Epigraph
If language was given to men to conceal their thoughts, then gesture’s purpose was to disclose them.
JOHN NAPIER
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
Epigraph
Introduction
The Head
The Forehead
The Eyebrows
The Eyes
The Ears
The Nose
The Mouth
The Lips
The Cheeks and Jaw
The Chin
The Face
The Neck
The Shoulders
The Arms
The Hands and Fingers
The Chest, Torso, and Belly
The Hips, Buttocks, and Genitals
The Legs
The Feet
Conclusion
Acknowledgments
Bibliography
Index
AbouttheAuthor
AlsobyJoeNavarro
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
Introduction
In 1971, at the age of seventeen, for reasons unknown to me then or now, I began to keep a journal on human behavior. I catalogued all sorts of “nonverbals”—what is more generally called body language. At first it was the quirky things people did: why did they roll their eyes when they were disbelieving or reach for their neck when they heard bad news? Later it became more nuanced: why did women play with their hair while on the phone or arch their eyebrows when they greeted one another? These were small actions, but they captured my curiosity. Why did humans do such things, in such variety? What was the purpose of these behaviors?
I admit it was an odd pursuit for a teenager. My friends told me as much; they were focused on trading baseball cards, knowing who had the best batting average or kicked the most extra points that season. I was far more interested in learning the intricacies of human behavior.
In the beginning I catalogued my observations on three-by-fiveinch cards for my own benefit. At that time I was unfamiliar with the work of Charles Darwin, Bronisław Malinowski, Edward T. Hall, Desmond Morris, or my future friend Dr. David Givens—the giants in the field of human behavior. I was simply interested in how others acted, and why, and I wanted to preserve my observations. I never thought I would still be collecting them on index cards forty years later.
Over the years, I collected several thousand entries. Little did I know back then that I would later become an FBI Special Agent and would, for the next twenty-five years, use those observations as I pursued criminals, spies, and terrorists. But perhaps, given my
interest in how and why people behave, that was the natural trajectory all along.
I CAME TO the United States as a refugee fleeing Communist-controlled Cuba. I was eight years old and didn’t speak English. I had to adjust quickly—in other words, I had to observe and decode my new surroundings. What native speakers took for granted, I could not. My new existence consisted of deciphering the only thing that made sense—body language. Through their countenance, their look, the softness in their eyes, or the tension in their face, I learned to interpret what others implied. I could figure out who liked me, who was indifferent toward my existence, whether someone was angry or upset with me. In a strange land, I survived by observing. There was no other way.
Of course, American body language was a little different from Cuban body language. People in America spoke with a different cadence and vibrancy. Cubans got close to one another when they spoke, and often touched. In America they stood farther apart, and social touching might receive an uncomfortable glance or worse. My parents worked three jobs each, so they did not have the time to teach me these things—–I had to learn them on my own. I was learning about culture and the influence it has on nonverbals, even if I couldn’t have put it in those words at the time. But I did know that some behaviors were different here, and I had to understand them. I developed my own form of scientific inquiry, observing dispassionately and validating everything I saw not once or twice but many times before it made its way onto an index card. As my cards grew in number, certain patterns in behavior began to stand out. For one, most behaviors could be broadly categorized as markers of either psychological comfort or discomfort; our bodies reveal very accurately, in real time, our state of unease.
I would later learn that many of these comfort markers or behaviors, to be more precise, originated in the mammalian or emotional areas of the brain—what is often referred to as the limbic system. This type of involuntary response squared with what I had seen in Cuba and was seeing now in America. At school or through
the window at the corner store, people would flash their eyes with their eyebrows to greet those they truly liked. Such universal behaviors I grew to trust as authentic and reliable. What I did doubt was the spoken word. How often, after I had learned English, I heard people say they liked something when just an instant earlier I had seen their face reveal the complete opposite.
And so, too, I learned at an early age about deception. People often lie, but their nonverbals usually reveal how they actually feel. Children, of course, are terrible liars; they might nod to acknowledge they have done something bad even as they are verbally denying it.
As we get older, we get better at lying, but a trained observer can still spot the signs that say something is wrong, there are issues here, a person does not appear to be completely forthcoming, or someone lacks confidence in what he is saying. Many of those signals or behaviors are collected here in this book.
As I grew older, I came to rely more and more on nonverbals. I relied on them at school, in sports, in everything I did—even playing with my friends. By the time I had graduated from Brigham Young University, I had collected more than a decade’s worth of observations. There, for the first time, I was living among many more cultures (east Europeans, Africans, Pacific Islanders, Native Americans, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Japanese, among others) than I had seen in Miami, and this allowed me to make further observations.
At school I also began to discover the fascinating scientific underpinnings of many of these behaviors. To take just one example: in 1974 I got to see congenitally blind children playing together. It took my breath away. These children had never seen other children yet were exhibiting behaviors that I had thought were visually learned. They were demonstrating “happy feet” and the “steeple” with their hands, despite having never witnessed them. This meant these behaviors were hardwired into our DNA, part of our paleo-circuits—these very ancient circuits that ensure our survival and ability to communicate and are thus universal. Throughout my college career, I learned about the evolutionary basis
of many of these behaviors, and throughout this book, I will reveal these often surprising facts we take for granted.
WHEN I FINISHED my studies at Brigham Young University, I received a phone call asking me to apply to the FBI. I thought it was a joke, but the next day two men in suits knocked on my door and handed me an application and my life changed forever. In those days, it was not unusual for FBI scouts to look for talent on campus. Why my name was handed up, or by who, I never learned. I can tell you that I was more than elated to be asked to join the most prestigious law enforcement agency in the world.
I was the second-youngest agent ever hired by the FBI. At the age of twenty-three I had again entered a new world. Though I felt unprepared in many ways to be an agent, there was one domain I had mastered: nonverbal communication. This was the only area where I felt confident. FBI work is, for the most part, about making observations. Yes, there are crime scenes to process and criminals to apprehend, but the majority of the job is talking to people, surveilling criminals, conducting interviews. And for that I was ready. My career in the FBI spanned twenty-five years, the last thirteen of which I spent in the Bureau’s elite National Security Behavioral Analysis Program (NS-BAP). It was in this unit, designed to analyze the top national security cases, that I got to utilize my nonverbal skills as if on steroids. This unit, comprising just six agents selected from among twelve thousand FBI Special Agents, had to achieve the impossible: identify spies, moles, and hostile intelligence officers seeking to do harm to the United States under diplomatic cover. During my time in the field I honed my understanding of body language. What I observed could never be replicated in a university laboratory. When I read scientific journals about deception and body language, I could tell that the authors had never actually interviewed a psychopath, a terrorist, a “made” Mafia member, or an intelligence officer from the Soviet KGB. Their findings might be true in a lab setting, using university students. But they understood little of the real world. No lab could replicate what I had observed in vivo, and no researcher could approximate the more than thirteen thousand
interviews I had done in my career, the thousands of hours of surveillance video I had observed, and the behavioral notations that I had made. Twenty-five years in the FBI was my graduate school; putting multiple spies in prison based on nonverbal communications was my dissertation.
AFTER RETIRING FROM the FBI, I wanted to share what I knew about body language with others. What Every BODY Is Saying, published in 2008, was the product of that quest. In that book the concepts of “comfort” and “discomfort” took center stage, and I unveiled the ubiquity of “pacifiers”—such as touching our faces or stroking our hair—body behaviors we use to deal with everyday stress. I also sought to explain where these universal behaviors came from, drawing upon psychological research, evolutionary biology, and cultural contexts to explain whywe do the things we do.
WhatEvery BODYIs Sayingbecame an international best seller; it has been translated into dozens of languages and has sold more than a million copies around the world. When I wrote What Every BODYIs Saying,I had no idea how popular it would become. At my speaking engagements in the years following its publication, I kept hearing the same thing: people wanted more, and they wanted it in a more easily accessible format. What many readers asked for was a field guide of sorts, a quick reference manual for behaviors they might encounter in day-to-day life.
The Dictionary of Body Language is that field guide. Organized by areas of the body—moving from the head down to the feet—it contains more than four hundred of the most important bodylanguage observations I have made over the course of my career. My hope is that reading through TheDictionary of BodyLanguage will give you the same insight into human behavior that I and other FBI agents have used to decode human behavior. Of course, we have used it when questioning suspects of crime. But you can use it as I have every day since I came to this country—to more fully understand those we interact with at work or at play. In social relationships, I can think of no better way to comprehend your
friends or partners than by studying the primary means by which we communicate—nonverbally.
If you have ever wondered why we do the things we do, or what a particular behavior means, my hope is to satisfy your curiosity. As you go through the dictionary, act out the behaviors that you read about and get a sense for how they appear as well as they feel. By acting these out, you will better remember them the next time you see them. If you are like me and enjoy people watching, if you want to discern what people are thinking, feeling, desiring, fearing, or intending, whether at work, at home, or in the classroom, read on.
The Head
All behavior, of course, originates from inside the head. The brain is constantly at work, whether on a conscious or subconscious level. The signals that go out from the brain regulate the heart, breathing, digestion, and many other functions—but the exterior of the head is tremendously important as well. The hair, forehead, eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, ears, and chin all communicate in their own way—from our general health to emotional distress. And so we begin with the part of the body that, from the time we are born until we die, we look to for useful information—first as parents, later as friends, work mates, lovers—to reveal for us what is in the mind.
1. HEAD ADORNMENT—Head adornment is used across all cultures for a variety of reasons. It can communicate leadership status (Native American chiefs’ feather headdresses), occupation (a hard hat or miner’s hat), social status (a bowler hat or an Yves Saint Laurent pillbox hat), hobbies (bicycle or rock-climbing helmet), religion (cardinal’s cap, Jewish yarmulke), or allegiance (favorite sports team, labor union). Head adornments may offer insight into individuals: where they fit in society, their allegiances, their socioeconomic status, what they believe, how they see themselves, or even the degree to which they defy convention.
2. HAIR Sitting conveniently on top of the head, our hair conveys so much when it comes to nonverbal communication. Healthy hair is something all humans look for, even on a subconscious level. Hair that is dirty, unkempt, pulled out, or uncared for may suggest poor health or even mental illness. Hair attracts, entices, conforms, repels, or shocks. It can even communicate something about our careers; as renowned anthropologist David Givens puts it, hair often serves as an “unofficial résumé,”
revealing where one ranks in an organization. And in many cultures hair is critical to dating and romance. People tend to follow both cultural norms and current trends with their hair; if they ignore these societal standards, they stand out.
3. PLAYING WITH HAIR—Playing with our hair (twirling, twisting, stroking) is a pacifyingbehavior. It is most frequently utilized by women and might indicate either a good mood (while reading or relaxing) or stress (when waiting for an interview, for example, or experiencing a bumpy flight). Note that when the palmofthe handfacestheheadit is more likely to be a pacifier, as opposed to the palm-out orientation discussed below. Pacifying behaviors soothe us psychologically when we feel stress or anxiety; they also help us to pass the time. As we grow older we go from pacifying by sucking our thumbs to such behaviors as lip biting, nail biting, or facial stroking.
4. PLAYING WITH HAIR (PALM OUT)—When women play with their hair with the palm of the hand facing out, it is more of a public display of comfort a sign that they are content and confident around others. We usually only expose the underside of our wrists to others when we are comfortable or at ease. This is often seen in dating scenarios where the woman will play with her hair, palm out, while talking to someone in whom she is interested.
5. RUNNING FINGERS THROUGH HAIR (MEN)—When stressed, men will run their fingers through their hair both to ventilate their heads (this lets air in to cool the vascular surface of the scalp) and to stimulate the nerves of the skin as they press down. This can also be a sign of concern or doubt.
6. VENTILATING HAIR (WOMEN) The ventilating of hair is a powerful pacifier, relieving both heat and stress. Women ventilate their hair differently than men. Women lift up the hair at the back of their neck quickly when concerned, upset, stressed, or flustered.
If they do it repeatedly, most likely they are overly stressed. Nevertheless, we cannot discount overheating due to physical activity or ambient temperature as a cause. Men tend to ventilate on the top of the head by running their fingers through the hair.
7. HAIR FLIPPING/TOUCHING—Hair flipping, touching, or pulling is common when we are trying to attract the attention of a potential mate. The movement of the hand as it touches the hair is often deemed attractive (note most any hair commercial). Our orientationreflex(OR), a primitive reaction that alerts us to any movement, is especially attuned to hand movements— something magicians have always counted on. A hand reaching for the hair can draw our attention even from across the room. Incidentally, the orientation reflex operates on such a subconscious level, it is even seen in coma patients as the eyes track movement.
8. HAIR PULLING—The intentional and repetitive pulling out of hair is called trichotillomania. Hair pulling is more often seen in children and teenagers who are experiencing stress, but it is also occasionally seen in adults. Men tend to pluck hair from the corners of their eyebrows, while women are far more wideranging: plucking their eyelids, head hair, eyebrows, and arm hair. This is a stress response; even birds will pull out their own feathers when stressed. The repetitive pulling out of the hair, like a nervous tic, pacifies by stimulating nerve endings; unfortunately, when it becomes severe, it requires medical intervention.
9. HEAD NODDING—During conversations nodding serves to affirm, usually in cadence, that the person is hearing and receptive to a message. Generally, it signals agreement, except in those situations where the head nodding is accompanied by lip pursing (see #154), which might suggest disagreement.
10. HEAD NODDING (CONTRADICTION)—We usually see this in young children, as when a parent asks a child “Did you break the lamp?” and the child answers “No” but nods. This contradictory behavior betrays the truth. I have seen this with kids, teenagers, and even adults.
11. HEAD PATTING, BACK OF HEAD—When we are perplexed or mentally conflicted, we often find ourselves patting the back of our head with one hand, perhaps even stroking our hair downward as we struggle for an answer. This behavior is soothing because of both the tactile sensation and the warmth that is generated. Like most hand-to-body touching, this is a pacifying behavior that reduces stress or anxiety.
12. HEAD SCRATCHING—Head scratching soothes us when we have doubts or feel frustrated, stressed, or concerned. You see it with people trying to remember information or when they are perplexed. This explains why it is often seen by teachers as students ponder a test question. Very rapid head scratching often signals high stress or concern. It can also signal the person is conflicted as to what to do next.
13. HEAD STROKING—Beyond the function of keeping one’s hair in place, people will stroke their hair with the palm of the hand to soothe themselves when stressed or confronted with a dilemma or while pondering how to answer a question. This is not dissimilar to a mother comforting her child by stroking the child’s head. This pacifying behavior can have an immediate calming effect. Once more, this behavior may signal doubt or conflict, especially if done to the back of the head.
14. HEAD SCRATCHING WITH TUMMY RUBBING The simultaneous rubbing of the belly and the head indicates doubt or wonder. It can also signal insecurity or incredulity. Interestingly, many primates do this as well.
15. INTERLACED FINGERS BEHIND HEAD, ELBOWS UP—The interlacing of the fingers behind the head with the elbows out is called “hooding” because the person looks like a cobra when it hoods —making the person seem bigger. This is a territorial display we do when comfortable and in charge. When we hood, the interlaced fingers behind the head are both comforting and soothing, while the elbows out project confidence. Hooding is rarely done when someone of higher status is present.
16. REACHING FOR HEAD (STUPEFIED)—People who are shocked, in disbelief, or stupefied might suddenly reach for their head with both hands so that the hands are near the ears but not touching them, with the elbows out toward the front. They might hold this position for several seconds as they try to make sense of what happened. This primitive, self-protective response might follow when someone has made a major faux pas, such as a driver crashing into his own mailbox, or a player running toward the wrong goal line.
17. INTERLACING FINGERS ON TOP OF HEAD—Usually performed with the palms down, this behavior stands out because it is intended to cover the head and yet the elbows are usually out and wide. We see this when people are overwhelmed, at an impasse, or struggling, when there has been a calamity (after hurricanes or tornados by those who lost property), or when things are not going their way. Note the position of the elbows: as things get worse, they tend to draw closer together in front of the face almost unnaturally, as if in a vise. Also note the pressure: the worse the situation, the greater the downward pressure of the hands. This behavior is quite different from “hooding” (see #15), where the palms are placed on the back of the head and the person is quite confident.
18. HAT LIFTING (VENTILATING)—Under sudden stress, people may suddenly lift up their hat to ventilate their head. This often occurs when receiving bad news, during an argument, or after a
heated moment. From a safety perspective, be aware that in situations of high anger (e.g., traffic accidents or road-rage incidents), disrobing (removing hats, shirts, sunglasses) often precedes a fight.
The Eyebrows
The eyebrows lie just above the supraorbital arches of the eye sockets and serve a variety of purposes. They protect our eyes from dust, light, and moisture, but they also communicate how we feel. From an early age we rely on people’s eyebrows to help us interpret their facial expressions. And in many cultures, eyebrows are an aesthetic concern: something to be tweezed, shaped, plucked, colored, highlighted, waxed, stylized, removed, or extenuated. Like the rest of our face, the eyebrows are controlled by a variety of muscles (corrugator supercilii principally, but also the nasalis and levator labii superioris from our nose), and thus can be very expressive and communicate exquisitely our feelings.
30. EYEBROW ARCHING/FLASHING (HAPPY)—Eyebrow arching or flashing conveys excitement (such as when greeting a close friend) or the recognition of something pleasing. We arch our brows in less than one-fifth of a second. It is a gravity-defying behavior , as it is performed in an upward direction, and as with most gravity-defying behaviors, it signifies something positive. Babies just a few months old light up when their mother flashes her eyebrows. Here is a great behavior to let others know we care and are happy to see them. A happy eyebrow flash can be immensely useful and powerful in everyday situations both at home and at work.
31. EYEBROW GREETINGS We flash our eyebrows when we recognize someone we know and cannot speak up at that moment, or simply to recognize a person’s presence, with or without a smile, depending on circumstances. We are quick to notice when this courtesy is not extended to us, for example, when we enter a store and the clerk makes no effort to establish any kind
of eye contact. We can let others know we value them, though we may be occupied, with a very simple eyebrow flash.
32. EYEBROW ARCHING (TENSE) This occurs when a person is presented with an unwanted surprise or shock. Coupled with other behaviors such as a tense face or lip compression, it can let us know someone has experienced something very negative. It is the tension in the muscles that control the eyebrows that differentiates this behavior from the eyebrow greeting described above and it is held for a few seconds longer.
33. EYEBROW ARCHING (CHIN TOWARD NECK) We arch our eyebrows with our mouths closed, chin toward the neck when we hear something we immediately question or are very surprised to hear or learn. When we witness an embarrassing situation we also employ this behavior, as if to say, “I heard that and I didn’t like it.” It is a look teachers often give to misbehaving students.
34. EYEBROW ASYMMETRY—People use this signal when they have doubts or uncertainty. One eyebrow will arch high, while the other remains in the normal position or sinks lower. Asymmetry signals that the person is questioning or doubting what is being said. The actor Jack Nicholson is famous for questioning what others say, on- and offscreen, by this method.
35. EYEBROW NARROWING/KNITTING The area between the eyes and just above the nose is called the glabella,and when the glabella becomes narrow or furrowed, it usually means there is an issue, concern, or dislike. This universal sign may happen very quickly and thus can be difficult to detect, but it is an accurate reflection of sentiments. Some people will knit their brow when they hear something troubling or are trying to make sense of what they’re being told. The sentiment is communicated with the >< emoji.
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means in law for preventing the exportation of the articles in question.[288]
F . 20.
A petition on an extraordinary subject from the magistrates and town-council of Elgin, was before the Privy Council. Robert Gibson of Linkwood had been imprisoned in their Tolbooth as furious, at the desire of the neighbouring gentry, and for the preservation of the public peace. In the preceding October, when the magistrates were in Edinburgh on business before the Privy Council, Gibson set fire to the Tolbooth in the night-time, and there being no means of quenching the flames, it was burnt to the ground. Their first duty was to obtain authority from the Privy Council to send the incendiary in shackles to another place of confinement, and now they applied for an exemption from the duty of receiving and confining prisoners for private debts till their Tolbooth could be rebuilt. They obtained the required exemption until the term of Whitsunday 1703.
F .
Wodrow relates a story of the mysterious disappearance of a gentleman (chamberlain of a countess) dwelling at Linlithgow, and esteemed as a good man. A gentleman at Falkirk, with whom he had dealings, sent a servant one afternoon desiring him to come immediately. His wife would not allow him to travel that evening, and the servant departed without him. Long before daylight next morning, the chamberlain rose and prepared for his journey, but did not omit family worship. In the part of Scripture which he read (Acts xx.), occurred the sentence, ‘you shall see my face no more.’ Whether this occurred by chance or not is not known, but he repeated the passage twice. After departing, he returned for his knife; again he returned to order one of his sons not to go out that day. By daylight his horse was found, with an empty saddle, near Linlithgow Bridge (a mile west of the town), and no search or inquiry made then, or for a considerable time after, sufficed to discover what had become of him. Wodrow states the suspicion of his being murdered, but as he had taken only some valuable papers with him,
1701.
and viewing the fact of his being a steward, it does not seem difficult to account for his disappearance on a simpler hypothesis.[289]
M . 1.
The contract for a marriage between Sir John Shaw of Greenock and Margaret Dalrymple, eldest daughter of the Lord President of the Court of Session, being signed to-day, ‘there was an entire hogshead of claret drunk’ by the company assembled on the occasion. At the marriage, not long after, of Anne, a younger daughter of the Lord President, to James Steuart, son of the Lord Advocate, ‘the number of people present was little less,’ being just about as many as the house would hold. A marriage was, in those days, an occasion for calling the whole connections of a couple of families together; and where the parties belonged, as in these cases, to an elevated rank in society, there was no small amount of luxury indulged in. Claret was, in those days, indeed, but fifteen, and sack eighteen pence, while ale was threehalfpence, per bottle, so that a good deal of bibulous indulgence cost little.
The expenditure upon the clothes of a bride of quality was very considerable. Female fineries were not then produced in the country as they are now, and they cost probably twice the present prices. We find that, at the marriage of a daughter of Smythe of Methven to Sir Thomas Moncrieff of that Ilk, Bart., in December of this very year, there was a head suit and ruffles of cut work at nearly six pounds ten shillings; a hood and scarf at two pounds fifteen shillings; a silk under-coat nearly of the same cost; a gown, petticoat, and lining, at between sixteen and seventeen pounds; garters, at £1, 3s. 4d.: the entire outfit costing £109, 18s. 3d.[290]
When Mrs Margaret Rose, daughter of the Laird of Kilravock, was married in 1701, there was an account from Francis Brodie, merchant in Edinburgh, for her weddingclothes, including seventeen and a quarter ells of flowered silk, £11, 13s.; nine and a quarter ells of green silk shagreen for lining, £2, 14s.; six and a half ells of green galloon, 19s. 6d.; with other sums for a gown and coat, for an under-coat, and an undermost coat; also, for a pair of silk stockings, 12s.; a necklace and silk handcurcher, 8s.; and some thirty or forty other articles, amounting in all to £55, 8s. 9d. sterling. This young lady carried a
1701.
tocher of 9000 merks—about nine times the value of her marriage outfit—to her husband, John Mackenzie, eldest son of Sir Alexander Mackenzie of Coul.
At the marriage of Anne Dalrymple to Mr James Steuart, ‘the bride’s favours were all sewed on her gown from top to bottom, and round the neck and sleeves. The moment the ceremony was performed, the whole company ran to her, and pulled off the favours; in an instant, she was stripped of them all. The next ceremony was the garter [we have seen what it cost], which the bridegroom’s man attempted to pull from her leg, but she dropped it on the floor; it was a white and silver ribbon, which was cut in small parcels, [a piece] to every one in company. The bride’s mother then came in with a basket of favours belonging to the bridegroom; those and the bride’s were the same with the bearings of their families—hers, pink and white; his, blue and gold colour.’ ‘The company dined and supped together, and had a ball in the evening; the same next day at Sir James Steuart’s. On Sunday, there went from the President’s house to church three-and-twenty couple, all in high dress. Mr Barclay, then a boy, led the youngest Miss Dalrymple, who was the last of them. They filled the galleries of the [High] Church from the king’s seat to the wing loft. The feasting continued till they had gone through all the friends of the family, with a ball every night.’[291]
M . 14.
It was not yet three years since the people of Scotland were dying of starvation, and ministers were trying to convince their helpless flocks that it was all for their sins, and intended for their good. Yet now we have a commission issued by the government, headed as usual with the king’s name, commanding that all loads of grain which might be brought from Ireland into the west of Scotland, should be staved and sunk, and this, so far as appears, without a remark from any quarter as to the horrible impiety of the prohibition in the first place, and the proposed destruction of the gifts of Providence in the second.[292]
1701.
An example of the simple inconvenience of these laws in the ordinary affairs of life is presented in July 1702. Malcolm M‘Neill, a native of Kintyre, had been induced, after the Revolution, to go to Ireland, and become tenant of some of the waste lands there. Being
now anxious to settle again in Argyleshire, on some waste lands belonging to the Duke of Argyle, he found a difficulty before him of a kind now unknown, but then most formidable. How was he to get his stock transported from Ballymaskanlan to Kintyre? Not in respect of their material removal, but of the laws prohibiting all transportation of cattle from Ireland to Scotland. It gives a curious idea of the lawmade troubles of the age, that Malcolm had to make formal application to the Privy Council in Edinburgh for this purpose. On his petition, leave to carry over two hundred black-cattle, four hundred sheep, and forty horses, was granted. It is a fact of some significance, that the duke appears in the sederunt of the day when this permission was given. That without such powerful influence no such favour was to be obtained, is sufficiently proved by the rare nature of the transaction.
1700. 1700. J . 9.
We find, in January 1700, that the execution of the laws against the importation of Irish cattle and horses had been committed to Alexander Maxwell, postmaster at Ayr, who seems to have performed his functions with great activity, but not much good result. He several times went over the whole bounds of his commission, establishing spies and waiters everywhere along the coast. By himself and his servants, sometimes with the assistance of soldiers, he made a great number of seizures, but his profits never came up to his costs. Often, after a seizure, he had to sustain the assaults of formidable rabbles, and now and then the cattle or horses were rescued out of his hands. For six weeks at a time he was never at home, and all that time not thrice in his bed—for he had to ride chiefly at night—but on all hands he met with only opposition, even from the king’s troops, ‘albeit he maintains them and defrays all their charges when he employs them.’ On his petition (January 9, 1700), he was allowed a hundred pounds by the Privy Council as an encouragement to persevere in his duty.
In the autumn of 1703, an unusual anxiety was shewn to enforce the laws against the importation of provisions from Ireland and from England. Mr Patrick Ogilvie of Cairns, a brother of the Lord Chancellor, Earl of Seafield, was commissioned to guard the coasts between the Sound of Mull and Dumfries, and one Cant of Thurston to protect the east
coast between Leith and Berwick, with suitable allowances and powers. It happened soon after that an Irish skipper, named Hyndman, appeared with a vessel of seventy tons, full of Irish meal, in Lamlash Bay, and was immediately pounced upon by Ogilvie. It was in vain that he represented himself as driven there by force of weather on a voyage from Derry to Belfast: in spite of all his pleadings, which were urged with an air of great sincerity, his vessel was condemned.
Soon after, a Scottish ship, sailing under the conduct of William Currie to Londonderry, was seized by the Irish authorities by way of reprisal for Hyndman’s vessel. The Scottish Privy Council (February 15, 1704) sent a remonstrance to the Duke of Ormond, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, setting forth this act as ‘an abuse visibly to the breach of the good correspondence that ought to be kept betwixt her majesty’s kingdoms.’ How the matter ended does not appear; but the whole story, as detailed in the record of the Privy Council, gives a striking idea of the difficulties, inconveniences, and losses which nations then incurred through that falsest of principles which subordinates the interests of the community to those of some special class, or group of individuals.
Ogilvie was allowed forty foot-soldiers and twenty dragoons to assist him in his task; but we may judge of the difficulty of executing such rules from the fact stated by him in a petition, that, during the interval of five weeks, while these troops were absent at a review in the centre of the kingdom, he got a list of as many as a hundred boats which had taken that opportunity of landing from Ireland with victual. Indeed, he said that, without a regular independent company, it was impossible to prevent this traffic from going on.[293]
We do not hear much more on this subject till January 1712, when Thomas Gray, merchant in Irvine, and several other persons, were pursued before the Court of Session for surreptitious importation of Irish victual, by Boswell and other Ayrshire justices interested in the prices of Scottish produce. The delinquents were duly fined. Fountainhall, after recording the decision, adds a note, in which he debates on the principles involved in the free trade in corn. ‘This importation of meal,’ says he, ‘is good for the poor, plenty making it cheap, but it sinks the gentlemen’s rents in these western shires. Which of the two
1700.
is the greater prejudice to the bulk of the nation? Problema esto: where we must likewise balance the loss and damage we suffer by the exporting so much of our money in specie to a foreign country to buy it, which diminishes our coin pro tanto: But if the victual was purchased in Ireland by exchange of our goods given for it, that takes away that objection founded on the exporting of our money.’[294]
1701. A . 15.
John Lawson, burgess of Edinburgh, was projector of an Intelligence-office, to be established in the Scottish capital, such as were already planted in London, Paris, Amsterdam, and other large cities, for ‘recording the names of servants, upon trial and certificate of their manners and qualifications, whereby masters may be provided with honest servants of all sorts, and servants may readily know what masters are unprovided’—and ‘the better and more easy discovery of all bargains, and the communication and publishing all proposals and other businesses that the persons concerned may think fit to give notice and account of, for the information of all lieges.’
He had been at pains to learn how such offices were conducted in foreign countries, and had already set up a kind of register-office for servants in Edinburgh, ‘to the satisfaction and advantage of many, of all ranks and degrees.’ There was, however, a generation called wedmen and wed-wives, who had been accustomed, in an irregular way, to get employers for servants and nurses, and servants and nurses for masters and mistresses. It was evident to John that his intelligenceoffice could never duly thrive unless these practitioners were wholly suppressed. He craved exclusive privileges accordingly from the Privy Council—that is, that these wed-men and wed-wives be discharged ‘on any colour or pretence’ from meddling with the hire of servants, or giving information about bargains and proposals— though ‘without prejudice [he was so far modest] to all the lieges to hire servants and enter into bargains, and do all other business upon their own proper knowledge, or upon information gratuitously given.’
Honest John seems to have felt that something was necessary to reconcile the authorities to a plan obviously so much for his own interest. The religious feeling was, as usual, a ready resource. He reminded the Lords that there had been great inconveniences from
1701. the dishonest and profligate servants recommended by the wed-men and wedwives; nay, some had thus been intruded into families who had not satisfied church-discipline, and did not produce testimonials from ministers! He held out that he was to take care ‘that all such as offer themselves to nurse children shall produce a certificate of their good deportment, in case they be married, and if not, that they have satisfied the kirk for their scandal, or have found a caution so to do.’
One great advantage to the public would be, that gentlemen or ladies living in the country could, by correspondence with the office, and no further trouble or expense, obtain servants of assured character, ‘such as master-households, gentlemen, valets, stewards, pages, grieves, gardeners, cooks, porters, coachmen, grooms, footmen, postilions, young cooks for waiting on gentlemen, or for change-houses; likewise gentlewomen for attending ladies, housekeepers, chambermaids, women-stewards and cooks, women for keeping children, ordinary servants for all sorts of work in private families, also taverners and ticket-runners, with all sorts of nurses who either come to gentlemen’s houses, or nurse children in their own’—for so many and so various were the descriptions of menials employed at that time even in poor Scotland.
With regard to the department for commercial intelligence, it was evident that ‘men are often straitened how and where to inquire for bargains they intend,’ while others are equally ‘at a loss how to make known their offers of bargains and other proposals.’ The latter were thus ‘obliged to send clapps, as they call them,[295] through the town, and sometimes to put advertisements in gazettes, which yet are noways sufficient for the end designed, for the clapps go only in Edinburgh, and for small businesses, and the gazette is uncertain, and gazettes come not to all men’s hands, nor are they oft to be found when men have most to do with them, whereas a standing office would abide all men, and be ever ready.’
The Council complied with Lawson’s petition in every particular, only binding him to exact no more fee than fourteen shillings Scots (1s. 2d.), where the fee is twelve pounds Scots (£1 sterling) or upwards, and seven shillings Scots where the fee is below that sum.
J 3.
The infant library of the Faculty of Advocates having been burnt out of its original depository in the Parliament Square, a new receptacle was sought for it in the rooms under the Parliament House—the Faculty and the Edinburgh magistrates concurring in the request—and the Privy Council complied, only reserving the right of the high constable to view and search the place ‘the time of the sitting of parliament’—a regulation, doubtless, held necessary to prevent new examples of the Gunpowder Treason.
1701.
A . 27.
Lord Basil Hamilton, sixth son of the Duchess of Hamilton—a young man endeared to his country by the part he had taken in vindicating her rights in the Darien affair—lost his life by a dismal accident, leaving but one consolation to his friends, that he lost it in the cause of humanity. Passing through Galloway, with his brother the Earl of Selkirk and some friends, he came to a little water called the Minnick, swelled with sudden rain. A servant went forward to try the ford, and was carried away by the stream. Lord Basil rushed in to save the man, caught him, but was that moment dismounted, and carried off by the torrent; so he perished in the sight of his brother and friends, none being able to render him any assistance. It was a great stroke to the Hamilton family, to the country party, and indeed to the whole of the people of Scotland. Lord Basil died in his thirtieth year.
On the evening of the next day, the Earl of Selkirk came, worn with travel, to the gate of Hamilton Palace, to tell his widowed mother of her irreparable loss. But, according to a story related by Wodrow, her Grace was already aware of what had happened. ‘On the Wednesday’s night [the night of the accident] the duchess dreamed she saw Lord Basil and Lord Selkirk drowned in a water, and she thought she said to Lady Baldoon [Lord Basil’s wife], “Charles and Basil are drowned,” Charles being the Earl of Selkirk. The Lady Baldoon, she thought, answered: “Lord Selkirk is safe, madam; there is no matter.” The duchess thought she answered: “The woman’s mad; she knows not her lord is dead;” and that she [Lady Baldoon] added: “Is Basil dead? then let James [the duke] take all: I will
meddle no more with the world.” All this she [the duchess] told in the Thursday morning, twelve hours or more before Lord Selkirk came to Hamilton, who brought the first word of it.’[296]
D . 5.
Four men were tried at Perth for theft by the commissioners for securing the peace of the Highlands, and, being found guilty, were liable to the punishment of death. The Lords, however, were pleased to adjudge them to the lighter punishment of perpetual servitude, not in the plantations, as we have seen to be common, but at home, and the panels to be ‘at the court’s disposal.’ One of them, Alexander Steuart, they bestowed as a gift on Sir John Areskine of Alva, probably with a view to his being employed as a labourer in the silver-mine which Sir John about this time worked in a glen of the Ochils belonging to him. [297] Sir John was enjoined to fit a metal collar upon the man, bearing the following inscription: ‘Alexr . Steuart, found guilty of death for theft, at Perth, the 5th of December 1701, and gifted by the justiciars as a perpetual servant to Sir John Areskine of Alva;’ and to remove him from prison in the course of the ensuing week.[298] The reality of this strange proceeding has been brought home to us in a surprising manner, for the collar, with this inscription, was many years ago dredged up in the Firth of Forth, in the bosom of which it is surmised that the poor man found a sad refuge from the pains of slavery. As a curious memorial of past things, it is now preserved in our National Museum of Antiquities.
1701.
The reader will perhaps be surprised to hear of a silver-mine in the Ochils, and it may therefore be proper, before saying anything more, that we hear what has been put on record on this subject.
‘In the parish of Alva, a very valuable mine of silver was discovered about the commencement of the last century[299] by Sir James [John] Erskine of Alva, in the glen or ravine which separates the Middle-hill from the Wood-hill. It made its first appearance in small strings of silver ore, which, being followed, led to a large mass of that metal. A part of this had the appearance of malleable silver, and was found on trial to be so rich as to produce twelve ounces of silver from fourteen ounces of ore. Not more than £50 had been expended when this valuable discovery was made. For the space of thirteen or fourteen
1701.
weeks, it is credibly affirmed that the proprietor obtained ore from this mine to the value of £4000 per week. When this mass was exhausted, the silver ore began to appear in smaller quantities; symptoms of lead and other metals presented themselves, and the search was for the present abandoned.’[300]
It is related that Sir John, walking with a friend over his estate, pointed out a great hole, and remarked: ‘Out of that hole I took fifty thousand pounds.’ Then presently, walking on, he came to another excavation, and, continued he: ‘I put it all into that hole.’
Nevertheless, the search was renewed by his younger brother, Charles Areskine, Lord Justice-Clerk, but without the expected fruit, though a discovery was made of cobalt, and considerable quantities of that valuable mineral were extracted even from the rubbish of his predecessor’s works. In 1767, Lord Alva, the son of the Lord JusticeClerk, bestowed a pair of silver communion-cups upon the parish of Alva, with an inscription denoting that they were fashioned from silver found at the place.
The granting of Steuart as ‘a perpetual servant’ to Sir John Areskine sounds strangely to modern ears; but it was in perfect accordance with law and usage in Scotland in old times; and there was even some vestige of the usage familiar to Englishmen at no remote date, in laws for setting the poor to work in workhouses. The act of the Highland justiciars was the more natural, simple, and reasonable, that labourers in mines and at salt-works were regarded by the law of Scotland as ‘ necessary servants,’ who, without any paction, by merely coming and taking work in such places, became bound to servitude for life, their children also becoming bound if their fathers in any way used them as assistants. Such is the view of the matter coolly set down in the Institutes of Mr John Erskine (1754), who further takes leave to tell his readers that ‘there appears nothing repugnant, either to reason, or to the peculiar doctrines of Christianity, in a contract by which one binds himself to perpetual service under a master, who, on his part, is obliged to maintain the other in all the necessaries of life.’ It appears that the salters and miners were transferred with the works when these were sold; but a right in the masters to dispose of the men otherwise, does not appear to have been a part of the Scots law.
1701.
In the year 1743, there appears to have been a disposition among the bondsmen of the coal-mines in Fife and Lothian to assert their freedom. Fifteen men who worked in the Gilmerton coal-works having absented themselves in October, and gone to work at other collieries, their master, Sir John Baird of Newbyth, advertised them, so that no other master might break the act of parliament by entertaining them, and also that the deserters might be secured. In the same year, the Marquis of Lothian had to complain of three boys who ran away from his colliery at Newbattle, and took refuge amongst the people of another estate, supposed to have been that of the Viscount Oxenford. He accordingly addressed the following letter to that nobleman:
‘N , July the 21st, 1743.
‘M L Being told Sir Robert Dixon is not at home, I am equally satisfied that Mr Biger should determine the use and practice of coal-masters in such cases, if he pleases to take the trouble, which I suppose is all your lordship is desirous to know before you let me have these boys that ran away from my colliery, and was entertained by your people; but if I mistake your intention, and you think it necessary I prove my title to them in law, I am most willing to refer the whole to Mr Biger, and therefore am ready to produce my evidence at any time you please to appoint, and if my claim is found to be good, shall expect the boys be returned without my being obliged to find them out. My lord, I am not so well acquainted with Mr Biger as to ask the favour; therefore hopes your lordship will do it, and wish it may be determined soon, if convenient. I beg my best respects to Lady Orbiston; and am, my lord,
‘Your lordship’s most obedient ‘and humble Servant, ‘L .’
‘P. S. I have not the smallest pretensions to the faither of these boys, and should have pleasure in assisting you if I could spare any of my coaliers.’[301]
Whether Mr Gibson of Durie had been dealt with in the same manner by his colliers, we do not know; but in November he advertised for hands, offering good and regularly paid wages, and ‘a line under his hand, obliging himself to let them go from the works at any time, upon a week’s warning, without any restraint whatever.’ He would also accept a loan of workers from other coal-proprietors, and oblige himself ‘to restore them when demanded.’[302]
I must not, however, forget—and certainly it is a curious thing to remember—that I have myself seen in early life native inhabitants of Scotland who had been slaves in their youth. The restraints upon the personal freedom of salters and colliers—remains of the villainage of the middle ages— were not put an end to till 1775, when a statute (15 Geo. III. 28) extinguished them. I am tempted to relate a trivial anecdote of actual life, which brings the recentness of slavery in Scotland vividly before us.
About the year 1820, Mr Robert Bald of Alloa, mining-engineer, being on a visit to Mr Colin Dunlop, at the Clyde Ironworks, near Glasgow, found among the servants of the house an old workingman, commonly called Moss Nook, who seemed to be on easy terms with his master. One day, Mr Bald heard the following conversation take place between Mr Dunlop and this veteran:
‘Moss Nook, you don’t appear, from your style of speaking, to be of this part of the country. Where did you originally come from?’
‘Oh, sir,’ answered Moss Nook, ‘do you not know that your father brought me here long ago from Mr M‘Nair’s of the Green [a place some miles off, on the other side of the river]? Your father used to have merry-meetings with Mr M‘Nair, and, one day, he saw me, and took a liking to me. At the same time, Mr M‘Nair had taken a fancy to a very nice pony belonging to your father; so they agreed on the subject, and I was niffered away for the pony. That’s the way I came here.’
The man had, in short, been a slave, and was exchanged for a pony. To Mr Bald’s perception, he had not the least idea that there was anything singular or calling for remark in the manner of his leaving the Green.
1701. 1702.
A Scottish clergyman resident in England —the same who lately ‘promoted contributions for the printing of Bibles in the Irish language, and sent so many of them down to Scotland, and there is no news he more earnestly desires to know than what the G[eneral] A[ssembly] doth whenever it meeteth for promoting the interests of the Gospel in the Highlands’—at this time started a scheme for ‘erecting a
1702.
library in every presbytery, or at least county, in the Highlands.’ He had been for some time prevented from maturing his plan by bodily distempers and faint hopes of success; but now the scheme for sending libraries to the colonies had encouraged him to come forward, and he issued a printed paper explaining his views, and calling for assistance. His great object was to help the Highland Protestant clergy in the matter of books, seeing that, owing to their poverty, and the scarcity of books, few of them possessed property of that kind to the value of twenty shillings; while it was equally true, that at the distance they lived at from towns, the borrowing of books was with most of them impossible. It was the more necessary that they should be provided with books, that the Romish missionaries were so active among the people: how could the clergy encounter these adversaries without the knowledge which they might derive from books? ‘The gross ignorance of the people in those parts, together with some late endeavours to seduce the inhabitants of the isle of Hirta to a state of heathenism,[303] make it very necessary that they be provided with such treatises as prove the truth of the Christian religion. At the same time, the excellent parts and capacities of the ministers generally throughout the Highlands give good ground to expect much fruit from such a charity.’
The promoter of the scheme felt no hesitation in asking assistance in the south, because the poverty of Scotland—‘occasioned chiefly by their great losses at sea, the decay of trade, the great dearth of corn, and the death of cattle for some years together—renders the people generally unable to do much in the way of charity. Nevertheless, there are not wanting those amongst them, who, amidst their straits and wants, are forward to promote this or any other good design, even beyond their power.’ He hoped no native would take offence at this confession, the truth of which ‘is too much felt at home and known abroad to be denied.... But if any are so foolish as to censure this paragraph, their best way of confutation is to take an effectual and speedy course to provide a competent number of libraries for such parts of our native country as need them most.’
He even went so far as to draw up a set of rules for the keeping and lending of the books—a very stringent code certainly it is; ‘but,’ says he, ‘they who know the world but a little, and have seen the fate of
1702. some libraries, will reckon the outmost precaution we can use little enough to prevent what otherwise will be unavoidable. It’s a work of no small difficulty to purchase a parcel of good books for public advantage; nor is it less difficult to preserve and secure them for posterity, when they are purchased.’[304]
A Memorial concerning the Highlands, published at Edinburgh in the ensuing year, described them as full of ignorance and heathenism. Most of the people were said to be unacquainted with the first principles of Christianity; a few had been ‘caught by the trinkets of popery.’ While there were schools at Inverness, Forres, Keith, Kincardine O’Neil, Perth, &c.—places closely adjacent to the Highlands—there were none in the country itself, excepting one at Abertarf (near the present Fort-Augustus, in Inverness-shire), which had been erected by charitable subscription, but where it was found nearly impossible to get scholars unless subsistence was provided for them. In remote places, children remained unbaptised for years. In the country generally, theft and robbery were esteemed as ‘only a hunting, and not a crime;’ revenge, in matters affecting a clan, even when carried the length of murder, was counted a gallantry; idleness was a piece of honour; and blind obedience to chiefs obscured all feeling of subjection to civil government.[305]
It was under a sense of the unenlightened state of the Highlands, and particularly of the hold which the Catholic religion had obtained over the Gael, that the ‘Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge’ was soon after formed by a combination of the friends of Presbyterian orthodoxy. It was incorporated in 1709, at which time a strong effort was made by the courts of the Established Church to promote contributions in its behalf, though under some considerable discouragements. Wodrow tells us that this Society was originated by a small knot of gentlemen, including Mr Dundas of Philipston, clerk of the General Assembly; Sir H. Cunningham, Sir Francis Grant [Lord Cullen], Commissary Brodie, Sir Francis Pringle, and Mr George Meldrum, who, about 1698, had formed themselves into a society for prayer and religious correspondence. Writing now to Mr Dundas about the subscriptions, and enclosing twenty-five pounds as a contribution from the presbytery of Paisley, he apologises for the smallness of the sum in proportion to the importance of the object,
1702. and says: ‘The public spirit and zeal for any good designs is much away from the generality here.’ ‘The truth is,’ says he, regarding another matter, ‘the strait of this part of the country is so great, through the dearth of victual, that our collections are very far from maintaining our poor, and our people ... are in such a pet with collections for bridges, tolbooths, &c., that when any collection is intimate, they are sure to give less that day than their ordinary.’[306] Nevertheless, the Society was able to enter on a course of activity, which has never since been allowed to relax.
The scheme of presbyterial libraries was realised in 1705 and 1706 to the extent of nineteen, in addition to which fifty-eight local libraries were established; but these institutions are understood to have been little successful and ill supported. In 1719, the Christian Knowledge Society had forty-eight schools established, increased to a hundred and nine in 1732, and to two hundred at the close of the century. Its missionary efforts were also very considerable. Such, however, were the natural and other difficulties of the case, that a writer described the people in 1826 as still ‘sunk in ignorance and poverty.’[307] It is not merely that schools must necessarily be few in proportion to geographical space, and school-learning, therefore, difficult of attainment, but the Highlander unavoidably remains unacquainted with many civilising influences which the communication of thought, and observation of the processes of merchandise and the mechanical trades, impart to more fortunate communities. The usual consequence of the introduction of Christianity to minds previously uneducated has been realised. It has taken a form involving much of both old and new superstition, along with feelings of intolerance towards dissent even in the most unessential particulars, such as recall to men in the south a former century of our history.
It is remarkable that, while the bulk of the Highland population were unschooled and ignorant, there were abundance of gentlemen who had a perfect knowledge of Latin, and even composed Latin poetry. Nor is it less important or more than strictly just to observe that, amidst all the rudeness of former times in the Highlands, there was amongst the common people an old traditionary morality, which included not a little that was entitled to admiration. To get a full idea
1702.
of what this was, one must peruse the writings of Mrs Grant and Colonel Stewart. The very depredations so often spoken of could hardly be said to involve a true turpitude, being so much connected as they were with national and clan feelings.
F . 10.
Captain Simon Fraser of Beaufort, who had long been declared rebel for not appearing to answer at the Court of Justiciary on the charge of rape brought against him by the dowager Lady Lovat,[308] was described at this time as living openly in the country as a free liege, ‘to the contempt of all authority and justice.’ The general account given of his habits is rather picturesque. ‘He keeps in a manner his open residence within the lordship of Lovat, where, and especially in Stratherrick,[309] he further presumes to keep men in arms, attending and guarding his person.’ These he also employed in levying contributions from Lady Lovat’s tenants, and he had thus actually raised between five and six thousand merks. ‘Proceeding yet to further degrees of unparalleled boldness, [he] causes make public intimation at the kirks within the bounds on the Lord’s Day, that all the people be in readiness with their best arms when advertised.’ The tenants were consequently so harassed as to be unable to pay her ladyship any rents, and there were ‘daily complaints of these strange and lawless disorders.’
The Council granted warrants of intercommuning against the culprit, and enjoined his majesty’s forces to be helpful in apprehending him.[310] We find that, in the month of August, Fraser had departed from the country, but his interest continued to be maintained by others. His brother John, with thirty or forty ‘loose and broken men,’ went freely up and down the countries of Aird and Stratherrick, menacing with death the chamberlains of the Lady Lovat[311] and her husband, Mr Alexander Mackenzie of Prestonhall, if they should uplift the rents in behalf of their master and mistress, and threatening the tenants in like manner, if they should pay their rents to those persons. The better to support this lawless system, John kept a garrison of armed gillies in the town of Bewly, ‘the heart of the country of Aird,’ entirely at the cost of the tenants there. Within the last few weeks, they had taken from the tenants of Aird
1702.
‘two hundred custom wedders and lambs,’ and, breaking up the meal-girnels of Bewly, they had supplied themselves with sixty bolls of meal. At the beginning of July, Fraser, younger of Buchrubbin, and two accomplices, came to the house of Moniack, the residence of Mr Hugh Fraser, one of the lady’s chamberlains, ‘and having by a false token got him out of his house,’ first reproached him with his office, and then ‘beat him with the butts of their guns, and had murdered him if he had not made his escape.’
Mr Hugh Fraser and Captain John Mackenzie, ‘conjunct bailie and chamberlain,’ applied for protection to the Highland commission of justiciary, who ordered a small military party to go and maintain the law in the Aird. But it was very difficult to obtain observance of law in a country where the bulk of the people were otherwise minded. The introduction of soldiers only added to the fierceness of the rebellious Frasers, who now sent the most frightful threats to all who should take part with Lady Lovat and her husband.
On the 5th of August, John Fraser came from Stratherrick with a party of fifty armed followers, and gathering more as he passed through the Aird, he fell upon the house of Fanellan, where Captain Mackenzie and the ten soldiers were, with between two and three hundred men, calling upon the inmates to surrender, on pain of having the house burnt about their ears if they refused. They did refuse to yield, and the Frasers accordingly set fire to the house and offices, the whole of which were burnt to the ground. Captain Mackenzie, Hugh Fraser of Eskadale, the ten soldiers and their commander, Lieutenant Cameron, besides a servant of Prestonhall, were all taken prisoners. Having dismissed the soldiers, the Frasers carried the rest in a bravadoing triumph through the country till they came to the end of Loch Ness. There dismissing Lieutenant Cameron, they proceeded with the two bailies and the servant to Stratherrick, everywhere using them in a barbarous manner. The report given nine days after in Edinburgh says of the prisoners, whether they be dead or alive is unknown.
The Privy Council, feeling this to be ‘such an unparalleled piece of insolence as had not been heard of in the country for an age,’ instantly ordered large parties of troops to march into the Fraser countries, and restore order.
On the 8th of September, the Council sent Brigadier Maitland and Major Hamilton their thanks ‘for their good services done in dispersing the Frasers,’ and, a few days after, we find orders issued for using all endeavours to capture John Fraser. Captain Grant’s company remained in Stratherrick till the ensuing February.[312]
1702. M . 11.
At ten o’clock in the evening, Colonel Archibald Row arrived express at Edinburgh with the news of the king’s death. King William died in Kensington Palace at eight o’clock in the morning of Sunday the 8th instant: it consequently took three days and a half for this express to reach the Scottish capital, being a day more than had been required by Robert Carey, when he came to Edinburgh with the more welcome intelligence of the demise of Queen Elizabeth, ninety-nine years before.
House of Lord Advocate Steuart, at bottom of Advocates’ Close, west side.
REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE: 1702–1714.
The death of King William without children (March 8, 1702), opened the succession to the Princess Anne, second daughter of the late King James. Following up the policy of her predecessor, she had not been more than two months upon the throne, when, in conjunction with Germany and Holland, she proclaimed war against the king of France, whose usurpation of the succession to Spain for a member of his family, had renewed a general feeling of hostility against him. This war, distinguished by the victories of the Duke of Marlborough, lasted till the peace of Utrecht in 1713. The queen had been many years married to Prince George of Denmark, and had had several children; but all were now dead.
King William left the people of Scotland in a state of violent discontent, on account chiefly of the usage they had received in the affair of Darien. Ever since the Revolution, there had been a large party, mainly composed of the upper classes, in favour of the exiled dynasty. It was largely reinforced, and its views were generally much promoted, by the odium into which the government of William III. had fallen, and by the feelings of jealousy and wrath which had been kindled against the whole English nation. This was not a natural state of things for Scotland, for the bulk of the people, Presbyterian at heart, could have no confidence in a restored sovereign of the House of Stuart; but anger had temporarily overcome many of the more permanent feelings of the people, and it was hard to say what course they might take in the dynastic difficulties which were impending.
In 1700, the English parliament, viewing the want of children to both William and the Princess Anne, had settled the crown of England upon the Electress Sophia of Hanover, daughter of the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of King James I., she being the nearest
Protestant heir; thus excluding not only the progeny of James II., but that of several elder children of the Princess Elizabeth, all of whom were of the Roman Catholic religion. It was highly desirable that the Scottish Estates should be induced to settle the crown of Scotland on the same person, in order that peace might be preserved between the two kingdoms; but the discontents of the Scotch stood in the way. Not that there existed in Scotland any insuperable desire for another person, or any special objection to Sophia; the great majority would probably have voted, in ordinary circumstances, for this very course. But Scotland had been wronged and insulted; it was necessary to shew the English that this could not be done with safety to themselves. She had a claim to equality of trading privileges: it was right that she should use all fair means to get this established. Accordingly, in 1703, the Scottish parliament passed two acts calculated to excite no small alarm in the south: one of them, styled the Act of Security, ordaining that the successor of Queen Anne should not be the same person with the individual adopted by the English parliament, unless there should be a free communication of trade between the two countries, and the affairs of Scotland thoroughly secured from English influence; the other, providing that, as a means of enforcing the first, the nation should be put under arms. The queen, after some hesitation, was obliged to ratify the Act of Security. In the debates on these measures, the Scottish parliament exhibited a degree of eloquence which was wholly a novelty, and the memory of which long survived. It was a remarkable crisis, in which a little nation, merely by the moral power which animated it, contrived to inspire fear and respect in one much its superior in numbers and every other material element of strength.
The general sense of danger thus created in England proved sufficient to overcome that mercantile selfishness which had inflicted so much injustice upon Scotland. It came to be seen, that the only way to secure a harmony with the northern kingdom in some matters essential to peace, was to admit it to an incorporating union, in which there should be a provision for an equality of mercantile privileges. To effect this arrangement, accordingly, became the policy of the English Whig ministry of Queen Anne. On the other hand, the proposition did not meet a favourable reception in Scotland, where the ancient national independence was a matter of national pride;
