|
1790. Much excitement and
regret was occasioned this year amongst the higher classes in Edinburgh
by the death of Sir G. Ramsay, who fell in a duel with Captain Macrae:
the cause of this unfortunate rencontre was, Captain Macrae beating one
of Sir George’s servants, who had been insolent to him. On that
gentleman requiring Sir George to dismiss this servant, Sir George
refused to do so; a meeting took place in consequence on the Links at
Musselburgh, when on the first fire Sir George fell, mortally wounded.
Captain Macrae resided at Marionville, a villa near Edinburgh, and
although reputed to be a bad-tempered and violent man, and professed
duellist, he was received in the best society. After the duel, he fled
to the Continent, was outlawed, and died, at an advanced age, at
Hamburgh.
1791. The gallant 42nd regiment (the Royal Highlanders) were quartered
in the Castle of Edinburgh during the early part of this year. Many of
the officers being of my father’s acquaintance (having met them on
service during the Seven Years’ War), he often received them at his
house: my eldest brother was also on intimate terms with several of the
younger officers, particularly Dewar of Yogrie. On an occasion when a
large party were to dine at my father’s, my brother was very wishful
that Yogrie should he one of the convives. Unfortunately Yogrie was on
duty that day, and could not leave the castle without permission of his
commanding officer: this eas a most annoying contretemps. To the castle,
therefore, went my brother, and proposed to Yogrie, that they should
lower themselyes over the walls, at a point where formerly existed a
sallyport. This hazardous feat they effected, and after scrambling down
the rock from the foot of the wall, they reached my father’s house, in
Prince’s Street, safely,— rather damaged, however, in their lower
garments, particularly Yogric’s kilt, hung, as the sailors say, been
obliged “to
come down by the run,” at the steepest part of the descent. This was
soon repaired, and they found the dinner party in high spirits, little
thinking of the difficulty attending Yogric’s return to the castle. To
scramble up the castle rock and ascend the wall was out of the question;
neither did Yogrie feel up to such an attempt. To enter the castle by
the gate, and pass the main guard, without being challenged, was equally
impossible. After much discussion, my father (an old campaigner) ordered
a sedan-chair to be called, in which Yogrie was placed, wrapped in a
blanket, with a white nightcap on his head. The chairmen (two
strong-limbed sons of the Gael) were ordered, when challenged at the
castle gate, to reply, On its a sick shentleman offisher, wha’s taen owr
muckle a drap o’ toddy, and been owr weel acquant wi ta rugh side o’ ta
eaasy.” This satisfied the sentinel, and thus was Yogrie smuggled past
the main guard, at which it was said his commanding officer winked. Be
that as it may, Yogrie soon afterwards retired from the service.
Many of the officers of the 42nd were of the clan Fraser, amongst whom
was Captain Fraser, who commanded the grenadier company. He had served
from early youth in the gallant “Forty Twa,” and under the lamented
Wolfe, led the grenadiers when they stormed the heights of Abraham. In
all the actions where the Royal Highlanders were engaged during the
Seven Years’ war, he was distinguished for his gallantry. Two sons of
his held commissions in the 42nd — the youngest, Simon, was considered
the handsomest man in the regiment. The other members of the gallant
veteran’s family consisted of his wife, a most amiable
matron, and an only daughter, the sweet and bonnie Sally. The motherly
kindness of Mrs. Fraser to my companion Benjy Bartlet and myself, when
we visited her and bonnie Sally, in the castle, I still remember with
much gratitude. Their apartments were in the Great Square, where, in the
olden time, the palace was situate, in one of the apartments of which
the unfortunate Queen Mary was born. Mrs. Fraser, while administering
with true Highland hospitality to our creature comforts, delighted and
interested our young imaginations with many a traditionary historic
anecdote of the wrongs and sorrows, and melancholy fate, of the
beautiful but erring Mary Stuart, narrated with a fervour and warmth in
which we heartily participated. Captain Fraser was in manners and
appearance the perfect Highland gentleman, and gallant soldier; yet,
although he had served so long, was at this time no higher in rank than
the eldest captain of his regiment. To account for this, it is necessary
to look at the existing position, and, as it were, the constitution of
the Highland regiments. The financial state of the greater proportion of
the Highland proprietors and gentry was, during the last century, very
circumscribed and limited; and their mistaken and general feeling of
degradation being attendant upon commercial pursuits, shut out every
avenue of employment, excepting that of a soldier, for the younger
branches of Highland families, to which the warlike disposition of the
sons of the Gael ever impels them. The spirit and energy of clanship,
although weakened and almost struck down by the severe measures of
government, after the disastrous troubles of 1745, was still
smouldering, and far from being extinguished; they were again awakened
to life and vigour by the admirable statesmanship of the great Earl of
Chatham, then at the head of the administration, who, by showing
confidence in the Highlanders, brought into action
feelings of loyalty towards a dynasty, to overthrow' which, the best
blood of the sons of the Gael had been freelyshed. Lord Chatham appears
to have discovered by that intuitive knowledge of human nature given to
those on whom Providence has bestowed the highest attributes of the
human mind — the structure of the Celtic disposition to be a mixture of
attachment, trust, caution, and suspicion. The first, with the second,
if once fixed in the Highlander's mind, become so intertwined in his
mind and feelings, as never to be shaken; and although protected, as it
were, by the two latter to a certain extent, were ever dominant, and
devoted even to the death. It was under this conviction, and in the face
of a host of difficulties and violent opposition, that Chatham again
placed the claymore in the grasp of the Gael, and caused several
regiments, entirely composed of Highlanders, to be embodied, under the
command of high and influential chiefs of clans, and officered by cadets
of their families. These wise and statesmanlike measures, which opened
the cherished profession of soldier to the sons of the Gael, were
immediately and universally embraced; and in these regiments established
a renewal of those powerful feelings of clanship, strengthened by
relationship, amongst the officers and men, which immediately caused
numbers to flock to their standards.
Another element connected with this measure of Lord Chatham's, was the
prevention of promotion by purchase, and limiting it to the death, or
other casualties. To this latter circumstance is to be attributed the
well established fact, that with the Highland officer his regiment
became his home during life; the idea of being separated from it never
entered his thoughts; and when he attained the rank of lieutenant he
generally married, his bride often the daughter of a brother officer,
and, above all, of the same elan as himself. His sons and daughters were
born in the regiment; and (as in the instance of Captain Fraser's
family) the former became officers in it; and at last, if spared from
the regiment, they were carried to their last earthly resting-place by
the gallant men whom they had often led to the assault and deadly charge
in a hard-fought field. Hence arose that attachment between officers and
men, strengthened, as before remarked, by the high feelings of
relationship and clanship, on which was founded the “esprit de corps,”
which is the root and mainspring of that moral and honourable conduct,
combined with strict discipline, which have ever distinguished the
Highland regiments.
Soon after this period the 42nd regiment embarked for Flanders, and the
53rd regiment (in which the late Lord Hill was then a lieutenant)
marched into Edinburgh Castle. I remember accompanying my father to call
upon Lieutenant Hill, whose barrack-room was in the portion of the old
palace which immediately adjoined the chamber wherein it was supposed
the ancient regalia of Scotland was deposited. My brothers were now
ordered to join their regiments; when George proceeded to Tynemouth
barracks, whence he immediately embarked with his regiment, the 19th
foot, for Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, where a large force was
assembled, under the command of the Earl Moira, preparatory to
embarkation, in order to make an attempt to land on the coast of France.
Charles joined the 4th Dragoons, at Perth; his brother lieutenant
(junior to him) was Fitzroy Somerset, distinguished in after life as
military secretary to the Duke of Wellington throughout the Peninsular
campaigns, and as Lord Haglan in command of the British forces in the
Crimea. These separations broke into our family circle, and launched me
out of the grade of childhood into that of boyhood, when I was placed
under the tuition of worthy Mr. Fulton, to be (as it was then termed)
instructed in English. His school-room was at the corner of North
Hanover Street and Queen Street, overlooking the opposite gardens, one
of which was possessed by Mr. Adam Rowland, a distinguished member of
the faculty of advocates, and particularly eminent as a sound lawyer and
chamber counsel. He was of a shy, nervous temperament, which caused him
to decline forensic practice, although possessed of talents and legal
knowledge superior to many of his brethren who shone forth with
brilliant oratory, in pleading before the courts. He was of a most kind
and benevolent nature and disposition, ever ready to relieve distress,
whether of mind or body. He was also most particular and neat in his
dress. His house, and all within it, exhibited broadly the organs of
order and method. For us schoolboys Mr. Howland always had a kind smile
and greeting; yet, boy-like (but without any feeling of disrespect), we
gave him the soubriquet of “Snuggy.” At this moment I think I see the
worthy gentleman leaving his house for his afternoon walk, dressed in a
well-arranged suit of brown coat and waistcoat, black silk breeches, and
grey silk stockings, silver knee and shoe buckles; while ruffles adorned
his wrists and the front of his shirt, and his shoes black and bright as
if “Day & Martin” had then existed. He carried a gold- headed cane,
which, as he walked, he swung about with a jaunty air. Thus lived and
died the last representative of the ancient family of “Rowland of Luscar,”
in Fifeshire.
1794. Now an important change “came o’er the spirit of my dream,” by my
removal from the kind tuition of Mr. Fulton, to become a boarder in the
scholastic establishment of Mr. Taylor, at Musselburgh, then considered
the first in Scotland. The sons of the most influential classes formed
the largest portion of my schoolfellows, among whom was David Ramsay,
the youngest son of the late Earl of Dalhousie. David became boarder on
the same day as I did, and was of my own age. He at once assumed an air
of superiority over each other which could only be decided by a battle,
so at it we went; when, after a long and severe tulzie,with black eyes
and bloody noses, I was declared victor. This at once gave me a certain
standing amongst my schoolmates, but only to be maintained by many an
after- fight. I was a stout, long-winded birkie, and never said no to a
challenge.
David Ramsay was generous and kind-hearted, and possessed all the
inherent gallantly and courage of “the Dalwolsee race.” He entered the
army at an early age, as ensign in the 18th regiment of foot (which
formed part of the force sent to attack the French West India Islands),
when he fell a victim to the yellow fever.
At this period the number of boarders at Mr. Taylor’s was very limited
(not more than nine); they were increased to forty ere I left, of which
number I have cause to believe that at this present time, 1850, only two
besides myself exist. Amongst other recollections of my sojourn at Mr.
Taylor’s, the severity of the winter of 1791-5 stands prominent; such
had not occurred for many years. The intensity of the frost and the
heavy fall of snow were extreme; the roads were almost entirely blocked
up, and as the snow- plough was at that period unknown, it required
powerful strength of manual labour to clear the principal lines of roads
for postal communication. The mails were forwarded in post- chaises,
with six horses to each; the guard was inside, with the letter-bags
piled up around him. Traffic by cross-roads was entirely suspended. The
River risk, at Musselburgh, was ice-bound for many weeks, to the great
enjoyment of myself and schoolmates. Every instant out of school we were
careering on it, skating and sliding, or watching the jolly curlers
enjoying the roaring game, and now and the we opened a heavy fire of
snow-balls on whomever came across us. Many a girn, or snare, we set to
catch mavises and blackbirds, of whom numbers fell victims to us.
It was prior to this that a violent spirit of democracy and sedition
(engendered by the French Revolution) became extensively prevalent
amongst the middle and lower classes of the population of England and
Scotland — even some of the members of the aristocracy were tinged with
this mania. Associations were formed boldly expressing and disseminating
revolutionary principles, one of which, under the designation of
“Friends of the People" was conspicuous for its ultraism, and the extent
of its ramifications, particularly in Scotland. Government was well
informed of these proceedings, and aware of the danger which thus
threatened public order and the common weal, and every means and
precaution was taken to crush and overcome such dangerous attempts.
Henry Dundas, afterwards raised to the peerage as Viscount Melville, was
at this time de facto secretary of state for Scotland. He was admirably
adapted for the fulfihnent of the difficult and onerous duties which in
that situation devolved upon him: possessed of much talent, firmness,
and temper, he combined with such, great bonhommie, and most pleasing
and conciliatory manners; his extensive family connections further
increased and strengthened the great and almost universal influence
which he possessed with the highest and most powerful, as well as with a
large proportion of the middle classes of his countrymen. As a natural
consequence he was hated, yet feared, by the seditious and
revolutionists, and also by a few of the higher ranks, who, from vanity
and a spurious yearning for popularity, were anxious and ambitious to be
looked up to as “the Friends of the People" and who declared for
democracy and republicanism. I may here mention that the distinguishing
badge of all who supported such principles was having their hair closely
cropped, thus giving the coup de grace to hair powder and a full dressed
head of curls and queue, which was then so universally adopted, that no
one of the rank of a gentleman could appear without such. Amongst the
most conspicuous and ardent supporters of citizenship and republicanism
was a noble lord of distinguished talent. Well do I remember, with
several of my playmates, gazing with fear and wonder at the citizen
earl, as he walked along George Street dressed, or rather, I should say,
undressed, in a rough frock-coat, made of the cloth denominated “rap
rascal.” His dark and sombre countenance, as we looked at him, caused
our generally uproarious voices to drop into a whisper, and to exclaim
(sotto voce), “Eh! what a fearsome-looking man. They say he wants to
chap aff the king’s head!” He was leaning on the arm of the Honourable
Harry Erskine, famed for his wit, his talents, and his whiggish
principles; and brother to the no less distinguished barrister, and
after Chancellor, Tom Erskine. The noble citizen earl felt at the close
of a long life the error of his former opinions, and gave the most
strenuous opposition to the Reform Rill of 1802.
Another conspicuous whig and croppy was the Honourable Ramsay Maule. He
was second son of the noble family of Dalhousie, and was afterwards
raised to the peerage as Lord Ranmure. He succeeded to the large
possessions of his ancestor, which became forfeited in 1715, but were
afterwards restored. In early life Ramsay Maule was distinguished by the
soubriquet of “the Generous Sportsman" and held a leading position
amongst the elite of fashionable society. Possessed of an income
exceeding that of any other commoner of his country, he
was enabled to indulge every fancy, and gratify every whim. His
beautiful and valuable stud of horses, his well-appointed carriages, the
splendour of his style of living, at once marked his knowledge of le
savoir vivre, and his fine and correct taste.I have before mentioned his
youngest brother as my school-fellow at Mr. Taylor’s, and for whom “the
Generous Sportsman" showed much affection and kindness. The delight with
which we younkers witnessed this Croesus brother, in his phaeton and
four, dashing up to Mr. Taylor’s to visit Davy, was extreme—as it
secured to us a half holiday, and participation in the contents of a
large basket of bonbons, which Davy, in the kindness of his nature,
always shared with his schoolmates.
“The Generous Sportsman" was much given to indulge in practical jokes;
the recital of these I remember listening to with great delight, as my
father’s butler and coachman, with infinite glee, related to me “the
harum-scarum wark o’ that merry wild deevil Ramsay Maule " one instance
of which showed out broadly the teeming generosity and love of fun of
this favoured child of fortune. His magnificent baronial residence of
Brechin Castle was in the vicinity of the town of Montrose, where dwelt
the mother of Joseph Hume, a man “known to fame." Mrs. Hume, in her
widowed state, had a hard struggle to bring up her family: in aid of
other means she was a dealer in crockery; on market-days she spread out
on the pavement in front of her shop a large assortment of her brittle
ware, to the sore temptation of housewives, whose great pride and
ambition is ever to be possessed of a handsome tea-set. This afforded an
opportunity to indulge in a freak of fun just suited to Ramsay Maule,
which he carried through by galloping into Montrose at the head of a
group of his merry companions, and charging and careering through and
through Widow Hume’s cups and saucers, tureens and plates, &c., until,
as the Yankees say, “all was one almighty smash.” A handful of Sir
William Forbes & Co.’s bank-notes, tossed to honest Mrs. Hume, with a
cheery, kindly smile from “the Generous Sportsman,” settled the account
and result of his spree. It was even whispered by the widow’s gossips,
that a repetition of “the weel faard honourable’a daafen, wadna be ill
ta’en.”
To return from this digression. I have already stated that a determined
and active spirit of sedition and democracy was extensively prevalent
throughout England and Scotland, the first serious outbreak of which
occurred in Edinburgh on the 4th of June, 1792 (the anniversary of the
king’s birthday), when, according to custom, the lord provost and
magistrates, and the principal members of the influential classes,
assembled in the Parliament House to drink his majesty’s health. This
demonstration of loyalty was most obnoxious to the democratic
association of the Friends of the People in consequence of which, they
caused a numerous and riotous mob to assemble, who, after creating great
confusion in the immediate vicinity of the Parliamcnt House, proceeded
to George’s Square, with the determination to burn the effigy of Henry
Dundas in front of the house of his mother, Mrs. Dundas, of Arniston,
and afterwards to destroy the residence of the lord advocate, which
immediately adjoined. The effigy was burnt, and other riotous acts
effected, before a party of the 34th regiment, then quartered in
Edinburgh Castle, marched into the square. The Riot Act was then read by
the sheriff, but without causing the dispersion of the mob, or a
cessation of their proceedings. The military were then ordered to fire,
when several of the mob were killed and wounded, which put an end to
their outrages for that time. Next evening, however, the mob again
assembled, and proceeded to Queen Street, with the intention of burning
the house of Sir James Stirling, then filling the important position of
lord provost. Again were the military marched from the castle, and
signal guns fired to summon the 4th regiment of dragoons from
Musselburgh, and a party of seamen from the Hind sloop of war, at anchor
in Leith Roads, commanded by Captain Philip Durham. So powerful a
demonstration of forces daunted the mob effectually, put an end to the
riots, and re-established order and the quiet of the town.
I will now mention some particulars respecting the naval career of my
relative Captain Durham. He was the youngest son of Mr. Durham, of
Largo, a gentleman of much influence in the county of Fife, where his
estate was situated. His eldest son entered the army, and lived to
attain the rank of general. Philip preferred the naval profession, and
at an early age was appointed a midshipman on board the Trident, of 64
guns; in due time he rose to the rank of lieutenant, and in that
capacity joined the Royal Georye, on board of which he was serving when
that noble man-of-war (at that period the largest in the British navy)
sank at Spitliead. Lieutenant Durham was amongst the few of her crew who
were saved, and his escape from a watery grave was marked by certain and
most interesting circumstances, which in after life he mentioned to me.
On the day on which the Royal Georye sank Lieutenant Durham was, in the
course of duty, attending to the hoisting on board of a supply of
provisions; whilst so occupied, he observed that the ship had a heavy
list to starboard, quite unusual for a ship at anchor. He immediately
jumped on the weather-quarter of the deck, when, observing the ship
heeling over still more, he sang out, “The ship is sinking!” The words
were scarcely out of his mouth when the ship capsized, upon which he
sprang through one of the port-holes, followed by a marine, who,
clinging to Lieutenant Durham, they sank together; with admirable
presence of mind, Lieutenant Durham threw off his jacket and waistcoat
(then grasped by the marine), which enabled him to rise to the surface,
where he was picked up by a boat, and saved. The marine was drowned;
some days afterwards his body rose to the surface, still grasping the
waist-eoat, in the pocket of which there remained Lieutenant Durham’s
pencil-case. This he showed to me when he had attained the rank of
admiral, after a course of active and brilliant service, during which
Captain Durham commanded the Defiance, of 74, in the glorious action of
Trafalgar. He received the decoration of K.C.B., and closed his naval
career as commander-in-chief at Portsmouth. He died at Naples, in 1844,
in the eighty-third year of his age.
To return to the Edinburgh riots. On the second night of the proceedings
of the mob, and when marching from the Old Town along the North Bridge
to Queen Street, a circumstance occurred which showed forth the high
estimation in which Mr. Alexander Wood, then at the head of the medical
profession in Edinburgh, was held by all ranks of the community. On
passing along the North Bridge, the mob overtook an elderly gentleman;
very tall and thin, dressed in black, and wearing a cocked bat. Now,
there was a very marked resemblance in tbis person to Sir James
Stirling, the lord provost, whom the mob held in the most intense
hatred. The night was very dark, little modified by the feeble
flickering of a few oil lamps; whiskey had still further obscured the
clairvoyance of the rioters, who atonce seized, as they thought, the
veritable Sir James, and immediately hoisted him up, with the
determination to throw him over the bridge, when a roar from the
supposed Sir James of, “The deevil's in ye, Callants. I am no Sir Jeems,
but Lang Sandy Wood! Set me down, set me down, ye deeviks buckies!”
Whereupon there was a universal shout of, “Oh! it's gude Sandy
Wood!—there is no a kinder or better man in a fimbroi; let him gang, let
him gang!” On which Sandy went on his way rejoicing. Of this most worthy
man more hereafter.
During the second night of the riots my school-fellows and myself were
roused out of a sound sleep by the trumpets of the 4th Dragoons sounding
late at night in the street opposite to Mr. Taylor's: we rushed out of
bed, threw up the windows, and shouted and hurrahed to the mustering
dragoons, who in return cheered us heartily: but “we caught a Tartar
”—the ushers were at us actively with the taas (leathern scourges),
which they applied lustily, and soon drove us pellmell within our
blankets. At this period the 4th Dragoons were mounted on black horses,
who showed more of the breed of cart horses than of blood; their long
tails swept the ground. The uniform was red, faced with green and silver
lace; the coats single-breasted, with long full skirts; the waistcoat
and breeches plush, of a pale yellow; the hats were cocked, and bound
with white tape, in imitation of silver lace; which, with black boots
reaching to the knee, completed the uniform. The arms were a brace of
pistols in holsters in front of the saddle, a heavy sword (quite
straight) with a basket hilt, a musket (not a carbine), the butt end of
which came behind the right arm, the muzzle placed in a leather socket
outside of the foot. A part of their evolutions consisted in
dismounting, and advancing in line in front of their horses (who were
linked to each other), and going through the manual and platoon exercise
— the sword exercise was then unknown. The trumpeters were Africans,
dressed in a semi-oriental costume, and wearing turbans. This regiment
served with distinction throughout the Peninsular war, from the battle
of Talavera to that of Toulouse. In the former my second brother, as
major, led the right squadron in that charge, when the 23rd Light
Dragoons suffered so severely. We schoolboys were on very intimate terms
with many of the privates of the 4th, and, on the approach and end of a
review, an active exchange of cartridges for whiskey took place. Diming
this year, and subsequently, I remained at Mr. Taylor's, when a great
increase in the number of boarders enabled me to form intimate
friendships with several of them.In the same class with me was "Willy
Hope, the youngest son of Sir Archibald Hope. "Willy, like myself, was
little inclined to book lore; the tutor, named Hogg, under whose
superintendence we tugged at “Amo amaviand“ Propria: que maribus was a
harsh, passionate man, and had a detestable habit of striking us on the
head. We cordially detested him; but we had our revenge by the discovery
of his base and immoral conduet, in seducing and deserting a beautiful
girl, the only daughter of a most respectable inhabitant of Musselburgh,
and for which he was dismissed by Mr. Taylor. "Willy Hope, although lame
by the contraction of the muscles of his left leg, was full of spirits,
and exceedingly active. His inclination being for a sailor’s life, he
joined one of the magnificent ships owned by the East India Company as a
midshipman, or, as the middys of the royal navy contemptuously called
them, “Guinea pigs.” After passing through the usual routine of the
different subordinate grades, he obtained the command of a ship, and was
afterwards appointed to the lucrative situation of naval superintendent
at Bombay, where he died of cholera, in the year 1830. His father, Sir
Archibald, was a thorough representative of a Scottish gentleman; he
possessed the estate of Pinky, and was proprietor of extensive
collieries in the neighbourhood of Inveresk. He kept a pack of harriers,
which were objects of great interest to us schoolboys. His huntsman we
knew only as “Lang Tam,” a surly fellow, who rejected all our efforts to
be on intimate terms with him, and even shook his long whip at us if we
attempted to run after his hounds when they passed Mr. Taylor’s. Sir
Archibald was a kind-hearted man, but very stern, which made us afraid
of him; we were always well pleased when those of us who were invited by
kind Lady Hope to drink tea at Pinky House found Sir Archibald absent:
many a happy Saturday evening I passed there. Lady Hope’s daughters were
always kind, particularly Miss Graliamy, who aided me in my anxious
endeavours to win the pool at commerce, upon which depended my after
enjoyment of gingerbread cake and Gibraltar rock.
It was during the many previous years that the first ministerial charge
of the parish of Inveresk was filled by the Rev. Dr. Carlyle, the friend
and intimate companion of John Home, the author of the tragedy of
“Douglas,” and of all the distinguished literati of that day. Dr.
Carlyle’s figure was tall and commanding; his countenance combined the
expression of high intellect, eloquence, and benevolence. His courteous
and kind manner to all, together with that badge of stricken years,
“full flowing silvered locks,” inspired with respect and affection all
who enjoyed his friendship or acquaintance. When the troubles in 1745
broke out, Dr. Carlyle was a student in the University of Edinburgh,
and, with many of his class fellows and friends, was enrolled and joined
one of the corps then raised to defend the city. When the prince’s army
advanced and took possession of Edinburgh, young Carlyle thought
discretion the better part of valour, and retired to his father’s, then
parochial clergyman of the parish of Preston Pans. On the morning of the
action between the royal forces, under Sir John Cope, and the Highland
army, commanded by Prince Charles, which took place in the neighbourhood
of Tranent and Port Seaton, young Carlyle ascended the tower of the
church of Preston Pans, and from thence witnessed the rout of the royal
troops, and the victory of the Highland army. In after years the
reverend doctor used to relate with much humour his feelings on this
occasion.“ I took counsel,” quoth the doctor, “with my father, and came
to the resolution that, as my calling was unto peace, and not into war,
my inclinations and duty were not to dwell amongst the tents of Kedar,
but to wait in quietness until the troublous days had passed away.” With
this determination he completed his clerical studies, and, in the year
1748, was appointed as minister to the parish of Inveresk, where he
faithfully fulfilled the duties of pastor during the long period of
fifty-seven years, when, at the age of eighty-three, he passed away,
surrounded with the respect and affection of all his parishioners, and
every class of the community amongst whom he had dwelt for so many
years. |
