•■1531, Oct. 4lh. To Master J-!
he the kingi- i-recejl. for il:- tiui.
(.■hro.ve!;--. '/30.

"Item. Thnirefier to the ^.^:d
the k:;; -i- C'j'niman :. ''•■

kin.

M

ROBERT BALMER.

"'533' J^'y 26. To Maister John Ballentyne,
for ane new Chronikle gevin to the kingis grace, ;^I2.

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

" Aug. 24. To Maister John Ballentyne,

in part payment of the second buke of Titus Livius,

" Nov. 30. To Maister John Ballentyne, be

the kingis precept, for his laboris dune in translat-
ing of Livie, ;^20."

The literary labours of Ballentyne were still fur-
ther rewarded by his royal master, with an aj^point-
ment to the archdeanery of Moray, and the escheated
property and rents of two individuals, who became
subject to the pains of treason for having used in-
fluence with the pope to obtain the same benefice,
against the king's privilege. He subsequently got
a vacant prebendaryship in the cathedral of Ross.
His translation of Boece was printed in 1536, by
Thomas Davidson, and had become in later times
almost unique, till a new edition was published in a
remarkably elegant style, in 182 1, by Messrs. Tail,
Edinburgh. At the same time appeared the trans-
lation of the first two books of Livy, whicli had
never before been printed. Tiie latter work seems
to have been carried no further by the translator.

Ballentyne seems to have lived happily in the sun-
shine of court favour during the remainder of the
reign of James W The opposition which he after-
wards presented to the Reformation brought him
into such odium, that he retired from his country in
disgust, and died at Rome, about the year 1550.

The translations of Ballentynj are characterized by
a striking felicity of language, and also by a freedom
tliat shows his profound acquaintance with the learned
language upon which he wrought. His Chronicle,
which closes with tlie reign of James I., is rather
a paraphrase than a literal translation of ]5oece, and
jjossesses in several respects the character of an
original work. Many of the historical errors of the
latter are corrected — not a k\v of his redundancies
retrenched — and his more glaring omissions supplied.
.Several passages in tlie work are highly elegant, and
some descriptions of particular incidents reacli to
something nearly akin to the sublime. Many of tlie
works of Ballentyne are lost — among others a tract
on the Pythagoric letter, and a discourse upon virtue
and pleasure. He also wrote many political pieces,
the most of which are lost. Those which have
reached us are princijially jiroems j)refi.\ed to his
pru:ie works — a species of composition not apt to
bring out the better qualities of a poet; yet they ex-
hildi the workings of a rich and luxuriant fancy, and
abound in lively sallies of the imagination. They
are generally allegorical, and distinguished rather by
incidental Ijeauties than by the skilful structure of
the fable. The story, indeed, is often dull, the allu-
sions obscure, ami the general scoijc of the piece un-
intelligil)le. Tliese faults, however, are pretty general
characteristics of allegorical poets, and they are
atoned for, in him, by the striking thoughts and the
charming (lescri])tions in wliich he abounds, and
which, "like threds of gold, tlie rich anas, beautify
his works (juile thorow.''

BALMER, Rkv. Rf)[iERT, D.D.— This profound
theologian and valued ornament of the Secession
Church, was born at (Jrmiston Mains, in the ])arish
of Kckford, Koxl)urgh--hire, on the 22d of Xovcmber,
1787. His father, who was a land-steward, was a
man in comfortaljle though not aflluent circum>taiic(.'s,
and Robert's earliest education — besides tlie ordi-
nary advantages which the ])easantry of .Scotland
possessed — enjoyed the inestimable benefit of a care-

ful religious superintendence, both of his parents
being distinguished for piety and intelligence. The
result of such training was quickly conspiaious in the
boy, who, as soon as he could read, was an earnest
and constant reader of the Bible, while his questions
and remarks showed that he studied its meaning
beyond most persons of his age. His thirst for
general knowledge was also evinced by a practice
sometimes manifested by promising intellectual boy-
hood— this was the arresting of every stray leaf that
fell in his way, and making himself master of its
contents, instead of throwing it carelessly to the
winds. On the death of his father, Robert, who,
although only ten years old, was the eldest of the
family, on the evening of the day of the funeral,
quietly placed the books for family worship before
his widowed mother, as he had wont to do before
his departed parent when he was alive. She burst
into tears at this touching remembrance of her be-
reavement, but was comforted by the considerate
boy, who reminded her that God, who had taken
away his father, would still be a Father to them, and
would hear them — "and, mother," he added, "we
must not go to bed to-night without worshipping
him." Consolation so administered could not be
otherwise than effectual: the psalm was sung, the
chapter read, and the prayer offered up by the
sorrowing widow in the midst of her orphans; and
the practice was continued daily for years, until
Robert was old enough to assume his proper place
as his father's representative.

The studious temperament of Robert Balmer,
which was manifested at an early period, appears to
have been not a little influenced by his delicate
health, that not only prevented him from joining in
the more active sports of his young coin])eers,
but promoted that thoughtfulness and sensibility
by which sickly boyhood is frequently characterized.
The same circumstance also pointed out to him his
proper vocation; and he said, on discovering his
inability even for the light work of the garden,
"Mother, if I do not gain my bread by my head, I'll
never do it with my hands." As to which of the
learned professions he should select, the choice may
be said to have been already made in consetjuence
of his domestic training: he would lie a minister of
the gospel, and that too in the .Secession Church to
which his parents belonged. He proceeded to the
study of Latin, first at the parish school of More-
battle, and afterwards that of Kelso, at the latter of
which seminaries he formed a close acquaintanceship
with his schoolfellow, Thomas I'ringle, afterwards
known as the author of African Sketches, which was
continued till death. In 1802 Mr. Balmer entered the
university of Edinburgh, and, after passing through the
usual course of classical, ethical, and scientific study,
was enrolled as a student in theology in connection
with the Associate .Synod. Even already he had
established for himself such a resjjcctable intellectual
reputation, that his young brethren in prcjiaration
for the ministry received him with more than or-
dinary welcome. As iJr. l.awson, the theological
l^rofessor of the Associate Synod, lectured only for
two months of each year, at the end of summer and
commencement of autumn, Mr. I'almer, in common
with several of his fellow-students, attended the
regular course of theology during the winters at the
university of Edinburgh. They thus availed them-
selves of the twofold means of imi)rovcinent which
they possessed, without any compromise of their
jirinciples being exacted in return; and the fruits of
this were manifest in after-life, not only by the highly
superior attainments of many of the Secessidn ministry,
but the liberal spirit and kindly feeling which they

ROBERT BALMER.

77

learned to cherish toward their brethren of the
Established Church, and the affectionate intercourse
that often continued lietween them to the end. This,
however, alarmed some of the elder and more rigid
brethren of the Synod: they thought that this lil)er-
ality savoured of lukewarmness, and would in time
prove a grievous snare; and, under the imjiression,
an overture was introduced into the Synod, for the
prevention of all such erratic courses in future. The
students of Selkirk who studied under Dr. Lawson
took the alarm at this threatened restriction, and the
petition and remonstrance presented by them in vin-
dication was drawn up by Mr. Balmer. Although
some indignation was expressed at the students for
the liberty they had thus taken in addressing the
supreme court of their church, the petition was re-
ceived by the Synod, and the obnoxious overture dis-
missed. One of the senior and leading members
observed on this occasion that he would be sorry to
see any measure adopted which would tend to drive
from their body the man who could write such
a paper.

After having finished the four years' course of
divinity prescribed by the Presbyterian churches of
Scotland, it was expected that ^Ir. Balmer should
apply for license as a preacher. This was the more
necessary in the communion to which he belonged, as
the number of its licentiates scarcely equalled that of
the vacant congregations. But, to the surprise of his
friends, he held back for two years, and his delay was
attributed to unworthy motives. Already one of the
most promising students of the connection, it was
thought that he demurred from mere pride of intellect,
and was unwilling to identify himself with a cause
which as yet had produced so few men of high mark:
others, who were aware that he had already been ad-
vised to pass over to the Established Churcii, and
share in its honours and emoluments, imagined that
he had taken the advice to heart, and only waited the
fit season for such a step. But these surmises were
as unkind as they were untrue. His ambition went
no higher than to be the humble useful minister of
some countiy Burgher congregation, while his hu-
mility confirmed him in the belief that he would
have for his brethren men of still higher attainments
than his own. His delay entirely originated in
scniples of conscience. He had thouglit anxiously
and profoundly upon tlie subject, and could not wholly
admit the formula which he would be required to
subscribe as a licentiate. "On the ([uestion," he after-
wards said, "demanding an assent to the Confession
and Catechisms, I stated, that to me these documents
appeared so extensive and multifarious as to be dis-
proportioned to the narrow limits of the human mind;
that I at least had not studied ever)- expression in
them so carefully as to be prepared to assent to it
with the solemnity of an oath; that I approved of
them, however, in so tar as I had studied them; and
that tlie Tresbytery might ascertain, by strict examina-
tion, the amount of my attainments, and treat me ac-
cordingly—wliich of course they did." His scruples
were res|)ected, his explanations in assenting to the
formula atlinilled; and on the 4th of August, 1S12,
he was licen-ed as a preacher of the gospel by the
Associate l'rcsl)ytery of Ediiil>urgh.

On commencing the great work to wliich all his
studies had l)een directed, .Mr. Balmer began under
rather inauspicious circumstances. All are aw.ire
how essential certain external advantages are in the
formation of an accejitable and po]">uiar preacher, and
how completely a dissenting preacher deiiends upon
this p<}pularity for his call ti> the ministn,-, and the
successful discharge of his duties. But in the graces
of person and manner Mr. Balmer was decidedly

wanting. His eyes, from their weakness, had an un-
pleasant cast, and his figure was ungainly; his voice
was monotonous; and his gestures were, to say the
least, inelegant. For a person in his pl)^ition to sur-
mount such olKtacles argued a mind of no ordinary
power. And he did surmount them. Such was the
depth and originality of thought, the power of lan-
guage, and heart-moving unction which his sermons
possessed, that his growing acceptability bade fair in
a short time to convert these defects into positive ex-
cellencies in the eyes of his captivated auditories.
In a few months he received calls from not less than
four congregations, so that he would have l>een in a
strait to choose, had not the laws of his church jjro-
vided for such doubtful emergencies. Amid such
competition, the choice devolved upon the Synod,
modified, however, by the personal wishes of the
preacher thus called; and on Balmer expressing a
preference for the congregation at Berwick, he was
ordained its minister on the 23d of March, 1814.

The life of a Secession minister in a third-rate
town affords few points for a limited memoir. They
are also of such, a regular monotonous character,
that the history of a single month is a sufficient
specimen of whole years so occupied. And yet,
while thus employed, Mr. Balmer was neither a dull
nor inefficient workman. He threw the whole of his
large intellect and warm heart into his sacred duties;
and while he secured the love of his congregation,
his reputation was silently growing and going on-
ward, until, without seeking it, he found himself a
man of high mark and influence in that important
segment of the church universal to which he belonged.
And all the while he was continuing to improve his
faculties, and extend his intellectual resources, for
his was not a mind to rest satisfied with past acquire-
ments, however sufficient they might be for the
present demand. Events also occurred, or were
searched out and found sufficient to keep up that
wholesome stir of mind without which the best of
duties are apt to become a monotonous task. Among
these was the exercise of his pen in a review of the
work of Hall of Leicester on Terms of Commitnioii,
which was inserted in two numbers of the Christian
Repository of 1 81 7. He was also on several occa-
sions a visitor to London, whither he was called on
clerical duty; and in these southward journeys he
enjoyed much "colloquy sublime" with Robert Hall,
of whom his reminiscences are among the most in-
teresting that have appeared of that great puljiit
orator and theological metaphysician. He also touk
a keen interest in the union of the two parties of the
Secession Church, known by the name of Burghers
and Anti-burghers, which took place in 1S20. This
was an event that was dear to his heart, fiir not only
was he a lover of Christian concord, and the eneiriy
(;f all infinitesimal distinctions that keep brethren
asunder, hut he had been bom in that union; li_r
although his fatlier and mother had belonged to
the diflercnt parties, they had always lived nii'i
acted as thiise who are completely at one. In iS;o
he married Miss Jane .'^eott, daughter ut Mr.
Alexander Scott of .\l)erdeen. an<i si-ter of J.'l;:i
Scott, the well-known author uf I'.nts :<' /',!r;s. In
the year following he was involvel — a> v. li.it ir.ur.--
ter in .Scotland was not more or Ie>.> in\""lveci .' -;;i
what is still vividly remembered uivkr tlie name ■ t
tlie " .\]xxTypha controver-y." .Mr. r.ainK-r eii-
deav<niivd on this oecasiiin to rec'iiieile '.lie center.. 1-^
ing parties, and was requited by tlie ^u-i ;e."i.^ "t
the one, and tlie active !i--tili!y ..'f tiie ctlier, t".T hi,-
jiains. Sucli was the fate i>f not a tVw at :l'.;s time
whoendeaviuired to ]ieri'i'nn the ]\art "t ] eaeen\Tker-.
Thev are "blessed' indeed— but nut uf men, and

78

ROBERT BALMER HENRY BALXAVES.

must look elsewhere than to the earth for their
reward. After the Apocryphical, the Voluntary
controversy predominated, in which the Seces-
sion, utterly renouncing the Establishment principle,
which it had hitherto recognized in theory, became
thoroughly and completely a dissent, by proclaiming
the inexpediency and unlawfulness of civil establish-
ments of religion, and contending for a separation
between church and state. On this occasion, Mr.
Balnier took the part that might have been exjiected
from his character and situation. He was allied in
friendship with many ministers of the Established
Church; and, in common with many of his brethren,
he was conscious of the fickleness of popular rule.
All this was well so long as the question was left to
every man's conscience. But when it swelled into
a public controversy, and when every person, was
obliged to take a side, and be either the friend or
the enemy of voluntaryism, Mr. Balmer acted as
every Secession minister did, who still meant to
abide at his post. He thought that the voluntary
system, although an evil, was the least evil of the two,
and therefore he became its apologist and advocate.
On the death of Ur. Dick of Glasgow, who for
thirteen years had been professor of theology in the
Associate, and afterwards in tlie United Associate
Synod, it was resolved to establish three divinity
professorships, instead of one. On this occasion
Mr. Balmer's high talents were recognized, by his
appointment, in 1S34, first to the chair of pastoral
theology, and afterwards to that of systematic theo-
logy. Although Glasgow was the sphere of his
professorship, his duties called him away from
Berwick only two months in the year. The duties
of such a brief session, however, were scarcely less
tiian those of a six months' course in our well-en-
dowed universities. Tiie following is an account of
them given by one of his pupils: — "It is not, I pre-
sume, necessary to say more of the nature of his
course than that it consisted of five parts — one pre-
liminary, on the Christian evidences; one supple-
mentary, on Christian morals; the other three con-
sisting respectively of — topics in revelation prepara-
tory to the scheme of redemption; of the work of the
Redeemer; and of the blessings of redemption.
Those subjects were gone over in a series of lectures,
extending over the last three years of the students'
course. Each session occupied eight weeks, and the
number of weekly lectures, each of an hour's length,
was five, so that the total number delivered in a full
course was, after every abatement for interruption
and irregularity, somewliere l)e]ow 120. Another
hour daily was somewhat irregularly divided between
examinations, or ratlier oral lectures, and hearing of
the discourses of between fjrty and fifty students, in
the third and fiftli years of tlieir progress, to which
was sometimes added an occasional voluntary essay."
Of the manner in wliich these duties were discharged,
the same pu])il affectionately adds: — "Who can ever
forget the hours spent in hearing these ])rclections,
or the singularly impressive manner of him liy wliom
they were delivered? The simplicity of the recluse
student, exalted into the heavenliness of mature
saintship — the dignified composure, mixed with
kindly interest — the look of unworldly jnirity and
abstract intelligence, that more tlian redeemed tlie
peculiar and unpromising features — the venerable
hoary head, that no one could refuse to rise up and
honour — all strongly fixed the eye; and tlien came
the full stream of a never-to-be-forgotten ^oice,
monotonous only in simple and unimportant sen-
tences, but varied in striking cadence through all the
memliers of an exquisitely balanced period, and now
kindling into animation and emjihasis in t!yj glow of

argument, now sinking into thrilling solemnity and
tenderness with the falls of devout emotion; while
all the while no play of look, or fervour of tone, or
strange sympathetic gesture, could disturb your idea
of the reigning self-possession and lofty moral dignity
of the speaker. Never had lecturer a more attentive
audience. The eagerness of note-taking alone broke
the general silence."

When these important labours were finished, Mr.
Balmer returned at the end of each session to Berwick,
not for the purpose of rest, however, but to resume
his clerical duties with double vigour. In this way
his life went on from year to year — silent indeed,
and overlooked by the world in general; but who
can trace or fully estimate the effects of such a life
upon the generations to come? He who in such
fashion rears up teachers of religion may live and die
unnoticed, but never unfelt : his deeds will travel
onward from generation to generation, even when
his name has utterly passed away; he will still live
and instruct, in his pupils, and the disciples of his
pupils, though his dust may long ago have mouldered
in the winds. In 1S40 Mr. Balmer received from
the university of St. Andrews the degree of Doctor
in Divinity, which was conferred upon him by the
senatus without influence or solicitation. During
the latter years of his life, a controversy was
agitated in the United Secession upon the extent of
the atonement, which threatened at one time to rend
that church asunder. In such a case, it could not
be otherwise than that Dr. Balmer, however un-
willingly, should express his sentiments upon the
question at issue. This he did, but with such
gentleness and moderation, as to soften the keenness
of debate, and increase the general esteem in which
he was held by all parties. After this his season
arrived in which every theological doubt and diffi-
culty ends in unswerving and eternal certainty. A
short but severe illness, the result of mental anxiety
acting upon a feeble frame — the first and last attack
of serious pain and sickness he had ever felt — ended
his life on the 1st of July, 1844. This event, how-
ever anticipated t"rom his years and gi'owing infirmi-
ties, not only threw his whole congregation into the
deepest sorrow, each individual feeling himself 1)e-
reaved of an honoured and affectionate father, but
struck with a sudden thrill the extensive Associate
Secession church through its whole range in Scot-
land and England. Even the funeral of Dr. Balmer
was significant of his catholic liberality and high
talents — of one who had lived in Christian peace and
love with all, and won the admiration and esteem
of all; for in the town business was sus])ended, the
inhabitants assembleil as if some prince of the land
was to be honoured and bewailed in his death, and
the coffin was followed to the grave by the ministers of
every denomination, both of the English and Scottish
Establishment and dissent, who dwelt in the town
and countr)'. A monumental obelisk was soon after
erected over the grave by his affectionate congrega-
tion. Two volumes of his writings have also been
pul)lished since his death, the one consisting of
pulpit discourses, and the other of academical
lectures, in which the high estimate taken of his
talents by the church to which he belonged is fully
justified.

BALNAVES, Henry, of ITalhill, an eminent lay
reformer, and also a theological writer of some emi-
nence, was born of ])oor parents in the town of
Kirkcaldy. After an academical course at St. An-
drews, he travelled to the Continent, and, hearing of
a free school in Cologne, jirocured admission to it,
and received a liberal education, together Avith in-

HENRY BALNAVES

struction in Protestant principles. Returning to his
native countn-, he applied himself to the study of
law, and acted for some time as a procurator at St.
Andrews. In the year 1538 he was appointed by
James V. a senator of the College of Justice, a court
only instituted five years before. Notwithstanding
the jealousy of the clergy, who hated him on account
of his religious sentiments, he was employed on im-
portant embassies by James V., and subsequently by
the governor Arran, (hiring the first part of whose
regency he acted as secretary of state. Having
at length made an open profession of the Pro-
testant religion, he was, at the instigation of Arran's
brother, the Abbot of Paisley, dismissed from tliat
situation. He now appears to have entered into
the interests of the English party against the gover-
nor, and accordingly, with the Earl of Rothes and
Lord Gray, was thrown into Hlackness Castle (No-
vember, 1543), where he probably remained till re-
lieved next year on the appearance of the Englisli
fleet in the Firth of Forth. There is much reason to
believe that this sincere and pious man was privy to
the conspiracy formed against the life of Cardinal
Beaton; an action certainly not the brightest in the
page of Scottish history, bat of wliich it is not too
much to say, that it miglit have been less defensible
if its motive had not been an irregular kind of
{patriotism. Balnaves, though he did not appear
among the actual perpetrattjrs of the assassination,
soon after joined them in tlie castle of .St. Andrews,
which they held out against the governor. He was
consequently declared a traitor, antl excommunicated.
His principal employment in tlie service of the con-
spirators seems to have been that of an ambassador
to the English court. In February, 1 546-7, he ob-
tained from Henry VIII. a subsidy of ;i^i 180, besides
a quantity of provisions for his compatriots, and
a pension n( jTii^ to himself, whicii was to run from
the 25th of M.arch. On the 15th of this latter month
he had become bound, along with his friends, to de-
liver up Queen Mary, and also the castle of .St. An-
drews, into the hands of the English; and in May he
obtained a further sum of ^300. While residing in
the castle, he was instrumental, along with Mr. Jolin
Rough and Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, in \ne-
vailing upon John Knox to preach publicly in .St.
Andrews — the first regidar ministration in tlie re-
formed religion in .Scotland.

When the defenders of the castle surrendered in
.\ugust, Balnaves shared in their fate, along with
Knox and many other eminent persons. He was
conveyed to the castle of Rouen, in France, and
there committed to close confinement. Vet he still
found occasional opportunities to communicate with
his friend Knox. Having employed himself during
his solitary hours in composing a treatise on Justifica-
tion, he conveyed it to the refonner, who was so
much pleased with it. that he divided it into chapters,
added some marginal notes and a cf)ncise epitome of
its contents and prefixed a commendatory dedication,
inten<iing that it should be pul)iislied in' Scotland as
soon .as opportunity ofiTered. This work fell aside
for some years, but, after Knox's death, w.as dis-
covered in the liouse of ( )rmi>ton In- Richard Banna-
tyne, and was init)lished .at Edinlnirgh, in 15S4, under
the title of 7Vi,' Coiijl-isioit of Fait It, containiir^, luric
the- Trouhh-d Man s/ioidd s,rk Rrfii^^e at Iiis God,
thereto led by Faith, err.: Compiled by M. Jleinie
Balnaves of Halhill, one of the J^^rds of Session and
Counsell of Scotland, bem^' a Prisoner xoiihin the Old
Pallaiec of Roane, in the )iV7r of our I^ord 154S.
Direct to his faithful Brethren bein.; in like Trouble or
more, and to all True Proressors and Fazourers of the
Syncere H'erde :f Cod. L'r. M'Cnelias given ionu

GEORGE BANN.\TVNE.

79

extracts from this work in his life of John Knox.
After his return from banishment, Balnaves took
a bold and conspicuous part in the contest carrietl on
by the lords of the congregation against the regent
Mary. He wxs one of the commissioners who, in
February, 1559 60, settled the treaty at Berwick
between the former insurgent body and the (^ueen
of England, in consequence of which the Scottish
reformation was finally established through ai<l from
a country always heretofore tlie bitterest enemy of
Scotland. In 1563 he was rea])poiiUed to the bench,
and also nominated as one of the commissioners for
revising the Book of Discipline. He acted some
years later, along with Buchanan and others, as
counsellors to tlie Earl of Murray, in the celebrated
inquiry V^y English and Scottish c-mmissioners into
the alleged guilt of Queen Mar\-. He died, according
to Mackenzie, in 1579.

"In liis 'Treatise upon yustification,"' says the latter
authority, "he affirms that the justification spoken
of by .St. James is different from that spoken of by
.St. Paul; for the justification by good works, which
.St. James speaks of, only justifies us before man; but
the justification by faith, which St. Paul speaks of,
justifies us before God: and that all, yea, even the
best of our good works, are but sins before (Jod."

"And," adds Mackenzie, with true Jacoljite sar-
casm, "whatever may be in this doctrine of our
author's, I think we may grant to him that the most
of all his actions which he valued himself upon, and
reckoned good works, were really :e;reat and heinous
sins before Cod, for no good man will justify reljellion
and murder."

Without entering into the controversies involved
by this proposition, either as to tlie death of Cartiinal
Beaton or the accusations against Queen Mary, wc
may content ourselves with quoting the opinion en-
tertained of ISalnaves by the good and moderate
Melville: he was, according to this writer, "a godly,
learned, wise, and long experimented counsellor. "
"A poem" by Balnaves, entitled .-/// Advice to Head-
strong Youth, is selected from Bannatyne's manuscrij't
into The Evergreen.

BA^TSTATYXE, George, t.ikes his title to .1
place in this work from a source of fatne partici-
pated by no other individual within the range <.f
.Scottish bic)grai)hy: it is to this person that we aic
indelHed for the preservation of nearly all the pro-
ductions of the Scottish poets of the fifteentli and
sixteenth centuries. Though the services he has
thus rendered to his countrv' were in some measure
the result of accident; yet it is also evident that, if
lie had not Iieeii a person of eminent literary taste,
and also partly a ])oet iiimself, we shc)uld never li.T.e
had to celebrate him as a collector of ]')oetry. Tl.e
com])ound claim which he has thus established to
our notice, and tlie curious antique ])icture which !-
presented to our eye liy even the little that is kiiow:;
regarding his cliaracter and inirsuits, will, it ;-
hoped, amply justify his aihnission into this g.i:le:y
of eminent Scotsmen.

George Baniiatyne was b(>rn in an elewiled r.-;,k
of society. His father, James Bannr.t y;i.e. "I liic
Kirktown of Newtyle, in the county of I'orfar. m.'.-
a writer in lulinburgli, at a time \\ hen t!:at ]'r(ile--ii :;
must have been one of some distinction and r.int;. :
and lie was jiroba!)!)- the ]-.crsoii aliu'Ie'! '." \<\ R'.hi.;;
Semple in The dljens ,f Cr^^eell S,:::d\ i. :::.:- :^

It al-o apjienrs tiiat Janxs 1 ^^:l:.^.;^■:".e h-:'A the
■-•f 'I'ali. i.AK ic i:.^ Lur i; vf ^c^s.u:). ::; ^^i..c!l

Co

GEORGE BAXNATYNE.

his eldest son (afterwards a Lord of Council and
Session) was conjoined with him as successor, by
royal precept, dated May 2, 1583. James Bannatyne
is further ascertained to have been connected with
the very ancient and respectable flimily of Bannach-
tyne, or Bannatyne, of Camys (now Karnes), in the
island of Bute. He was the father, by his wife
Katharine Tailliefer, of twenty-three children, nine
of whom, who survived at the time of his death, in
15S3, were "weill and sufficiently provydit be him,
under God."

George Bannatyne, the seventh child of his parents,
was born on the 22d day of February, 1545, and
was bred up to trade.' It is, however, quite uncer-
tain at what time he began to be engaged in business
on his own account, or whether he sjjcnt his youth in
business or not. Judging, however, as the world is
apt to judge, we should suppose, from his taste for
poetry, and his having been a writer of verses him-
self, that he was at least no zealous applicant to any
commercial pursuit. Two poems of his, written
before the age of twenty-three, are full of ardent
though conceited affection towards some fair mistress,
whom he describes in the most extravagantly compli-
mentary terms. It is also to be supposed that, at
this age, even though obliged to seek some amusement
during a time of necessary seclusion, he could not have
found the means to collect, or the taste to execute,
r,uch a mass of poetry as that which bears his name, if
he had not previously been almost entirely abandoned
to this particular pursuit. At the same time there is
some reason to suppose that he was not altogether an
idle young man. given up to vain fancies, from the
two fii-st lines of his valedictory address at the end
of liis collection:

"Heir enclls this biiik writtin in tyine of pest,
Quhen wc/m labor vrm compel'd to rest."

Of tlie transaction on which the whole fame of
George Bannatyne rests we give the following inter-
esting account from the memoir just quoted: —

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

"Bannatyne's manuscript is in a folio form,
containing upwards of Soo pages, very neatly and
closely written, and designed, as has been sup-
posed, to lie sent to the press. The lal^our of com-
piling so rich a collection was undertaken by the
author during the time of pestilence, in the year
1568, when the dread of infecti(jn compelled men to
fursake their usual cm])loyments, whicli could not be
conducted without admitting tlie ordinary promis-
cuous intercour>c between man and his kindred men.

"In this dreadful ])eriod, when hundreds, finding
themselves surrounded by flanger and death, re-
nounced all care save that of selfi.-,h precaution for
their own safety, and all thoughts save ai)]irehensions

1 In a Afemair n/ (irnrt^f Jianiut/yiie, by Sir Walter Srntt
prefixed to a collectian of vtcmnral-ilia reganlinj; hini, whicli
fi.-is been printefl fir the liann.ityne Chib, it is supposed that
he w.is not early en^.-iged in bnsiness. l!ut tliis supposition
seems only to rest on an uncertain inference from a passage
in George Hannatyne's .l/cwrtr/r;// />«//<•, where it i~ mentioned
that Katharine Tailliefer. at her death in 1570, left behind
her eleven children, of whom ci};lit were as yet " unnut to
proffeit." On a careful inspection of the family notii:es in this
Mi-mnrinll liuik, it appears as likely that George himself was
one r-^i those already "put to proffeit" as otherwise, more
especially considering that he was tlien twenty-five years of

of infection, George Bannatyne had the courageous
energy to form and execute the plan of saving the
literature of a whole nation; and, undisturbed by the
universal mourning for the dead, and general fears
of the living, to devote himself to the task of collect-
ing and recording the trium]5hs of human genius;^
thus, amid the wreck of all that was mortal, employ-
ing himself in preserving the lays by which immor-
tality is at once given to others, and obtained for the
writer himself His task, he informs us, had its
difficulties; for he complains that he had, even in his
time, to contend with the disadvantage of copies old,
maimed, and mutilated, and which long before our
day must, but for this faithful transcriber, have
perished entirely. The very labour of jirocuring
the originals of the works which he transcribed must
have been attended' with much trouble and some
risk, at a time when all the usual intercourse of life
was suspended; and when we can conceive that even
so simple a circumstance as the borrowing and lend-
ing a book of ballads was accompanied with some
doubt and apprehension, and that probably the sus-
pected volume was subjected to fumigation and the

precautions used in quarantine.^

* * * « «

" In the reign of James IV. and V. the fine arts,
as they awakened in other countries, made some
progress in Scotland also. Architecture and music
were encouraged by both of those accomplished
sovereigns; and poetry, above all, seems to have been
highly valued at the Scottish court. The King of
Scotland, who, in point of power, seems to have been
little more than the first baron of his kingdom, held
a free and merry court, in which poetry and satire
seem to have had unlimited range, even where their
shafts glanced on royalty itself. The consequence
of this general encouragement was the production of
much poetry of various kinds, and concerning various
persons, which the narrow exertions of the vScottish
press could not convey to the j^ublic, or which, if
printed at all, existed only in limited editions, which
soon sunk to the rarity of manuscripts. There was
therefore an ample mine out of which Bannatyne
made his compilation, with the intention, doubtless,
of putting the lays of the ' makers' out of the reach of
oblivion by subjecting the collection to the press.
But the bloody wars of Queen Mary's time^ made
that no period for literary adventure; and the ten-
dency of the subsequent age to ]iolemical discussion
discouraged lighter and gayer studies. There is,
therefore, little doubt, that had Bannatyne lived
later than he did, or had he been a man of less taste
in selecting his materials, a great ])io]"iort:on of the
poeti-y contained in his volume must have been lost
to jiostcrity; and, if the stock of iKn-thern literature
had been diminished only by the loss of such of 1 )un-
bar's pieces as Bannatyne's manuscript contains, the
damage to posterity woukl have been infinite."

The pestilence which caused Bannatyne to go into
retirement commenced at Ivlinburgh upon the 8th
of September, 1568, being introduced by a merchant

2 Witli deference to .Sir Walter, we would suj;,i;est that th.o
suspicion inider which books are always lield at a time of jics-
tilence as .a me.ans of conveying the infection, gives great
reason to suppose that George Bannatyne had jireviously col-
lected his original manuscripts, and only took this opportunity
of transcribing them. 'J'he writing of 800 folio pages in the
careful and iruricate style of caligraphy then practised, apjiears
a sufficient t;isk in itself fir three months, without supposing
that any part of the time was spent in collecling mamiscripls.
And hence we see the greater reason for supposing that a large
part of the attention of (Jeorge Bannatyne before his twenty-
third year w.-w devoted to .Scottish poetry.

■' The accomplished writer should rather h.ive said, the
minority of James VI., whose reign had commenced before the
manuscrijit vva.-> written.

GEORGE BANNATYNE JOHN BARBOUR.

8i

of the name of Dalgleish. We have, however, no
evidence to prove that Bannatyne resideci at this
time in the capital. We know, from his own informa-
tion, that lie wrote his manuscript during the sui>se-
qucnt months of October, November, and December;
which mij^ht ahnost seem to imply that he had lived
in some other town, to which the pestilence only ex-
tended at the end of the month in which it appeared
in Edinburgh. Leaving this in uncertainty, it is not
perhaps too much to suppose that he might have
adopted this means of spending his time of seclu-
sion from the fictitious example held out by Boccacio,
who represents the tales of his Decameron as having
been told for mutual amusement by a company of
persons who had retired to the country to escai)e the
plague. A person so eminently acquainted with the
poetry of his own country might well be familiar
with the kindred work of that illustrious Italian.

The few remaining facts of George Bannatyne's
life, which have been gathered up by the industry of
Sir Walter .Scott, may be briefly related. \\\ 1572
he was provided with a tenement in the town of
Leith, by a gift from his father. This would seem
to imply that he was henceforward, at least, engaged
in business, and resided either in Edinburgh or at its
neighbouring port. It was not, however, till the
27th of October, 1587, that, being then in his forty-
third year, he was ailmitted in due and competent
form to the privileges of a merchant and guild-brother
of the city of Edinburgh. "We have no means of
knowing what branch of traffic George Bannatyne
chiefly exercised; it is probable that, as usual in
a Scottish burgh, his commerce was general and
miscellaneous. We have reason to know that it was
successful, as we find him in a 'it^vt years possessed
of a consideratjle capital, the time being considered,
which he employed to advantage in various money-
lending transactions. It must not be forgot that the
penal laws of the Catholic period pronounced all
direct taking of interest upon money to be usurious
and illegal. These denunciations did not decrease
the desire of the wealthy to derive some profit from
their capital, or diminish the necessity of the embar-
rassed land-holder who wished to borrow money.
The mutual interest of the parties suggested various
evasions of the law, of which the most common was,
that the capitalist advanced to his debtor the sum
wanted, as the price of a corresponding annuity,
payable out of the lands and tenements of the
debtor, which annuity was rendered redeemaV)le upon
the said debtor repaying the sum advanced. Tlie
moneyed man of those days, therefore, imitated the
conduct imputed to the Jewish patriarch by Shylock.
They did not take

— ^interest — not as you would say
Directly interest,

Irat tlicy retained payment of an annuity as long as
the debtor retained the use of their ca'pit.il, which
came to much the same thing. A species of trans-
action wa> contrived, as affording a convenient mode
of securing the lender's money. Our researches have
discovered that tieorge Bannatyne had sufficient fund.-,
to enter into various transactions of this kind in the
capacity of lender; and. as we have no reason to
suppose that he profited unfairly by the necc-sities
of the other party, he cannot be' blamed for having
recour-.e to the onlinary exjiedients to avoid tlie
penalty of an al)surd law, an<i accomplish a fair trans-
action, ilictated by nnitual ex;iediencv."

Bannatyne, about the same time that he became
a burgess ot Edinburgh, appears to have married his
spouse, Isobel Mawclian [njiparently identical witli
the modern name Maii^haii\, who was the relict of

VOL. I.

Bailie William Nisbctt, and must have been about
forty years of age at the time of her second nuptials,
supposing 1586 to be the date of that event, which
is only probable from the succeeding year having
produced her first child by I5annatyne. ' This child
was a daughter, by name Janet or Jonet; she was
born on the 3d of May, 1587. A son, James, bom
on the 6th of September, 15S9, and who died young,
completes the sum of Bannatyne's family. The father
of liannatyne died in the year 1 583, and was suc-
ceeded in his estate of Xewtyle by his eldest living
son, Thomas, who became one of the Lords of Ses-
sion by that designation— an appointment which
forms an additional voucher for the general respecta-
bility of the family. George Bannatyne was, on the
27th of August, 1603, dei)rived of his affectionate
helpmate, Isobel Mawchan, at the age of fifty-seven.
She had lived, according to her husband's Manoriall,
"a godly, honourable, and virtuous life; was a wise,
honest, and true matron, and departed in the Lord
in a peaceful and godly manner."

George Bannatyne himself deceased previous to
the year 1608, leaving only one child, Janet, who
had, in 1603, been married to George Eoulis of
Woodhall and Ravelstone, second S(jn of James
Eoulis of Colingtoun. His valuable collection of
Scottish poetry was preserved in his daughter's
family till 1712, when his great-grandson, William
Eoulis of Woodhall, bestowed it upon the Hon<jur-
able William Carmichael of Skirling, advocate,
brother to the Earl of Ilyndford, a gentleman who
appears to have had an eminent taste for such monu-
ments of antiquity. While in the possession of Mr.
Carmichael it was borrowed by Allan Ramsay, who
selected from its pages the materials of his jiopular
collection styled The Evergreen. Lord Hailes, in
1 77°) published a second and more correct selection
from the Bannatyne manuscript; and the venerable
tome was, in 1772, by the liberality of John, third Earl
of Hyndford, deposited in the Advocates' Library at
Edinburgh, where it still remains.

We have already alluded to George Bannatyne as
a poet: but, to tell the truth, his verses display little,
in thought or imagery, that could be expected to
interest the present generation; neither was he per-
haps a versifier of great repute, even in his own time.

It only remains to be mentioned that the name of
George Bannatyne has been approjiriately adojited
by a company of .Scottish literary antiquaries, inter-
ested, like him, in the j^reservation of such curious
memorials of the taste of past ages, as well as -uch
monuments of history as might otherwise run the
hazard of total perdition.

BARBOUR, John, a name of which Scotland hr.s
iu>[ occa.-ion to t)e proud, was Archdeacon of Aber-
deen in the later part of the fourteenth century. Th.ere
has been much idle controversy as to the date of his
birth; while all that is known witli historic cerfainiy
may be related in a single sentence. -As he was an
archdeacon in 1357, and as, by the canon law, no
man without a dispensation can attain tl'i.-.t rai.lc
under the age of twenty-five, he was jirobably bn;;i
betore the \ear 1332.

.\s to his jiarentage or birthplace \\e liave ni.'y
similar conjectures. Besides the j.rol lability of li;i
having been a native of the di-trict in w iiieh lie after-
wards obtained high clerical rank, it can lie^l"."-.\n
that there were individuals of his name in aiv: as '•-■.i
the town of Aberdeen, any one of whom nii.;I;t l.ave
Ivjen his father. The name, \\liich rq i'i:i:- :•< h.'.%e
been one of tl;af numerous cLtsS derive-l !r. 'ir. trr.'ie-,
is also f )unil in ]XT-'.'ns of tl.e sariV er.\ \\\.-^ w^re
coimected witii the soiitljcrn 1 arto ol .■ic'./.l.-.r, :.

82

JOHN BARBOUR.

In attempting the biography of an individual who
lived four or five centuries ago, and whose life was
commemorated by no contemporar)', all that can be
expected is a few unconnected, and perhaps not very
interesting, facts. It is already established that Bar-
bour, in 1357, was archdeacon of the cathedral of
Aberdeen, and fulfilled a high trust imposed upon
him by his bishop. It is equally ascertained that, in
the same year, he travelled, with three scholars in his
company, to Oxford, for purposes connected wiih
study. A safe-contluct granted to him by Edward
III., August 23d, at the request of David II., con-
veys this information in the following terms: " l''i'/tt-
endo, cum trihiis scltolarihns in comitiva sua, in iri^-
num nostrum Angliir, causa studcndi in universita/e
OxoniiC et ibidem actus sclwlasticos cxcrccndo, morando,
exindc in Scoliam ad propria rcdcundo.'" It might
have been supposed that Barliour only officiated in
this expedition as tutor to the three scholars; but that
he was himself bent on study at tlic university is
proved by a second safe-conduct, granted l:iy tlie same
monarch, November 6th, 1364, in tlie following
terms: "To Master John Barbour, Archdeacon of
Aberdeen, with four knights [ccjuitcs], coming from
Scotland, by land or sea, into England, to study at
Oxford, or elsewhere, as /le may think proper." As
also from a tliird, bearing date N'ovember 30th, 1368:
"To Master John Barbour, with two valets and two
horses, to come into England and travel through the
same, to the other dominions of the king, versus
Franciam, causa studiendi, and of returning again."
It would thus appear that Barbour, even after that
he had attained a high ecclesiastical dignity, found it
agreeal)!e or necessary to spend several winters at
Oxford in study. When we recollect that at this
time there was no university in Scotland, and that
a man of such literary habits as Barljour could not
fail to find himself at a loss even for the use of
a library in his native country, we are not to wonder
at his occasional pilgrimages to tlie illustrious shrine
of learning on the banks of the Isis. On the i6th
of October, 1635, he received another safe-conduct
from Edward III., permitting him "to come into
England and travel tin-oughout tliat kingdom, cum
sex sociis suis equitihus, usque Sanctum DionisiTim;"
i.e. witli six knights in company, to St. Dennis in
France. Such slight notices suggest curious and
interesting views of the manners of that early time.
We are to understand from them that Barbour always
travelled in a very dignified manner, being sometimes
attended by four knights and sometimes by no fewer
than six, or at least by two mounted servants. A
man accustomed to such state might be the better
able to compose a chivalrous epic like The Bruce.

There is no other authentic document regarding
Barbour till the year 1373, when his name appears
in the list of auditors of cxchefjuer for that year,
being then descriljcd as '^clcricus probalionis domus
domini nostri reikis" i.e. apparently — auditor of the
comptroller's accounts for the royal household.
This, however, is loo obscure and solitary an au-
thority to enable us to conclude that he bore an office
under the king. Hume of (jodscroft, s]jeaking of
"the Bruce's book," says: ".-Xs I am informed, the
book was penned by a man of good knowledge and
learning, named Master John Barbour, Arcluleacon
of Aberdeene, for which work he had a yearly pen-
sion out of tlic exchequer during his life, which he
gave to the hospitall of that towne, and to which it
is allowed and j)aid still in our daycs."' This fact,
that a pension was given him for writing his book,
is authenticated Ijy an unquestionable document. In

1 History r/t/u: D^:/i,!as:cs.

the Rotuli Ballivcrum Burgi de Aherdonia for 1471,
the entry of the discharge for this royal donation
bears that it was expressly given "for the compila-
tion of the Book of the Deeds of King Robert the
First,'''' referring to a prior statement of this circum-
stance in the more ancient rolls: — "Et decano et
cajiitulo Abirdonensi percipienti annuatim viginti
solidos pro anniversario quondam Magistri Johannis
Barberi, pro compilatione libri gestorum Regis
Roberti primi, ut patet in antiquis Rotulis de anno
Compoti, XX. s." The first notice we have of
Barbour receiving a pension is dated February i8th,
139O; and although this period was only al)out two
months before the death of Robert the Second, it
appears from the rolls that to that monarch the poet
was indebted for the favour. In the roll for April
26th, 1398, this language occurs:— "Quam recolendie
memorie quondam dominus Robertus secundus, rex
Scottonim, dedit, concessit, et carta sua confirmavit
quondam Johanni Barbere archediacono Aber-
donensi," &c. In the roll dated June 2d, 1424, the
words are these: — "Decano et capitulo ecclesia'
cathedralis Aberdonensis percipientibus annuatim
viginti solidos de firmis dicti burgi pro anniversario
quondam Magistri Johannis Barbar pro compilacione
libri de gestis Regis Roberti Brwise, ex concessione
Regis Roberti Secundi, in plenam solucionem dicte
pensionis," &c. Barbour's pension consisted of ;^lo
Scots from the customs of Aberdeen, and of 20 shil-
lings from the rents or burrow-mails of the same
city. The first sum was limited to "the life of
Barbour;" the other to "his assignees whomsoever,
although he should have assigned it in the way of
mortification." Hume of Godscroft and others are
in a mistake in supposing that he appropriated this
sum to an hospital, for it appears from the accounts
of the great chamberlain that he left it to the chapter
of the cathedral church of Aberdeen, for the express
purpose of having mass said for his soul annually
after his decease. Barbour's anniversary, it is sup-
posed, continued till the Reformation; and then the
sum allowed for it reverted to the crown.

All that is further known of Barbour is, that he
died towards the close of 1395. This appears from
the chartulary of Aljerdeen, and it is the last year
in which the payment of his pension of ;i^lo stands
on the record.

The Brtice, which Barbour himself informs us
he wrote in the year 1375, is a metrical history of
Robert I. — his exertions and achievements for
the recovery of the indejiendence of .Scotland, and
the principal transactions of his reign. As Barbour-
flourished in the age immediately following that of
his hero, he must have enjoyed the advantage of
hearing from eye-witnesses narratives of the war of
liberty. Asa history, his work is of good authority;
he himself boasts of its soothfast ness ; and the simj)le
and straightforward way in which the story is told
goes to indicate its general veracity. Although,
however, the object of the author was mainly to give
a soothfast history of the life and transactions of
Robert the Bruce, the work is far from being desti-
tute of poetical feeling or rliythmical sweetness and
harmony. The lofty sentiments and vivid descri]>-
tions with which it alwunds, prove the author to
have been fitted by feeling and by princi])Ie, as well
as by situation, forthc t.askwhichhe undertook. 1 lis
genius has lent truth all the cliarms that are usually
supposed to belong to fiction. The horrors of war
are softened by strokes of tenderness that make us
equally in love with the hero and the poet. In
battle-])ainting Barbour is eminent: the battle ',r
Bannockburn is described with a minuteness, spini,
and fervency, worthy of the day.

JOHN BARBOUR ALEXANDER BARCLAY.

S5

The apostrophe to freedom, after the painful de-
scription of the slavery to which Scotland was re-
<luccd by Edward, is in a style of poetical feeling
very uncommon in that and many subsequent ages,
and has been quoted with high praise by the most
distinguished Scottish historians and critics: —

"A! fredome is a nobill thing!
Kredomc mayse man to haiff liking !
Kredome all solace to man giffis:
He levys at ese that frely levys !
A noble hart mav haiff nane esc,
Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
Gyff fredome failythe: for fre liking
Is yearnyt our all othir thing
Na he, that ay base levyt fre,
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte.
The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,
That is cowplyt to foiilc thyrldome.
Bot gyff he had assayit it.
Than all pcrqucr he suld it wyt;
And suld think fredome mar to pr>'se
Than all the gold in warld that is."' — (Book i. 1. 223,'

"Barbour," says an eminent critic in Scottish
poetical literature, "was evidently skilled in sucli
branches of knowledge as were then cultivated, and
liis learning was so well regulated as to conduce to
the real improvement of his mind; the liberality of
his views and the humanity of his sentiments appear
occasionally to have been unconfined by the narrow
boundaries of his own age. He has drawn various
illustrations from ancient history, and from the
stories of romance, but has rarely displayed his erudi-
tion by decking his verses with the names of ancient
authors: the distichs of Cato,- and the spurious pro-
ductions of Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis,
are the only profane books to which he formally re-
fers. He has borrowed more than one illustration
from Statius, who was the favourite classic of those
times, and who likewise appears to have been tlie
favourite of Barbour: the more chaste and elegant
style of Virgil and Horace were not so well adapted
to the prevalent taste as the strained thoughts and
gorgeous diction of Statins and Claudian. Tiie
manner in which he has incidentally discussed tlie
subject of astrolog)' and necromancy may be speci-
fied as not a little creditable to his good sense. It
is well known that tliese branches of divination were
assiduously cultivated during the ages of intellectual
darkness. The absurdity of astrology and necro-
mancy he has not openly attempted to expose; for as
the opinions of the many, however unfounded in
reason, must not be too rashly stigmatized, this might
have been too bold and decided a step. Of tlie
possil)ility of predicting events he speaks with the
caution of a philosopher; but the following passage

1 Some readers may perhaps arrive at the sense of this fine
pT^sigo m.>re readily through the medium of the following
P-irapiir.Lse:—

".•\h, Freedom is a noble thing,
And can to life a relish bring.
Freedom all solace to man gives;
He lives at case that freely lives.
A noble he.irt may h.ave no ease.
Nor aught lw;ide that may it please,
If frec'l'im fiil — Tt 'tis the choice,
More than the chosen, man enjoys.
Ah, he that ne'er yet lived in thrall.
Knows not the we.iry pains which gall
The limb-;, the soul, of him who 'pl.iius
In slavery's r>ul and f^-^tering chains;
If these he knew, I ween richt soon
He woulil seek Inck the precious boon
(^f freedom, which he then would pri7C
More than all wealth beneath the skies."

may be considered as a sufficient indication of his
deliberate sentiments: —

'And sen thai ar in sic wenyng,
For owtyne certante off witting,
Me think quha sayis he knawi>, thingis
To cum, he makys great gabiiigis."

To form such an estimate required a mind capable
of resisting a strong torrent of prejudice; nor is it
superfluous to remark, that in an age of much higher
refinement, Dryden suffered himself to be deluded
by the jirognostications of judicial astrology. It was
not, however, to be expected that Barbour should on
every occasion evince a decided superiority to the
general spirit of the age to which he belonged. His
terrible imprecation on the person who betrayed Sir
Christopher Seton, 'In hell condamjmyt mot he
be!' ought not to have been uttered by a Christian
priest. His detestation of the treacherous and cruel
King Edward induced him to lend a credulous ear
to the report of his consulting an infernal spirit. The
misfortunes which attended Bruce at almost ever)- step
of his early progress he attributes to his sacrilegious
act of slaying Comyn at the high altar. He sup-
])oses that the women and children who assisted in
supplying the brave defenders of Berwick with arrows
and stones were protected from injury by a miracu-
lous interposition. Such instances of superstition
or uncharitable zeal are not to be viewed as marking
the individual: gross superstition, with its usual
concomitants, was the general spirit of the time: and
the deviations from the ordinary track are to be
traced in examples of liberal feeling or enlightened
judgment."''

One further quotation from the Scottish contem-
porary and rival of Chaucer may perhaps be admitted
by the reader: it gives one of the slight and minute
stories with which the poet fills up his narrative: —

" The king has hard a woman crj-;
He askyt quhat that wes in hy.
'It is the lavndar, .Schyr,' said ane,
'That her ciiild-ill rycht now has tane,
'And mon leve now behind ws her;
'Tharfor scho makys yone iwill cher.'
The king said, ' Certis it w.ar pite
'That scho in that poynt left suld be;
'For certis I trow th.ar is na man
'That be ne will rew a woman than,'
Hiss ost all th.ar arestyt he.
And gert a tent sone stentit be.
And gert hyr gang in hastily.
And othyr wenieu to be hyr Iiy,
Quhill scho wes dclier, he bad.
And syne furth on his wayis raid:
And hou' scho furth sidd cary it 1 e,
Or euir he furth fur, ordanyt lie.
'this wes a full grct curt.asy,
'J'hat swilk a king, and sa mighty.
Cert his men duell on this maner
Hot for a pouir lauender."

No one can fail to remark that, while the incident is
in the highest degree honourable to r)ruce, ^howing
that the gentle heart may still be known by gentle
deed, so also is Barbour entitled to the crei-Ht C't
humane feelings, from the way in whicli he had de-
tailed and commentetl ujion the transaction.

Barbour was the author of another considerabA'
work, which has unfortunately pcri-hed. Thi> w.-.-
a chronicle of Scottish history, jirubably in tl-.e ni.ir.-
! ner of that by Andrew Winton.

BARCLAY. Ai.r.XANnr.K. a cli:-ting'.;i>hed writer
of the Kngli>h tongue at tlic beginning nf •I;e -;\tee;'.'.'i
century, is known to have Ix-cn a ii:itive ol Sc<'lLir.(l_
only bv verv obsciire evi^Icnce. He sj e;;; Mine ot

And Catone siyi^ us in '.
I'o fenyhe foly quhile is

■/•'•<• Brurr.

Ar

.■!■• ••!;. r'

Ir

84

JOHN BARCLAY.

his earliest years at Croydon, in Surrey, and it is
conjectured that he received his education at one of
the English universities. In the year 1508 lie was
a prebendary of the collegiate church of St. Mary at
Ottery, in Devonshire. He was afterwards a monk,
first of the order of St. Benedict at Ely, and latterly
of the order of St. Francis at Canterbury. While in
this situation, and having the degree of Doctor of
Divinity, he published an English translation of the
Mirroar of Good Manners (a treatise compiled in
Latin by Dominyke Mancyn), for the use of the " juvent
of England." After the Reformation Barclay ac-
cepted a ministerial charge in the Protestant church,
as vicar of Much-Badew in Essex. In 1546 lie was
vacar of Wokey in Somersetshire, and in 1552 he
was presented by the dean and chapter of London
to the rectory of Allhallows in I-ombard Street.
Having reached an advanced age, he died in June
this year, at Croydon in Surrey, where he was buried.
Barclay published a great number of books,
original and translated, and is allowed by the most
intelligent inquirers into early English literature to
have done more for the improvement of the language
than any of his contemporaries. Ills chief poetical
work is The Ship of Fooles, which was written in
imitation of a German work entitled. Das Narren
Schiff, published in 1494. The Ship of Fooles,
which was first printed in I509> describes a vessel
laden with all sorts of absurd persons, though there
seems to have been no end in view but to bring
them into one place, so that they might be described,
as the beasts were brought before Adam in order to
be named. We shall transcribe one passage from
this work, as a specimen of the English style of
Barclay: it is a curious contemporary character of
King James IV. of Scotland.

"And, ye Christen princes, whosoever ye be,
If ye be destitute of a noble captayne,

Take James of Scotland for his audacitie
And proved manhode, if ye will laude attaine :
Let him have the forwarde : have ye no disdayne

Nor indignation ; for never king was borne

That of ought of waure can shaw the uncorne.

For if that once he take the speare in hand
Agaynst these Turkes strongly with it to ride,

None shall Vje able his stroke for to withstande
Nor before his face so hardy to abide.
Vet this his manhode increaseth not his pride ;

But ever sheweth meeknes and humilitie,

In worde or dede to hye and lowe degree."

Barclay also made a translation of Sallust's History
of the yn^urthine War, which was puljlishedin 1557,
five years after his death, and is one of the earliest
specimens of English translation from the classics.

BARCLAY, John, A.M., was the founder of a
religi<jus sect in Scotland, generally named Bercans,
but sometimes called, from the name of tliis in-
dividual, Barclayans. The former title derived its
origin from the habit of Mr. Barclay, in always
making an appeal to the Scriptures, in vindication
of any doctrine he advanced from the jnilpit or
which was contained in his writings. Tlie jierfec-
tion of the .Scriptures, or of the Book of divine
;evelation, was the fundamental article of his system;
at least this was what he liimself publicly declared
upon all occasions, and tlie same sentiments are still
entertained by liis followers. In \z. xvii. 10 the
Bereans are thus mentioned, "These were more
noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they
received the word with all readiness of mind, and
searched the Scriptures daily, whether those things
were so." These words were fref|uently quoted by
Mr. Barclay. It ought to be observed, however,
that originally it was not a name of reproach in-

vented by the malevolent part of the public, with
the design of holding up Mr. Barclay and his
associates to contempt, but was voluntarily assumed
by them, to distinguish them from other sects of
professed Christians.

Mr. Barclay was born in 1734. His father, Mr.
Ludovic Barclay, was a farmer in the parish of
Muthill, in the county of Perth. Being at an early
age designed by his parents for the church, he was
sent to school, and received the best education
which that part of the country could afford. He
was afterwards sent by his father to St. Andrews,
where he regularly attended the literary and philo-
sophical classes, and took the degree of A.M. At
the commencement of the subsequent session, he
entered the New Divinity or St. Mary's College,
a seminary in which theology alone is taught.
Nothing very particular occurred during his attend-
ance at the hall, as it is generally called. He was
uniformly regular in his private conduct, and though
constitutionally of very impetuous passions and a
fervid imagination, at no time of his life was he ever
seduced into the practice of what was immoral or
vicious. While he attended the lectures on divinity,
the university of St. Andrews, and indeed the Church
of Scotland in general, were placed in a very un-
pleasant situation, by the agitation of a question
which originated with Dr. Archil:)ald Campbell,
professor of church history in St Mary's College.
He maintained "that the knowledge of the exist-
ence of God was derived from revelation, not from
nature." This was long reckoned one of the errors
of Socinus, and no one in Scotland, before Dr.
Campbell's time, had ever disputed the opinion that
was generally current, and consequently esteemed
orthodox. He published his sentiments without the
least reserve, and was equally ready to enter upon
a vindication of them. He considered his view of
the subject as a foundation necessary to be laid in
order to demonstrate the necessity of revelation.
A whole host of opponents volunteered against
such dangerous sentiments; innumerable pamphlets
rapidly made their appearance, and tlie hue and cry
was so loud, that the ecclesiastical courts thought
that they could no longer remain silent. Dr.
Campbell was publicly ])rosecuted on account of his
heretical opinions, but after long litigation the matter
was compromised, and the only effect it produced
was, that the students at St. Andrews in general
became more zealous defenders of the doctor's
system, though they durst not avow it so openly.
Among others, Mr. Barclay had warmly espoused
Dr. Campbell's system, and long before he left
college he was noted as one of his most open and
avowed partizans. These principles he never de-
serted, and in his view of Christianity it formed an
important part of the system of revealed truth. It
must not be imagined, however, that Mr. Barclay
slavishly followed or adojited all Dr. Campbell's
sentiments. Thougli tliey were both agreed that
a knowledge of the true God \\as derived from
revelation and not from nature, yet they differed
ujion ahnost every other point of systematic divinity.
^Ir. Barclay was early, and continued through lile
to be a liigh predcstinarian, or what is technically
denominated a supralapsarian, while Dr. Campbell,
if one may draw an inference from some of his illus-
trations, leaned to Arminianism, and doubtless was
not a decided Calvinist.

Mr. Barclay, having delivered the jirescribed dis-
courses, now directed his views to obtain license as
a ]ireacher in the Establishment, and having delivered
the usual series of exercises witli the entire a])proba-
tion of his judges, he was, on the 27th September,

JOHN BARCLAY.

Sk

1759, licensed by the presbytery of Auchterarder.
lie was not long without employment. Mr. Jobson,
then minister of Errol, near Perth, required an assis-
tant, and Mr. Barclay from his popularity as a
preacher easily obtained this situation. Here he
remained for three or four years, until a rupture with
his principal obliged him to leave it. ^Ir. Jobson
was what may be called of the old school. He
warmly espoused (as a great many clergymen of the
Church of Scotland in those days did) the system
of the Marrrw of Modern Divinity, a book written
by Edward Fisher, an English dissenter, about the
middle of the seventeenth century, and republished
in Scotland with notes by the celebrated Mr. Thomas
Boston of Ettrick. For many years this book occa-
sioned a most serious commotion in the Church of
Scotland, which is generally called "the Afarr(nu
controversy." It was, indeed, the remote cause of
that great division, which has since been styled the
Secession. But there was another cause for the
widening of this unfortunate breach. The well-
known Mr. John Glass, minister of Tealing, near
Dundee, had published, in 1727, a work entitled
The Testimony of the King of Martyrs. With the
exception of the Cameronians, this gentleman was
the first dissenter from the Church of Scotland since
the Revolution, and it is worthy of remark that the
founders of the principal sects were all originally
cast out of the church. Mr. Glass was an admirer
of the writings of the most celebrated English In-
dependents (of Dr. John Owen in particular), and of
their form of church-government. Mr. Barclay,
who was no Independent, heartily approved of many
of his sentiments respecting the doctrines of the
gospel, and as decidedly disapproved of others. He
had a system of his own, and agreed with none of
the parties; but this, if possible, rendered him more
obnoxious to Mr. Jobson. Mucli altercation took
place between them in private. Mr. Barclay publicly
declared his sentiments from the pulpit, Mr. Jobson
did the same in defence of himself, so that a rupture
became unavoidable.

About the time of Mr. Barclay's leaving Errol,
Mr. Anthony Dow, minister of Fettercairn, in the
presbytery of Fordoun, found himself unfit for the
full discharge of his duties. He desired his son, the
Rev. David Dow, then minister of the parish of
Dron, in the presbytery of Perth, to use his endeavour
to procure him an assistant. Mr. Dow, who, we
believe, was a fellow-student of Mr. Barclay at St.
Andrews, and perfectly well acquainted with his
talents and character, and the cause of his leaving
Errol, immediately made offer to him of being
assistant to his fither. This he accepted, and he
commenced his labours in the beginning of June,
1763. What were Mr. Anthony Dow's peculiar
theological sentiments we do not know, but those of
Mr. David Dow were not very different from Mr.
Barclay's. Here he remained for nine years, which
he often declared to have been the most happy, and
considered to have been the most useful, period' of his
life.

Mr. Barclay was of a fair, and in his youth of
a very florid, complexion. He then looked' younger
tlian he really was. The people of Fettercairn were
at first greatly prejudiced against him on account of
his youthful appearance. But this was soon forgotten.
His fervid manner, in prayer especially, and at
dilTerent parts of almost every sermon, rivetted the
atteition and impressed the minds of his audience
to such a degree, that it was almost impossible to
lose the memory of it. His jiopuiarity as a preacher
became so great at Fettercairn, that anything of the
like kind is seldom to be met with in tlie historj- of

the Church of Scotland. The parish church, being
an old-fashioned building, had rafters across; these
were crowded with hearers; — the sashes of the
windowswere taken out toaccommodate thcmultitude
who could not gain admittance. During the whole
period of his settlement at Fettercairn, he had
regidar hearers who flocked to him from ten or
twelve of the neighbouring parishes. If an opinion
could be formed of what his manner had been in his
youth, and at his prime, from what it was a year or
two before he died, it must have l>een vehement,
passionate, and impetuous to an uncommon degree.
During his residence at Fettercairn he did not
confine his labours to his public ministrations in
the pulpit, but visited from house to house, was the
friend and adviser of all who were at the head of a
family, and entered warmly into whatever regarded
their interests. He showed the most marked atten-
tion to children and to the young; and when any of
the household were seized with sickness or disease, he
spared no pains in giving tokens of his sympathy,
and administered consolation to the afflicted. He
was very assiduous in discharging those necessary
and important duties which he thought were pecu-
liarly incumbent upon a country clerg)man. Such
long-continued and uninterrupted exertions were
accompanied with the most happy effects. A taste
for religious knowledge, or what is the same, the
reading and study of the Bible, began to prevail to
a great extent; the morals of the people were im-
proved, and temperance, sobriety, and regularity of
behaviour sensibly discovered themselves through-
out all ranks.

Mr. Barclay had a most luxuriant fancy, a great
liking for poetr\-, and possessed consideral:ile facility
of versification. His taste, however, was far from
being correct or chaste, and his imagination was
little under the management of a sound judgment.
Besides his works in prose, he published a great
many thousand verses on religious subjects. He
had composed a paraphrase of the whole book
of Psalms, part of which was published in 1766.
To this was prefixed, A Dissertation on the best
Means of Interpreting that Portion of the Canon of
Scripture. His views upon this subject were pecu-
liar. He was of opinion that, in all the psalms
which are in the first person, the speaker is Christ,
and not David nor any other mere man, and that
the other psalms describe the situation of the church
of God, sometimes in prosperity, sometimes in ad-
versity, and finally triumphing over all its enemies.
This essay is characterized by uncommon vigour of
expression, yet in some places with considerable
acrimony. The presbyter)^ of Fordoun took great
offence at this publication, and summoned Mr.
Barclay to appear at their bar. He did so, nnd
defended himself with spirit and intrepidity. His
opinions were not contrary to any doctrine contained
in the Confession of Faith, so that he could not even
be censured by them. Mr. Barclay, who being
naturally of a frank, open, and ingenuous disposition,
had no idea of concealing his opinions, not only
continued to preach the same doctrines whicli w ere
esteemed heretical by the presbyten.-, but published
them in a small work, entitled Kcjoiee r; errueie. . r
Christ AH in Ail. This obstinacy, as they con-
sidered it, irritated them to a very high (ie;^iee.
They drew up a warning against tlie danj^erin;- •\--<c-
trines that he prcachetl, ami ordered it to lie re.id
publicly in the church of Fettercairn after -einvn.
and before pronouncing the blessing, by ^ne oi ilie-r
own members, expressly apjxiinted lor tb.at jnirjiosc,
on a specified day, which was accordin-i^'ly done.
Mr. Barclav viewed their conduct with intiitTerence

86

JOHN BARCLAY.

mingled with contempt, and no effect of any kind
resulted from the warning to the people of Fetter-
cairn, who were unanimous in their approbation of
Mr. Barclay's doctrine. He continued during Mr.
Dow's lifetime to instruct the people of his parish,
and conducted his weekly examinations to the great
profit of those who gave attendance.

In 1769 he published one of the largest of his
treatises, entitletl IVitlunit Faith 'untltoiit God, or an
Appeal to God concerning his o^vn Existence. This
was a defence of similar sentiments respecting the
evidence in favour of the existence of God, whicli
were entertained by Dr. Campbell already mentioned.
The illustrations are entirely Calvinistical. This essay
is not very methodical. It contains, however, a great
many acute observations, and sarcastic remarks
upon the systems of those who have adopted the
generally current notions respecting natural religion.
In the course of the same year, 1769, he addressed
a letter on the Eternal Generation of the Son 0/ God,
to Messrs. Smith and Ferrier. These two gentle-
men had been clergymen in the Church of Scotland.
They published their reasons of separation from the
Established church. They had adopted all the
sentiments of Mr. Glass, who was a most strict In-
dependent, and both of them died in the Glassite
communion. Dr. Dalgliesh of Peebles had, about
the time of their leaving the church, published a
new theory respecting the sonship of Christ, and,
what is not a little singiilar, it had the merit of
originality, and had never before occurred to any
theologian. He held the tri-personality of Deity,
but denied the eternal Sonship of the second person
of the Godhead, antl was of opinion that this Jiliation
only took place when the divine nature was united
to the human, in the person of Christ, Immanuel,
God with us. Novel as this doctrine was, all the
Scottish Independents, with a very few exce])tions,
embraced it. The difference between Dalgliesh and
the Arians consists in this, that the second person
of the Trinity, according to him, is God, equal witli
the Father; whilst the latter maintain, in a certain
sense, his supreme exaltation, yet they consider him
as subordinate to the Father. Mr. Barclay's letter
states very clearly tlie scriptural arguments usually
adduced in favour of the eternal generation of the
Son of God. It is written with great moderation
and in an excellent spirit.

In 1 77 1 he published a letter, On the Assurance
0/ Faith, addressed to a gentleman who was a mem-
ber of Mr. Cudworth's congregation in London.
Cudworth was the person who made a distinguished
figure in defending the celebrated Mr. Hervey
against the acrimonious attack of Mr. Robert
Sandeman, who was a Glassite. Excepting in some
peculiar fonns of expression, Cudworth's views of
the assurance of faith did not materially differ from
Mr. Barclay's. There ajipeared also in the same
year A Letter on /'rarer, addressed to an Indepen-
dent congregation in Scotland.

The Rev. .Vnthony Dow, minister of Fettercaim,
died in 1772. The presbytery of Fordoun seized
this o|)portunity of gratifying their s])leen; they pro-
hibited Mr. Barclay from preaching in the kirk of
Fettercaim, and used all their influence to prevent
him from being employed, not only within their
bounds, which lie in what is called the Mearns, but
they studied to defame him in all quarters. The
clergy of the neighlxjuring district, that is, in Angus,
were much more friendly. They were ready to ad-
mit him into their pulpits, and he generally preached
every Lord's-day, during the subsequent autumn,
winter, and spring. Multitudes from all parts of
the country crowded to hear him. The patronage

of Fettercaim is in the gift of the crown. The
parish almost unanimously favoured Mr. Barclay.
They were not, however, permitted to have any
choice, and the Rev. Robert Foote, then minister
of Eskdale Muir, was presented. At the modera-
tion of the call, only three signed in favour of Mr.
Foote. The parishioners appealed to the synod,
and from the synod to the General Assembly, who
ordered Mr. Foote to be inducted. The presbytery
carried their hostility against Mr. Barclay so far, as
to refuse him a certificate of character, which is
alw.ays done, as a matter of course, when a preacher
leaves their bounds. He appealed to the synod,
and afterwards to the Assembly, who found (though
he was in no instance accused of any immorality)
that the presbyteiy were justified in withholding the
certificate. He had no alternative, and therefore
left the communion of the Church of Scotland. A
great many friends in Edinburgh, who had adopted
his peculiar sentiments, formed themselves into a
church, and urged him to become their pastor. The
people of Fettercaim also solicited him to labour in
the ministry amongst them; but for the present he
declined both invitations. Having hitherto held
only the status of a probationer or licentiate, he
visited Newcastle, and was ordained there, October
I2th, 1773. The certificate of ordination is signed
by the celebrated James Murray of Newcastle, the
author of the well-known Sermons to Asses, which
contain a rich vein of poignant satire, not unworthy
of Swift. It was also signed by Robert Somerville
of Weardale, and James Somerville of Swallwell,
and Robert Green, clerk. His friends at Fettercaim
meanwhile erected a place of worship at Sauchyburn,
in the immediate neighbourhood, and renewed their
application to have him settled amongst them. But
Mr. Barclay, conceiving that his sphere of usefulness
would be more extended were he to reside in Edin-
burgh, gave the preference to the latter. Mr. James
M'Rae, having joined Mr. Barclay, was ordained
minister at Sauchyburn in spring, 1774. The con-
gregation there, at this time, consisted of from 1000
to 1200 members.

Mr. Barclay remained in Edinburgh about three
years; and was attended by a numerous congregation,
who had adopted his views of religious truth. But
having a strong desire to disseminate his opinions,
he left the church at Edinburgh under the care of
his elders and deacons, and repaired to London.
For nearly two years he preached there, as well as
at Bristol, and other places in England. A church
was formed in the capital. He also established
there a debating society, which met weekly in the
evening, for the purpose of dis])uting with any who
might be disposed to call his doctrines in question.
One of those who went with the design of impugning
Mr. Barclay's ojiinions was Mr. William Nelson,
who eventually became a convert. This gentleman
had been educated in the Church of I'higland, but,
when Mr. liarclay came first to London, had joined
the Whitefieldian or Calvinistic Methodists. He
afterwards came to Sc(jtland, was connected with
Mr. Barclay, practised as a surgeon in Edinburgh,
and delivered lectures on chemistry there, for about
ten years. He was a man of considerable abilities,
amiable in private life, and of the most unblemished
character. He was cut off by apoplexy in 1800.

At Edinburgh Mr. Barclay published an edition
of his works in three volumes, including a jjrelty
large treatise on the Sin against the Holy Ghost,
which, accf)rding to him, is merely unbelief or dis-
crediting the Scripture. In 1783 he ])ublished a
small work for the use of the Berean churches, TIic
I-.pistle to the HebrL-ivs Paraphrased, with a collection

JOHN BARCLAY, M.D.

87

of psalms and songs from his other works, accom-
panied with A Close Examination into the Truth of
several recei-'ed Principles.

Mr. Barclay died on the 29th of July, 1798. Being
Sabbath, when on his road to preach, he felt him-
self rather unwell; he took a circuitous route to the
meeting-house, but finding himself no better, he
called at the house of one of the members of his con-
gregation. In a few minutes after he entered the
house, while kneeling in prayer beside a chair, he
expired without a groan, in the sixty-fourth year of
his age, and thirty-ninth of his professional career.
His nephew Dr. John Barclay was immediately
sent for, who declared his death to have been occa-
sioned by apoplexy. He was interred in the Calton
old burying-ground, Edinburgh, where a monu-
ment has been erected to his memory. Mr. Barclay
was a very uncommon character, and made a great
impression upon his contemporaries.

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

BARCLAY, John, ^LD., an eminent lecturer
on anatomy, was the nephew of John Barclay, the
Berean, after whom he was named. He was born
in 1759, or 1760, at Cairn, near to Drummaquhance,
in Perthshire. His father was a respectable farmer
in that part of the country, and was characterized
by great natural shrewdness and vivacity. His son
John was educated at the parish school of Muthill,
and early distinguished himself by his superior powers
of mind, and by his application. Being destined for
the church, he in 1776 repaired to the university
of St. Andrews, where he became a successful
candidate for a bursary. He made great proficiency
in the Greek language, and also discovered a par-
tiality for the study of mathematics, although he
tloes not appear to have prosecuted this important
branch of science. After having attended the usual
preliminary classes at the united college of .St.
.Salvador and St. Leonard, Barclay studied divinity
in St. Mary's, attaching himself to the moderate
party in the church. He studied divinity at St.
Andrews, under the professor, Dr. .Spence, for two
or three sessions, but having engaged to teach
a school, he found it more convenient to deliver the
prescribed exercises before the professor in Edin-
burgh. On one of these occasions there took place
a very singular occurrence, which the doctor himself
used to relate. Having come to Edinburgh for the
express purpose of delivering a discourse in the hall,
he waited upon his uncle, who was an excellent
scholar. It was what is called "an exercise and
addition," or a discourse, in which the words of the
original are criticised — the doctrines they contain
illustrated — and it is concluded by a brief paraphrase.
He proposed to read it to his uncle before he
delivered it— and when he was in the act of doing
so, his respected relative objected to a criticism
which he had introduced, and endeavoured to show
that it was contrary- to several passages in the
writings of the apostle Paul. The doctor had pre-
pared tlie exercise with great care, and had quoted
the authority of Xenophon in regard to the meaning
of thj word. The old man got into a violent passion
at his ne[>hew's ol^^tinacy, and seizing a huge folio
that lay on tiie table, hurled it at the recusant's head,
which it fortunately mi.-seii. Barclay, who really
had a great esteem for his uncle, related the anecdote
to a clergvman a few days after it happened, and
laughed very heartily at it. liarclay wrote about
this time, A Hislery of all A't-l/'i^'tivts, but of this
no trace was to be found among his manuscripts.

Having delivered with approbation his trial dis-
courses, he obtained license from the presbytery of
Dunkeld. Meanwhile he acted as tutor to the two
sons of Sir James Campbell, of Aberuchill, whose
daughter, Eleonora, in 181 1, became his wife. In
1789 he accompanied his pupils to Edinburgh, where
he preached occasionally for his friends. The
medical school of Edinburgh was then at the height
of its reputation. Cullen's brilliant career was
drawing to a close, and he was succeeded by the
celel)rated Dr. Gregorj'. Dr. Black and the second
Monro still shed lustre on their respective depart-
ments. Barclay was principally attracted to the
anatomical class by the luminous prelections of Dr.
Monro, and appears to have thenceforward devoted
himself to a complete course of medical study. In
1796 he took the degree of M.D., choosing as the
subject of his thesis De An/ma, sac Principio Vitali,
the vital principle having long been with him
a favourite topic of speculation. After graduation.
Dr. Barclay proceeded to London, and attended the
anatomical lectures of Dr. Marshall, of Thavics Inn.
In 1797 he commenced a course of private lectures
on anatomy in a small class-room in the High-School
yards, Edinburgh, but had to contend with for-
midable difficulties; the popularity of the second
Monro and of John Bell being still undiminished
amongst the students. Dr. Barclay, therefore, had
few students at first; but he resolved to persevere.
The introductory lectures (which, after his death,
were published by his friend. Sir George Ballingall,
M.D.) were prepared with scrupulous care. He
studied to express himself in plain and perspicuous
language, which he justly esteemed to be the chief
quality of style in lecturing. His illustrations were
clear and copious, and not unfrequently an apposite
anecdote fixed more strongly in the memories of
his pupils the particular part he was demonstrating;
and, at a time when it was by no means fashionable,
he never omitted to point out the wisdom of God,
as displayed in that most wonderful of all his works,
the formation and support of the human body.

Barclay's first literary performance was the article
' ' Physiolog)^, " in the third edition of the Encyclopudui
Britannica. In 1803 he published a new anatomical
nomenclature. This had been long the sul^ject of
his meditation, and was a great desideratum in
anatomy. The vagueness or indefinite nature of the
terms of anatomy has been perceived and regretted
by all anatomists. They have produced much am-
biguity and confusion in anatomical descriptions,
and their influence has been strongly felt, particularly
by those who have just entered upon the study.
Barclay was the first who, fully aware of the ob-
stacles that were thus thrown in the way of students,
set about inventing a new nomenclature. Tiie
vagueness of the terms principally referred to those
implying position, aspect, and direction. Thus,
what is superior in one position of the body, becon-.es
anterior in another, posterior in a third, and even
inferior in a fourth. \Vhat is external in one jiosi-
tion is internal in another, Ovc. These terms Lecume
much more ambiguous in comparative anatr.niy.
His object was to contrive a nomenclature, in v. IulI-
the same terms should universally ai>]-ily to the >anic
organ, in all positions of tlie bmly, ami in^ a'd
animals. It is the opinion of very caii'ii-l iii^'ges
that he has succeeded in his endeavour. ?.vA t!;at,
were his nomenclature a<iopteil, the gro:.tc~t a-iNan-
tages would accrue to tb.e study of the scciice. 1 he
proposal is delivered with singular i^.iu ;c~:y. ?.'-'A A\^-
covers lioth a most accurate knuwld^c ^l anatoniy
and great ingenuity.

In iSoS appeared his work or. tlie muscular

88

JOHN BARCLAY.

motions of the human body, and in 1812 a descrip-
tion of the arteries of the human body — both of
which contain a most complete account of those
parts of the system. These three wori<s were dedi-
cated to the late Dr. Thomas Thomson, professor
of chemistry in the university of Glasgow. The last
work which Dr. Barclay lived to publish, was an
inquir)' into the opinions, ancient and modern, con-
cerning life and organization. This, as we have
mentioned, formed the subject of his thesis.

He also delivered, during several summers, a
course of lectures on comparative anatomy, a branch
of study for which he had always shown a marked
partiality — not only as an object of scientific research,
but as of great practical utility. At one time he
proposed to the town council, the patrons of the
university of Edinburgh, to be created professor of
that department of the science; how the proposal
was received is not known. The writer of the
memoir of Dr. Barclay, in the iViUiiralist^s Library,
furnishes a characteristic illustration of the lively
interest he felt in the dissections of uncommon
animals which came in his way in the Scottish
metropolis. "At one of these we happened to be
present. It was the dissection of a beluga, or white
whale. Never shall we forget the enthusiasm of the
doctor wading to his knees amongst the viscera of
the great tenant of the deep, alternately cutting
away with his large and dexterous knife, and regaling
his nostrils with copious infusions of snuff, while he
pointed out, in his usual felicitous manner, the
various contrasts or agreements of the forms of the
viscera with those of other animals and of man."
Barclay was the means of establishing, under the
auspices of the Highland Society, a veterinary school
in Edinburgh. He might be called an enthusiast
in his profession: there was no branch of anatomy,
whether practical or theoretical, that he had not
cultivated with the utmost care; he had studied the
works of tlie ancient and modern, foreign and
British, anatomists with astonishing diligence. What-
ever related to natural science was certain of interest-
ing him. The benevolence and generosity of his
temper were also unbounded. No teacher was ever
more generally beloved by his pupils than Dr.
I3arclay, to which his uniform kindness and affability,
and readiness to promote their interest upon every
occasion, greatly contributed. Many young men in
straitened circumstances were permitted to attend
his instructions gratuitously; and he has even been
known to furnish them with the means of feeing
other lecturers.

It is a curious circumstance, that Dr. Barclay
often declared that he had neither the sense of taste
nor of smell.

His lait appearance in the lecture-room was in
1825, when he delivered the introductory lecture.
He died 21st .Vugust, 1826, and was buried at
Restalrig, near Edinburgh, llie family burying-ground
of his father-in-law Sir James Campl)ell. His
funeral was attended by the Royal College of
Surgeons as a body.

A bust of Dr. Barclay, subscribed for by his
pupils, and executed by Joseph, was presented to
the College of Surgeons, to which he bequeathed
his museum — a valuable collection of specimens,
]5articularly in comparative anatomy, and which is
to retain his name. His design in this legacy was
to prevent it fn^m being brol-cen up and scattered
after his death.

BARCLAY, John, son of William Barclay, was
V)orn at I'ontamousson in F" ranee, January 28, 1582,
and was educated under the care of Jesuits. When

only nineteen years old, he published notes on the
Thebais of Statius. He was the innocent cause of
a quarrel between his father and the Jesuits, in con-
sequence of which the family removed to England,
in 1603. At the beginning of the year 1604
young Barclay presented a poetical panegyric to
the king, under the title of Kaleiida; yaniiaria.
To this monarch he soon after dedicated the first
part of his celebrated Latin satire entitled Euphor-
mioii. John Barclay, like many young men of
genius, was anxious for distinction, qiwattujue tnodo,
and, having an abundant conceit of his own abilities,
and looking upon all other men as only fit to furnish
him with matter of ridicule, he launched at the very
first into the dangerous field of general satire. He
confesses in the Apology which he afterwards pub-
lished for his Euphormion, that, "as soon as he left
school, a juvenile desire of fame incited him to attack
tlie "whole world, rather with a view of promoting his
own reputation than of dishonouring individuals."
We must confess that this grievous early fault of
Barclay was only the transgression of a very spirited
character. He says, in his dedication oi Etiphormioi
to King James, written when he was two-and-twenty,
that he was ready, in the service of his majesty, to
convert his pen into a sword, or his sword into a
pen. His prospects at this court were unfortunately
blighted, like those of his father, by the religious
contests of the time; and in 1604 the family returned
to France. John, however, appears to have spent
the next year chiefly in England, probably upon
some renewal of his prospects at the court of King
James. Li 1606, after the death of his father, he
returned to France, and at Paris married Louisa
Debonnaire, with whom he soon after settled at
London. Here he published the second part of his
Etipkor/nio?!, dedicating it to the Earl of Salisbury,
a minister in whom he could find no fault but his
excess of virtue. Lord Hailes remarks, as a sur]:iris-
ing circumstance, that the writer who could discover
no faults in .Salisbury, aimed the shafts of ridicule at
Sully; but nothing can be less surprising in such a
person as Barclay. A man who satirized only for
the sake of personal eclat, would as easily flatter in
gratitude for the least notice. It should also be
recollected, that many minds do not, till the ap-
])roach of niidtlle life, acquire the power of judging
accurately regarding virtue and vice, or merit and
demerit: all principles, in such minds, are jumbled
like the elements of the earth in chaos, and are only
at length reduced to order by the overmastering
influence of the understanding. In the dis]iosition
which seems to have characterized Barclay for
flattering those who patronised him, he endeavoured
to please King James, in the second part of the
Eupliormioii, by satirizing tobacco and the Puritans.
In this year he also jniblished an account of the
Gunpowder Plot, a work remarked to be singularly
impartial, considering the religion of the writer.
I)uring the course of three years' residence in I'^ng-
land, Barclay received no token of the royal liber-
ality. Sunk in intligence, with an increasing family
calling for supjiort, he only wished to be indemnified
for his English journeys, and to have his charges
defrayed into France. At length he was relieved
from his distresses l)y his patron .Salisbury. Of
these circumstances, so familiar and so discouraging
to men of letters, we are informed by some allegorical
and obscure verses written by Barclay at that sad
season. Having removed to France in 1609, he
next year ])ublished \\\s Apology for t/ie Eiip/ior/iiion.
This denotes that he came to see the folly of a
general contempt for mankind at the age of twenty-
eight. How he su]iportcd himself at this time

JOHN BARCLAY. ROBERT BARCLAY.

89

does not appear; hut he is found, in 1614, publishing
liis Icon Animantni, which is declared by a compe-
tent critic to be the best, though not tlie most
celebrated, of his works. It is a delineation of the
genius and manners of the European nations, with
remarks, moral and philosophical, on the various
tempers of men. It is pleasant to observe that in
this work he does justice to the .Scottish people. In
161 5 Hurclay is said to have been invited l)y Pope
I'aul V. to Rome. He had previously lashed the
holy court in no measured terms; but so marked a
Iioniage from this quarter to his distinction in letters,
as usual, softened his feelings, and he now accord-
ingly shifted his family thither, and lived the rest of
his life under the jjrotection of the pontiff. In 1617
lie published at Rome his Pamtusis ad Sectarios,
Libra Duo; a work in which he seems to have aimed
at atoning for his former sarcasms at tlic pope, by
attacking those whom his holiness called heretics.
Barclay seems to have been honoured with many
marks of kindness, not only from the pope, but also
from Cardinal Barberini; yet it does not appear that
he obtained much emolument. Incumbered with a
wife and family, and having a spirit al)ove his
fortune, this omission must have been peculiarly
trying. It was at tiiat time that he composed his
Latin romance called Argeitis. He employed his
vacant hours in cultivating a flower garden; and
Rossi relates, in his turgid Italian style, that Barclay
cared not for those bulbous roots which produce
flowers of a sweet scent, but cultivated such as pro-
duced flowers void of smell, but having variety of
colours. Hence we may conclude that he was
among the first of those wiio were infected with that
strange disease, a passion for tulips, which soon after
overspread Europe, and is commemorated under the
name of the tulipo-iitania. liarclay might tnily
have saiil with Virgil, ^'' Tanttis amor jlontml" He
had two mastiffs placed as sentinels to protect his
garden; and rather tiian abandon his favourite flowers,
chose to continue his residence in an ill-aired and
unwholesome situation.

This extraordinary genius, who seems to have
combined the pcrfcrviJum iit^cniuui of his father's
country with the mercurial vivacity of his mother's,
died at Rome on the I2th of August, 1621, in the
thirty-ninth year of his age. He left a wife, who
had tormented him much with jealousy (throtigh
the ardour of her affection, as he explained it),
besides three children, of whom two were i)oys. tie
also left in the hands of the printer his celebrated
.Irj^c'/tis, and also an unpublished history of the
conquest of Jerusalem, and some fragments of a
general history of Kuro;)e. He was buried in the
church of ."^t. Onuphrius, and his widow erected a
monument to him, with his bust in marl^Ie, at the
cluirch of St. Lawrence, on the road to Tivoli. A
strange circumstance caused the destruction of this
tropliy. Cardinal Barberini chanced to erect a
munumeut, exactly similar, at the same place, to his
preceptor, l^cmarJiis GtilicHiis a iiioiite Saiuti Sa/'iiii.
When the widow of IS.irclay heard of this, slie said,
"My hu.->l)and was a man of birth, and famous in
the literary wniM; 1 wtII not suffer him to remain
on a level with a ba^e and obscure pedagogue."
She therefore cau-otl the Inist to be removed, and
the inscrijitinn to he (>l)Hterate(l. The account given
of the .■l>\riiis I'v Lord Hailes, who wrote a life of
John Barclay as a >;iecinien of a l^io^rapliia Scotica}
is as follows: '•Aryans is generally supposed to be
a history under feigned names, and not a romance.

' Prime J in 4t''. in i-
skctch.

uiui-ujr'r. of the prc>cr.t

Barclay himself contributed to establish this opinion,
by introducing some real characters into the work.
But that was merely to compliment certain digni-
taries of the church, whose good offices he courted,
or whose power he dreaded. The key prefixed to
Argenis has jierpetuated the error. There are, no
doubt, many incidents in it that allude to the state
of France during the civil wars in the seventeenth
century; but it requires a strong imagination indeed
to discover Queen Elizal)eth in Hyanisl)e, or Henry
HI. of France in Meleander." On the whole,
Argenis appears to be a jjoetical fable, replete with
moral and political reflections. Of this work three
English translations have appeared, the last in 1772;
but it now only enjoys the reflective reputation of a
work that was once in high re[nite. We may quote,
however, the opinion which Cowjjcr was pleased to
express regarding this singular production. "It is,"
says the poet of Olney, "the most amusing romance
that ever was written. It is the only one, indeed,
of an old date, that I had ever the patience to go
through with. It is interesting in a high degree,
richer in incident than can be imagined, full of sur-
prises, which the reader never forestalls, and yet
free from entanglement and confusion. The style
too appears to me to be such as would not dishonour
Tacitus himself."

BAECLAY, Robert, the celebrated apologist
for the Quakers, was born on the 23d of December,
1648, at Gordonstoun, in Moray. His father,
Colonel David Barclay, of Ur\-, was the son of
David Barclay of Mathers, the representative of an
old Scoto-Xorman family, which traced itself, through
fifteen intervening generations, to Theobald de
Berkeley, who acquired a settlement in Scotland at
the beginning of the tv.elftli century. The mother
of the apologist was Catherine Gordon, daughter of
Sir Robert Gordon of Gordonstoun, the premier
baronet of Nova Scotia, and well-known historian
of the house of Sutherland.

The ancient family of De Berkeley became pos-
sessed of the estate of Mathers, by marriage, in the
year 1351. Alexander de Berkeley, who flourished
in the fifteenth centur}-, is said to have been the first
laird of Mathers wiio changed the name to Barclay.
David, the grandfather of the apologist, was rctluced
to such difficulties as to be obliged to sell the estate
of Mathers, after it ha<l been between two and tliree
hundred years in the family, as also the more ancient
inheritance, which had been the property of the
family from its first settlement in Scotland in the
days of King David I. His son David, the fath.er
of the apologist, was consequently obliged to seek
his fortune as a volunteer in the Scottish brigatles in
the service of Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweilen.
Tills gentleman, like many others of his countrymen
and fellow-soldiers, returned home on the brcakirig
out of the religious troubles in Scotland, and receivei
the command of a troop of horse. H.iving joir.ed
the a nil y raised by the Duke of Hamilton in 164S
for the relief of Charles I., he was subsei;i;ci;ily
dejirived of his command, at the instance oi ( ^\\\-^x
Cromwell; and he never after\\ari!s appeared in any
military transactions. During the ]iii)tector.-.;e. lie
was several times sent as a representative \\'W\
Scotland to Cromwell's parliaments, and. i:i th|-
capacity, is said t<i have unitV>rmly exerted iiimseit
to repress the ambitioiis design- of the t'l. teetor.
.\fter the rest, iration, David I'.arclay \vr.- c -nMnittcd
prisoner to Kdinl)urgh Castle, tqion s< -nie -;■• ■undless
charge of hostility to the g' .vennnent. He wa- soon
at'ter liberated, througli the interest o{ tiie F.arl o'i
MidiUetun, with who'm he had served ;:i ti.e civil

90

ROBERT BARCLAY,

war. But during this imprisonment, a change of the
highest importance, both to himself and his son, had
come over his mind. In the same prison was con-
fined the celebrated laird of Swinton, who, after
figuring under the protectorate as a lord of session,
and a zealous instrument for the support of Crom-
well's interest in .Scotland, had, during a sliort
residence in England before the restoration, adopted
the principles of Quakerism, then recently pro-
mulgated for the first time by George Fox, and was
now more anxious to gain proselytes to that body
than to defend his life against the prosecution that
awaited him. When this extraordinary person was
placed on trial before parliament, he might have
easily eluded justice by pleading that the parlia-
mentary attainder upon which he was now charged
had become null by the rescissory act. But he
scorned to take advantage of any plea suggested by
worldly lawyers. He answered, in the spirit of his
sect, that when he committed the crimes laid to his
charge he was in the gall of bitterness and bond of
iniquity, but that God having since called him to
the light, he saw and acknowledged his past errors,
and did not refuse to pay the forfeit of them, even
though in their judgment this should extend to his
life. His speech was, though modest, so majestic,
and, though expressive of the most perfect patience,
so pathetic, that it appeared to melt the heart of his
judges, and, to the surprise of all who remembered
his past deeds, he was recommended to the royal
mercy, while many others, far less obnoxious, were
treated with unrelenting severity. Such was the
man who inoculated David Barclay with those prin-
ciples of which his son was destined to be the most
distinguished advocate.

Rol)ert Barclay, the subject of the present article,
received the rudiments of learning in his native
country, and was afterwards sent to the Scots college
at Paris, of which his uncle Robert (son to the last
Barclay of Mathers) was rector. Here he made
such rapid advances in his studies, as to gain the
notice and praise of the masters of the college; and
he also became so great a favourite with his uncle,
as to receive the offer of being made his heir, if he
would remain in France. But his father, fearing
that he might be induced to emlirace the Catholic
faith, went, in comjiliance with his mother's dying
request, to Paris to bring him home, when he
was not much more than sixteen years of age.
The uncle still endeavoured to prevent his return,
and proposed to purchase for him, and present to
him immediately, an estate greater than his paternal
one. Ro!)ert replied, "He is my father, and must
be ol)eyed." Thus, even at a very early age, he
showed how far he could prefer a sacred princijjle to
any view of private intenj?>t, however dazzling. His
uncle is said to have felt much chagrin at his refusal,
and to have consequently left his j)roperty to the
college and to other religious houses in France.

The return of Robert Barclay to his native country
took i)lace in 1664, about two years before his father
made oyian jirofession of the princii)les of the Society
of Friends. He was now, even at the early age of
sixteen, jierfectiy skilled in the French and Latin
languages, the latter of which he could write and
speak with wonderful fluency and correctness; he
had also a conqietent knowledge <jf the sciences.
With regard to the state of his feelings on the subject
of religion at this early j^eriod of life, he says, in his
Treatise on Universal Lenje: "My first education,
from my infancy, fell amongst the strictest sort of
Calvinists; those of our country being generally ac-
knowledged to be the severest of that sect; in the
heat of zeal surpassing not only Geneva, from whence

they derive their pedigree, but all other the re-
formed churches abroad, so called. I had scarce got
out of my childhood, when I was, by the permission
of divine providence, cast among the company of
Papists; and my tender years and immature capacity
not being able to withstand and resist the insinua-
tions that were used to jjroselyte me to that way, I
became quickly defiled with the pollutions thereof,
and continued therein for a time, until it pleased
God, through his rich love and mercy, to deliver me
out of those snares, and to give me a clear under-
standing of the evil of tliat way. In both these sects
I had abundant occasion to receive impressions con-
trary to this principle of love:- seeing the straitness
of several of their doctrines, as well as their practice
of persecution, do abundantly declare how opposite
they are to universal love. The time that intervened
betwixt my forsaking the Church of Rome, and
joining those with whom I now stand engaged, I
kept myself free from joining with any sort of people,
though I took liberty to hear several; and my con-
verse was most with those that inveigh much against
judging, and such kind of severity; which latitude
may perhaps be esteemed the other extreme, opposite
to the precisencss of these other sects; whereby I
also received an opportunity to know what usually
is pretended on that side likewise. As for those I
am now joined to, I justly esteem them to be the
true followers and servants of Jesus Christ."

In his Apology he communicates the following
account of his conversion to the principles previously
embraced by his father. "It was not," he says,
"by strength of argument, or by a particular dis-
quisition of each doctrine, and convincement of my
understanding thereby, that I came to receive and
bear witness of the truth, but by being secretly
reached by this life. For when I came into the
silent assemblies of God's people, I felt a secret
power amongst them which touched my heart; and
as I gave way unto it, I found the evil weakening in
me, and the good raised up; and so I became thus
knit and united unto them, hungering more and
more after the increase of this power and life,
whereby I might find myself perfectly redeemed."
According to his friend William Penn, it was in the
year 1667, when only nineteen years of age, that he
iully liecame "convinced, and publicly owned the
testimony of the true light, enlightening every man."
"This writer," says he, "came early forth a zealous
and fervent witness for it [the true light], enduring
the cross and despising the shame that attended his
discipleshij), and received the gift of the ministry as
his greatest honour, in which he laboured to bring
others to God, and his labour was not in vain in the
Lord." The tme grounds of Barclay's predilection
for the meek princi])les of the Friends is perhaps to
be found in his physical temperament. On arriving
in Scotland, in 1664, with a heart open to every
generous inqiulse, his mild nature ajipears, from one
of the alxjve extracts of his own writings, to have
lieen shocked by the mutual hostility which existed
between the adherents of the established ami the dis-
established churches. While these \^ofX\c^i judged of
each other in the severest s])irit, they joined in one
point alone — a sense of the propriety of jiersccuting
the new and strange sect called Quakers, from whom
both might rather have learned a lesson of forbear-
ance and toleration. Barclay, who, from his French
education, was totally free of all ])rejudices on either
side, seems to have deliberately preferred that sect
which alone, of all others in his native country, pro-
fc>se(i to regard every denomination of fcIlow-Cliris-
tian^ witli an equal feeling of kindness.

In February, 1C69-70, Roi:)ert Barclay married

ROBERT BARCLAY.

91

Christian Mollison, daughter of Gilbert Mollison,
merchant in Aberdeen; and on his marriage settled
at Ury with his father. The issue of this marriage
was three sons and four daughters, all of whom
survived him, and were living fifty years after his
death. Robert Barclay after his marriage lived
about sixteen years with his father; in which time
he wrote most of those works by which his fame has
been established. All his time, however, was not
])assed in endeavouring to serve the cause of religion
with his pen. He both acted and suffered for it.
His whole existence, indeed, seems to have been
henceforth devoted to the interests of that profession
of religion which he had adopted. In prosecution
of his purpose, he made a number of excursions into
England, Holland, and particular parts of Germany;
teaching, as he went along, the universal and saving
light of Christ, sometimes vocally, but as often, we
may suppose, by what he seems to have considered
the far more powerful manner, expressive silence.
In these peregrinations, the details of which, had
they been preserved, would have been deeply in-
teresting, he was on some occasions accompanied by
the famous William Penn, and probably also by
others of the brethren.

The first of his publications in the order of time
was, " Truth cleared of Calumnies, occasioned by
a book entitled A Dialogue behveen a Quaker and
a Stable Christian, written by the Rev. William
Mitchell, a minister or preacher in tlie neighbour-
hood of Aberdeen." "The Quakers," says a defender
of the Scottish church, "were, at this time, only
newly risen up; they were, like every new sect, ob-
trusively forward ; some of their tenets were of
a startling and some of them of an incomprehensible
kind, and to the rigid Presbyterians especially they
were exceedingly offensive. Hearing these novel
opinions, not as simply stated and held by the
Quakers, who were, generally speaking, no great
logicians, but in their remote consequences, they
regarded tiiem with horror, and in the heat of their
zeal, it must be confessed, often lost sight both of
charity and truth. They thus gave their generally
passive opponents great advantages over them.
Barclay, who was a man of great talents, was certainly
in this instance successful in refuting many false
charges, and rectifying many forced constructions
that had been put upon parts of their practice, and,
upon the whole, setting the character of his silent
brethren in a more favourable light than formerly;
though he was far from having demonstrated, as
these brethren fondly imagined, 'the soundness and
.Scrijiture verity of their principles.'" This pul)!ica-
tion was dated at Ury, the 19th of the second month,
1670, aiul in the eleventh montli of the same year,
ho added to it, by way of appendix, "Some things
of wei:;lny concernment proposed in meekness and
love, hy way of queries, to the serious consideration
of the inhabitants of Aberdeen, which also may be
ot u>e to such as are of the same mind with lliem
elsewhere in this nation." These queries, twenty in
nunihcr. were more particularly directed to Messrs.
David I.yal, George .Meldrum, and John Menzies,
the ministers of .-Vberdecn, who had, not only from
the pulpit i'orl)i<l(len their people to read the afore-
said treati>e, but had applied to the magistrates of
Abenlcen to suppress it. Mitchell wrote a reply to
Trutii cleared of Calunuiits, and on the 24th (lav of
the tenth month. 1671, Barclay finished a rejoinder
at L'ry. under the title of // 'ilUaiu Mitchell Unmasked,
or the Sla-e;erutr Instahdity of the I'retended Stable
Chns'um Discos ered ; his Omissions Ohser'red, and
Weakr.ess CnzaHed. Ov;c. Tliis goes over the same
ground with the former treatise, and is seasoned

with several severe strokes of sarcasm against these
Aberdonians, who, "notwithstanding they harJ sworn
to avoid a detestable naitrality, could now preach
under the bishop, dispense with the doxology, fur-
bear lecturing and other parts of the directorial
discipline, at the bishop's order, and yet keep a re-
serve for presbytery in case it came again in fashion."
He also turns some of William Mitchell's arguments
against himself with great ingenuity, though still he
comes far short of establishing his own theorj-. It
is worthy of remark, that, in this treatise, he has
frequent recourse to Richard Baxter's aphorisms on
justification, whose new law scheme of the gospel
seems to have been very much to the taste of the
Quaker. It appears to have been on the appearance
of this publication that, "for a sign and wonder to
the generation," he walked through the chief streets
of the city of Aberdeen, clothed in sackcloth and
ashes; on which occasion he published (in 1672)
a Seasonable Warning and Serious Exhortation to,
and Expostulation zvith, the Inhabitants of Aberdeen,
concerning this present Dispensation and Day of
Gods Living Visitatioii to^wards them.

His next perfonnance was, A Catechism and Con-
fession of Eaith, the answers to the cjuestions being
all in the express words of Scripture; and the pre-
face to it is dated, "From Urj', the place of my
being, in my native country of Scotland, the nth of
the sixth month, 1673." This was followed by
The Anarchy of the Ranters, &c.

We now come to his great work, ".-^w Apology for
the true Christian Divinity, as the same is held forth
and preached by the People called in scorn Quakers:
being a full explanation and vindication of their
principles and doctrines, by many arguments deduced
from Scripture and right reason, and the testimonies
of famous authors, both ancient and modern; with
a full answer to the strongest objections usually made
against them. Presented to the king. Written and
published in Latin for the infonnation of strangers,
by Robert Barclay, and now put into our own lan-
guage for the benefit of his countrvmen." The
epistle to the king, prefixed to this elaborate work,
is dated, "From Ury, the place of my pilgrimage,
in my native countn.' of .Scotland, the 25th of the
month called November, 1675." This epistle is not
a little curious, among other things, for the ardent
anticijiations which the writer indulges with regard
to the increase and future prevalence of the doctrines
of the Quakers, which he calls "the gospel now
again revealed after a long and dark night of apostasy,
and commanded to be preached to all nations.'
After some paragraphs, sufficiently complimentaiy
to the peaceable habits of his silence-loving brethren.
he tells his majesty that "generations to come will
not more admire that singular step of Divine Provi-
dence, in restoring thee to thy throne without blood-
shed, than they shall admire the increase and proL;rc-s
of this truth without all outward help, and agaii>t
so great opposition, which shall be none of the lea-t
things rendering thy memory remarkable." In
looking back upon the atrocities tliat marked t'r.c
reign of Charles II., the growth of r)uakLri-;n '. -
scarcely ever thought of, an<l the suffering> "t ;'-,
professors are nearly invisil)le, by rea--on ot t!ic t.;r
greater sufferings of another branch o! the (.lir;-i'an
church. Though led by his entlui>ia~:n inli:-"^\:l
cause to overrate it, Barclay certair.ly ha<l iv) ir/ni,-
tion of llattering the king, '"(iol.'' lie goc> '-v. tii
tell him, "hath done great things f^r tlice; he i;at;:
sufficiently shown thee th.it it is l>y him jrincc- rule.
and that he can juill down and .~ei up at hi-- : !ca>ure.
Thou ha^t tasted of prosperity an^l a'.vcr-ity; tli.ju
knuwe^t wh.it it is tu be banijiied th.y riaiivc coiuru'v,

92

ROBERT BARCLAY.

to be overruled as well as to rule and sit upon the
throne, ami i)eing oppressed thou hast reason to know
how hateful the oppressor is. both to God and man.
If after all these warnings and advertisements, thou
dost not turn unto the Lonl w ith all thy heart, but
forget him who remembered thee in thy distress, and
give up thyself to lust and vanity, surely great will
be thy condemnation."

The Apology is a most elaborate work, indicating
no small portion of both talent and learning. It
contains, indeed, the sum of the author's thoughts
in those treatises we have already mentioned, as well
as in those which he afterwards published, digested
into fifteen propositions, in which are include<l all the
peculiar notions of the sect: — immediate revelation;
the universal spiritual light; silent worship; perfec-
tion; the rejection of the Sabbath and the sacraments,
&c. iv:c. This is done with great aj^parent simplicity,
and many plausible reasons, a number of excellent
thoughts being struck out by the way; yet they are
far from being satisfactory, and never will be so to
any who are not already strongly possessed with an
idea of the internal light in man, to which the author
holds even the Scriptures tliemselves to be sub-
ordinate. There are, indeed, in tlie book, many
sophisms, many flat contradictions, and many asser-
tions that are incapable of any proof. The appeals
which he makes to his own experience for the proof
of his doctrines are often not a little curious, and
strongly illustrative of his character, as well as of the
principles he had adopted.

The same year in which he published \.\\q Apology,
he published an account of a dispute with the
students of Aberdeen, which touches little besides
the folly of such attempts to establish tnith or con-
fute error. The following year, in conjunction with
George Keith, he put forth a kind of second part to
the foregoing article, which they entitled Quakerism
Confirmed, being an anyii-er to a pamphlet by Ike
Aberdeen Students, entitled Quakerism Canvassed.
This treats only of matters to be found in a better
form in the Apology. In the first month of the year
J677, from Aberdeen prison, he wrote his treatise
of Universal Lofc; and in the end of the same year
he wrote from his house at Ury, An Epistle 0/ Love
and Friendly Advice to the Ambassadors of the several
Princes of Europe, met at Nimeguen, to consult the
peace of Christendom so far as they are concerned;
■Zi'herein the true cause of the present war is discovered,
and the right remedy and means for a firm and
settled peace is proposed. This last was written in
Latin, but published also in EngUsh for the benefit
of his cnuitrymen. Both of the above tracts de-
serve serious penisal. In 1679 he ])ublished a vin-
dication of his Apolo':;y: and iii 1686 his last work,
The Possibility and Xecessity of the In'cvard and Imme-
diate Pcvelatuvi of the Spirit of God tcrwards the foun-
dation and ground of true faith; in a letter to a person
of (juality in Holland; ]iublished both in Latin and
English. In neither of tiiese, in our opinion, has
he added anything to his Apology, which, as we have
already said, contains the sum of all that he has
written or jjuljlished.

In the latter j)art of his life, Barclay obtained, by
the influence of iiis taleiUs and the sincerity and
simjilicity of his character and professions, an exemj)-
tion from that ])ersecution whicii marked his early
years. lie had also contributed in no small degree,
by the eloquence of his writings in defence of the
Friends, to procure for them a considerable share of
public respect. He is even found, strangely encjugh,
to have latterly possessed some influence at tlie
dissolute court of Charles II. In 1679 he obtained
a charter from this monarch, under tiie great seal,

erecting his lands of Ury,'' into a free barony, with
civil and criminal jurisdiction to him and his heirs.
This charter was afterwards ratified by an act of
parliament, the preamble of which states it to be
"for tlie many services done by Colonel David
Barclay, and his son the said Robert Barclay, to
the king and his most royal progenitors in times
past." Another and more distinguished mark of
court favour was conferred upon him in 1682, when
he received the nominal appointment of governor of
East Jersey, in North America, from the proprietors
of that province, of whom his friend the Earl of
Perth was one. He was also himself made a pro-
prietor, and had allotted to him 5000 acres of land
above his proprietary share, as inducements for his
acceptance of the dignity, which, at the same time,
he was permitted to depute. The royal commission
confirming this grant states, that such are his known
fidelity and capacity, that he has the government
during life, but that no other governor after him
shall have it for more than three years. One of his
brothers settled in the province, but he never visited
it himself. In this year we find him assisting the
Laird of Swinton with his interest and purse at
Edinburgh; thus answering practically and freely the
apostolic expostulation (i Cor. ix. 11), by permit-
ting Swinton to reap carnal things, who had sown
spiritual things to his family.

The remainder of his life is not marked with many
instances of public action. Much of it appears to
have been passed in tranquillity, and in the bosom
of his family; yet he occasionally undertook journeys
to promote his private concerns, to serve his rela-
tions and neighbours, or to maintain the cause of
his brethren in religious profession. He was in
London in 1685, and had frequent access to King
James II., who had all along evinced a warm friend-
ship towards him. Barclay, on the other hand,
thinking James sincere in his faith, and perhaps in-
fluenced a little by the flattery of a prince's favour,
appears to have conceived a real regard for this
misguided and imprudent monarch. Liberty of con-
science having been conceded to the Friends on the
accession of James II., Barclay exerted his influence
to procure some parliamentary arrangement, by which
they might be exempted from the harsh and ruinous
prosecutions to which they were exposed, in conse-
quence of their peculiar notions as to the exercise
of the law. He. was again in London on this
business in 1686, on wliich occasion he visited the
seven bishops then confined in the Tower for hav-
ing refused to distribute in their respective dioceses
the king's declaration for liberty of conscience, and
for having represented to the king the grounds of
their objection to the measure. Tlie po]iular ojMnion
was in favour of the bishops; yet the former severities
of some of the episcopal order against dissenters,
particularly against the Friends, occasioned some
reflections on them. This having come to the
knowledge of the imprisoned bishops, they declared
that "the Quakers had l)elicd them, by rejiorting
that they hail been the death of some." Robert
Barclay, being informed of this declaration, went to
the Tower, and gave their lordships a well-substan-
tiated account of some persons having been detained
in prison till death by order of bishops, though
they had been ajijirised of the danger by jdiysicians
who were not Quakers. He, however, observed to
the bishops, that it was by no means the intention
of tlie P'riends to publish such events, and thereby
give tiie king and their other adversaries any ad-

1 His fallicr had died in 1C76, leaving him in pobscssion of
this cbtatc.

WILLIAM BARCLAY

vantage against them. Darclay was in London, for
the last time, in the memorable year 1688. He
visited James II., and being with him near a
window, the king looked out, and observed that
**tiie wind was then fair for the Prince of Orange to
come over." Robert Barclay replied, "it was hard
that no expedient could be found to satisfy the
people." The king declared "he would do any-
thing becoming a gentleman, except parting with
liberty of conscience, which he never would whilst
he lived." Barclay took a final leave of the un-
fortunate king, for whose disasters he was much
concerned, and with whom he had been several
times engaged in serious discourse.

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

" He was distinguished by strong mental powers,
particularly by great penetration, and a sound and
accurate judgment. His talents were much improved
by a regular and classical education. It does not,
however, appear that his superior qualifications pro-
duced that elation of mind which is too often tlieir
attendant: he was meek, humljle, and ready to allow
to others the merit they possessed. All his passions
were under tlie most excellent government. Two
of his intimate friends, in their character of him,
declare that they never knew him to be angry. He
had the happiness of early perceiving the infinite
superiority of religion to every other attainment; and
the Divine grace enabled him to dedicate his life,
and all that he possessed, to promote the cause of
piety and virtue. P'or the welfare of his friends he
was sincerely and warmly concerned: and he travelled
and wrote much, as well as suffered cheerfully, in
support of the society and the principles to which he
had conscientiously attached himself. But this was
not a blind and bigoted attachment. His zeal was
tempered with charity; and he loved and respected
goodness wherever he found it. His uncorrupted
integrity and liberality of sentiment, his great abilities
and suavity of disposition, gave him much interest
with persons of rank and intluence, and he employed
it in a manner that marked the benevolence of his
heart. He loved peace, and was often instrumental
in settling disputes, and in producing reconciliations
between contending parties. ... In private
life he was equally amiable. His conversation was
cheerful, guarded, and instmctive. He was a dutiful
son, an atTectionate and faithful husband, a tender
and careful father, a kind and considerate master.
Without exaggeration, it may l>e said, that piety and
virtue were recommended by his example; and that,
though the period of his life was short, he had, by
the aid of divine grace, most wisely and hajipily
improved it. He lived long enough to manifest, in
an eminent degree, the teniper and conduct of a
Christian, and tlie virtues and qualifications of a true
minister of tlie gospel.''

BARCLAY, William, an eminent civilian, and
fitlier of the still more ceiel)rated author of the
Ar^iiiis, was descended from one of the best families
in Scotland under the rank of nol)ilit\', and was

LADY ANNE BARNARD.

93

1 .-J .V/;<'r/ AcwDit ,y ::u Lfjl- and ii'ri:{,:^s r/ Kch
Carji'.iy, Lonjun, iSoi.

bom in .M)crdeenshirc, in 1541. He spent his early
years in the court of Queen Mary, with wh<jm he
was in high favour. After her captivity in England,
disgusted with the turbulent state of his native
country, which promised no advantage to a man of
learning, he removed to France (1573), and began
to study the law at Bourges. Having in time quali-
fied himself to teach the civil law, he was ajjpointed
by the Duke of Lorrain, througii the recommend.i-
tlon of his kinsman Kdmund Hay, the Jesuit, to l>c
a professor of that .science in the university of I'on-
tamousson, l)eing at tlie same time counsellor of
state and master of requests to his ])rincely patron.
In 1581 he married Anne de Maleviile, a young
lady of Lorrain, by whom he had his son John, the
subject of a preceding article. This youth showed
tokens of genius at an early period, and was sought
from his father by the Jesuits, that he might enter
their society. The father, thinking proper to refu^e
the request, became an object of such wrath to that
learned and unscnipulous fraternity, that he was
compelled to abandon all his preferments, and seek
refuge in England. This was in 1603, just at the
time when his native sovereign had acceded to the
throne of England. James I. offered him a pension,
and a place in his councils, on condition that he
would embrace the Protectant faith; but though
indignant at the intrigues of the Jesuits, he W(ju!d
not desert their religion. In 1604 he letunied to
Erance, and became professor of civil law at Angers,
where he taught for a considerable time with higli
reputation. It is said that he entertained a very-
high sense of the dignity of his office. He used to
"go to school every day, attended by a servant who
went before him, himself having a rich robe lined
with ermine, the train of which was supported by
two servants, and his son upon his right hand; and
there hung about his neck a great chain of gold,
with a medal of gold with his own picture." Such
was, in those days, the pomp and circumstance of
the profession of civil law. He did not long enjoy
this situation, dying towards the close of 1605. He
is allowed to have been very learned, not only in the
civil and canon law, but in the classical languages,
and in ecclesiastical history. But his prejudices
were of so violent a nature as to obscure both his
genius and erudition. He zealously maintained the
at:)solute power of monarchs, and had an illiberal
antipathy to the Protestant religion. His works are:

1. A Coutrozcrsial Treatise on the I\cva! /''Tivr,
against Bitc/iaiian ana' other A'ifig-killers, Paris, 1600;

2. A Treatise on the Poicer 0/ the Pope, sho^.oiiig that
he has no Right of Rule ozer Seeiilar Princes, l6cx};

3. A Commentary on the litle of the Pandects de
Re/'is Creditis. (kc. ; 4. .•/ Commentary on Tacitus
Life of Agrieola. All these works, as well as tlicir
titles, are in Latin.

BARNARD, Lady Anne. This lady, wlio by
a single song has immortalized her name, was tl;c
eldest daughter of the fifth Earl of P.alcarres. SI.j
was born on the 8th of December, 1750, and i;n ler
circumstances that were grievou^ly si;li\er>ive '■! a
cherished prediction. "There had long exi~ied a
prophecy that the first child of the last tie.-cen':.-:!.', • t
the house of I'alcarres was to re>tore tlie fanii'v > ■:
Stuart to those hereditary riglits wliieh tl'.e i'-,-;"'-!y
of James had deprived tlieni ot. The J.iu'I .U-^
seemed to have gained new life en tlie "Cca-;'t;: tl'.e
wizards and witches of the party had \"\\\-.'\ it in their
books; the devil had menti' 'ned it to . .r.e < r two nf
his ]iarticular frienci-; old ladies ha-1 re.i'. ;t Ii-av. tlie
grounds of tlieir coffee, — no wnndcr il "i.e eve;;; v,as
welcomed bv the gr.i-p uf exriring i. •; -.

94

LADY ANNE BARNARD.

In due course of time the partizans of the Pretender,
th2 soothsayers, wizards, witches, the bards, fortune-
tellers, and old ladies, were all in a group, amazed,
disconcerted, and enraged to learn that Lady Balcarres
was brought to bed of a daughter after all, — absol-
utely but a daughter." Such is her own amusing
account of the circumstances under which she was
ushered into the world. "That child," she adds,
"was the Anne Lindsay who now addresses you,
and in the arms of my nurse I promised to be a little
heiress, perhaps a heroine worthy of having my name
posted on the front of a novel."

After an account of her infancy and youth written
in the same lively style. Lady Anne Lindsay (for
this was her maiden name) gives an account of the
education by which her mind was formed. Not the
least of her intellectual advantages was the society
with which she was brought in contact, in her occa-
sional visits to Edinburgh; and among the dis-
tinguished of the day whom she met in that city, may
be mentioned, Henry Mackenzie, author of 'J'hc
Miin of Feeling, Lord Monboddo, and in 1773 Dr.
Johnson, when he visited the northern metropolis.
One part of her self-education at her country-house
in Fifeshire is too interesting to be omitted: — "Re-
siding," she says, "in the solitude of the country,
without other sources of entertainment than what I
could draw from myself, I used to mount up to my
little closet in the high winding staircase, which
commanded the sea, the lake, the rock, the birds,
the beach, — and, with my pen in my hand, and a
few envelopes of old letters (which too often vanished
afterwards), scribble away poetically and in prose,
till I made myself an artificial happiness, which did
very well pour passer le temps, though far better
would my attempts have been had I had Margaret's
judgment to correct them."

The fruits of such training was the song of Aitld
Ko!'in Gray, which Lady Anne wrote in the beginning
of 1772, when she was twenty-one years old. As every
circumstance connected with such a matchless lyric is
interesting, and as no account can be more interesting
than that of the authoress, we give it in her own
words: — "Robin Gray, so called from its being the
name of the old herdsman at Balcarres, was born
soon after the close of 1771. My sister Margaret
had married, and accompanied her husband to
London; I was melancholy, and endeavoured to
amuse myself by attempting a few poetical trifles.
There was an ancient .Scotch melody of wliich I was
passionately fond, — Sopliy Johnston, wlio lived
before your day, used to sing it to us at Balcarres; I
longed to sing old .Sophy's air to different words, and
to give to its ])Iaintive tones some little history of
virtuous fijstress in humble life, such as might suit it.
\Vhile attem]iting to effect this in my closet, I called
to my little sister, now Lady Ilardwicke, who was
the only ]ier^on near me — 'I have been writing a
1>allad, my dear; I am o])pressing my heroine with
many misfortunes: I liave alrea<ly sent her Jamie to
sea, and broken her father's arm, and made her
mother fall sick, and given her auld Robin Gray for
a lover, but I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow in
the four lines, poor thing I help me to one, I ]>ray.'
— '.Steal the cow, sister -Xniie, said the little l^liza-
beth. The cow was immediately lifted by me, and
the song completed. At our fireside, amongst our
neighbours, Auld Kohin Gray was always called for;
I was pleased with the a]iprobation it met with, but
such was my dread of being siisj^ected of writing
anything, perceiving the shyness it created in th(jse
who could write nothing, that I carefully ke])t my
own secret. . . . ^ieantime, little as this matter
seems to have been worthy of dispute, it afterwards

became almost a party question between the sixteenth
and eighteenth centuries: Kobin Gray was either a
very, very ancient ballad, composed perhaps by
David Rizzio, and a great curiosity; or a very, very
modem matter, and no curiosity at all. I was per-
secuted to confess whether I had written it, or if not,
where I had got it. Old .Sophy kept my counsel,
and I kept my own, in spite of the gratification of
seeing a reward of twenty giuneas offered in the
newspapers to the person who should ascertain the
point past a doubt, and the still more flattering

circumstance of a visit from Mr. J , secretary to

the Antiquarian Society, who endeavoured to entrap
the truth from me in a manner I took amiss. Had
he asked me the question obligingly, I should have
told him the fact distinctly, but confidentially; the
annoyance, however, of this important ambassador
from the antiquaries was amply repaid to me by
the noble exhibition of the ballet of Auld l\ohi)t
Gray^s Courtship, as performed by dancing dogs
under my windows: — it proved its popularity from
the highest to the lowest, and gave me pleasure while
I hugged myself in my obscurity." Li the reticence
of Lady Anne, that could keep the fact of her
authorship concerded after her ballad had become
the admired of all classes, and been translated into
almost every European language, there was a power
of secretiveness more remarkable than the talent by
which such beautiful verses were created. It was
only in 1823, fifty-two years after the song had been
composed, that she broke silence, and confessed
herself the author of the song. The occasion also
was worthy of the acknowledgment. In that year,
when the tale of the Pirate appeared, the author of
IVaverley compared the condition of Minna to that of
Jeannie Gray, "the village-heroine in Lady Anne
Lindsay's beautiful ballad:" —

"Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent,
IJcspair it was come, and she thought it content:
She thought it content — but her cheek it grew pale.
And she drooped hke a snow-drop broke down by the hail."

This detection by the highest literary authority fif
the day, convinced Lady Anne that concealment was
no longer possible; and in a letter to .Sir Walter she
wrote the confession from which we have quoted.

It was not until many years after Auld A'ol'iii Gray
was written, that a second part was added to it.
It was produced also to gratify the wishes of her
mother the Countess of Balcarres, who had often said
to her, "Annie, I wish you would tell me how that
unlucky business of Jeanie and Jamie ended." I^ady
Anne had also got a hint for the develojiment of the
plot, of which she now availed herself. On hearing
the song as it first appeared, the laird of Dalzell
burst out wrathfully with, "Oh the villain ! oh the
auld rascal I / ken wha stealt the poor lassie's coo
— it was Auld Robin Gray himsel !" In the second
jiart therefore, "Auld Rob" is seized with remorse
at the sight of his broken-hearted wife's rc])ining;
t.akes tf) his bed, and after confessing that he had
stolen the cow for the jnirpose of furthering his suit,
he dies, leaving Jamie his sole heir, and recommend-
ing that the jiair should be married — an advice which
they are not slow to folhnv. But like all such
additions, the second part was a failure. The secjuel
was an abru])t intrusion upon the pleasing jxieticnl
sadness in which the first ])art left the hearers, and
they were in no mood to l>e defrauded u\ sucii a
sentimental luxury. The voice of the singer and the
feelings of the audience were too much touched by
the first part, to endure the details of the second.

Her sister Margaret, who had married very early
and become a widow, was joined in London by Latly

LADY AXNE BARNARD ANDREW BARTON.

95

Anne. The beauty and accomplishments of the two
ladies procured them a choice society and many
admirers, and the hand of Anne was sought in
marriage by several men of the first distinction in
the country. The house of the attractive sisters
in London is described by Lord Balcarres, their
brother, as having become "the meeting-place of
great and good characters, literary and political ;"
and the most distinguished of these, Burke, Sheridan,
Windham, and Dundas, confirm the assertion. The
Prince of Wales was also their familiar guest and
friend, and his attachment to Lady Anne ended only
with his life. She remained single until 1793, when
she gave her hand to Andrew Barnard, Esq., the son
of the Bishop of Limerick, an accomplished but not
wealthy gentleman, and younger than herself, whom
she accompanied to the Cape of Good IIo])e, in con-
sequence of his ap])ointment as colonial secretary
under Lord Macartney. The journals of her resi-
dence at the Cape, and of her excursions into the
interior of the country, illustrated witli drawings
and sketches of the scenes described, are still pre-
served among the family manuscripts. When in
South Africa, she had always a strong wish to visit
Australia, then only known as "Botany Bay," "not,"
she humorously adds, "from a longing to commit
a crime, but from a desire to rejoice with the angels
over repenting sinners. If one reformed rogue gives
to beatified spirits as much joy as the good conduct
of ninety-nine righteous jjcrsons, what a feeling must
be created by such a group!" Like other amiable
enthusiasts of the period, slie thought that liotany
Bay was a blessed reformatory, instead of the whole-
sale Newgate which it in reality was. "But it
would appear," she adds, "so strange a measure to
go there from choice, that I believe it would be
necessary to commit some peccadillo as an apology
to my relations for going at all." Her desire for
this trip would probably have been fulfilled, as her
husband shared in the wish, and intended on his
return to England to have taken her home by that
very circuitous route; but the peace of 1S02 com-
pelled Mr. Barnard to remain behind at the Cape,
to settle colonial business with the Dutch, while
Lady Anne went to England to procure a situation
for her husband under government, on his return —
an application, however, which was unsuccessful.

By the death of Mr. Barnard at the Cape in 1807,
Lady Anne was left a childless widow, and she
again took up her residence with her sister Margaret,
in Berkeley Square, London, until the latter was
married for the second time in 1812 to .Sir James
Burgess. After this period she continued her
honoured course in London, beloved by its choicest
society, and maintaining at the age of threescore and
ten, aiul even beyond it, that clieerfulness and con-
versational power which had made her througli her
whole lile the chann of her numerous acquaintances.
.\n amusing proof of this one day occurred when she
was entertaining a party of her friends at dinner.
Some difficulty had occurred in the kitchen arrange-
ments, on which account an old servant, who knew
tile iacxiiaustihie mental resources of her mistress,
glided to her behind her chair, and whispered in her
ear, ".My lady, you must tell another story— tlie
second course won't lie ready for five minutes." Of
the strong and abiding friendsliips she created in the
hearts of others, a jiroof was given in that of the
Prince of Wales (afterwards Cieorge IV.), who, on
the death of her hushaml, wrote to her a letter of
sympatliy, of itself sufficient to redeem his character
from the prevailing charge of selfishness. In his last
illness he also sent fir her. and after speaking to her
aUectionately, he said, "Sister. Anne (the title with

which he usually addressed her), I wished to see you,
to tell you that I love you, and wish you to accept
this golden chain for my sake — I may never see you
again." The chief literary occupation of her old
age was in writing reminiscences of the Lindsays, to
add to the family history— a task which her father,
Earl James, had commenced, and which he wished
his children to continue. "It was a maxim of my
father's," she said, "that the person who neglects to
leave some trace of his mind behind him, according
to his capacity, fails not only in his duty to society,
but in gratitude to the Author of his being, and mav
be said to have existed in vain. 'Ever)- man,' said
he, 'has felt or thought, invented or observed: alittle
of that genius which we receive fr(;m nature, or a
little of that experience which we buy in our walk
through life, if becjueathed to the community, would
ultimately become a collection to do honour to the
family where such records were preserved.'" I lence
the large and valuable additions whicli she made
to the Lizvs of the Lindsays, and tiie cojjious re-
miniscences of a long life which constitute the ])rinci-
pal charm of that interesting work. Although she
must have written much poetry as well as prose,
her characteristic shyness where her verses were in
question have made her productions of tliis kind
unknown — with the exception oi Aitld Robin Gray,
which of itself is sufficient to estal^lish her lasting
fame as a poetess. Lady Anne Barnard died on
May 6th, 1825, in the seventy-fourth year of her age.

BARTON, Andrew, High Admiral of Scotland.
The fifteenth century was the great era of mari-
time adventure and discover)'; and in these it might
have been expected that Scc)tland would have taken
her full share. The troubled state of the countn,-,
however, and the poverty of its sovereigns, prevented
the realization of such a hoi^e. There was no royal
navy, and such ships as were to be found in the
.Scottish service were merchant vessels, and the
]iroperty of private individuals. Still, there was no
lack of stout hardy sailors and skilful commanders;
and although the poverty of .Scotland was unal)le to
funiish means for remote and uncertain voyages of
discovery, the same cause made them eager to enjoy
the advantages of trafiic with those countries that
were already known. Another cause was the long
peace with England during the reign of Henry \TI.,
so that those daring spirits who could no longer find
occupation in fight or foray by land, were fain tri
have recourse to the dangers of another element.
The merchant, also, who embarked with his own
cargo, was obliged to know something more than
tlie gainful craft of a mere trarler. He was captain
as well as proiirietor, and had to add the science of
navigation and the art of warfare on sea, to that C'f
skilful Ijargaining on shore, and tluis, in every variety
of ways, his intellectual powers were tried and per-
fected. This was an occuj^aticm well fitted tu tl.c
.Scottish mind, in which it consequently Ijccanie >'i
pre-eminent, tiiat during the reigns of James HI.
and James I\'., it scLined a doiiblfid ijuestii !i
whether Scotland or I-'.ngland was to b^-ar t!:c
"meteor flag" of the i.-.land; and of the merclia:;:
captains of this period, the most di>tingr.i>!K-d v.tr.-
Sir Andrew Wood, of Largo; Sir Alexanilcr Mritb.ii-
son; William Merrimonth. of l.ciih, wlm, fr h:-
naval skill, was called the "kir.g rt tI.e.-L.i; r.;. 1
the Bartons.

This ]5arton family, wliich for two giTura'.;. :>
produced naval commander,-- of gixra ci.Ii: );■>'. t.r-i
appeared in .'-^ct.ittisli lii-t.^ry in I476. Tli;- ^'.."iS in
consequence of Joh.n liaitin. the t.-.thcr ■ f .Vmirc-.v,
liaving been idundereii, and, it I;.";; Ki.n aodc^:.

ANDREW BARTON.

murdered, by the Portuguese, who at that period
were all-prevalent upon the ocean. The unfortunate
mariner, however, had three sons, the eldest of
whom was Andrew, all brought up from boyhood in
his own profession, and not likely to allow their
father's death to pass unquestioned. Andrew accord-
ingly instituted a trial in Flanders, where the murder
was perpetrated, and obtained a verdict in his favour;
but the Portuguese refusing to pay the awarded
penalty, the Bartons applied to their own sovereign
for redress. James accordingly sent a herald to tlie
King of Portugal; but this application having also
been in vain, he granted to the Bartons letters of
reprisal, by which they were allowed to indemnify
themselves by the strong hand upon the ships of
the Portuguese. And such a commission was not
alloweil to lie idle. The Bartons immediately tlirew
themselves into the track of the richly-laden carracks
and argosies of Portugal in their homeward way
from Inilia and South America; and sucli was tlieir
success, that they not only soon indemnified them-
selves for their losses, but won a high reputation
for naval skill and valour. Among the rich Indian
spoil that was brought home on this occasion, were
several Hindoo and negro captives, whose ebony
colour and strange features astounded, and also
alarmed, the simple people of Scotland. James IV.
turned these singular visitants to account, Ijy making
them pLiy the part of Ethiopian queens and African
sorcerers in tlie masques and pageants of his court.
This was in itself a trifle, but it gave a high idea of
the growing naval importance of Scotland, when it
could produce such spectacles as even England, with
all its su]ierior wealth, power, and refinement, was
unable to furnish.

It was not merely in such expeditions which had
personal profit or revenge for their object that the
Bartons were exclusively employed; for they were in
the service of a master (James IV.) who was an
enthusiast in naval affairs, and who more tiian all his
predecessors understood tlie necessity of a fleet as
the right arm of a British sovereign. Tliis was
especially the case in his attempts to subjugate the
Scottish isles, that for centuries had persisted in re-
bellion under independent kinglings of their own,
and in every national difficulty had been wont to
invade the mainland, and sweep the adjacent dis-
tricts with fire and sword. For the purpose of re-
ducing them to complete obedience, James not only
led against them an army in person, but employed
John Barton, one of the tliree brothers, to conduct a
fleet, and invade them by sea. The use of ships in
such a kind of warfare was soon apparent: the
islanders retreated from the royal army, as hereto-
fore, in their galleys, and took refuge among their
iron-b(jund coa->ts, but found these no longer ])Iaces
of hafety when their fastnesses were assailed from the
sea, and their strong castles bonil)arded. Tiie cliiefs,
therefore, yielded themselves to the royal authority,
and from thenceforth lived in most unwonted sub-
mission. While thus the .Scottish flag waved over
those islands tiiat had hitherto Ijeen tiie strongliolds
of rebellion, another of the Bartons was employed
to vindicate its dignity abroad and among foreigners.
Tliis was Andrew, who f>r some time had held with
liis brothers the chief direction of maritime affairs in
Scotland, and been employed in the formation of a
royal navy, as well as in cruises .agaiuNt the rich
carracks of Portugal. Tiie Hollanders, in the true
sjurit of piracy by which the maritime communities
of ICurope were at tliis time inspired, had attacked
a small fleet of Scottish merchant vessels, and not
only plundered them, but murdered the crews, and
thrown their bodies into the sea. This outrage, from

a people with whom the Scots were at peace, was
not to be tolerated, and Andrew Barton was sent
with a squadron to chastise the offenders. And this
he did with a merciless severity that reminds us of
the "Douglas Larder." He captured many of the
l^iratical ships, and not only put their crews to death,
Init barrelled their heads in the empty casks which
he found in the vessels, and sent them home to his
sovereign, to prove how well he had discharged his
duty.

The time had now arrived, however, when
Andrew Barton, after having made so many suc-
cessful cruises, was to fall ujwn the deck where he
had so often stood a conqueror. His death,
also, strangely enough, was mainly owing to the
tortuous intrigues of a pontiff, about whom, it is
probable, he had heard little, and cared still less.
Julius II. having formed designs of political self-
aggrandizement which a war between h'rance and
England would have prevented, was anxious to find
the latter sufficient occupation at home, with its
turbulent neighbours, the Scots. Portuguese en-
voys, therefore, at the English court represented to
Henry VIII. the whole family of the Bartons as
pirates, who indiscriminately plundered the ships of
every country; and they charged Andrew, in par-
ticular, with these offences, and represented how
desiral)le it would be if the English seas could be
rid of his presence. Henry listened to these sugges-
tions, and, with his wonted impetuosity, assented to
their fulfilment, although a war with Scotland was
at that time the least desirable event that could have
befallen him. It has also been alleged by English
writers, that Andrew Barton, in his war against the
Portuguese, had not been over-scrupulous in con-
fining himself to his letters of reprisal, but had also
over-hauled and pillaged English vessels, under the
pretext that they had Portuguese goods on board.
Such, at least, was generally believed in England;
and the Earl of Surrey, to whom the naval affairs of
the kingdom chiefly belonged, is declared to have
sworn tliat the narrow seas should no longer be thus
infested, while his estate could furnish a ship or his
family a son to command it.

The threat of Surrey was not an idle one. He
fitted out two men-of-war, one of them the largest
in the English navy, and sent them under the com-
mand of his sons, Eord Thomas Howard, and Sir
Edward Howard, afterwards lord higli-adniiral, to
find and encounter the terrible Scottish seaman.
They had not long to seek, for in the Downs they
were apprized of his neighloourhood by the cajitain
of a merchant vessel which he had jilundered on the
preceding day. Barton had just returned from a
cruise against the Portuguese, with two ships, one
the /,/();/, which himself commanded, and the otlier
a small armed junnace. ^^'hen the Howards a]i-
proached, they hoisted no war signal, but merely
])ut up a willow-wand fin their masts, as if tliey
were peaceful traders; but when Andrew Barton
a]i])roaclied, they hoisted their national flag, and
firetl a broadside into his vessel. On finding that
he had enemies to deal with, although they were
of superior force, he fearlessly advanced to the
encounter. Distinguished by his rich dress, his
splendid armour of ])roof, and the gold chain around
his neck, to which was attached a \\'histle of tlie
same metal, the emblem of his office as high admiral
of Scotland, he took his stand ujion the highest jjart
of the deck, and encouraged his men to fight iiravely.
The battle commenced, and continued on both sides
with the utmost desperation. One manceuvre of
.Scottish naval warfare which Barton used, was
derived from an old Roman practice used against

ANDREW BARTON JAMES BASSANTIN.

97

the Carthaginians, although he had, perhaps, never
read their history; this was, to drop large weights
or beams from the yard-arms of his vessel into that
of the enemy, and thus sink it while the two ships
were locked together; but, to accomplish this feat,
it was necessary for a man to go aloft to let the
weight fall. The English commander, apprised of
this, had appointed the best archer of his crew to
keep watch upon the movement, and shoot every
man who attempted to go aloft for the purpose.
The archer had already brought down two Scottish
seamen who had successively vent-.ired to ascend,
when Andrew Barton, seeing the clanger, resolved
to make the attempt himself. As he ascended the
mast for this purpose. Lord Howard cried to his
archer, "Shoot, villain, and shoot tnie, on peril of
thy life." "An' I were to die for it," replied the
man despondingly, "I have but two arrows left."
These, however, he used with his utmost strength
and skill. The first shaft bounded from Barton's
coat of proof, but the second entered the crevice of
his armour, as he stretched up his hand in the act of
climbing the mast, and inflicted a mortal wound
through the arm-pit. He descended as if unhurt,
and exclaimed, "Fight on, my merry men; 1 am
but slightly wounded, and will rest me awhile, but
will soon join you again; in the meantime, stand
you fast by the cross of Saint Andrew!" He then
blew his whistle during the combat, to encourage
his followers, and continued to sound it as long as
life remained. After his death the conflict termi-
nated in the capture of the Lion, and also the pinnace,
called the Jenny Pinuen, which were brought in
triumph into the Thames. The Lion was after\vards
adopted into the English navy, and was the second
largest ship in the service, the Great Henry, the
first vessel which the English had expressly con-
structed for war, being the largest.

Such was the end of Andrew Barton, a bright
name in the early naval history of Scotland. While
his death was felt as a great national calamity, it was
particularly affecting to James IV., whose nautical
studies he had directed, and whose infant navy he
had made so distinguished among the European
maritime powers. Rothesay herald was instantly
despatched to London, to complain of this breacii
of peace, and demand redress; but to this appeal
Henry VTH. arrogantly replied, that Barton was a
pirate, and that the fate of pirates ought never to be
a subject of contention between princes. Here,
however, the matter was not to rest. Robert
Barton, one of Andrew's brothers, was immediately
furnished with letters of reprisal against the English;
and thus commissioned, he swept the narrow seas
so effectually, that he soon returned to Leith with
thirteen English prizes. War by sea between
England and Scotland was soon followed by war by
land, and in the letter of remonstrance and defiance
to Henry VTH., with which James preceded the
invasion of England, the unjust slaughter of Andrew
Barton, and the ca()ture of his ships, were stated
among the principal grievances for which redress
was tiuis soiiglit. Even when battle was at hand,
also. Lord Thomas Howard sent a message to the
Scottish king, !)oasting of his share in the death of
Barton, whom he persisted in calling a jMrate, and
adding, tliat he wxs ready to justify the deed in the
vanguard, where his command lay, and where he
meant to show as little mercy as he expected to
receive. An 1 then succeeded the battle of Flodden,
in wliijh fiaies and t e l>j>t of tlie Scottish nobility
fell; and after Flodden. a loss occurred which Barton
would raliier have died than witnessed. This was
the utter extinction of liie Scotti.^ii fleet, wlucli was

VOL. I.

allowed to lie rotting in the harbours of France, or
to be trucked away in inglorious sale, like common
firewood. From that period, Scotland so com-
pletely ceased to be a naval power, that even at the
time of the union she not only had no war vessels
whatever, but scarcely any merchant ships — the few
that lay in her ports being chiefly the property of the
traders of Holland; — and full three centuries have to
elapse before we find another distinguished Scottish
seaman in the naval history of Great Britain.

BASSANTIN, or BASSANTOUN, James, as-
tronomer and mathematician, was the son of the
laird of Bassintin, in Berwickshire, and probably
bom in the early part of the sixteenth century.
Being sent to study at the university of Glasgow, he
applied himself almost exclusively to mathematics,
to the neglect of languages and philosophy, which
were then the most common study. In order to
prosecute mathematics more effectually than it was
possible to do in his own country, he went abroad,
and travelled through the Netherlands, Switzerland,
Italy, and Germany; fixing himself at last in France,
where for a considerable time he taught his favourite
science with high reputation in the university of
Paris. In that age, the study of astronomy was
inseparable from astrology, and Bassantin became
a celebrated proficient in this pretended science,
which was then highly cultivated in France, insomuch
that it entered more or less into almost all public
affairs, and nealy every court in Europe had its
astrologer. Bassantin, besides his attainments in
astrology, understood the laws of the heavens to an
extent which excited the wonder of the age —
especially when it was considered that he had
scarcely any knowledge of the Greek or Latin
languages, in which all that was formerly known of
this science had been embodied. But, as may be
easily conceived, astronomy was as yet a most im-
perfect science; the Copemican system, which forms
the groundwork of modern astronomy, was not yet
discovered or acknowledged; and all that was really
known had in time become so inextricably associated
with the dreams of astrology, as to be entitled to
little respect. Bassantin returned to his native
country in 1562, and in passing through England
met with Sir Robert Melville of Mordecaimy, who
was then engaged in a diplomatic mission from Mary
to Elizabeth, for the puq^ose of bringing about a
meeting between the two queens. A curious account
of this rencontre is preser\-ed by Sir James Melville
in his memoirs, and, as it is highly illustrative of the
character and pretensions of Bassantin, we shall lay
it before the reader. "Ane Bassantin, a Scottis
man, that had been travelit, and was leamit in hich
scyences, cam to him [Sir Robert Melville] and said,
'Gud gentilman, 1 hear sa gud rc]3ort of you that I
love you hartly, and therefore canot forbear to shaw
you, how all your upricht dealing and your hoiic>t
travell will be in vain, where ye believe to ohlein a
weall for our quen at the Quen of Englandis handi>.
Vou bot tyne your tymc; for, first, they will never
meit togither, and next, there will nevir be bot
discembling and secret hattrent for a whyle. and at
length captivity and utter wrak for our cpien by
England.' My brother's answer again was, that lie
lyked not to heir of sic dcviiisch newc-s, nur yet waM
he credit them in any sort, as false, ungodly, and
unlawfull for Christians to m\;<.\\c them with.
Bassantin answered again, 'Gud Mcster Mclvill, tr.k
not that hard opinion of me; I am a Christian of
your religion, and fears God, and purjioses never to
cast myself in any of the unLawful artis that ye mean
of, bot sa far as Melanthon, wlia was a godiy

98

JOHN BASSOL.

theologue, has declared and written anent the naturall
scyences, that are lawfull and daily red in dyvers
Christian 'universities; in the quhilkis, as in all othir
artis, God geves to some less, to some mair and
clearer knawledge than till others; be the quhilk
knawledge I have also that at length, that the king-
dom of England sail of rycht fall to the crown of
Scotland, and that ther are some born at this instant
that sail bruik lands and heritages in England. Bot
alace it will cost many their lyves, and many bludy
l)attailes wilbe fouchten first, or [ere] it tak a sattled
effect; and be my knawledge,' said he, 'the Spani-
artis will be helpers, and will tak a part to them-
selves for ther labours, quhilk they wilbe laith to
leve again.'" If the report of this conference be
quite faithful, we must certainly do Bassantin the
justice to say, that the most material part of his
prophecy came to pass; though it might be easy for
him to see that, as the sovereign of Scotland was
heiress-presumptive to the crown of England, she or
her heirs had a near prospect of succeeding. How
Bassantin spent his time in Scotland does not appear;
but, as a good Protestant, he became a warm sup-
porter of the Earl of Murray, then struggling for the
ascendency. He died in 1568. His works are —
I. A Sys/em 0/ Astronomy, published for the third
time in 1593, by John Tornoesius. 2. A Treatise
of the Astrolabe, published at Lyons in 1555, and
reprinted at Paris in 1 61 7. 3. A Pamphlet on the
Calculation 0/ Nativities. 4. A Treatise on Arith-
metic. 5. Aliisic on the Principles of the Platonists.
6. On Mathematics in General. It is understood
that, in the composition of these works, he required
considerable literary assistance, being only skilled in
his own language, which was never then made the
vehicle of scientific discussion.

BASSOL, John, a distinguished disciple of the
famous Duns Scotus, is stated by Mackenzie to have
been born in the reign of Alexander III. He studied
under Duns at Oxford, and with him, in 1304, re-
moved to Paris, where he resided some time in the
university, and in 13 13 entered the order of the
Minorites. After this he was sent by the general of
his order to Rheims, where he applied himself to the
study of medicine, and taught philosophy for seven
or eight years. In 1322 he removed to Mechlin
in Brabant, and after teaching theology in that city
for five and twenty years, died in 1347.

Bassol's only work was one entitled Commentaria
sen Lectur<v in Quatiior Libros Sententiarum, to
which were attached some miscellaneous papers on
philosophy and medicine. The book was published
in folio at Paris, in 1 51 7. Bassol was known by the
title Doctor Ordinatissimns, or tlie Most Methodical
Doctor, on account of the clear and accurate method
in which he lectured and composed. The fashion
of giving such titles to the great masters of the
schools was then in its prime. Thus, Duns Scotus
himself was styled Doctor .Subtilis, or the Subtle
Doctor. St. Francis of Assis was called the Seraphic
Doctor; Alexander Hales, the Irrefra;^able Doctor;
Thomas Aquinas, the An;^elical Doctor; Hendricus
Bonicollius, the .Solemn Doctor; Richard Middleton,
the Solid Doctor; Francis Mayron, the Acute Doctor;
Durandus a S. Porliano, the Most Resolute Doctor;
Thomas Bredwardin, the Profound Doctor; Joannes
Ruysbrokius, the Divine Doctor, and so forth; the
title being in every case f()un<led upon some extrava-
gant conception of the merit uf ilie jiarticular in-
dividual, adopted by his contem])(jraries and disciples.
In this extraordinary class of literati John Bassol, as
implied by his soubriquet, shines conspicuous for
order and method; yet v/e are told that his works

contain most of the faults which are generally laid to
the charge of the schoolmen. The chief of these is
an irrational devotion to the philosophy of Aristotle,
as expounded by Thomas Aquinas. In the early
ages of modern philosophy, this most splendid exer-
tion of the human mind was believed to be irrecon-
cilable with the Christian doctrines; and at the very
time when the Angelical Doctor wrote his commen-
tary, it stood prohibited by a decree of Pope Gregory
IX. The illustrious Thomas not only restored Aris-
totle to favour, but inspired his followers with an
admiration of his precepts, which, as already men-
tioned, was not rational. Not less was their admira-
tion of the "angelical" commentator, to whom it
was long the fashion among them to offer an incense
little short of blasphemy. A commentator upon an
original work of Thomas Aquinas endeavours, in a
prefatory discourse, to prove, in so many chapters,
that he wrote his books not without the special
infusion of the Spirit of God Almighty; that, in
writing them, he received many things by revelation ;
and that Christ had given anticipatory testimony
to his writings. By way of bringing the works
of St. Thomas into direct comparison with the Holy
Scriptures, the same writer remarks, "that, as in
the first general councils of the church, it was common
to have the Bible unfolded upon the altar, so, in the
last general council (that of Trent), St. Thomas'
Simi was placed beside the Bible, as an inferior rule
of Christian doctrine." Peter Labbe, a learned
Jesuit, with scarcely less daring flattery, styles St.
Thomas an angel, and says that, as he learned many
things from the angels, so he taught the angels some
things; that St. Thomas had said what St. Paul was
not permitted to utter; and that he speaks of God as
if he had "seen him, and of Christ as if he had been
his voice. One might almost suppose that these
learned gentlemen, disregarding the sentiment after-
wards embodied by Gray, that flattery soothes not
the cold ear of death, endeavoured by their praises
to make interest with the "angelical" shade, not
doubting that he was able to obtain for them a larger
share of paradise than they could otherwise hope for.
In the words of the author of the Refections on
Learnittg, "the sainted Thomas, if capable of hear-
ing these inordinate flatteries, must have blushed to
receive them."

Bassol was also characterized, in common with all
the rest of the schoolmen, by a ridiculous nicety in
starting questions and objections. Overlooking the
great moral aim of what they were expounding, he
and his fellows lost themselves in minute and subtle
inquiries after physical exactness, started at every
straw which lay upon their path, and measured the
powers of the mind by grains and scruples. It must
be acknowledged, in favour of this singular class of
men, that they improved natural reason to a great
height, and that much of what is most admired in
modern philoso]ihy is only liorrowed from them. At
the same time, their curiosity in raising and prosecut-
ing frivolous objections to the Christian system is to
be regretted as the source of much scejiticism and
irreligion. To many of their arguments, ridicule
only is due; and it would perhaps be impossible for
the gravest to restrain a smile at the iUustrissimo
mentioned by Cardan, one of whose arguments \\-as
declared to be enough to puzzle all jiosterily, and
who himself wept in his old age because he had
become unable U> understand his own bo(;ks.

The works of Bassol have Ijcen long forgotten,
like those of his brethren; but it is not too nuich to
say regarding this great man of a former day, that
the same ])(jwers of mind which he s]ient upon the
endless intricacies of the school philosophy, would

ANDREW BAXTER JAMES BAYNE.

99

certainly, in another age and sphere, have tended to
the permanent advantage of his fellow-creatures.
He was so much admired by his illustrious preceptor,
that that great man used to say, "If only Joannes
Bassiolis be present, 1 have a sufficient auditory."

BAXTER, Andrf.w, an ingenious moral and
natural piiilosopher, was the son of a merchant in
Old Aberdeen, and of Mrs. Elizabeth Eraser, a lady
connected with some of the considerable families of
that name in the north of Scotland. He was born
at Old Aberdeen, in 1686 or 1687, and educated at
the King's College, in his native city. His employ-
ment in early life was that of a preceptor to young
gentlemen; and among others of his pupils were
Lord Gray, Lord Blantyre, and Mr. Hay of Dnim-
melzier. In 1723, while resident at Dunse Castle,
as preceptor to the last-mentioned gentleman, he is
known, from letters which passed between him and
Henry Home, afterwards Lord Kaimes, to have
been deeply engaged in both physical and meta-
physical disquisitions. As Mr. Home's paternal
seat of Kaimes was situated within a few miles of
Dunse Castle, the similarity of their pursuits appears
to have brought them into an intimate friendship and
correspondence. This, however, was soon after-
wards broken off. Mr. Home, who was a mere
novice in physics, contended with Mr. Baxter that
motion was necessarily the result of a succession of
causes. The latter endeavoured, at first with much
patience and good temper, to point out the error of
this argument; but, teased at length with what he
conceived to be sophistry purposely employed by his
antagonist to show his ingenuity in throwing doubts
on principles to which he himself annexed the
greatest importance, and on which he had founded
what he believed to be a demonstration of those
doctrines most material to the happiness of mankind,
he finally interrupted the correspondence, saying,
"I shall return you all your letters; mine, if not
already destroyed, you may likewise return; we shall
burn them and our philosophical heats together."

About this time, Mr. Baxter married Alice Mabane,
daughter of a respectable clerg\'man in Berwickshire.
A few years afterwards he published his great work,
entitled Afi Inquiry into the Nature of the Human
Soul, wherein its Immateriality is evinced from the
Principles of Reaso7i and Philosophy. This work
was originally without date; but a second edition
appeared in 1737, and a third in 1745. It has been
characterized in the highest terms of paneg}Tic by
Bishop Warburton. "He who would see," says
this eminent prelate, "the justest and precisest
notions of God and the soul, may read this book;
one of the most finished of the kind, in my humble
opinion, that the present times, greatly advanced in
true philosophy, have produced." The object of the
treatise is to prove the immateriality, and conse-
quently the immortality, of the soul, from the acknow-
ledged principle of the vis inertiie of matter. His
argument, according to the learned Lord Wood-
houselcc, is as follows: "There is a resistance to any
change of its j^resent state, either of rest or motion,
essential to matter, which is inconsistent with its
p(isses>ing any active power. Those, therefore,
which have been called the natural powers of matter,
as gravity, attraction, elasticity, repulsion, are not
]iowers implanted in matter, or jiossible to be made
inherent in it, but are impulses or forces impressetl
upon it ai> extra. The consequence of the want of
active power in matter is, that all those eflects com-
monly ascribed to its active jxnvers must be produced
upon it by an immaterial bt^'ing. Hence we discover
the necessity for the agency uf a constant and universal

Providence in the material world, who is GoD; and
hence we must admit the necessity of an immaterial
mover in all spontaneous motions, which is the soul;
for that which can arbitrarily effect a change in the
present state of matter, cannot be matter itself, which
resists all change of its present state: and since this
change is effected by willing, that thing which wills
in us is not matter, but an immaterial substance. From
these fundamental propositions, the author deduces,
as consequences, the necessary immortality of the
soul, as being a simple uncompounded substance,
and thence incapable of decay, and its capacity of
existing, and being conscious, when separated from
the body." In 1741, leaving his family in Berwick,
he went abroad with his pupil Mr. Hay, and resided
for several years at Utrecht. In the course of various
excursions which he made through Holland, France,
and Germany, he was generally well received by the
literati. He returned to Scotland in 1747, and, till
his death, in 1750, resided constantly at Whittingham,
in East Lothian, a seat of his pupil Mr. Hay. His
latter works were Matho, sive Cosmotheoria puerilis,
Dialogits, a piece designed for the use of his pupil ;
and An Appendix to his Inquiry into the Nature of
the Human Soul, wherein he endeavoured to remove
some difficulties which had been started against his
notions of the vis inertia of matter by Maclaurin, in
his Account of Sir Isaac A^ewton^s Philosophical Dis-
coveries. In 1779 the Rev. Dr. Duncan of South
Warnborough published The Evidence of Reason in
proof of the Immortality of the Soul, independent on
the more abstruse inquiry into the nature of matter
and spirit — collected from the MSS. of the late Mr.
Baxter.

The learning and abilities of Mr. Baxter are
sufficiently displayed in his writings, which, however,
were of more note in the literary world during his
own time than now. He was very studious, and
sometimes sat up whole nights reading and writing.
His temper was cheerful; he was a friend to innocent
merriment, and of a disposition truly benevolent.
In conversation he was modest, and not apt to make
much show of the extensive knowledge he possessed.
In the discharge of the several social and relative
duties of life, his conduct was exemplar)-. He had
the most reverential sentiments of the Deity, of
whose presence and immediate support he had
always a strong impression upon his mind. He paid
a strict attention to economy, though he dressed
elegantly, and was not parsimonious in his other
expenses. It is known also that there were several
occasions on which he acted with remarkable disin-
terestedness; and so far was he from courting prefer-
ment, that he repeatedly declined offers of that kind
that were made to him, on the condition of his taking
orders in the Church of England. The French.
German, and Dutch languages were spoken by him
with much ease, and the Italian tolerably; and he
read and wrote them all, together with the Spanish.
His friends and correspondents were numerous and
respectable; among them are particularly mentionetl
Mr. I'ointz, preceptor to the Duke of Cumberland,
and Bishop ^Varburton.

BAYTJE, OR BAINE. Jamk?, A.M., a divine <.f
some note, was tlie son of the Kcv. Mr. ]''r.\nc.
minister of Bonhill in Dumbartonshire, and ^*T^s
bom in 1710. His education, coninu-nccd at the
]iarish school, was completed at the university d
Glasgow, and in due time he became a licen>ed
preacher of the Established Chr.reh nf .<c<'i!ai!.!.
In consequence of the respectability oi his fatlier.
and his own talents as a ] 'readier, he w.ts ]>resenled
l)v the Duke of MoiUrusc to the clnirch ot" Killeam,

JAMES BAYNE DAVID BEATOX.

the parish adjoining that in which his father had
long ministered the gospel, and memorable as the
birthplace of Buchanan. In this sequestered and
tranquil scene he spent many years, which he often
referred to in after-life as the happiest he had ever
known. He here married Miss Potter, daughter
of Dr. Michael Potter, professor of divinity in the
Glasgow university, by whom he had a large family.
His son, the Rev. James Bayne, was licensed in
the Scottish Establishment, but afterwards received
episcopal ordination, and died in the exercise of that
profession of faith at Alloa.

The reputation of Mr. Bayne as a preacher soon
travelled far beyond the rural scene to which his
ministrations were confined. His people, in allusion
to the musical sweetness of his voice, honoured him
with the poetical epithet of "the swan of the west."
He was appointed to a collegiate charge in the High
Church of Paisley, where his partner in duty was
the celebrated Mr. Wotherspoon, afterwards presi-
dent of the Nassau Hall College, Princetown, New
Jersey. The two colleagues, however, did not co-
operate harmoniously, although both enjoyed a high
degree of popularity. Mr. Bayne displayed great
public spirit during his connection with the Estab-
lished Church, defending her spiritual liberties and
independence in the church courts, and offering a
determined opposition to the policy of the moderate
or ruling party. The deposition of Mr. Thomas
Gillespie of Camock, the founder of the Relief
church, made a powerful impression on his mind,
and undoubtedly had a strong influence in inducing
him to resign his pastoral charge in Paisley. But
the immediate cause of that resolution was a keen
dispute which took place in the kirk-session of his
parish, respecting the appointment of a session-clerk.
The session contested the right of appointment with
the town-council; the whole community took an in-
terest in the dispute; and the case came at last to be
litigated in the court of session, which decided in
favour of the town-council. Unhappily, Mr. Bayne
and his colleague took opposite sides in this petty
contest, and a painful misunderstanding was produced
betwixt them, followed by consequences probably
affecting the future destinies of both. Mr. Bayne
refers to these differences in his letter of resignation,
addressed to the Presbytery, dated loth February,
1766:— "They (the Presbytery) know not how far
I am advanced in life, who see not that a house of
worship, so very large as the High Church, and
commonly so crowded too, must be very unequal to
my strength; and this burden was made more heavy
by denying me a session to assist me in the common
concerns of the parish, which I certainly had a title
to. But the load became quite intolerable, when,
by a late unhappy process, the just and natural right
of the common session was wrested from us, which
drove away from acting in it twelve men of excellent
character." .Mr. Bayne joined the Relief church,
then in its infancy, having, even whilst in the Ivstab-
lishment, held ministerial communion with Mr.
Simpson, minister of Bellshill congregation, the first
Relief church in the west of Scotland. In his letter
of resignation already quoted, Mr. Bayne assured
his former brethren that the change of his condition,
and the charge he had accepteil, would make no
change in his creed, nor in his principles (jf Chris-
tian and ministerial communion — "Nay (he adds),
none in my cordial regard to the constitution and
interests of the Church of Scotland, which I solemnly
engaged to support some more than thirty years ago,
and hope to do so while I live. At the same time
I abhor persecution in every form, and that abuse
of church power of late, which to me appears incon-

sistent with humanity, with the civil interests of the
nation, and destructive of the ends of our office as
ministers of Christ." On the 24th December, Mr.
Bayne accepted a call to become minister of the
College Street Relief Church, Edinburgh, and his
induction took place on the 13th February, 1766,
three days after his resignation of his charge in
Paisley. As his demission fell to be adjudicated
upon by the General Assembly, in May of that year,
his name remained for the present upon the roll of
the Establishment, and so little did he yet consider
himself separated from the communion of that church,
that when the half-yearly sacrament of the Lord's
supper came round in Edinburgh, soon after his
settlement, after preaching in his own church in the
forenoon, he went over in the afternoon, at the head
of his congregation, to the New Greyfriars' Church,
and joined in the ordinance with the congregation
of the Rev. Dr. Erskine. At the Assembly in May,
Mr. Bayne, in obedience to a citation, appeared at
the bar, and was declared to be no longer a minister
of the Church of Scotland, and all clergymen of that
body were prohibited from holding ministerial com-
munion with him. Mr. Bayne defended the course
he had taken in a review of the proceedings of the
Assembly,' entitled Memoirs of Modern Church Ke-
formation, or tht History of the General Assembly,
1 766, and occasional reflections upon the proceedings
of said Assembly; with a brief account and vindication
of the Presbytery of Relief by James Bayne, A.M.,
minister of the gospel at Edinburgh. He denounces,
with indignant severity, the injustice of his having
been condemned by the Assembly without a libel,
merely for having accepted a charge in another
church, "in which (says he), I presumed, they could
find nothing criminal; for often had ministers resigned
their charge upon different accounts, and justifiable;
nay, some have given it up for the more entertaining
and elegant employ of the stage, who were not called
in question or found delinquents." This was a pal-
pable hit at Home, the author of Douglas, who sat
in the Assembly as a ruling elder, to aid Dr. Robert-
son in punishing Bayne.

After a ministry of sixty years, Mr. Bayne died
at Edinburgh, on the 17th January, 1790, in his
eightieth year. He was twenty-four years minister
of the College Street Relief congregation, Edinburgh.
His popularity as a preacher, his talents for ecclesi-
astical affairs, his acquirements as a scholar and a
theologian, and his sound judgment and weight of
character, gave him great influence; and it was
mainly to his large and enlightened views that the
Relief church was indebted for the position to which
it attained, even during his lifetime, as well as for
retaining, till it was finally merged in the United
Presbyterian Church, the catholic constitution on
which it had been founded by Gillespie and Boston.
Mr. Bayne was an uncompromising ojiponent of
whatever he considered to be a violation of public
morality. In 1770 he published a discourse, entitled
The Theatre Licentious and Pen>ertcd, administering
a stem rebuke to Mr. Samuel Foote for his Minor,
a drama in which the characters of Whiteficld and
other zealous ministers were held up to jirofane
ridicule. The dramatist considered it necessary to
reply to Mr. Bayne's strictures, in an Apology for
the Minor, in a letter to the Rev. Mr. Bayne, rest-
ing his defence upon the plea that he only satirized
the vices and follies of religious pretenders. A
volume of Mr. Bayne's discourses was published in
1778.

BEATON, OR BEATOUN, (Cardinai.) Davip,
who held the rectory of Campsie, the abbacy of

DAVID BEATON.

Aberbrothick, the bishopric of Mirepoix in France,
the cardinalship of St. Stephen in Monte Ccelio,
and the chancellorship of Scotland, and who was
the chief of the Roman Catholic party in Scotland
in the earlier age of the Reformation, was descended
from an ancient family in Fife, possessed of the
barony of Halfour, and was born in the year 1494.
He was educated at the college of St. Andrews,
where he completed his courses of polite literature
and philosophy, but was sent afterwards to the uni-
versity of Paris, where he studied divinity for several
years. Entering into holy orders, he had the rectory
of Campsieand the abbacy of Aberbrothick l)estowed
upon him by his uncle James Beaton, Archbishop
of .St. Andrews, who retained one-half of the rents
of the abbacy to his own use. Possessing good
abilities and a lively fancy, David Beaton became a
great favourite with James V., who in 1519 sent
him as his ambassador to the court of France.
He returned to Scotland in 1525, and, still growing in
the king's favour, was in 1528 made lord privy-seal.

In the year 1533 he was again sent on a mission
to the French court. Beaton on this occasion was
charged to refute certain calumnies which it was
supposed the English had circulated against his
countrymen, to study the preservation of the ancient
league between the two nations, and to conclude a
treaty of marriage between James and Magdalene,
the daughter of Francis I. If unsuccessful in any
of these points, he was to repair to Flanders, for the
purpose of forming an alliance with the emperor.
In every part of his embassy, Beaton seems to have
succeeded, the marriage excepted, which was delayed
on account of the declining health of Magdalene.
I low long Beaton remained at the French court at
this time has not been ascertained; but it is certain
that he was exceedingly agreeable to Francis, who,
perceiving his great abilities, and aware of the in-
fluence he possessed over the mind of the Scottish
king, used every expedient to attach him to the in-
terests of France.

In 1536, finding a second embassy also unsuccess-
ful. King James set sail for France, and proceeded
to the court, where he was most cordially welcomed;
and his suit being agreeable to Magdalene herself,
Francis consented to their union, which was cele-
brated on the 1st of January, 1537. i)n the 28th
of May following, the royal pair landed in Scotland,
being conveyed by a French fleet. Magdalene was
received by the Scots with the utmost cordiality;
but she was already far gone in a decline, and died
on the 7th of July following, to the inexpressible
grief of the whole nation. It was on the death of
this queen that mournings were first worn in Scot-
land. James, however, in expectation of this event,
had fixed his attention upon Mary of Cluise, widow
of the Duke of I.ongueville; and Beaton, who by
this time had returned to Scotland, was despatched
immedi.itely to bring her over. On this occasion
he was appointed by the King of France Bishop of
Mirepoix, to whicli see he was consecrated Decem-
ber 5th, 1537. The following year he was, at the
rccommcnd.ition of the French king, elevated to the
cardinalship by the pope, which was followed by a
grant on the part of the French king for services
already done, and for those which he might after-
wards ilo to his niajoty, allowing his heirs to succeed
to his estate in France, though the said heirs should
be born and live within the kingdom of Scotland.
The cardinal returned to Scotland with Mary of
Ciuise, and shortly after obtained the entire man.ige-
mcnt of the diocese and primacy of St. .Vndrews,
under his uncle James Beaton, whom he eventually
sacc-'cded in that office.

A severe persecution was commenced at this time
by the cardinal against all who were suspected of
favouring the reformed doctrines. Many were forced
to recant, and two persons, Norman Gourlay and
David Straiton, were burned at the Rood of Green-
side, near Edinburgh. Being appointed by the pope
legattis a latere, Beaton held a conclave of noble-
men, prelates, and church dignitaries at St. An-
drews, and harangued them from his chair of state
on the dangers that hung over the true catholic
church from the proceedings of King Henry in Eng-
land, and particularly from the great increase of
heresy in Scotland, where it had found encourage-
ment even in the court of the king. As he proceeded,
he denounced .Sir John Borthwick, provost of Lin-
lithgow, as one of the most industrious incendiaries,
and caused him to be cited before them for main-
taining that the pope had no greater authority over
Christians than any other bishop or prelate — that
indulgences granted by the pope were of no force or
effect, but devised to amuse the people and deceive
poor ignorant souls — that bishops, priests, and other
clergymen may lawfully marry — that the heresies
commonly called the heresies of England and their
new liturgy were to be commended by all good
Christians, and to be embraced by them — that the
people of Scotland are blinded by their clergy, and
profess not the true faith — that churchmen ought
not to enjoy any temporalities — that the king ought
to convert the superfluous revenues of the church
unto other pious uses — that the Church of Scotland
ought to be reformed after the same manner as that
of England was — that the canon law was of no force,
being contrary to the law of God — that the orders
of friars and monks should be abolished, as had been
done in England — that he had openly called the
pope a .Simoniac, because he had sold spiritual
things — that he had read heretical books and the
New Testament in English, with treatises written
by Melancthon, CEcolampadius, and other heretics,
and that he not only read them himself, but distri-
buted them among others — and lastly, that he openly
disowned the authority of the Roman see. These
articles being read, and Sir John neither appear-
ing in person nor by proxy, he was set down as a
confessed heretic, and condemned as an heresiarch.
His goods were ordered to be confiscated and him-
self burned in effigy, if he could not be apprehended,
and all manner of persons forbidden to entertain or
converse with him, under the pain of excommunica-
tion or forfeiture. This sentence was passed against
him on the 28th of May, and executed the same day
so far as was in the power of the court, his effig)'
being burned in the market-place of St. Andrews, and
two days after at Edinburgh. This was supposed
by many to be intended as a gratifying spectacle to
Mary of Guise, the new queen, who had only a short
time before arrived from France. In the meantime,
Sir John fled into England, where he was received
with open arms by Henry VHI., by whom he was
sent on an embassy to the Protestant princes of
(iermany, for the purpose of forming with them a
defensive league against the pope. Johnston, in his
Heroes of Scotland, says that "John Borthwick, .i
noble knight, was as much esteemed by King James
V. for his exemplar and amiable ([ualitics, as he was
detested by the order of the prie>thood on account
of his true piety, for his unfeigned profession of which
he was condemned; and, though absent, his tflcct-.
confiscated, anti his effig}-, after beini; subjected t"
various marks of ignomin}', burned.'' a, wc have
above related; "this condemnation." Jiihn-t<jn
adds, "he answered by a nio>t learned aj>olog)-,
which mav vet be seen in the records of the martyrs

DAVID BEATON.

[Fox]; and having survived many years, at last died
in peace in a good old age."

During these events, Henry, anxious to destroy
that interest which the French government had so
long maintained in Scotland, sent into that kingdom
the Bishop of St. David's with some books written
in the vulgar tongue upon the doctrines of Chris-
tianity, which he recommended to his nephew care-
fully to peruse. James, who was more addicted to
his amusements than to study, gave the books to be
perused by some of his courtiers, who, being attached
to the clerical order, condemned them as pestilent
and heretical. There were, however, other matters
proposed by this embassy than the books, though the
clerical faction endeavoured to persuade the people
that the books were all that was intended; for,
shortly after, the same bishop, accompanied by
William Howard, brother of the Duke of Norfolk,
came to the king at Stirling so suddenly, that he was
not aware of their coming till they were announced
as arrived in the town. This, no doubt, was planned
by Henry to prevent the intriguing of the priests and
the French faction beforehand. His offers were so
advantageous, that James acceded to them without
scruple, and readily agreed to meet with his uncle
Henry on an appointed day, when they were to
settle all matters in dependence between them for
the welfare of both kingdoms. Nothing could be
more terrible to the clergy, of which Beaton was
now confessedly the head in Scotland, than the
agreement of the two kings; and they hastened to
court from all quarters to weep over their religion,
about to be betrayed by an unholy conference, which
could not fail, they said, to end in the ruin of the
kingdom. Having by these representations made
a strong impression upon the king, they then bribed
the courtiers who had the most powerful influence
over him, to dissuade him from the promised journey,
which they successfully did, and so laid the founda-
tion of a war, the disastrous issue of which, preying
upon the mind of James, brought him to an untimely
end.

In the whole of these transactions, Beaton,
a zealous churchman and the hired tool of France,
was the chief actor; and knowing that the king was
l>oth covetous and needy, he overcame his scruples,
by persuading the clergy to promise him a yearly
subsidy of 30,000 gold crowns. As he had no de-
sign, however, that the church should defray the
cost, he pointed out the estates of those who rebelled
against the authority of the pope and the king
as proper subjects for confiscation, whereby there
might he raised annually the sum of 100,000 crowns of
gold. In order to attain this oljject, he reriuested that,
for himself and his brethren, they might only be
allowed to name, as they were precluded themselves
from sitting in judgment in criminal Cases, a lord cliief-
justice, before whom, were he once appointed, there
could be neither difficulty in managing the process,
nor delay in procuring judgment, since so many men
hesitated not to read the books of the New and Old
Testaments, and to treat the church and churchmen
with contempt. This wicked counsel was complied
with, and they nominated for this new court of in-
quisition a judge ever\'way according to their own
hearts, James Hamilton (a natural brother of the
Karl of Arran), whom they had attached to their
interests by large gifts, ancl who was willing to Ije
reconcile<l to the king, whom he had lately offended,
by any service, however cruel.

The suspicions which the king entertained against

' his nobility from this time forward were such as to

]>aralyze his efforts whether for good or evil. The

inroads of 'the English, too, occupied his whole

attention, and the shameful overthrow of his army
which had entered England by the Solway, threw
him into such a state of rage and distraction, that he
died at Falkland on the 13th of December, 1542,
leaving the kingdom, torn by faction, and utterly
defenceless, to his only surviving legitimate child,
Mary, then no more than five days old. The sudden
demise of the king, while it quashed the old projects
of the cardinal, only set him upon forming new ones
still more daring and dangerous. Formerly he had
laboured to direct the movements of the king by
humouring his passions, flattering his vanity, and
administering to his vicious propensities; he now
conceived that it would be easy for him to seize upon
the government in the name of the infant queen.
Accordingly, with the assistance of one Henry
Balfour, a mercenary priest, whom he suborned, he
is said to have forged a will for the king, in which
he was himself nominated regent, with three of the
nobility as his assessors or assistants. According to
Knox, these were Argyle, Huntley, and Murray; but
Buchanan, whom we think a very sufficient authority
in this case, says that he also assumed as an assessor
his cousin by the mother's side, the Earl of Arran,
who was, after Mary, the next heir to the crown, but
was believed to be poorly qualified for discharging
the duties of a private life, and still less for directing
the government of a kingdom. Aware of the danger
that might arise from delay, the cardinal lost not
a moment in idle deliberation. The will which he
had forged he caused to be proclaimed at the cross
of Edinburgh on the Monday immediately succeeding
the king's death.

Arran, had he been left to himself, would have
peaceably acquiesced in the cardinal's arrangements.
But his friends, the Hamiltons, incessantly urged
him not to let such an occasion slip out of his hands.
Hatred, too, to the cardinal, who, from his per-
secuting and selfish spirit, was very generally detested,
and the disgrace of living in bondage to a priest,
procured them many associates. The near prospect
which Arran now had of succeeding to the crown,
must also have enlisted a number of the more wary
and calculating politicians upon his side. But what
was of still more consequence to him, Henry of
England, who had carried all the principal prisoners
taken in the late battle to London, marched them in
triumph through that metropolis, and given them in
charge to his principal nobility, no sooner heard of
the death of the king than he recalled the captives
to court, entertained them in the most friendly
manner, and having taken a promise from each of
them that they would promote as far as possible,
without detriment to the public interests, or disgrace
to themselves, a marriage between his son and the
young queen, he sent them back to Scotland, where
they arrived on the 1st of January, 1543. Along
with the prisoners the Earl of Angus and his brother
were restored to their country, after an exile of fifteen
years, and all were received by the nation with the
most joyful gratulations. It was in vain that the
cardinal had already taken possession of the regency.
Arran, by the advice of the laird of Grange, called
an assembly of the nobility, and finding the will u]ion
which the cardinal had assumed the regency forged,
they set him aside and elected Arran in his jjlate.
This was peculiarly grateful to a great proportif)n
of the nobles and gentlemen, three hundred of
whom, with Arran at their head, were found in a
]>roscription list among the king's papers, furnished
to him by the cardinal. Arran, it was well known,
was friendly to the reformers, and his imbecility of
mind being unknown, tlie greatest expectations were
formed from the moderation of his character. In tl.e

DAVID BEATON.

103

parliament that met in the month of March follow-
ing, public affairs put on a much more promising
appearance than could have been expected. The
king of England, instead of an army, sent an am-
bassador to negotiate a marriage between the young
queen and his son, and a lasting peace upon the
most advantageous terms. The cardinal, who saw
in this alliance with Protestant England the downfall
of his church in Scotland, opposed himself with the
whole weight of the clergy, and all the influence of the
queen-dowager, to everything like pacific measures,
and that with so much violence, that he was, by the
general consent of the house, shut up in a separate
chamber while the votes were taken; after which
everything was settled in the most amicable man-
ner, and it was agreed that hostages should be sent
into England for the fulfilment of the stipulated
articles.

The cardinal in the meantime was committed as
a prisoner into the hands of Lord Seton, but was
afterwards suffered to resume his own castle at St.
Andrews. In the great confusion of public affairs
that had prevailed for a number of years, trade had
been at a stand, and now that a lasting peace seemed
to be established, a number of vessels were sent to
sea laden with the most valuable merchandise.
Edinburgh itself fitted out twelve, and the other
towns on the eastern coast in proportion to their
wealth, all of them coasting the English shores, and
entering their harbours with the most undoubt-
ing confidence. Restored, however, to liberty, the
cardinal strained every nerve to break up the arrange-
ments that had been so happily concluded. He
prevailed on a portion of the clergy to give all their
own money, their silver plate, and the plate belong-
ing to their churches; and aided by this money, with
which he wrought upon the avarice and the poverty
of the notiles and excited the clamours of the vulgar,
who hated the very name of an English alliance, the
cardinal soon found himself at the head of a formid-
able party, which treated the English ambassador
with the greatest haughtiness, in the hope of forcing
him out of the country before the arrival of the
day stipulated by the treaty with the regent for the
delivery of the hostages. The ambassador, however,
braved every insult till the day arrived, when he
waited on the regent, and complained in strong terms
of the manner in which he had been used, and
demanded the fulfilment of the treaty. With respect
to the affronts, the regent stated them to have been
committed without his knowledge, and promised to
punish tiie offenders. With regard to tlie hostages,
however, he was obliged to confess, that, through
tiie intrigiies of the cardinal, it was impossible for
him to furnish them. The treaty being thus broken
off, the noblemen who had been captives only a few
months l>efore, ought, according to agreement, to
h?-ve gone back into England, having left hostages to
that effect. Wrought upon, however, by the cardinal
and the clerg}-, tliey refused to redeem the faith they
had pledged, and abandoned the friends they had
left behind them to their fate. The only exception
to this baseness was the Earl of Cassilis, who had
left two brothers as hostages. Henry was so much
plea>cd with this soHtan,- in>tance of g'ood faith, that
he set him free along with his brothers, and sent him
home loaded with gifts. He at the same time seized
ujion all the Scottish vessels, a great number of
which had been lately fitted out, and were at this
time in tlie English harbours, confiscated the mer-
chanrlise, and made the merchants and the mariners
prisoners of war. This, while it atlded to the
domestic miseries of Scotland, served also to fan the
Jlames of dissension, which burned more fiercely than

ever. The faction of the cardinal and the queen-
dowager, entirely devoted to France, now sent am-
bassadors thither to state their case as utterly
desperate, unless they were supported from that
country. In particular, they requested that Matthew
Earl of Lennox might l>e ordered home, in order
that they might set him up as a rival to the Hamiltons,
who were already the objects of his hatred, on ac-
count of their having waylaid and killed his father at
Linlithgow.

Arran laboured to strengthen his party by possess-
ing himself of the infant queen, who had hitherto
remained at Linlithgow in the charge of her mother
the queen-dowager. The cardinal, however, was
too wary to be thus circumvented, and occupied
Linlithgow. Lennox, in the meantime, arrived from
France, and having informed his friends of the ex-
pectations he had been led to form, he proceeded to
join the queen at Linlithgow, accompanied by up-
wards of 4000 men. Arran, who had assembled all
his friends in and about Edinburgh for the purpose
of breaking through to the queen, now found himself
completely in the back-ground, having, by the im-
becility of his character, entirely lost the confidence
of the people, and being threatened with a lawsuit
by the friends of Lennox to deprive him of his
estates, his father having married his mother, Janet
Beaton, an aunt of the cardinal, while his first wife,
whom he had divorced, was still alive. He now
thought of nothing but making his peace with the
cardinal. To this the cardinal was not at all averse,
as he wished to make Arran his tool rather than his
\ictim. Delegates of both parties met at Kirkliston,
and agreed that the queen should be carried to
Stirling; the Earl of Montrose, with the Lords
Erskine, Lindsay, and Livingstone, being nominated
to take the superintendence of her education. Having
been put in possession of the infant queen, these
noblemen proceeded with her direct to Stirling
Castle, where she was solemnly inaugurated with the
usual ceremonies on the 9th of Sept. 1543. The
feeble regent soon followed, and, before the queen-
mother and the principal nobility in the church of
the Franciscans at Stirling, solemnly abjured the
Protestant doctrines, by the profession of which alone
he had obtained the favour of so large a portion of
the nation, and for the protection of which he had
been especially called to the regency. In this
manner the cardinal, through the cowardice of the
regent and the avarice of his friends, obtained all
that he intended by the forged will, and enjoyed all
the advantages of ruling, while all the odium that
attended it attached to the imbecile Arran. There
was yet, however, one thing wanting to establish the
power of the cardinal — the dismissal of Lennox, who
was now a serious obstacle in the way of both the
cardinal and the queen-mother. They accordingly
wrote to the King of France, entreating that, as
Scotland had been restored to tranquillity l)y h.is
liberality and assi>tance, he would secure his own
good work and preserve the peace which he had
procured, by recalling Lennox, without which it was
impossible it could be lasting.

Though they were thus secretly labouring 1 >
undermine this nobleman, the queen-mother and xhc
cardinal seemed to honour him before the ]'fO]':e, and
by a constant succession of games and fc>t;\a!s tlie
court presenteil one unbroken scene of gaiety. Day
after day was sjient in tounianicnt-, and ni^l-.t .Tit'.r
night in masquerade-^. In these fc-tivitio. ot %vh;c:i
he was naturally f >r.ii, Lennox found a keen rival ;n
James Hepburn, Earl of I'.othwell, w!io b.ad been
banished by Janus V.. but had returned after his
decease, and w.as now labouring tu cltri'.n the queen-

I04

DAVID BEATON.

dowager in marriage by the same arts that Lennox
fancied himself to be so successfully employing.
Both these noblemen were remarkable for natural
endowments, and in the gifts of fortune they were
nearly upon a level. Finding himself inferior, how-
ever, in the sportive strife of arms, Bothwell with-
drew from the court in chagrin, leaving the field to
his rival undisputed. Lennox now pressed his suit
upon the queen, but learned with astonishment that
she had no intention of taking him for a husband,
and so far from granting him the regency, she had
agreed with the cardinal to preserve it in the posses-
sion of his mortal enemy Arran, whom they expected
to be more pliant. Exasperated to the highest
degree, Lennox swore to be amply revenged, but
uncertain as yet what plan to pursue, departed for
Dunbarton, where he was in the midst of his vassals
and friends. Here he received 30,00x3 crowns,
sent to increase the strength of his party by the
King of France, who had not yet been informed of
the real state of Scotland. Being ordered to con-
sult with the queen-dowager and the cardinal in the
distribution of this money, Lennox divided part of it
among his friends, and part he sent to the queen.
The cardinal, who had expected to have been in-
trusted with the greatest share of the money, under
the influence of rage and disappointment, persuaded
the vacillating regent to raise an army and march to
Glasgow, where he might seize upon Lennox and
the money at the same time. Lennox, however,
warned of their intentions, raised on the instant
among his vassals and friends upwards of 10,000
men, with whom he marched to Leith, and sent
a message to the cardinal at Edinburgh, that he
desired to save him the trouble of coming to fight
him at Glasgow, and would give him that pleasure
any day in the fields between Edinburgh and
Leith.

This was a new and unexpected mortification to
the cardinal, who had gained only the regent and
his immediate dependants, the great body of the
people, who had originally given him weight and
influence, having now deserted his standard. The
cardinal, therefore, delayed coming to action from
day to day under various pretexts, but in reality that
he might have time to seduce the adherents of his
rival, who could not be kept for any length of time
together. Lennox, finding the war thus protracted,
made an agreement with the regent, and, proceed-
ing to Edinburgh, the two visited backwards and
forwards, as if all their ancient animosity had been
forgotten. Lennox, however, being advised of
treacher)', withdrew in the night secretly to Glasgow,
where he fortified, provisioned, and garrisoned the
bishop's castle, but retired himself to Dunbarton.
Here he learned that tlie Douglasses had agreed with
the Hamiltons, and that, through the influence of
his enemies, the French king was totally estranged
from him. Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, and
Robert ^L'lxwell, in the meantime, came to Glasgow
with the view of mediating between Lennox and the
regent. The regent, however, seized them both in
a clandestine manner by the way, and made them
close prisoners in the castle of Cadzow. While the
two factions were thus harassing one another to the
niin of their common country, Henry was demand-
ing by letters satisfaction for the breach of treaties
and the insults that had been heaped upon him in
the person of his late ambassador. No notice being
taken of these letters, Henry ordered a large arma-
ment, which he had prepared to send against tlie
coast of France, to proceed directly to Leith, and to
visit Edinljurgh and the adjacent country with all
the miseries of war; and with so much secrecy and

celerity did this armament proceed, that the first
tidings heard of it in Scotland was its appearance in
Leith Roads. Ten thousand men were disembarked
on the 4th May, 1544, a little above Leith, who took
possession of that place without the smallest opposi-
tion. The regent and the cardinal were both at the
time in Edinburgh, and, panic-stricken at the appear-
ance of the enemy, and still more at the hatred of the
citizens, fled with the utmost precipitation towards
Stirling. The English in the meantime marched
towards Edinburgh, which they sacked and set on
fire; then dispersing themselves over the neighbour-
ing country, they burned towns, villages, and gentle-
men's seats to the ground, and returning by Edin-
burgh to Leith, embarked aboard their ships and set
sail with a fair wind, carrying with them an immense
booty, and with the loss on their part of only a few
soldiers.

The cardinal and his puppet the regent, in the
meantime, raised a small body of forces in the north,
with which, finding the English gone, they laid siege
to the castle of Glasgow, which surrendered. l)e-
feated at Glasgow, in a fresh encounter with the
Hamiltons, the friends of Lennox refused to risk
another engagement, but they insisted that he should
keep the impregnable fortress of Dunbarton, where
he might in safety await another revolution in the state
of parties, which they prognosticated would take
place in a very short time. Nothing, however, could
divert him from his purpose; and, committing the
charge of the castle of Dunbarton to George .Stirling,
he sailed for England, where he was honourably en-
tertained by King Henry, who settled a pension
upon him, and gave him to wife his niece, Margaret
Douglas, a princess in the flower of her age, and
celebrated for every accomplishment becoming the
female character. Arran was delighted to be de-
livered from such a formidable rival; and in the next
parliament, which met at Linlithgow, he succeeded
in causing Lennox to be declared a traitor, and in
having his estates and those of his friends confiscated.

The English, during these domestic broils, made
a furious inroad into Scotland, burned Jedburgh and
Kelso, and laid waste the whole surrounding countiy.
Thence proceeding to Coldingham, they fortifieil the
church and the church-tower, in which they placed
a garrison on retiring home. This garrison, from the
love of plunder as well as to prevent supplies for a
besieging army, wasted the neighbouring district to
a wide extent. Turning their attention at last to
general interests, the Scottish government, at the
head of which was the cardinal, the queen-dowager,
and the nominal regent Arran, issued a proclama-
tion for the nobles and the more respectable of the
commons to assemble armed, and with provisions
for eight days, to attend the regent. Eight thousantl
men were speedily assembled, and though it was the
depth of winter, thf>y proceeded against the church
and tower of Coldingliam without delay. When
they had been before the place only one day and one
niglit, the regent, informed that the English were
advancing from Berwick, took horse, and with a few
attendants galloped in the utmost haste to Dunbar.
This inexplicable conduct threw the whole army ir.to
confusion, and but for the bravery of one man,
Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, the whole of their
tents, lwgL;age, anel artillery would have ])een aban-
doned to the enemy. But although An^us and a
few of his friends, at the imminent hazard of their
lives, saved the artillery and brought it in safety to
Dunbar, the conduct of the army in general, and
of the regent in particular, was pusillanimous in the
extreme. The spirit of the nation sunk, and the
courage of the enemy rose in proportion. Ralph

DAVID BEATON'.

105

Ivers and Brian Latoun, the English commanders,
overran, without opposition, the districts of Merse,
Teviotdale, and Lauderdale, and the Forth only
seemed to limit their victorious arms. Angus,
who alone of all the Scottish nobility at this time
gave any indication of public spirit, indignant at
the nation's disgrace, and deeply affected with his
own losses — for he had extensive estates both in
Merse and Teviotdale — made a vehement complaint
to the regent upon his folly, and the regent was
roused to a momentary exertion, so that, in company
with Angus, he set out the very next day for the
borders, their whole retinue not exceeding 300 horse.
The English, who were at Jedburgh to the number
of 5000 men, having ascertained the situation and
small number of their forces, marched on the instant
to surprise them before their expected supplies should
come up. The Scots, however, apprised of their in-
tentions, withdrew to the neighbouring hills, whence,
in perfect security, they watched the movements of
their enemies, who, disappointed in not finding them,
wandered about during the night in quest of such spoils
as a lately ravaged town could supply, and with the
returning dawn marched back to Jedburgh. The
.Scots, now joined by Norman Leslie, a youth of great
promise, son to the Earl of Rothes, and 300 men
from Fife, withdrew to the hills which overlook the
village of Ancrum, where they were joined by the
laird of Balcleugh, an active and experienced com-
mander, with a few of his vassals, who assured him
that the remainder would follow immediately. By
the advice of Balcleugh the troops were dismounted,
and the horses, under the care of servants, sent to an
adjoining hill. The army was formed in the hollow
in the order of battle. The English, as had been
anticipated, seeing the horses going over the hill,
supposed the Scots to be in full retreat, and eager to
prevent their escape, rushed after them, and ere they
were aware fell upon the Scottish spears. Taken
by surprise, the English troops, though they fought
with great braver)', were thrown into disorder, and
sustained a signal defeat, losing in killed and cap-
tured upwards of 1300 men. The loss on the part
of the .Scots was two men killed and a few wounded.
By this victory and the alliance with France,
Beaton now supposed himself fully established in the
civil as well as the ecclesiastic management of the
kingdom, and proceeded on a progress through the
different provinces for the purpose of quieting the
seditions which, as he alleged, had arisen in various
places, but in reality to repress the Protestants, who,
notwithstanding his having so artfully identified the
cause of the Catholic religion with that of national
feeling, had still been rapidly increasing. Carrying
Arran along with him, as also the Earl of Arg)le,
lord justice-general, Lord Borthwick, the Bishops of
Orkney and Dunblane, Sec, he came to Perth, or,
as it was then more commonly called, -St. Johnston,
where several jiersons were summoned before him
for disputing upon the sense of the .Scriptures, which,
among all tnie Catholics, was a crime to be punished
by the judge. Four unhappy men, accused of having
eaten a goose up(}n a Friday, were condemned to be
hangeil, which rigorous sentence was put into execu-
tion. .\ woman, Helen Stork, for having refused
to call u])on the \'irgin for assistance in her lal)our,
was drowned, although again pregnant. A number
of the burge>ses of the city, convicted or suspected
(for in those days tliey were the same thing) of smaller
peccadilloes, were banished from the city. He also
deposed the Lord Ruthven from the provostry of
the city, for being somewhat attached to the new
opinions, an<l bestowed the office u;ion the laird of
Kinfauns, a relation to tlie Lord Cray, who was

neither supposed to be averse to the new religion
nor friendly to the cardinal; but he hoped by this
arrangement to lay a foundation for a quarrel between
these noblemen, by which at least one of them would
be cut off. This act of tyranny, by which the citizens
were deprived of their privilege of choosing their
own governor, was highly resented by them, as well
as by the Lord Ruthven, whose family had held the
place so long that they almost considered it to be
hereditary in their family. The new provost, Kin-
fauns, was urged by the cardin.al and his advisers
to seize upon the government of the city by force,
but the Lord Ruthven, with the assistance of the
citizens, put him to the rout, and slew sixty of his
followers. That Ruthven was victorious must have
been a little mortifying to the cardinal; but as the
victims were enemies of the church, the defeat was
the less to be lamented.

From St. Johnston the cardinal proceeded to
Dundee, in order to bring to punishment the readers
of the New Testament, which about this time began
to be taught to them in the original Greek, of which
the .Scottish priesthood knew so little that they held
it forth as a new book written in a new language,
invented by Martin Luther, and of such pernicious
qualities, that whoever had the misfortune to look
into it became infallibly tainted with deadly heresy.
Here, however, their proceedings were interrupted
by the approach of Lord Patrick Gray and the Earl
of Rothes. These noblemen being both friendly to
the Reformation, the cardinal durst not admit them
with their followers into a town that was notorious
for attachment to that cause above all the cities of
the kingdom; he therefore sent the regent back to
Perth, whither he himself also accompanied him.
Even in Perth, however, he durst not meet them
openly, and the regent requiring them to enter sepa-
rately, they complied, and were both committed to
prison. Rothes was soon dismissed, but Gray, whom
the cardinal was chiefly afraid of, remained in con-
finement a considerable time. The cardinal, having
gone over as much of Angus as he found convenient
at the time, returned to St. Andrews, carrying along
with him a black friar, named John Rogers, who had
been preaching the reformed doctrine in Angus. This
individual he committed to the sea-tower of St.
Andrews, where, it is alleged, he caused him to be
privately murdered and thrown over the wall, gi\ing
out that he had attempted to escape over it, and in
the attempt had fallen and broke his neck. Keep-
ing .Vrran still in his company, the cardinal set out
to Edinburgh, where he convened an assembly of
the clergy to devise means for putting a stop to the
disorders that threatened the total ruin of the church.
In this meeting it was proposed to allay the public
clamours by taking measures for reforming the oj^en
profligacy of the priests, which was the chief source
of complaint. Their deliberations, however, were
cut short by intelligence that George Wishart, the
most eminent of the reformed preachers, was resid-
ing with Cockburn of Ormiston, only about seven
miles from Edinburgh. They calculated that, if tlicy
could cut off this individual, they should perform an
action more sers-iceable to the cause of the cluirch,
and also one of much easier accomplishmeiu, tli.m
reibrming the lives of the priests. .\ trooji «.if h.ir-e
were immediately sent off to secure him. hut Lock-^
burn refusing to' deliver him, the cardinal himselt
and the regent followed, blocking uji every av^'nue
ti the house, so as to render the f-ca;'f i>f the
reformer impossible. 'l"o prevent t!ie ttiu^ii'n ot
blood, however, the Earl of Bntiiwcll wa- sent f >r,
who pledged his faith to Cockl)um tl.at he would
stand by "Wi-hart, and 1h.1t no harm ^huuld befall

io6

DAVID BEATON.

him; upon which he was peaceably surrendered.
Bothwell, however, wrought upon by the cardinal,
and especially by the queen-mother, with whom,
Knox observes, "he was then in the glonders," after
some shuffling to save appearances, delivered his
jirisoner up to the cardinal, who imprisoned him,
first in the castle of Edinburgh, and soon after
carried him to St. Andrews, where he was brought
before the ecclesiastical tribunal, condemned ior
heresy, and most cruelly put to death, as the reader
will find related in another part of this work under
the article Wishart. Arran, pressed by his friends,
and perhaps by his own conscience, wrote to the
cardinal to stay the proceedings till he should have
time to inquire into the matter, and threatened him
with the guilt of innocent blood. But the warning
was in vain, and tiie innocent victim was only the
more rapidly hurried to his end for fear of a rescue.

This act of tyranny and murder was extolled by
the clergy and their dependants as highly glorifying
to God and honourable to the actor. The people in
general felt far otherwise, and regarded the cardinal
as a monster of cnielty and lust, whom it would be
a meritorious action to destroy. Beaton was not
ignorant of this general hatred, nor of the devices
that were forming against him; but he supposed his
power to be now so firmly established as to be
beyond the reach of faction. In the meantime he
thouglit it prudent to strengthen his interest, which
was already great, by giving his daughter in marriage
to the Master of Crawford. For this purpose he
proceeded to Angus, where the marriage was cele-
brated with almost royal splendour, the bride receiv-
ing from her father the cardinal no less than four
thousand marks of dowry. From these festivities
he was suddenly recalled by intelligence that Henry
of England was collecting a great naval force, with
which he intended to annoy Scotland, and especially
the coast of Fife. To provide against such an exi-
gency, the cardinal summoned the nobility to attend
him in a tour round the coast, where he ordered
fortifications to be constructed, and garrisons placed
in the most advantageous positions. In this tour he
was attended by the blaster of Rothes, Norman Leslie,
who had formerly been one of his friends, but had of
late, from some private grudge, become cold towards
him. Some altercation of course ensued, and they
parted in mortal enmity. The cardinal determined
secretly to take off or imprison Norman, with his
friends the lairds of Grange, elder and younger. Sir
James Learmont, provost of St. Andrews, and the
laird of Raith, all whom he feared; and Norman
resolved to slay the cardinal, be the consequences
what they would.

The cardinal was in the meantime in great haste
to repair and strengthen his castle, upon which a
large number of men were employed almost night
and day. The conspirators having lodged themselves
secretly in .St. Andrews on tiie night of May the 28th,
1546, were, ere the dawn of the next morning, assem-
bled to the numlier of ten or twelve persons in the
neighbourhood of the castle, and the gates being
opened to let in the workmen with their building
materials, Kirkaldy of Grange entered, and with him
six persons, who held a jiarley with the porter.
Norman Leslie and his con^.pany, having then entered,
f)assefl to the middle of the court. Lastly came
John Leslie and four men witli him, at whose a]ipear-
ance the porter, susjjccting some design, attcm]>ted
to lift the drawbridge, but was prevented by Leslie,
who leaped upon it, seized the keys, and threw the
janitor into the ditch. The place thus secured, tlie
workmen, to the number of a hundred, ran off the
walls, and were put forth at the wicket gate unhurt.

Kirkaldy then took charge of the privy postern, the
others going through the different chambers, from
which they ejected upwards of fifty persons, who were
quietly permitted to escape. The cardinal, roused
from his morning slumbers by the noise, threw up
his window and asked what it meant. Being answered
that Norman Leslie had taken his castle, he ran to
the postern, but finding it secured, returned to his
chamber, drew his two-handed sword, and ordered
his chamberlain to barricade the door. In the mean-
time, John Leslie demanded admittance, but did not
gain it till a chimneyful of burning coals was brought
to bum the door, when the cardinal or his chamber-
lain (it is not known which) threw it open. Beaton,
who had in the meantime hidden a box of gold
under some coals in a corner of the room, now sat
down in a chair, crying, "I am a priest, I am a priest;
you will not slay me." But he was now in the hands
of men to whom his priestly character was no recom-
mendation. John Leslie, according to hisvow, struck
him twice with his dagger, and so did Peter Carmi-
chael; but James Melville, perceiving them to be in
a passion, withdrew them, saying, "This work and
judgment of God, although it be secret, ought to be
gone about with gravity." Then, admonishing the
cardinal of his wicked life, particularly his shedding
the blood of that eminent preacher, Mr. George
Wishart, Melville struck him thrice through with a
stog [or short] sword, and he fell, exclaiming, "F^e,
fie, I am a priest; all's gone I" Before this time the
inhabitants of St. Andrews were apprised of what
was going on, and began to throng around the castle,
exclaiming, "Have ye slain my Lord Cardinal?
What have ye done with my Lord Cardinal?" As
they refused to depart till they saw him, his dead
body was hung out in a sheet by the assassins at the
same window from which he had but a short time
before witnessed the burning of Mr. George Wishart.
Having no opportunity to bury the body, they after-
wards salted it, wrapped it in lead, and consigned it
to the ground floor of the sea-tower, the very place
where he was said to have caused Rogers the preach-
ing friar to be murdered.

In this manner fell Cardinal David Beaton, in the
height of prosperity, and in the prime of life, for he
had only reached the fifty-second year of his age.
His death was deeply lamented by his own party, to
whom it proved an irreparable loss, and the authors
of it were regarded by them as sacrilegious assassins;
but by numbers, who, on account of difference in
religion, were in dread of their lives from his craelty,
and by others who were disgusted by his insufferable
arrogance, they were regarded as the restorers of
their country's liberties, and many did not hesitate
to hazard their lives and fortunes along with ihcm.
Whatever opinion may be formed regarding the
manner of his death, there can be only one regarding
its effects; the Protestant faith, which had quailed
before his powerful intellect and persecuting arm,
from this moment began to prosper in the land. It
is ])robable, as his enemies alone have been his his-
torians, that the traits of his character, and even
the tone and bearing of many of his actions, have
l)cen to some degree exaggerated; yet there seems
abundant jiroof of his sensuality, his cruelty, and his
total disregard of princijile in his exertions for the
])reservation of the Romish faith. Nothing, on the
other hand, Init that barbarism of the times which
characterizes all Beaton'spolicy, as well as hisactions,
could extenuate the foul deed by which he was re-
moved from the world, or the unseemly sym])athy
which the reforming party in general manifested to-
wards its pcrjjctrators. As a favour.able view of his
character, and at the same time a fine specimen of

DAVID BEATON ^JAMES BEATON.

107

old English composition, we extract the following
from the supplement to Dempster: —

"It frequently happens that the^ame great quali-
ties of mind which enable a man to distinguish him-
self by the splendour of his virtues are so overstrained
or corrupted as to render him no less notorious for
his vices. Of this we have many instances in ancient
writers, but none by which it is more clearly displayed
tlian in the character of the cardinal archbishop of
St. Andrews, David Beaton, who, from his very child-
hood, was e.xtremely remarkable, and whose violent
death had this in it singular, that his enemies knew
no way to remove him from his absolute authority
but that [of assassination]. When he was but ten
years of age, he spoke with so much ease and gravity,
with so much good sense and freedom from affectation,
as surprised all who heard him. When he was little
more than twenty, he became known to the Duke of
Albany and to the court of France, where he trans-
acted affairs of the greatest importance, at an age
when others begin to become acquainted with them
only in books. Before he was thirty he had merited
the confidence of the regent, the attention of the
French king, and the favour of his master, so that
they were all suitors to the court of Rome in his
behalf. He was soon after made lord privy-seal,
and appointed by act of parliament to attend the
young king, at his majesty's own desire. Before he
attained the forty-fifth year of his age he was Bishop
of Mirepoix in France, Cardinal of the Roman Church,
Archbishop of St. Andrews, and Primate of Scotland,
to which high dignities he added, before he was fifty,
those of lord high-chancellor, and legate a latere.
1 1 is behaviour was so taking, that he never addicted
himself to the service of any prince or person but he
aljsolutely obtamed their confidence; and this power
he had over the minds of others he managed with
so much discretion, that his interest never weak-
ened or decayed. He was the favourite of the regent,
Duke of Albany, and of his pupil James V., as long
as they lived; and the French king and the governor
of Scotland equally regretted his loss. He was inde-
fatigable in business, and yet managed it with great
ease. He understood the interests of the courts of
Rome, France, and Scotland better than any man of
his time; and he was perfectly acquainted with the
temper, influence, and weight of all the nobility in
his own country. In time of danger he showed great
prudence and steadiness of mind, and in his highest
prosperity discovered nothing of vanity or giddiness.
He was a zealous churchman, and thought severity
the only weapon that could combat heresy. He
loved to live magnificently, though not profusely; for
at the time of his death he was rich, and yet had
provided plentifully for his family. But his vices
were many, and his vices scandalous. He quarrelled
with the old Archbishop of Glasgow in his own city,
and pushed this quarrel so far that their men fought
in the very church. His ambition was boundless, for
he took into his hands the entire management of the
affairs of the kingdom, civil and ecclesiastical, and
treated t!ie Knglisli ambassador as if he had been
a sovereign i^rince. He made no scruple of sow-
ing discord among his enemies, that he might reap
security from tiieir disputes. His jealousy of the
governor [.\nan] was such, that he kept his eldest
son as a hostage in his house, umler pretence of tak-
ing care of liis education. In point of chastity he
was very deficient; for, thougli we should set aside as
calumnies many of those things wliicli his enemies
have reported of his intrigues, yet the posterity he
left behind him plainly proves tliat he violated those
vows, to gratify liis jiassions. which he obliged others
to hold sacred on tlie penalty of their lives. In

a word, had his probity been equal to his parts, had
his virtues come up to his abilities, his end had been
less fatal, and his memory without blemish. As it
is, we ought to consider him as an eminent instance
of the frailty of the brightest human faculties, and
the instability of what the world calls fortune."

He wrote, according to Dempster, Memoirs of his
aivn Embassies, A Treatise of Jeter's Primacy, and
Letters to Several Persons.

BEATON, James, uncle to the preceding, and
himself an eminent prelate and statesman, was a
younger son of John Beaton of Balfour, in Fife, and
of Mary Boswell, daughter of the Laird of Balmouto.
Having been educated for the church, he became, in
1503, provost of the collegiate church of Bothwell,
by the favour, it has been almost necessarily supposed,
of the house of Douglas, who were patrons of the
establishment. His promotion was very rapid. In
1504 he was made abbot of the rich and important
abbacy of Dunfermline, which had previously been
held by a brother of the king; and in 1505, on the
death of his uncle, Sir David Beaton, who had
hitherto been his chief patron, he received his office
of high treasurer, and became, of course, one of the
principal ministers of state. On the death of Vaus,
Bishop of Galloway, in 1508, James Beaton was
placed in that see, and next year he was translated to
the archi-episcopate of Glasgow. He now resigned
the treasurer's staff, in order that he might devote
himself entirely to his duties as a churchman. While
Archbishop of Glasgow, he busied himself in what
were then considered the most pious and virtuous
of offices, namely, founding new altarages in the
cathedral, and improving the accommodations of the
episcopal palace. He also entitled himself to more
lasting and rational praise by such public acts as the
building and repairing of bridges within the regality
of Glasgow. Upon all the buildings, both sacred
and secular, erected by him, were carefully blazoned
his armorial bearings. During all the earlier part of
his career, this great prelate seems to have lived on the
best terms with the family of Douglas, to which he
must have been indebted for his first preferment. In
1515, when it became his duty to consecrate the
celebrated Gavin Douglas as Bishop of Dunkeld, he
testified his respect for the family by entertaining the
poet and all his train in the most magnificent manner
at Glasgow, and defraying the whole expenses of his
consecration. Archbishop Beaton was destined to
figure very prominently in the distracted period
wliich ensued upon the death of James IV. .\s too
often happens in the political scene, the violence of
faction broke up his old attachment to the Douglasses.
The Earl of Angus, chief of that house, having mar-
ried the widow of the king, endeavoured, against ilie
general sense of the nation, to obtain the supreme
power. Beaton, who was elevated by the regent
Albany to the high office of lord-chancellor, and nj--
pointed one of the governors of the kingdom durir.g
his absence in France, attached himself to tlie o; pu-
site faction of the Hamiltons, under tlie F.arl of Arran.
On the 29th of April, 1520, a convention having iitcn
called to compose the differences of the two ] artx-.
the Hamiltons appeared in military gui-e. and ,-ecii.vl
prepared to vindicate tiieir supreni.icy with the s^\ ; i.
Beaton, their chief counsellor, sat in iris liou-j a:
the bottom of the Blackfriars' Wynd. ' with .ir:r.ui:r
undcr his robes, ready, apparently, to liavc joined t!ic
forces of the Hamiltons. in tlie event ol" .t nu.-rrel.
In this crisis (iavin Douglas was (loputci hy h..-
nephcw the Karl of Angus to remonstrate with t:.e
archbishop ngain-t the hosti^ej^rei-.aration' of ii.s

' La.--.c.

loS

JAMES BEATON.

party. Beaton endeavoured to gloss over the matter,
and concluded with a solemn asseveration upon his
conscience that he knew not of it. As he spoke, he
struck his hand upon his breast, and caused the mail
to rattle under his gown. Douglas replied, with
a cutting equivoque, "Methinks, my lord, your con-
science clatters," — -as much as to say, your conscience
is unsound, at the same time that the word might
mean the undue disclosure of a secret. In the en-
suing conflict which took place upon the streets, the
Hamiltons were worsted, and Archbishop Beaton
had to take refuge in the Blackfriars' Church. Being
found there by the Douglasses, he had his rochet
torn from his back, and would have been slain on the
spot but for the interposition of the Bishop of Dun-
keld. Having with some difficulty escaped, he lived
for some time in an obscure way, till the return of the
Duke of Albany, by whose interest he was appointed,
in 1523, to the metropolitan see of St. Andrews. On
the revival of the power of the Douglasses in the
same year, he was again obliged to retire. It is said
thnt the insurrection of the Earl of Lennox, in 1525.
which ended in the triumph of the Douglasses and
the death of the earl at Linlithgow Bridge, was
stirred up by Archbishop Beaton, as a means of
emancipating the king. After this unhappy event,
the Douglasses persecuted him with such keenness
that, to save his life, he assumed the literal guise
and garb of a shepherd, and tended an actual flock
upon Bogrian-Knowe in Fife. At length, when
James V. asserted his independence of these powerful
tutors, and banished them from the kingdom, Beaton
was reinstated in all his dignities, except that of
chancellor, which was conferred upon Gavin Dun-
bar, the king's preceptor. lie henceforward resided
chiefly at St. Andrews, where, in 1527, he was in-
duced, by the persuasions of other churchmen less
mild than himself, to consent to the prosecution and
death of Patrick Hamilton, the proto-martyr of the
Scottish Refonnation. He was subsequently led on
to various severities against the reformers, but rather
through a want of power to resist the clamours of his
brethren, than any disposition to severity in his own
nature. It would appear that he latterly intrusted
much of the administration of his affairs to his less
amiable nephew. The chief employment of his latter
years was to found and endow the New College of St.
Andrews, in which design, however, he was thwarted
in a great measure by his executors, who misapplied
the greater part of his funds. He died in 1539.

BEATON, James, Archbishop of Glasgow, was
the second of the seven sons of John Beaton, or Be-
thune, of Balfour, elder brother of Cardinal Beaton.
He received the chief part of his education at Paris,
imder the care of his celebrated uncle, wlio was then
residing in the French capital .as ambassador from
James V. His first preferment in the church was to
be chanter of the cathedral of (JIasgow, under Arch-
bishop Dunbar. When his uncle attained to nearly
supreme power, he was emiiloyed by him in many
imj)ortant matters, and in 1543 succeeded him as
Abbot of Aberbr<jthick. The death of the cardinal
does not a])pear to have materially retarded the ad-
vancement of his nephew; for we find that, in 1552,
he had sufficient interest with the existing govern-
ment to receive the second place in the .Scottish
church, tiie archbishopric of (ilasgow, to which he
was consecrated at Rome. He was now one of the
most important personages in the kingdom; he en-
joyed the confidence of the governor, the Karl of Ar-
ran; iiisniece. Mar)' Beaton, oneof the " l'"our Maries,"
was the favourite of the young Queen Mary, now
residing in France; and he was also esteemed very

highly by the queen-dowager, Mary of Lorrain, who
was now aspiring to the regency. During the sub-
sequent sway of the queen regent, the Archbishop of
St. Andrews enjoyed her highest confidence. It was
to him that she handed the celebrated letter addressed
to her by John Knox, saying, with a careless air,
"Please you, my lord, to read a pasquil." In 1557,
when the marriage of the youthful Mary to the Dau-
phin of P" ranee was about to take place, James Bea-
ton, Archbishop of St. Andrews, stood the first of the
parliamentary commissioners appointed to be present
at the ceremony, and to conduct the difficult business
which was to precede it. He and his companions
executed this duty in a most satisfactory manner.
After his return in 1558 he acted as a privy-councUlor
to the queen regent, till she was unable any longer to
contend with the advancing tide of the Reformation.
In November, 1559, his former friend, the Earl of
Arran, who had now become a leading reformer,
came with a powerful retinue to Glasgow, and, to use
a delicate phrase of the time, "took order" with the
cathedral, which he cleared of all the images, placing
a garrison at the same time in the archbishop's palace.
Beaton soon after recovered his house by means of
a few French soldiers; but he speedily found that
neither he nor his religion could maintain a permanent
footing in the country.

In June, 1560, the queen regent expired, almost at
the very moment when her authority became extinct.
Her French troops, in terms of a treaty with the re-
formers, sailed next month for their native country;
and in the same ships was the Archbishop of Glasgow,
along with all the plate and records of the cathedral,
which he said he would never return till the Catholic
faith should again be triumphant in Scotland. Some
of these articles were of great value. Among the
plate, which was very extensive and rich, was a golden
image of Christ, with silver images of his twelve
apostles. Among the records, which were also very
valuable, were two chartularies, one of which had been
written in the reign of Robert HI., and was called
The Red Book of Clasgcnu. All these objects were
deposited by the archbishop in the Scots College at
Paris, where the manuscripts continued to be of use
to Scottish antiquaries up to the period of the French
Revolution, when, it is believed, they were destroyed
or dispersed. Beaton was received by Queen Mary
at Paris with the distinction due to a virtuous and
able counsellor of her late mother. On her de]3arture
next year, to assume the reins of government in
.Scotland, she left him in charge of her affairs in
France. He spent the whole of the sul)sequent part
of his life as ambassador from the .Scottish court to
his most Christian Majesty. This duty was one of
extreme delicacy during the brief reign of Queen
Mary, when the relation of the two courts was of the
most important character. Mary addressed him
frequently in her own hand, and a letter in which she
details to him the circumstances of her husband's
death is a well-known historical document.

It is not jirobable that Beaton's duty as an am-
bassador during the minority of James VI. was any-
thing but a titular honour; but that ])rince, on taking
the government into his own han<ls, did n(jt hesitate,
notwithstanding the difference of religion, to eni])loy
a statesman who had already done faithful service to
the two preceding generations. James also, in 1587.
was able to restore to him both his title and estates
as Archbishop of Glasgow — a proceeding cjuite
anomalous, when we consider that the ])rcsl)ytcrian
religion was now established in Scotland. The arch-
bishop died, April 24, 1603, in the eighty-sixth year
of his age, and a full jubilee of years from his conse-
cration. He had been ambassador to three genera-

ROBERT BEATSON JAMES BEATTIE.

109

tions of the Scottish royal family, and had seen in
France a succession of six kings, and transacted
public affairs under five of them. He also had
the satisfaction of seeing his sovereign accede to the
English throne. James learned the intelligence of
his death while on his journey to London, and im-
mediately appointed the historian Spottiswoode to
he his successor in the cathedral chair of (ilasgow.
.Vrchbishop Spottiswoode characterizes him as "a
man honourably disposed, faithful to the queen while
she lived, and to the king her son; a lover of his
country, and liberal, according to his means, to all his
countrymen." His reputation, indeed, is singularly
pure, when it is considered with what vigour he op-
posed the Reformation. He appears to have been
regarded by the opposite party as a conscientious,
however mistaken man, and to have been spared ac-
cordingly all those calumnies and sarcasms with which
party rage is apt to bespatter its opponents. Hav-
ing enjoyed several livings in France, besides the less
certain revenues of Glasgow, he died in possession
of a fortune amounting to 80,000 livres, all of which
he left to the Scots College, for the benefit of poor
scholars of Scotland — a gift so munificent, that he
was afterwards considered as the second founder of
the institution, the first having been a Bishop of
Moray, in the year 1325. Besides all this wealth, he
left an immense quantity of diplomatic papers, ac-
cumulated during the course of his legation at Paris;
which, if they had been preserved to the present time,
would unquestionably have thrown a strong light
upon the events of his time.

BEATSON, Robert, LL.D. an ingenious and
useful author, was a native of Dysart, where he was
bom in 1742. Being educated with a view to the
military profession, he obtained an ensigncy in 1756
at the commencement of the Seven Years' war. He
served next year in the expedition to the coast of
France, and afterwards, as lieutenant, in the attack
on Martinique, and the taking of Guadaloupe. In
1766 he retired on half-pay, and did not again seek
to enter into active life till the breaking out of the
American war. Having failed on this occasion to
obtain an appointment suitable to his former services,
he resolved to apply himself to another profession —
that of literature — for which he had all along had
considerable taste. His publications were: i. A
Political Index to the Histories of Great Britain and
Ireland, I vol. 8vo, 1786, of which a third edition,
in 3 volumes, was published at a late period of his
life. This work consists chiefly of accurate and
most useful lists of all the ministers and other prin-
cipal officers of the state, from the earliest time to
the period of its publication. 2. Naval and Military
J\femoirs 0/ Great Britain, from 1727 to the present
time, 3 vols. 8vo, 1790; 2d edition, 6 vols. 1S04.
3. Vu-ui of the Memorable Action of the Z^jth July,
1778, 8vo, 1 79 1. 4. Essay on the Comparative
Advantages of I'ertical and Horizontal WindmUls,
8vo, 1798. 5. Chronoloi^ical Register of both Houses
of Parliament, from 1706 to 1 807, 3 vols. 8vo, 1 807.
Also some communications to the board of agricul-
ture, of which he w.xs an honorary member. This
laborious author enjoyed in his latter years the
situation of barrack-master at Aberdeen, where, if
we are not mist.iken, he received hisden;ree of LL.D.
He died at Edinburgh, January 24, 181S.

BEATTIE, Jamfs, poet and moral philosopher,
was born on the 25th October, 1735' ^' Laurence-
kirk, then an obscure hamlet in Kincardineshire.
His father, James Beat tie, was a small sliop-keeper
in the village, and at the same time rented a little

farm in the neighlwurhood. His mother's name was
Jean Watson, and they had six children, of whom
the subject of this article was the youngest. The
father was a man of information and of character
superior to his condition, and the mother was also
a person of abilities; on the early death of her hus-
band, she carried on the business of his shop and
farm, with the assistance of her eldest son, and
thus was able to rear her family in a comfortable
manner.

Young Beattie, who, from his earliest years, was
considered a child of promise, received the rudiments
of a classical education at the parish school, which
had been taught forty years before by Ru(ldiman,
and was at this time a .seminary of considerable re-
putation. His avidity for books, which, in such a
scene might have otherwise remained unsatisfied,
was observed by the minister, who kindly admitted
him to the use of his library. From a copy of Ogil vy's
Virgil, obtained in this way, he derived his first
notions of English versification. Even at this early
period, his turn for poetry began to manifest itself,
and among his school-fellows he went by the name
of the Poet. In 1749, being fourteen years of age,
he commenced an academical course at Marischal
College, Aberdeen, and was distinguished by Pro-
fessor Blackwell as the best scholar in the Greek
class. Having entitled himself by this superiority to
a bursary, he continued at the college for three years
more, studying philosophy under the distinguished
Gerard, and divinity under Dr. Pollock. His origi-
nal destination being for the church, he read a dis-
course in the hall, which met with much commenda-
tion, but was at the same time remarked to be poetry
in prose. Before the period when he should have
taken his trials before the presbytery, he relinquished
all thoughts of the clerical profession, and settled as
school-master of the parish of Fordoun, near his
native village.

In this humble situation, Beattie spent the years
between 1753 and 1758. In the almost total want of
society, he devoted himself alternately to useful study
and to poetical recreation. It was at this period of
life his supreme delight to saunter in the fields the
livelong night, contemplating the sky, and marking
the approach of day. At a small distance from the
place of his residence, a deep and extensive glen,
finely clothed with wood, runs up into the mountains.
Thither he frequently repaired; and there several of
his earliest pieces were written. From that wild
and romantic spot he drew, as from the life, some
of the finest descriptions and most beautiful pictures
of nature that occur in his poetical compositions.
It is related that, on one occasion, having lain down
early in the morning on the bank of his favourite
rivulet, adjoining to his mother's house, he had fallen
asleep; on awaking, it was not without astonishment
that he found he had been walking in his sleep, and
that he was then at a considerable distance (about a
mile and a half) from the place where he had lain
down. On his way back to that spot, he jiassed
some labourers, and inquiring of tlicm if they had
seen him walking along, they told him tliat they
had, with his head hanging down, as if looking for
something he had lost. Such an incident, though
by no means unexamjiled, shows to what a degree
Beattie was now the creature of impulse and inuigi-
nation. He was, indeed, exactly the fanciful Ixing
whom he has described in The Minstrel. Fortun-
ately for Beattie, Mr. Garden, advocate (aftensards
Lord Gardenstone), who at that time resided in the
neighbourhooti, found him one day sitting in one of
hisfavourite haunts, employed in writing with a
pencd. On discovering that he was engaged in

JAMES BEATTIE.

the composition of poetr}', Mr. Garden became in-
terested, and soon found occasion to honour the
young bard with his friendship and patronage.
Beattie at the same time became acquainted with
Lord Monboddo, whose family seat was within the
parish.

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

In 1760 one of the chairs in the Marischal College,
became vacant by the death of Dr. Duncan, professor
of natural philosophy. Beattie, whose ambition had
never presumed to soar to such an object, happened
to mention the circumstance in conversation, as one
of the occurrences of the day, to his friend Mr.
Arbuthnot, merchant in Aberdeen;* who surprised
him with a proposal that he should apply for the
vacant situation. With a reluctant permission from
Beattie, he e.\erted his influence with the Earl of
Errol to apply, by means of Lord Milton, to the
Duke of Argyle, who then dispensed the crown pat-
ronage of Scotland; and to the astonishment of the
subject of the application, he received the appoint-
ment. By an accommodation, however, with the
nominee to another vacant chair, he became pro-
fessor of moral instead of natural philosophy; an
arrangement suitable to the genius and qualifications
of both the persons concerned.

By this honourable appointment, Beattie found
himself, through an extraordinary dispensation of
fortune, elevated in the course of two years from the
humble and obscure situation of a country parish
schoolmaster, to a place of very high dignity in one
of the principal seats of learning in the country, where
he could give full scope to his talents, and indulge,
in the greatest extent, his favourite propensity of
communicating knowledge. His first business was
to prepare a course of lectures, which he began to
deliver to his pupils during the session of 1760-1, and
which, during subsequent years, he greatly improved.
In the discharge of his duties he was indefatigable;
not only delivering the usual lectures, but taking
care, by frequent recapitulations and public examina-
tions, to impress upon the minds of his auditors the
great and important doctrines which he taught.

So early as the year 1756 Dr. Beattie had occasion-
ally sent poetical contributions to iha Scots Magazi/ie
from his retirement at Fordoun. Some of these,
along with others, he now arranged in a small
volume, which was published at London, 1760, and
dedicated to the Earl of Errol, his recent benefactor.
His Orii^inal rocins and Translatio7u — such was the
title of the volume — made him favourably known to
the public as a poet, and encouraged him to further
exertions in that branch of composition. He also
studied verse-making as an art, and in 1762 wrote his
Essay on Poetry, which was published in 1 776, along
with the fiuarlo edition of his Essay on Tnitli. In
1 763 he visited London from curiosity, and in 1 765 he
jjubiished a poem of considerable length, but unfor-
tunate design, under the title of The Jndi^ment of
Paris, which threatened to be as fatal to his poetical
career, as its subject had been to the Trojan state.
In 1766 he published an enlarged edition of his

' Father to Sir William Arbuthnot, I'art,, who was lorj-
provoat of Edinburgh at tlic vi^it of Gcorjji; IV. in JS22.

poems, containing among other compositions The
yudgtnent of Pans; but this poem he never after-
wards reprinted. His object was to make the
classical fable subservient to the cause of virtue, by
personifying wisdom, ambition, and pleasure in the
characters of three goddesses, an idea too meta-
physical to be generally liked, and which could scarcely
be compensated by the graces of even Beattie's muse.

Gray, the author of the Elegy in a Country Clnirch-
yard, visited Scotland in the autumn of 1765, and
lived for a short time at Cilamniis Castle with the Earl
of Strathmore. Beattie, whose poetical genius was
strongly akin to that of Gray, wrote to him, intreat-
ing the honour of an interview; and this was speedily
accomplished by an invitation for Dr. Beattie to
Glammis Castle, where the two poets laid the founda-
tion of a friendship that was only interrupted by the
death of Gray in 1771.

Some time previous to September, 1766, Beattie
commenced a poem in the Spenserian stanza; a de-
scription of verse to which he was much attached,
on account of its harmony, and its admitting of so
many fine pauses and diversified terminations. The
subject was suggested to him by the dissertation on
the old minstrels, which was prefixed to Dr. Percy's
P cliques of Ancient English Poetry, then just pub-
lished. In May, 1767, he informs his friend Black-
lock at Edinburgh, that he wrote 150 lines of this
poem some months before, and had not since added
a single stanza. His hero was not then even bom,
though in the fair way of being so; his parents being
described and married. He proposed to continue
the poem at his leisure, with a description of the
character and profession of his ideal minstrel; but
he was wofully cast down by the scantiness of the
poetical taste of the age.

On the 28th of June, 1767, Dr. Beattie was mar-
ried, at Aberdeen, to Miss Mary Dun, the only
daughter of Dr. James Dun, rector of the grammar-
school of that city. The heart of the poet had
previously been engaged in honourable affection to
a Miss Mary Lindsay, whom, so late as the year 1823,
the writer of this memoir heard recite a poem written
by Beattie in her praise, the lines of which com-
menced with the letters of her name in succession.
The venerable lady was the widow of a citizen of
Montrose, and in extreme though healthy old age.

At this period infidelity had become fashionable
to a great extent in Scotland, in consequence of the
tr/a/ which attended the publication of Hume's meta-
physical treatises. Attempts had been made Ijv
Drs. Reid and Campbell, in res})ective publications,
to meet the arguments of the illustrious sceptic; but
it was justly remarked by the friends of religion, that
the treatises of these two individuals assumed too
much of that deferential tone towards the majesty of
Mr. Hume's intellect and reputation, which was to
be complained of in society at large, and no doubt
was one of the causes why his sceptical notions had
become so fashionable. It occurred to Dr. Beattie,
and he was encouraged in the idea by his frientls
Dr. Gregory, Sir William Forbes, and other zealous
adherents of Christianity, that a work treating I lunic
a little more roughly, and not only answering him
with argument, but assailing him and his followers
with ridicule, might meet the evil more extensively,
and be more successful in bringing back the jhUjIIc
to a due sense of religion. .Such was the origin tif
his Essay on Tnitli, which was finished for the press
in autumn, 1 769.

It is curious that this essay, so powerful as a
defence of religion, was only brought into the woild
by means of a kind of ])ious fraud. The manuscrijH
was conunitled to Sir VN'illiam Forbes and Mr.

JAMES BEATTIE.

Arbuthnot, at Edinburgh, with an injunction to dis-
pose of it to any bookseller who would pay a price
for it, so as to insure its having the personal interest
of a tradesman in pushing it forward in the world.
Unfortunately, however, the publisher to whom these
gentlemen applied, saw so little prospect of profit in
a work on the unfashionable side of the argument,
that he positively refused to bring it forth unless at
the ri^k of the author; a mode to which it was
certain that Dr. Beattie would never agree. "Thus,"
says Sir William Forbes, "there was some danger
of a work being lost, the publication of which, we
flattered ourselves, would do much good in the
world.

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

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

In the prosecution of his design, Dr. Beattie has
treated his subject in the following manner: he first
endeavours to trace the different kinds of evidence
and reasoning up to their first principles; with a view
to ascertain the standard of truth, and explain its
immutability. Pie shows, in the second place, that
his sentiments on this head, how inconsistent soever
with the genius of scepticism, and with the principles
and practice of sceptical writers, are yet perfectly
consistent with the genius of true philosophy, and
with the practice and principles of those whom all
acknowledge to have been the most successful in the
investigation of truth; concluding with some infer-
ences or rules, by which the most important fallacies
of the sceptical philosophers may be detected by
every person of common sense, even though he
should not possess acuteness of metaphysical know-
ledge sufficient to qualify him for a logical confuta-
tion of them. In the third place, he answers some
objections, and makes some remarks, by way of
estimate of scepticism and sceptical writers.

The essay appeared in May, 1770, and met with
the most splendid success. It immediately became
a shield in the hands of the friends of religion, where-
with to intercept and turn aside the hitherto resist-
less shalts of the sceptics. A modern metaphysician
may perliaps find many tlaws in the work; but, at
the time of its ]iublicati()n, it was received as a com-
plete and triumphant rel'utation of all that had been
advanced on the other side. Under favour of the
ivlat which attended the publication, religion again
raisc'l its head, and for a time infidelity was not
nearly so fashionable as it had been.

.\fter getting this ariluous business off his mind,
I'eattie returned to his I'ng Spenserian poem, and
in 1 77 1 appeared the first part of The ^Tlu!;\■.',

without his name. It was so highly successful that
he was encouraged to republish this, along with
a second part, in 1774; when his name appeared
in the title-page. "Of all his poetical works. The
Mtnstrd is, beyond all question, the best, whether
we consider the plan or the execution. The language
is extremely elegant, the versification harmonious;
it exhibits the richest poetic imager)', with a delight-
ful flow of the most sublime, delicate, and pathetic
sentiment. It breathes the spirit of the purest
virtue, the soundest philosophy, and the most ex-
quisite taste. In a word, it is at once highly con-
ceived and admirably finished."' Lord Lyttleton
thus expressed his approbation of the poem — one of
the most wannly conceived conijiliments that was
ever perhaps paid by a poet to his fellow: "I read
The iMtnstrel with as much rapture as jioelry, in her
sweetest, noblest charms, ever raised in my mind.
It seemed to me, that my once most beloved minstrel,
Thomson, was come down from heaven, refined l>y
the converse of purer spirits than those he lived with
here, to let me hear him sing again the beauties of
nature and finest feelings of virtue, not with human
but with angelic strains!" It is to be regretted that
Beattie never completed this poem. He originally
designed that the hero should be employed in the
third canto in rousing his countr}Tnen to arms for
defence against a foreign invasion, and that, over-
powered and banished by this host, he should go
forth to other lands in his proper character of a
wandering minstrel. It must always be recollected,
in favour of this poem, that it was the first of any
length, in pure English, which had been published
by a Scottish writer in his own country — so late has
been the commencement of this department of our
literature.

Beattie visited London a second time in 1771,
and, as might be expected from his increased reputa-
tion, entered more largely into literarj' society than
on the former occasion. Among those who honoured
him with their notice, was Dr. Johnson, who had
been one of the warmest admirers of the Essay on
Truth. In 1773 he paid another visit to the metro-
polis, along with his wife, and was received into
a still wider and more eminent circle than before.
On this occasion the university of O.vford conferred
upon him an honoraiy degree of Doctor of Laws.

The chief object of this tour was to secure a pro-
vision which his friends had led him to expect from
the government, in consideration of his services in
the cause of religion. Many plans were proposed
by his friends for obtaining this object. A bishop is
believed to have suggested to the king, that the
author of the Essav on Truth might be introduced
to the English church, and advanced according to
his merits; to which the king, however, is said to
have slily replied, that as .Scotland abounded most
in infidels, it would be best for the general in-
terests of religion that he should be kejH there.
George III., who had read and admired Beattie s
book, and whose whole mind ran in favour of virtue
and religion, suggested himself the more direct j'lnii
of granting him a pension of C~oo a ycp.r. \\h:cii
was accordingly carried into effect. The km;; aI>M
honoured Dr. Beattie with his j articular ni.tice ,it
a /cT'.v, and further granted him the f.n-'ur of a:i 'v.\-
terview in his private apartmciits r.t Kew 1 -r vv-
wards of an hour. The .agreeable C'Jnvcr^.•.t; 11 an i
unassuming maimer^ of Dr. l!c.-.;t;e a: ;'t.ar t>)i;a\c
not only made a mo^t favi^uraMc ini; rc-.-i":! \:\-^:\
the king .and ([ueen — for her ni.i;c.-ty .li- > wa- ] re-_
sent at t!iis interview — but ui;"n evc:-y ir. ■.■:■.;! lt ..1

JAMES BEATTIE.

that lofty circle of society to which he was intro-
duced.

Even after he had been thus provided for, several
dignified clergymen of the Church of England con-
tinued to solicit him to take orders; and one bishop
went so far as directly to tempt him with the offer
of a rectorate worth ;^500 a year. He had no dis-
inclination to the otYice of a clergyman, and he
decidecily preferred the government and worsliip
of the English cliurch to the Presbyterian system
of his own country. But he could not be induced
to take sucli a reward for his efforts in behalf of
religion, lest his enemies might say that he had
never contemplated any loftier principle than that
of bettering his own circumstances. Nearly about
the same time, he further proved the total absence
of a mercenary tinge in his character, by refusing to
be promoted to the chair of moral philosophy in the
university of Edinburgh. His habits of life were
now, indeed, so completely associated with Aber-
deen and its society, that he seems to have con-
templated any change, however tempting, with a
degree of pain.

About this time, some letters passed between him
and Dr. Priestley, on occasion of an attack made
by the latter on the Essay on Truth. In his corres-
pondence with this ingenious but petulant adversary.
Dr. Beattie shows a great deal of candour and
dignity. He had at first intended to reply, but
this intention he appears afterwards to have dropped:
"Dr. Priestley," says he, "having declared that he
will answer whatever I may publish in my own
vindication, and being a man who loves bustle and
book-making, he wishes above all things that I
should give him a pretext for continuing the dispute.
To silence him by force of argument, is, I know,
impossible."

In the year 17S6, Beattie took a keen interest in
favour of a scheme then agitated, not for the first
time, to unite the two colleges of Aberdeen. In the
same year, he projected a new edition of Addison's
prose works, with a biographical and critical preface
to the extent of half a volume, in wliich he meant
to show the peculiar merits of the style of Addison,
as well as to point out liistorically theclianges which
the English language has undergone from time to
time, and the liazard to which it is exposed of being
debased and corrupted by modern innovations. He
was reluctantly compelled by the state of his healtli
to retrench the better part of this scheme. The
works of .Addison were publislied under his care, in
1790, by Messrs. Creecli and Sibbald, booksellers,
Edinhurgli, but he could only give Tickell's Life,
together with some extracts from Dr. Johnson's AV-
niarks on AdJtsons Prose, adding a few notes of liis
own, to make up any material deficiency in Tickell's
narrative, and illustrating Johnson's critique by a
few occasional annotations. Though these addi-
tions to his original stock of materials are very
slight, th; admirer of Addison is much gratified by
some new information which lie was ignorant of
before, and to which Dr. Beattie has given a degree
of authenticity, by adhering, even in this instance,
to his general jjractice of putting his name to every-
thing he wrote.

In 17S7 Dr. TJeattie made apjilication to the
Mari-.chal College, while the jiroject of the union
was still pending, desiring that his eldest son, James
Hay Beattie, then in his twentieth year, should Ite
recommended to the crown as his as'-istant and suc-
cessor in the chair of moral philosopliy. The letter
in which this apjilication was made, sets fijrth the
cxtraor linary qualifications of his son, with a delight-
ful mixture of delicacy and warmth. The young

man was an excellent Greek and Latin scholar;
wrote and talked beautifully in the latter language,
as well as in English; and, to use the language of
ids father, the best of his genius lay entirely towards
theology, classical learning, morals, poetry, and
criticism. The college received the application with
much respect, and, after a short delay on account
of the business of the union, gave a cordial sanction
to the proposal.

Unfortunately for the peace of Dr. Beattie's latter
years, his son, while in the possession of the highest
intellectual qualilications, and characterized by every
virtue that could be expected from his years, was
destined by the inherent infirmity of his constitution
for an early death. After his demise, which hap-
pened on the 19th of November, 1790, when he had
just turned two and twenty. Dr. Beattie published
a small collection of his writings, along with an ela-
borate preface, entering largely into the character
and qualifications of the deceased. In this, he was
justified by the admiration which he heard every-
where expressed of the character and intellect of
his son; but, as posterity appears to have reduced
the prodigy to its proper limits, which were nothing
wonderful, it is unnecessary to bring it further into
notice.

Dr. Beattie bore the loss of his son with an ap-
pearance of fortitude and resignation. Yet, although
his grief was not loud, it was deep. He said, in a
subsequent letter, alluding to a monument which he
had erected for his son, "I often dream of the grave
that is under it : I saw, with some satisfaction, on a
late occasion, that it is very deep, and capable of
holding my coffin laid on that which is already in
it;" words that speak more eloquently of the grief
which this event had fixed in the heart of the writer,
than a volume could have done.

Another exemplification of the rooted sorrow
which this event planted in the mind of Beattie,
occurs in a letter written during a visit in England,
in the subsequent summer. Speaking of the com-
memoration music, which was performed in West-
minster Abbey, "by the greatest band of musicians
that ever were brought together in this country," he
tells that the state of his health could not permit
him to be present. Then recollecting his son's
accomplishment as a player on the organ, he adds,
"Perhaps this was no loss to me. liven the organ
of Durham Cathedral was too much for my feelings;
for it brought too powerfully to my remembrance
another organ, much smaller indeed, but more inter-
esting, which I can never hear any more."

In 1790 Dr. ]5eattie published the first volume
of his Elcineitts of Aloral Science, the second volume
of which did not make its appearance till 1793.
He had, in 1776, published a series of Essays on
poetry and music, on laughable and ludicrous com-
])osition, and on the utility of classical learning. In
1 783 had appeared Dissertations, Moral and Critical;
and in 17S6 a small tract entitled The Evidetices
of the Christian Relii^io)i brief y and plainly stated.
All of these minor productions originally formcil
part of the course of jnelections which he read from
his chair in the university; his aim in their pid)lica-
tion being "to intu'e young minds to habits of atten-
tive observation; to guard them against the influence
of bad i-jrincijjles; and to set before them such views
of nature, and such plain and practical truths, as
might at once imjirove the heart and the understand-
ing, and amuse and elevate the fancy." His Jile-
ments of Moral Science was a summary of the whole
of that course of lectures, a little enlarged in the
iloctrinal parts, with the addition of a few illustrative
examples. In a certain degree, this work may be

JAMES BEATTIE.

"3

considered as a text-book ; it is one, however, so
copious in its extent, so luminous in its arrangement
and language, and so excellent in the sentiments it
everywhere inculcates, that if the profound meta-
physician and logician do not find in it that depth
of science which they may expect to meet with in
other works of greater erudition, the candid inquirer
after truth may rest satisfied that, if he has studied
tiiese Elements with due attention, he will have laid
a solid foundation on which to build all the know-
ledge of the subject necessary for the common pur-
poses of life. Of such of the lectures as had already
appeared in an extended shape, under the name of
Essays, particularly those on the theory of language,
and on memory and imagination. Dr. Beattie has
made this abridgment as brief as was consistent with
any degree of perspicuity; while he bestowed no less
than seventy pages on his favourite topic, the aboli-
tion of the slave-trade, and the subject of slavery
connected with it.

While delighting the world with the quick suc-
cession and variety of his productions. Dr. Beattie
was himself nearly all the while a prey to the severest
private sufferings. Mrs. lieattie had unfortunately
inherited from her mother a tendency to madness.
Though this did not for a considerable time break
out into open insanity, yet in a few years after their
marriage it showetl itself in caprices and follies,
which embittered every hour of her husband's life.
Dr. Beattie tried for a long time to conceal her dis-
order from the world, and if possible, as he has
been heard to say, from himself; but at last, from
whim, caprice, and melancholy, it broke out into
downright frenzy, which rendered her seclusion
from society absolutely necessary. During every
stage of her illness, he watched and cherished her
with the utmost tenderness and care ; using ever\-
means at first that medicine could furnish for her
recovery, and afterwards, when her condition was
found to be perfectly hopeless, j)rocuring for her, in
an asylum at Musselburgli, every accommodation
and comfort that could tend to alleviate her suffer-
ings. "When I reflect," says Sir William P'orbes,
"on the many sleepless nights and anxious days
which he experienced from Mrs. Beattie's malady,
and think of the unwearied and unremitting attention
he paid to her, during so great a number of years
in that sad situation, his character is exalted in my
mind to a degree which may be equalled, but I am
sure never can be excelled, and makes the fame of
the poet and the philosopher fade from my remem-
brance."

The pressure of this calamity — slow but certain —
tlie death of his eldest son, and the continued decline
of his health, made it necessary, in the session of
I793'4» tli^t he should be assisted in the duties of
his class. From that period till 1797, when he
finally relinquished his professorial duties, he was
aided by Mr. deorge Glennie, his relation and pupil.
lie experienced an additional calamity in 1796, by
the sudden death of his only remaining son, ^Ion-
tague, a youth of eiglUecn, less learned than his
brotlier, but of still more amiable manners, and
wliom he had eloigned for the luiglish church.
This latter event mdnnged the mind of Beattie, who,
it may be remarked, had always lieen greatly depen-
dent on the society, and even on the assistance, of
his children. The care of their education, in which
he was supposed to be only over-indulgent, had been
his chief employment for many years. This last
e'<'ent, by rendering him childless, dissolved nearlv
the last remaining tie which bound him to the world,
and left him a miserable wreck U]ion the shores of
lile. Many days had not elapsed after the death of

VOL. I.

Montague Beattie, ere he began to display symptoms
of a decayed intellect, in an almost total loss of
memory respecting his son. He would search
through the whole house for him, and then say to
his niece and housekeeper, Mrs. Glennie, "You
may think it strange, but I must ask you, if I have
a son, and where he is." This lady would feel her-
self under the painful necessity of bringing to his re-
collection the death-bed sufferings of his son, which
always restored him to reason. And he would then,
with many tears, express his thankfulness that he
had no child, saying, with allusion to the malady
they might have derived from their mother, "How
could 1 have borne to see their elegant minds
mangled with madness?" When he looked for the
last time on the dead body of his son, and thought
of the separation about to take place between him-
self and the last being that connected him with this
sublunary scene, he said, "Now, I have done with
the world 1" After this, he never bent his mind
again to study, never touched the violoncello, on
which he used to be an excellent and a fretjuent
player, nor answered the letters of his friends, except
perhaps a very few.

In March, 1797, Dr. Beattie became completely
crippled with rheumatism, and in the beginning of
1799 he experienced a stroke of palsy, which for
eight days so affected liis speech that he could not
make himself understood, and even forgot several
of the most material words of every sentence. At
different periods after this, he had several returns
of the same afflicting malady; the last, in October,
1802, deprived himaltogetherof the power of motion.
He lingered for ten months in this humiliating situa-
tion, but was at length relieved from all his suffer-
ings by the more kindly stroke of death, August 18,
1S03. He expired without the least appearance of
suffering. His remains were deposited close to those
of his two sons in the ancient cemetery of St. Nicolas,
and were marked soon after by a monument, for
which Dr. James Gregory of Edinburgh supplied an
elegant inscription.

The eminent rank which Dr. Beattie holds as a
Christian moral philosopher is a sufticient testimony
of the public approbation of his larger literary efforts.
It may, however, be safely predicted that his repu-
tation will, after all, centre in his Minstrel, which is
certainly his most finished work, and, everything con-
sidered, the most pleasing specimen of his intellect.

The mind of Beattie is so exactly identified with
his works, and is so undisguisedly depicted in them,
that when his works are described, so also is his
character. His whole life was spent in one continued
series of virtuous duties. His piety was pure and
fer\'ent; his affection for his friends enthusiastic; his
benevolence unwearying; and the whole course of his
life irreproachable. The only fault which his bio-
grapher, Sir William Forbes, could find in the whole
composition of his character, was one of a contingent
and temporar)' nature: he l>ecame. towards the end of
his life, a littfe irritable by continued application^ to
meLaphysical controversy. To a very correct and tine
taste in'poetry he added the rare accomplislimcnt of
an acquaintance, to a considerable extent, with l»nh
the sister arts of painting and music: hi.-' ])rac;icc in
drawing never went, iiuleed, beyond an occa.-ioiial
grotescpie sketch of some friend, for the aniu>(. mi-n:
of a soci;il hour. In music he was niuio liccply
skilled, being not only able to take jiariin ; r.\ate
concerts on the violoncello, but ca]>al)!eoi api^rcciat-
ing the music of the vcrv- highe-t iiia>tcr> Iit every
other instrument. In his jx-rson, he was o! tlie
middle height, though not elegantly, yet not awk-
wardly fonned, but with something of a il^uch in his

114

ANDREW BELL.

gait. His eyes were black and piercing, with an
expression of sensibility somewhat bordering on
melancholy, except when engaged in cheerful con-
versation and social intercourse with his friends,
when they were exceedingly animated. Such was
"the MiustreL"

BELL, Andrew, D.D., author of the UfaJms
System of Education, was born at St. Andrews, in
1753, and educated at the university of that place.
The circumstances of his early life, and even the date
of his entering into holy orders, are not known; but
it is stated that he was remarkable in youth for tlie
exemplary manner in which he fulfilled every public
and private duty. After having spent some time in
America, we tind him, in 1786, officiating as one of
the ministers of Su Mary's, at Madras, and one of
the chaplains of Fort St. George.

In that year the directors of the East India Com-
pany sent out orders to Madras that a seminary
should be established there for tlie education and
maintenance of the orphans and distressed male
children of the European military. The proposed
institution was at first limited to the support of a
hundred orphans: half the expense was defrayed by
the Company, and half by voluntary subscriptions;
and the Madras government appropriated Egmore
Redoubt for the use of the establishment. The
superintentlence of this asylum was undertaken by
Dr. Hell, who, having no object in view but the
gratification of his benevolence, refused the salary of
1200 pagodas (/'4S0) which was attached to it.
"Here," he reasoned with himself, "is a field for
a clergyman to animate his exertion, and encourage
his diligence. Here his success is certain, and will
be in proportion to the al)ility he shall discover, tlie
labour he shall bestow, and the means he shall em-
ploy. It is by instilling principles of religion and
morality into the minds of the young that he can
best accomplish the ends of his ministry: it is by
forming them to habits of diligence, industry, veracity,
and hone.->ty, and by instructing them in useful know-
ledge, that he can best promote their individual in-
terest, and serve t!ie stale to wliich they belong —
two purposes which cannot, in sound policy, or even
in reality, exist apart.

With these feelings, and with this sense of duty.
Dr. Bell began his task. He had to work upon the
mor,t unpromising materials; but the difficulties he
had to encounter led to that improvement in educa-
tion with which his name is connected. Failing to
retain the services of properly qualified ushers, he
resorted to tlie expedient of conducting his school
througli tlie medium of the scholars themselves. It
is in the mode of conducting a school by means of
mutual instruction that the discovery of Dr. Bell
con>i-,ts; and its value, as an abbreviation of the me-
chanical part of teaching, .and where large numbers
were to be taught economically, could not be easily
over-estimated at the time, altliough later education-
ali-^ts have improved upon the ])lan; and the Madras
system is now le^s in use than formerly. The first
new practice which Dr. IScll introduced into his
school was that of tcacliing the letters by making the
pupils trace tiiem in sand, as he had seen children do
in a .Malaiiar school. The next im]novement was
the practice of sy]hd)ic Tea<lii:i;. Tlie child, after he
had learned to read and spell niono^vllables, was not
allowed to pronounce two >yl!:il)le-. till he acquired
by long practice a ])errecl jireci-ion. I'loni the com-
mencement of his experiment lie made the scholars,
as far as jiossible, do everything for themselves: they
ruled their own pa])er, maile their own ]>eiis, iVc,
with the direction only of their teaelier. The maxim

of the school was, that no boy could do anything right
the first time, but he must learn when he first set
about it, by means of his teacher, so as to be able to
do it himself ever afterwards. Every boy kept a
register of the amount of work which he performed,
so that his diligence at different times might be com-
pared. There was also a black book, in which all
offences were recorded: this was examined once
a week; and Dr. Bell's custom, in almost every case
of ill-behaviour, was to make the boys themselves
judges of the offender. He never had reason, he
says, to think their decision partial, biassed, or un-
just, or to interfere with their award otherwise than
to mitigate or remit the punishment, when he thought
the formality of the trial and of the sentence was
sufficient to produce the effect retpiired. But the
business of the teachers was to preclude punishment
by preventing faults; and so well was this object
attained, that for months together it was not found
necessary to inflict a single jninishment.

An annual saving of not less than £c)(x) upon the
education and support of two hundred boys ^\as pro-
duced in the institution at INIadras by Dr. Bell's
regidations and improvements. This, however, he
justly regarded as an incidental advantage: his grand
aim was to redeem the children from the stigma
under which they laboured, and the fatal effect which
that stigma produced, and to render them good
subjects, good men, and good Christians. After
superintending the school for seven years, he found
it necessary for his health to return to Europe.
The directors of the charity passed a resolution for
providing him a passage in any ship which he might
wish to sail in, declaring at the same time that,
under "the wise and judicious regulations which he
had established, the institution had been brought to a
degree of perfection and promising utility far exceed-
ing what the most sanguine hopes could have sug-
gested at the time of its establishment; and that
he was entitled to their fullest approbation for his
zealous and disinterested conduct." The language
in which Dr. Bell spoke of the institution, on leaving
it, will not be read without emotion by those who are
capable of appreciating what is truly excellent in
human nature. During seven years which he had
devoted to this office, he had "seen the vices incident
to the former situation of these orphans gratlually
vanishing, their morals and conduct approaching
nearer and nearer every year to what he wished them
to be, and the character of a race of children in
a manner changed." "This numerous family," said
he, "I have long regarded as my own. These
children are, indeed, mine by a thousand ties. I have
for them a parental affection, which has grown upon
me every year. For them I have niatle such sacri-
fices as parents have not always occasion to make for
their children; and the nearer the jK-riod njiproaches
when 1 must separate myself from them, the more
I feel the pang I shall suffer in tearing myself from
this charge, and the anxious thoughts I shall throw
back u]K)n these children when 1 shall cease to be
their protector, their guide, and their instructor."
Eleven years after he had left India, Dr. Bell re-
ceived a letter, signed by forty-four of these inijiils,
exi:>ressing, in the strongest terms, their gratitude for
the instruction and care which he had bestowed
upon them in childhoi"!.

(~)n his arrival in Europe, Dr. Bell pulili>lu(l, in
1797, a ])amphlcl, entitled .-/;/ J-lxpcrimcnl i/i l-Alnca-
f/on made at the Male Asylum of Madras : su;e:;^esliir.:;
a System by vhich a School or Family may teae/i itself
uuiler the Snperiutoidcncc of the Master or J\treul.
The first ])lace in I'^ngland \\here the s_\sfeni \\ai
adoj)ted was the charity school of .St. llodolph's,

ANDREW BELL BEN7AMIX BELL.

I'S

Aldgate. Dr. Bri!2;gs, then of Kendal, the second
who profited by Dr. Bell's discovery, introduced it
into the Kendal schools of industry. These occur-
rences took place in 1798. In 1801 the system was
fully and successfully acted upon in the schools of the
society for hettering the condition of the poor.

In 1803 Mr. Josei)h Lancaster first appeared before
the public. He published a pamphlet with the fol-
hjwing title •.—Improvetneiits in Education, as it rcsptxts
the IiidtislrioHs Classes of the Community; containini;
a sfurrt Account 0/ its Present State, Hints toauards its
Improi'cment, and a Detail of some Practical Experi-
ments conducive to that end. "The institution," he
says, "which a benevolent Providence has been
pleased to make me tlie happy instrument of bringing
into usefulness, was begun in the year 1798. The
intention was to afford the children of mechanics,
iVc, instniction in reading, writing, and arithmetic,
at about half the usual price." Tlie peculiarity of his
plan seems to have consisted chiefly in introducing
])rizes and badges of merit, together with a mode of
teaching spelling, which was said to economize time
and trouble: he also called in the assistance of boys,
as monitors. In his pamphlet of 1803 he freely
accords to Bell the priority of the mutual system,
acknowledging also that the jjublished account of it
had furnished him with several useful hints. Even-
tually, Mr. Lancaster put forward a claim, obviously
unfounded, to be considered the sole inventor of the
system. One of his advertisements in the newspapers
was thus introduced: — "Joseph Lancaster, of the
Free School, Borough Road, London, havinginvented,
under the blessing of divine Providence, a new and
mechanical system of education for the use of schools,
feels anxious to disseminate the knowledge of its
advantages through the United Kingdom. By this
system, parado.xical as it may appear, above looo
children may be taught and governed by one master
only." And on another occasion he writes: — "I stand
forward before the public, at the bar of mankind, to
the present, and for the future ages, avowing myself
the inventor of the British or Royal Lancasterian
.System." — (Morning J'ost, 4th .September.) Again:
"I submit the plan, original as it is, to the country.
The same cannot be found in any other work unless
copied or pirated." — (Preface to edition of iSoS. )

But however unfounded Lancaster's claim to origin-
ality may be, tliere can be no doubt that, through his
exertions chiet]y, the system was extensively reduced
to practice in England. Belonging to the sect of
(Quakers — a body whose exertions in the cause of
]ihilanthropy are universally known — he did not
ai)ply to them in vain for pecuniary support and per-
sonal exertion. Lancasterian schools were rapidly
est.ablished in all parts of the kingdom.

Dr. Bell lived long enough to witness the intro-
duction of his system into 12,973 national schools,
educating 900,000 of the children of his linglish
countrymen, and to know that it was employed ex-
ton-ively in almost every other civilized countiy.
lie ac'iuiro 1 in later life the ilignity of a prebendar\-
of \Vc-tinin>ter, and was master of Sherborn liospitaf,
Durham. He was also a member of the Asiatic
Society, .and of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
He emiiloyed hini.--elf during his latter years in writ-
ing S'jvcral works on e<iucatinn, among which the
mo>t valu.ilile were, />;<• /•.'/<;;/.••;/ A- o/' fintion, 7>ir
English S.-/':,\h'. and a Fr::/ MtiiiKa! of Mutual Iii-
strucl:o)! and />:s-;p.'.n.: The evening of his jiious
and useful life \\a> snent at t'heUenham, in the jn'ac-
tice of every soci.il ami di>nie-.!ic virtue. Previouslv
to his death, lie bestowed /.'i20,ooo, throe percent'.
St >ek, fnf tlie piirpi )~-_' oi" t'.;ii<iii\4 r.ii a'.-,iile;ny on nn
extensive and libenil ;,cale in lu^ native c.lv. He

also l)equeathed a considerable sum for purposes
of education in Edinburgh; which, however, to the
everlasting disgrace of the individuals intrusted with
the public affairs of that city at the time, was com-
promised among the general funds of that corpora-
tion a few months before its bankruptcy.

Dr. l{ell died on the 27th of January, 1 832, in the
eightieth year of his age, and was buried in West-
minster Abbey, the .'\rclibishop of Canterbury and
the Bishop of London acting as chief mourners.

BELL, Bknjamin, a <listinguishcd surgical author,
was born in Dumfries in 1749. He received an ex-
cellent classical education at the grammar-school of
that town, under Dr. Chajiman, the rector. The
property of Blackett House, in Dumfriesshire, hav-
ing devolved to him on the death of his grandfather,
he gave a remarkable instance of generosity bv dis-
posing of it, and applying the proceeds in educating
himself and the younger branches of the family — four-
teen in number.

Mr. Bell had early made choice of medicine as
a profession, and accordingly he was bound a]ipren-
tice to Mr. Hill, surgeon in Dumfries, whose practice
was in that quarter very extensive. It was a dis-
tinguishing feature in Mr. Bell's character, that what-
ever he had once engaged in was prosecuted with
extreme ardour and assiduity. He therefore went
through the dnidgery and fatigue necessarily con-
nected with the detail of a surgeon-apothecar)'s shop
with the greatest spirit. He, by degrees, materially
assisted his master by attending his patients — tu
whom his correct behaviour, unfailing good humour,
and agreeable manners recommended him in the
most powerful manner. He repaired to Edinburgii
in 1766, entered himself as a member of the univer-
sity, and set himself, with the most serious applica-
tion, to the prosecution of his medical studies. The
Edinburgh medical school had just sprung into notice,
and was beginning to make very rapid strides to its
present eminence. The first and second Monro had
already given evident tokens of the most distinguished
genius. The first had now relinquished, in favour
of his equally skilful son, the business of the ana-
tomical theatre, and only occasionally delivered
clinical lectures in the infirmary. Mr. Bells ardour
in the study of anatomy, in all its branches, was
tmabated. As he jirojiosed to practise surgen.', he
was well aware that eminence in that department of
the profession could only be arrived at by persever-
ing industry. He was appointed house-surgeon to
the Royal Infirmaiy, which atYorded him every ojijior-
tunily of improvement. It wa> here that he laid tlie
foundation of that superior adroitness and dexterity
which so peculiarly characterized him in the many
hazardous but successful operations which he was
called to perform.

Though Mr. Bell was more ]\articularly designed
for the profession of a surgeon, he neglected no de-
]iartment of medicine. Dr. black, who<e discnerns
formed a new era in tlie science of chomi-lry. luid
been removed from Clia<go\v to Ivlinbur^li il;:ri;:g
the year in which Mr. I'jell entered the i:i;:vLr-:;} .
His lectures and ex]")erin''.ent> prnwii geixr.".::;. .'1-
tractive. and ]iowerruilv intere>teii tile ir.in i ot I'--.:.
Dr. C'ullen was ]inife->or of tiie ii.-tituie^ ■ : n.i. .i-
cinc, and hi^ ori:_;iiial genius excited ll;e gri. r.".'- -'. ."r-
douranmng-t tile .-I'l'.'ien!--. Tlie ]'iM^;-i_e "l i.:r ■.. .::c
wa- taii;_:lil liy I >i-. J.'li!i (iivg' ry. :^r: i !■■:.■.:;. i ;. I 'r.
jnhn Hope. ' d'lie-"e were t!!e j.r :'..-- ; - v i. ::: Mr.
bell attended, .nn.l it riit-t i'e e-: ;"---: \ ti . t l::ey
^vere men nt i!i~t;!iL;'^-i'''d t '!■■■:'■-. :'■ •.\ '' - ■■ ti;!''^
no dili^/cnt sti; !ent eu;:id l.-ti.n ^. .1:. - t;t ,L.:\.;.j, \^r\

ii6

SIR CHARLES BELL.

Mr. Bell had resolved, in 1770, to visit Paris and
London — the two great schools for surgical practice.
Before doing so, however, he passed the examinations
at Surgeons' Hall, and was admitted a member of the
Royal College of Surgeons, Edinburgh. In those
great cities he remained nearly two years, assiduously
improving himself in surgery. Returning to his native
country in 1772, he commenced business in Edin-
burgh. Eew came better prepared than he did for
the practice of surgery. His education was liberal
and extensive. His appearance was much in his
favour. His address was good, his manner com-
posed and sedate. Mr. Bell had early formed the
])lan of composing a system of surgery — and this he
at last accomplished. He did not jiublish the whole
work at once; but in the year 1778, about six years
after he had finally settled in Edinl)urgh, and become
established in practice, the first volume was given to
the world. The remaining volumes appeared from
time to time until the work was completed in six
volumes, 8vo, in 17S8. In 1793 aj^pcared his Treatise
on Gonorrluea, and in 1794 another Treatise on
Hydrocele, which is understood to be the least popular
of his works.

Mr. Bell married, in 1776, Miss Hamilton, daughter
of Dr. Robert Hamilton, professor of divinity in the
university of Edinburgh, by whom he had a numerous
family. He died, April 4, 1 806.

BELL, Sir Charles, was bom at Edinburgh in
1774. His father was a minister of the Scottish
Episcopal Church, and held a small living at Doune,
in the county of Perth. As the minister died while
still young, his family, consisting'of four sons, were
thrown upon the maternal care; but this, instead of
being a disadvantage, seems to have produced a
contrary effect, by the early development of their
talents, so that they ail attained distinguished
positions in society, the first as a writer to the signet,
the second as an eminent surgeon, and the third as
professor of Scots law in the university of Edinburgh.
Charles, the youngest, was less favourably situated
tlian his brothers for a complete education, but his
own obsei-vation and natural aptitude supplied the
deficiency. "My education," he tells us, " was the
example of my brothers." The care of his mother
did the rest, so that her youngest and best-beloved
child at last outstripped his more favoured seniors,
and his grateful remembrance of her lessons and
training continued to the end of his life. The
history of such a family justifies the saying which
the writer of this notice has often heard repeated by
a learned professor of the university of Glasgow:
"When I see," he said, "a very talented youth who
makes his way in the world, I do not ask. Who was
his father? but. Who was his mother?" On l)eing
removed to the high-school of Edinburgh — where,
by the way, he made no distinguished figure —
Charles was chiefly under the charge of his brother
John, sulj-equently t!ie eminent surgeon, and it was
from him he derived tliat impulse which determined
his future career. He studied anatomy, and with
such proficiency that, even before he had reached
the age of manhood, he was al)le to deliver lectures
on that science, as a-;s;stant of his l)rother John, to
a class of more than a liundred pu]^ils. In 1799,
even before he was athnittcd a fellow of the Royal
College of Surgeons of lidinburgh, he published the
first part of his System of Dissections. Longing,
however, for a wider field of action, and disgusted
with the medical controversies in I^dinbiirgh, he
removed to London in 1 804. It was a bold step;
for at this time, owing to jjolitical causes, a Scots-
man of education was regarded with suspicion and

dislike in this favourite field of Scottish adventure,
and Charles Bell was looked upon as an interloper
come to supplant the true children of the English
soil. But he bravely held onward in his course, and
won for himself the esteem of influential friends, the
chief of whom were .Sir Astley Cooper and Dr.
Abernethy, and he soon extended the circle by his
treatise on the Anatomy of Expression, which was
published in London in 1806. It was a work so
admirably suited for painters, in their delineations
of human feeling and passion, that the most dis-
tinguished artists of the day adopted it for their
text-book, and were loud in their encomiums of its
merits. .Still, however, this was but the foundation-
stone of his future distinction. Bell had determined
to be "chief of his profession in character," and to
attain this daring height much had to be surmounted.
He commenced as a public lecturer, but upon a
humble and disadvantageous scale, as he was slill an
alien in London; and his early discoveries upon the
nervous system, which he was patiently maturing, as
his future highest claims to distinction, were as yet
but little esteemed by the public, and would be
compelled to force their way slowly into notice, if
they should ever chance to be noticed. In 1807, the
same year in which he commenced his course of
lectures, he published his System of Operative Surgery.,
a work where all the operations described in it were
the result not of mere theory or reading, but of
personal experience.

It was amidst this disheartening amount of un-
thanked, unappreciated toil and disappointment that
Charles Bell sought a comforter of his cares; and in
181 1 he married Miss Shaw, who not only justified
his choice, but made him brother-in-law to two men
whose pursuits were congenial to his own. These
were John and Alexander Shaw, whom his lessons
and example raised into distinguished anatomists and
physiologists, wliile the latter ultimately became the
most effective chamj^ion of his preceptor's claims to
originality in his physiological and anatomical dis-
coveries. Bell's darkened horizon now began to
clear, and his worth to be properly estimated. In
181 1, the happy year of his marriage, after he had
long remained unconnected with any medical school
or association, he was allied to the Hunterian
School in Windmill Street, as joint-lecturer with
Mr. Wilson. The extent of his knowledge and
power of illustrating it, exhibited in his ]irelcctions,
and the happy facility of demoiistration and language,
which he had always at command, soon made his
lectures popular, so that in 1814 he was a]i|)ointcd
surgeon to the Middlesex Hospital; and here his
remarkable skill as an operator, combined with his
style of lecturing, which although not eloquent, was
full of thought very strikingly expressed, made him
a favourite both with patients and pupils. The
result of his labours there, whicli continued till 1836,
enabled him to make the honest boast at his
departure, that he had left the institution, which at
his entrance was Init of small account, "\\ith full
wards, and ^120,000 in the funds."

.\s the wliole of the ]:ireceding ]icrio<1, uji to the
date of Napoleon's banishment to .St. Helena, hatl
l>een a season of war, the professional talents of Bell
had been in reriuest in our military hospitals, and
upon the Continent, as well as in London, so that
in 1809, immediately after the battle of Corunna, Ik;
quitted the metropolis, to attend upon tlie wnunded
of the British army. Here his opjiortuiiities of
acquiring fresh knowledge were eagerly enil)raced,
and the result of his experience was an c^say on
gun-shot wounds, which apjieared as an aj)pendix
to his System of Operative Surgery, published in 1807.

SIR CHARLES BELL

HENRY BELL.

117

After the battle of Waterloo, he also repaired to
Brussels, and took the charge of an hospital; and
here he was engaged for three successive days and
nights in operating upon and dressing the wounds of
three hundred soldiers. Of these cases he made
various drawings in water-colouring, which are
reckoned among the best specimens of such pro-
ductions in our anatomical school.

The time at length arrived when Bell was to ac-
quire that full amount of reputation for wliich he
ha<i toiled so long and laboriously, and amidst such
unmerited neglect. P'rom an early period his
favourite subject of investigation was the nervous
system, upon which the most erroneous opinions had
hitherto prevailed. Even professional men of high
medical and anatomical knowdedge rested satisfied in
the belief that all the nerves were alike, and that the
superior amount of susceptibility in any organ merely
depended upon the greater number of nerves allotted
to it. But even before he left Edinburgh, a suspicion
had grown upon the mind of Bell, that this prevalent
opinion was erroneous, and further inquiry satisfied
him that his suspicion was right. He found that
the nerves were distributed into different classes, to
each of which belonged its proper function; and that
the same puncture which, applied to any other of
these coniluctors to the senses, would produce a sen-
sation of pain, when applied to the eye would give
only the impression of a Hash of light. He saw,
also, that the two roots by whicli the spinal nerves
are connected with the vertebral medulla, impart two
different powers, the one of motion, the other of
sensation. In this way he accounted for those cases
in whicti the motive or sensitive powers are singly or
severally lost. This discovery, which was as wonder-
ful as tliat of the circulation of the blood, astonished
the whole medical world: it was a revelation that
had remained imknown till now, and when an-
nounced coulil not be controverted; and under this
new guidance, practical anatomists were directed to
the proper seat of the ailments that came under their
notice, as well as taught the right mode of cure.
His theory, which was published in 1S21 in the
Philosopliical Transactions, in the form of an essay
on the "Nervous System," produced immediate at-
tention, and when its value was apjireciated, attempts
were ma<le to deny him the merit of the discover)'.
Eortunateiy, however, for his claims, he had printed
a pamplilet for distribution among his friends as
early as 1811, in which the principal points of his
theory were already announced; while his letters,
written to his brother upon the subject, were suffi-
cient to put to flight the numerous pretenders who
claimed the discovery as their own. His subsequent
pul)Iications on tlie Xcr-jous Circle, and On the Eye,
completely estal)Iished the existence of a sixth sense,
hw which we are enat)led to ascertain anti estimate
the qualities of size, weight, form, distance, texture,
and resistance.

Bell had now reached the summit of his ambition,
and established for himself a European reputation.
His improvements were adopted in every country
wliere the healing art was studied as a science, while
the leading men of i!ie Continent united in testifying
to the value of his labours. In 1S24 '^e was appointed
to the senior chair of anatomy and surgery in the
London College of Surgeims, while his treatises on
Animal Mechanics, and 0>i the /land, and his Illus-
trations of Palcys Xatural Theoa\'v, secured that
jirofessiolial di>tinction which seemed cajiahle of no
further extension. On the accessjun of \Villiam IV.
to the throne, it was resolved to conimemorate this
event by conferrini,' the honour of kni.;hthood upon
a lew of the nKi>t eniineut scientific men of the

period, and in this chosen number Bell was included,
with his countrymen Brewster, Leslie, and Ivory.
An opportunity now occurred for Sir Charles Bell
to return to Scotland, after an absence of thirty-two
years, by an offer in 1836 of the professorship of
surgery in the university of Edinburgh, which he
accepted. It was his [jrevailing desire, notwith-
standing his wide and lucrative practice in London,
to have leisure for prosecuting his .scientific re-
searches, and to prosecute them among the friends
of his youth, and in the place where they had com-
menced. P)Ut unfortunately he found Edinburgh too
limited a field for his purposes, and especially for
a new and great work u])on the A'iT707/s System,
which he wished to publish, with numerous splendid
illustrations. Instead of this he was obliged to con-
tent himself with a new edition of the Anatomy 0/
Expression, which he greatly extended and improved,
in the course of a tour through Italy, during the in-
terval of a college session. He also jniijlished his
Institutes of Sur;^ery, containing the substance of his
lectures delivered in the university. In 1S42 during
the vacation of summer. Sir Charles left Edinburgli
on a journey to London; but, on reaching Hallow
Park on the 27th of May, he died suddenly the same
night. The cause of his death was an:;ina pectoris,
brought on, as was supposed by his friends, from
disappointment, chiefly arising from the new medical
reform bill, which he believed was hostile to the
best interests of the profession. His intellectual
originality, acuteness of perception, and steady per-
severance, by which he attained such distinguished le-
])utation and success, were connected with an amenity
and gentleness of disposition, that endeared him to
the circle of his friends and the society in which
he moved. An excellent portrait and striking like-
ness of -Sir Charles Bell was painted by B. Mantyne,
of which an engraving by Thomson will be found in
the third volume of Pettigrew's Medical JWtrait
Gallery.

BELL, Henry, the first successful applier of steam
to the purposes of navigation in Europe, was born at
Torphichen in Linlithgowshire, April 7, 1767. He
was sprung from a race of mechanics, being the fifth
son of Patrick Bell and Margaret Easton, whose
ancestors, through several descents, were alike well
known in the neighbourhood as ingenious mill-
wrights and builders; some of them having also dis-
tinguished themselves in the erection of public works,
such as harbours, bridges, &c., not only in Scotland,
but also in the other divisions of the United Kingdom.
Henry Bell, after receiving a plain education at the
parish school, began in 1780 to learn the handicraft
(jf a stone-mason. Three years after he changed his
views in favour of the other craft of the family, and
was ajijirenticed to his uncle, who practised the art
of a mill-wright. At the termination of his engage-
ment he went to Borrowstounness for the purpo>e of
being instructed in ship-motlelling; and in 17S7 he
engaged with Mr. James Inglis, engineer at Bells-
hill, with the view of comjdeting his kii'jwledge of
mechanics. He afterwards went to London, w Ikto
hewas em]:)loyed liy the celebrated Mr. Keniiie; >■ ■ tl.at
his opportunities of acquiring a iir.-.cticai acquair.tance
with the higher branches of his art were aIlogL;i;Lr
very considerable.

About the year 1790 Bell returned to Scotland,
and it is said that he fuaetised for sever.1l ye.^.r- r.t
Clasgow the iinanibitioiis cralt of a hou>e-ca: {enter.
He was entered. (Jctoher 20. 1707, a- a member -f
tlie corjioration of wrights in that city. It wa- Irs
wi^li to become an undertaker of pr.l'lic work- in
(Jla--'ow; ku eitiicr Uuni a delic;e:.ey cl ca; iial. or

ii8

HENRY BELL.

from want of steady application, he never succeeded
to any extent in that walk. "The truth is," as we
have been informed, "Bell had many of the features
of the enthusiastic projector — never calculated means
to ends, or looked much farther than the first stages
or movements of any scheme. His mind was a chaos
of extraordinary projects, the most of which, from his
want of accurate scientific calculation, he never could
carry into practice. Owing to an imperfection in
even his mechanical skill, he scarcely ever made one
part of a model suit the rest, so that many designs,
after a great deal of pains and expense, were succes-
sively abandoned. He was, in short, the hero of
a thousand blunders and one success." It may
easily be conceived that a mechanician open to this
description could not succeed, to any great extent, as
either a designer or executor of what are called public
works. The idea of propelling vessels by means of
steam early took possession of his mind. "In 1800 (he
writes) I applied to Lord Melville, on purpose to show
his lordship and the other members of the admiralty
the practicability and great utility of applying steam
to the propelling of vessels against winds and tides,
and every obstruction on rivers and seas where there
was depth of water. After duly thinking over the
plan, the lords of that great establishment were of
opinion that tlie plan proposed would be of no value
in promoting transmarine navigation." He repeated
the attempt in 1S03, with the same result, notwith-
standing the emphatic declaration of the celebrated
Lord Nelson, who, addressing their lordships on the
occasion, said, "My lords, if you do not adopt Mr.
Bell's sclieme, other nations will, and in the end vex
every vein of this empire. It will succeed (he
added), and you should encourage Mr. Bell." Hav-
ing ol)tained no support in this country. Bell for-
warded copies of the prospectus of his scheme to the
different nations of Europe, and to the United States
of America. "The Americans," he writes, "were
the first who put my plan into practice, and were
quickly followed by other nations." Mr. Watt him-
self had no faith in the practicability of applying his
own great discovery to the purpose of navigation.
In a letter addressed to Mr. Bell he said, "How
many noblemen, gentlemen, and engineers have
puzzled their brains, and spent their thousands of
pounds, and none of all these, nor yourself, have been
able to bring the power of steam in navigation to
a successful issue." The various attempts which pre-
ceded that of Bell are briefly noticed in the follow-
ing extract from the Fifth Report of the Select Commit-
tee of the House of Commons on Steamboats, fune, 1822:
.S"/> Henry Parnell, Chairman. Mentioning the
following as experimenters, namely, Mr. Jonathan
Hulls, in 1736; the iJuke of Bridgewater, on the
Manchester and Runcorn canal; Mr. Miller of Dals-
winton; the Marquisde Jouffroy (a French nobleman),
in 1781; Lord Stanhope, in 1795; and Mr. Syming-
ton and .Mr. Taylor, on the Forth and Clyde Canal,
in 1801-2; the A'i'/'yr/ proceeds: — "These ingenious
men made valuable experiments, and tested well the
mighty power of steam. Still no practical uses re-
sulted from any of these attempts. It was not till
the year 1807, when the Americans began to use
steamboats on their rivers, that their safety and
utility was first proved. P.ut the merit of constructing
these boats is due to natives of (Jrcat Jh'itain. Mr.
Henry Bell of (llasgovv gave the first model of them
to the late .Mr. Fulton of America, and corresponded
regularly with Fulton on the suljject. Mr. Bell con-
tinued to turn his talents to the imjiroving of steam
apparatus, and its application to various manufactures
about (ilasgow; and in 1811 constructed the Comet
Steamboat, the first of the kind in Europe, to navigate

the Clyde, from Glasgow to Port-Glasgow, Greenock,
Helensburgh, and Inverness." An interesting recol-
lection of Mr. Miller's experiments on Dalswinton
Lake has been preserved by Mr. James Nasmyth, the
eminent engineer, on the authority of his father, who
was present on the occasion. "The parties in the
boat on that memorable occasion," writes Mr. Na-
smyth to Mr. D. O. Hill, the landscape painter, who
has introduced the lake into his picture of the valley
of the Nith, "were Miller (of Dalswinton), Taylor
(the engineer), Robert Burns (the poet), Henry
Brougham (the future lord-chancellor), and Alexander
Nasmyth (the father of landscape painting in Scot-
land)— a fit and worthy crew to celebrate so great an
event. Many a time (adds the writer) I have heard
my father describe the delight which this first and
successful essay at steam-navigation yielded the party
in question. I only wish Burns had immortalized it
in rhyme, for indeed it was a subject worthy of his
muse."

In 1808 Bell removed to the modem village of
Helensburgh, on the Firth of Clyde, where his wife
undertook the superintendence of the public baths,
and at the same time kept the principal inn, whilst
he continued to prosecute his favourite scheme, with-
out much regard to the ordinary affairs of the world.
In 1812 he produced his steamboat, the Comet, of
30 tons burden, with an engine of three horse-power.
The Comet, so called from the celebrated comet which
appeared at that time, was built by Messrs. John
Wood and Co., at Port-Glasgow, and made her trial
trip on the i8th of January, when she sailed from
Glasgow to Greenock, making five miles an hour
against a head-wind. In August of the same year
we find Bell advertising the Comet to ply upon the
Clyde three times a week from (Glasgow, "to sail by
the power of air, wind, and steam." In September
the voyage was extended to Oban and Fort-William,
and was to be accomplished to and from the latter
place in four days. Mr. Bell lived to see his in-
vention universally adopted. The Clyde, which
first enjoyed the advantages of steam-navigation,
became the principal seat of this description of ship-
building; and, at the present time, Clyde-built
steamers maintain their superiority in every port in
the world. Steamships are now launched from the
building-yards of Glasgow and (jreenock of 2000
tonnage, and 800 horse-power; and Clyde-built ships,
with Glasgow engines, make the voyage betwixt
Liverpool and New-York in ten days. Steamboat
building and marine-engine making received their
first powerful impulse from the solution of the pro-
blem of ocean steam-navigation. From tables, con-
structed by Dr. Strang from returns furnished to him
by the various ship-builders and engineers in Glasgow,
Dumbarton, Greenock, and Port-Glasgow, it a]ipears
that, during the seven years from 1846 to 1852, there
were constructed at Glasgow and in its neighbour-
hood 123 vessels, of which I was of wood, 122 of
iron, 80 paddle, and 43 screw; consisting of 200
wooden tonnage; 70,441 iron tonnage; 6610 horse-
power engines for wooden hulls, 22,539 horse-power
engines for iron hulls, and 4720 horsc-jiower engines
for vessels not built on the Clyde. During the same
period there were constructed in Dumbarton, 58
vessels, all of iron, 20 being for ]iaddles and 38 for
screws, and having a tonnage of 29, 761 ; and during
the last three years of the same period, 3615 horse-
power engines were made there for iron hulls, aiul
200 horse-power engines for vessels not built on the
Cly<le. During the same period, from 184610 1852,
there were constnicted at (Jreenock and Port-
Glasgow, 66 steam-vessels, of which 13 were of wood
and 53 of iron, 41 paddle and 25 screw; consisting

HENRY BELL JAMES BELL.

I!9

of 18,131 wood tonnage and 29,071 iron tonnage,
129 horse- power engines for wooden hulls, 5439
horse-power engines for iron hulls, and 4514 horse-
power engines for vessels not built on the Clyde.
For the whole ports in the Clyde, the steam-vessels
built and the marine engines made, from 1846 to
1852, were as follows: — Number of steam-vessels
built— wood hulls, 14; iron hulls, 233; in all, 247;
of these 141 were paddles, and 106 screws. The
tonnage of the wootien steamers amounts to 18,331,
of the iron to 129,273. The engines' horse-power
in wood hulls was 6739, the engines' horse-power in
iron hulls was 31,593; while there was of engines'
horse-])ower for vessels not constructetl on the Clyde,
9434, making a grand total of 247 steamers, amount-
ing to 147,604 tons, and of engines 47,766 horse-
power. Coming nearer to the present day, we may
state that the ship-building yards on the Clyde alone
turned out, in 1863, 170 vessels of 124, cxx) tonnage; in
1864, 242 vessels of 178,505 tonnage; and in 1865, 257
vessels of every size an<l character, with 151,297 of
tonnage and 23,857 of horse-{x>wer. On the 1st of
January, 1866, there were in the hands of the ship-
builders orders for 178 vessels, with a tonnage of
29l,27otons, and a horse-power of 42,607. Such was
the rapid progress in a few years of steam-ship building
on the river where Henry Bell first tried his great ex-
periment. The steam communication which has, for
several years, existetl betwixt our West Indian and
North American colonies and the mother country,
has recently iK'cn extended to Australia and the Cape
of Ciood Hope, thus uniting (ireat Britain to her
most distant dependencies by new and powerful tics,
and literally realizing the vivid description of George
Canning, who, dilating on the lx;nefits of steam-
navigation, several years before the death of Bell,
described it as "that new and mighty power, new at
least in the application of its might, which walks
tlie water like a giant, rejoicing in its course, stem-
ming alike the tempest and the tide — accelerating
intercourse — shortening distances — creating, as it
were, unexpected neighbourhoods, and new com-
binations of social and commercial relations, and
giving to the fickleness of winds, and the faithless-
ness of waves, the certainty and steadiness of a high-
way upon the land." Whilst commerce and civiliza-
tion were tlius making rapid progress by means of
his invention, Henry Bell reap)ed no personal advan-
tage from it. He even approached the confines of
old age in very straitened circumstances. Touched
by his condition, the late Dr. Cleland, and a number
of other benevolent individuals, commenced a sub-
scription on his liehalf, by which a consideraVjle sum
was raised. The trustees on the river Clyde granted
him an annuity of jCioo, which was continijed
to his widow. This was but a liecoming acknow-
ledgment of the value of his great invention on the
jiart of the trustees of a river whose annual revenue
was increased, mainly by the impulse given to its
trade by steam-navigation, from ^6676 in iSio, the
year befure I'>cll commenced the constraction of the
Ci'Wt-/, to £20,2()G in 1S30, the year in which he
died; and which has been more than tripled during
the suhseipicnt twenty-two years, being in 1S52
;^76.030. Within the same space of time, the
channel of the river has undergone a corresponding
improvement, being rcndercfl navigable by shi]is of
700 and Soo tons burden; whereas, little more than
half a ce;Uury ago it w.is navigable only bv coal
gahhards and vessels <5f 30 to 45 tuns. The average
available depth of the Clyde at high water of neap
tides is 16 feet, with an additional depth of two
or three leet at spring-tides. ,\t the Broomielaw,
the harbour of Gla^guw, there are now 10,000 lineal

feet of quayage, giving accommodation to hundreds
of the largest siiips belonging to the mercantile
marine of this and foreign countries. Mr. Bell died
at Helensburgh, March 14, 1830, aged sixty-three,
and lies buried in the Row churchyard. An obelisk
to his memory w.is erected on the'rock of Dunglass,
a promontory on the Clyde, about 2}.^ miles above
Dunbarton.

BELL, Ja.mi'.s. This indefatigable geographer
was bom in 1769, in Jedburgh. His father, the
Rev. Thomas Bell, minister of a Relief congregation
in that town, and afterwards of Dovehill Cha])el in
Glasgow, was a man of great worth and considerable
learning, and the author of a Treatise on the Co7.e-
nants, and several other pieces of a theological kind.
In his childhood and youth the subject <jf our
memoir suffered much sickness, and gave little
promise either of bodily or mental vigour; but, as
he grew up, his constitution improved, ami he began
to evince that irresistilde pro])ensity to reading, or
rather devouring all books that came in his way,
which ever afterwards marked his character. It was
fortunate for him that he was not bereft of his
natural guardian until he was considerably advanced
in life, for he was quite unfit to push his own way in
the world, the uncommon sim