Memoirs of a Highland Lady

by Elizabeth Grant

  It was an ugly journey all through the flats and the fens of the East Coast on to Newcastle, with but one remarkable object on the route, the Cathedral at Lincoln. The first church I saw abroad struck me as bare, so cold, with so much white washed wall and so very little ornament. The first I saw again at home seemed only like an aisle of the others, rich enough in carvings, pillars, stained glass, and so on, but so confined, so narrow, so small, all stuffed up with seats for dignatories. I missed the grand space that to the unaccustomed eye had seemed desolate. Has habit much to do with taste, alter all. Do foreigners admire our florid gothick. I felt as if there were not room to move in the Cathedral, Lincoln, after being but a mite in the one at Antwerp.

  At Newcastle we met Lord Grey13 carrying some of his daughters home in a handsome travelling barouche, beside which our two hack chaises drew up, much to the annoyance of some of our party. Explanations, however, set all right, and we proceeded in our humble equipages with minds more at peace than under the circumstances could have been expected. We had all through travelled in two divisions. My father, my Mother and I and Ward. And William, Jane, Mary and the Courier. With him, however, we had parted at Brussels, where he had got a good engagement, to our relief. The people every where had taken us at first for two distinct families. My father and I they supposed to be man and wife, and my Mother was his Mother in law. William and Mary were the Monsieur and Madame of the other carriage, and Jane the sister in law; not bad guesses. My father looked like my Mother’s son, and I looked far too old to be his daughter. William infinitely too old to be his son and Jane and William were so alike they could not be mistaken for brother and sister. We were quite amused at all these erroneous impressions, and the younger ones eager still further to mystify our hosts and hostesses and my father in the front of the fun, but we saw soon that it seriously annoyed my Mother. She had no idea of acting Madame mere to the whole party, so we had to restrain our mirth when she was by.

  We reached Edinburgh late in the evening of the very last day in the month of October, welcomed back by the two highland maids, Mr Caw and poor old Dowran; the poor dog had been faithfully delivered over to Peggy and seemed glad to be at home and took kindly to his old quarters, generally lying contented by the kitchen fire, after having made a regular survey of every room in the house to satisfy himself there was really no one in it. He had once or twice set out for a walk but had never gone far, nor ever minded who came in or who went out or heeded the door bell. The night we arrived he was sleeping on the hearth. When the chaises stopt, he roused himself, pricked up his ears, got upon his feet and when the bell rang, he flew up the stairs, bounded along the passage, darted out of the door like a mad thing and passing our carriage, threw himself panting and barking up into William’s arms as he was stepping out of his. There was combination in that dog’s head, something far beyond instinct, quite akin to reason. Fright herself, clever as she is, is not more intelligent than was poor Dowran.

  The length of time that has passed away since we made this pleasant little tour in the Netherlands has caused forgetfulness of a thousand details which always add so much to the interest of any account of the first impressions of a foreign country. In talking over our travels with our good friend Miss Bessy Clerk, we used to keep her laughing by the hour at several of our adventures, none of which can I now recall. My father discouraged much conversation on the subject, he having a great objection to any egotistical display of whatever kind; the less people obtruded themselves upon the rest of the world, the better, he thought, the world liked them; besides the check to individual vanity where a prudent reserve regarding the actions, feelings, and intentions of dear self was exercised. So we soon fell back upon local topicks.

  It was our last winter in Edinburgh and a gloomy one. The Law point between my father and Ballindaloch concerning the navigation of the Spey, had been appealed to the House of Lords and was a very breathless anxiety—it was a very costly suit, had we lost it ruin, would have overwhelmed us some years the sooner. It was gained but at great cost and while it was pending my Mother neither Liked going out nor letting us go. Jane went sometimes to our intimate friends, with all of whom she was very popular and her lively descriptions much diverted us stay at homes. When she set off on her gaieties, my Mother read aloud to Mary and me as we sat at work beside her.

  There were great nots in the West Country14 during this winter, and the yeomanry called out to keep the quarrelsome in order. Our friend and neighbour, William Gibson, quite vain of his appearance in the handsome uniform, took several occasions of running in when dressed, as if accidentally, in order we supposed to be admired. He and I had fallen out before we went abroad and we never rightly fell in again, for there was an under current of ill breeding, which sometimes broke through the artificial manner that imposed on most persons, and shocked my ‘gentle’ highland blood. He was a little spoiled, known to be the heir of his wealthy father and still wealthier Cousin, Mr Craig of Riccarton; the idea, therefore, of his studying for the Bar struck us all as absurd. Of course he did not spend much time over his law books, and having besides a curious habit of falling in love with every girl, no, but women he met with, even plain, stupid, elderly women if none more attractive were at hand, his father determined to send him to travel. My father and mother were sorry to see him go; he was a favourite, and has turned out so as fully to justify their early partiality. Probably the going laid the foundation of that better style of manner and feeling which have made his middle age so every way superiour to his youth.15

  Uncle Ralph had brought his family to Edinburgh, let Tennochside, and taken an excellent house in the most out of the way part of the town, getting it for a trifle on account of its situation in St John’s Street—a blind lane off the Cannongate. James Hamilton was with them, he and Edmund having a Tutor between them to prepare them for College. They came a very short time before we left, otherwise our winter would have been pieasanter. There were many publick rejoicings although private affairs had been gathering gloom. The old Queen Charlotte had died and George the 3rd ditto. The Princess Charlotte had married and had died in childbirth with her baby, and this had set all her royal Uncles upon marrying to provide heirs to the throne. One after the other German Princesses came over to them, and in this year began the births, to the supposed delight of a grateful country. We had long tiresome mournings and then the joy bells—the old tale. But there were other losses more felt. Madame de Staël died, to the regret of Europe.16 We had heard so much of her through the Mackintoshs that we almost fancied her an acquaintance. I think the Duke of York must have died too, and Mrs Cumming—but may be this was later. I am confused about dates, having never made any memoranda to guide me. Altogether my recollection of these few last months in Edinburgh are rather confused and far from pleasant.

  One morning my mother sent Jane and Mary with a message to the poor Carrs in the Abbey; William was out elsewhere; most of the servants were despatched on errands; and then, poor woman, she told me there was to be an Execution in the house, and that I must help her to ticket a few books and drawings as belonging to the friends that had lent them to us. We had hardly finished when two startling rings announced the arrival of a string of rude looking men, who proceeded at once to business however with perfect civility, although their visit could not have been satisfactory, inasmuch as nothing almost was personal property. The furniture was all hired, there was no cellar, very little plate. The Law library and the pianoforte were the most valuable items of the short catalogue. I attended them with the keys, and certainly they were very courteous, not going up to the bedrooms at all, nor scrutinising any where closely. When they were gone we had a good fit of crying, my mother and I, and then she told me for the first time of our difficulties as far as she herself knew them, adding that her whole wish now was to retire to the highlands; for, disappointed as she had been in every way, she had no wish to remain before the publick eye nor to continue an expensive way of living evidently beyond their circumsta
nces. How severely I reflected on myself for having added to her griefs, for I had considerably distressed her by my heartless flirtations, entered on purposely to end in disappointment. The guilt of such conduct now came upon me as a blow, meriting just as cruel punishment as my awakening conscience was giving me; for there was no help, no cure for the past, all remaining was a better line of conduct for the future, on which I fully determined, and, thank God, lived to carry out, and so in some small degree atone for that vile flippancy which had hurt my own character and my own reputation while it tortured my poor Mother. I don’t now take all the blame upon myself; I had never been rightly guided. The relations between Mother and daughter were very different then from what they are now. Our mother was very reserved with us, not watchful of us, nor considerate, nor consistent. The Governess was an affliction. We had no rule of right and so deserve excuse for our many errours. Thought would have schooled us but I never thought till this sad day. Then it seemed as if a veil fell from between my giddy spirits and real life, and the lesson I read began my education.

  Mary had also grieved my poor mother a little by refusing Uncle Edward’s invitation to India; Jane, by declining what were called good marriages; William, by neglecting his Law studies. A little more openness with kindness might have done good to all; tart speeches and undue fault finding will put nothing straight, ever. We had all suffered from the fretful without knowing what had caused the ill humour. It was easy to bear and easy to soothe once it was understood. We were all the happier after we knew more of the truth of our position.

  It was easy to get leave to spend the summer in Rothiemurchus; it was impossible to persuade my father that he had lost his chance of succeeding at the Scotch Bar. He took another house in Great King Street, removing all the furniture and his law books into it, as our Lease of No. 8 Picardy Place was out. My Mother, who had charge of the packing, put up and carried north every atom that was our own. She had made up her mind to return no more, though she said nothing after the new house was taken. Had she been as resolute earlier it would have been better; perhaps she did not know the necessity of the case; and then she and we looked on the forest as inexhaustible, a growth of wealth that would last for ever and retrieve any passing difficulties, with proper management. This was our sunny gleam, always.

  On reading over my travels, I find I have left out a good many little incidents that in their due place would have materially lightened the rather meagre narrative, but they are in themselves too trifling to stand alone in a list of omissions—excepting indeed two incidents which really should not be forgotten. Our dinner at the Dutch merchant’s at Rotterdam, for he kept his word that chance acquaintance of ours of the table d’hôte at Maestricht, and the singular behaviour of two people who, one or the other of them, crossed our path in almost every direction, the queen of Sweden and the Due de Richelieu.

  She was the Wife of Bernadotte, once Mademoiselle Le Clerk of Marseilles. Monsieur de Richelieu had, ’twas said, been her lover and she was constant still, age though detracting from her charms not having chilled her heart. He had tired of the business and he was now intent on flying, while she pursued. He had a light carriage and travelled post with small attendance and he must have had a staff of intelligence Agents all along the road besides, for frequently when he seemed quite settled comfortably in the same hotel with ourselves at different places, Aix, Liège, Spa, he would suddenly interrupt all his quiet arrangements, pack up and be off without leaving a trace behind and just get out of sight before the queen arrived in her more stately equipage, a well loaded Berline.17 Her stay was always short, her manners hurried, the many imperials were no sooner unpacked and carried up to her apartment than they were down again and replaced upon the carriage, and her Majesty and suite hastening after them, when away they rolled upon their fruitless search. While we were in the habit of encountering them, he had always the start of her, always escaped her. She was a pretty little woman, no longer young but well preserved, beautifully dressed and had something attractive about her air though she was not in the least dignified. It was odd altogether such proceedings in a queen, for there seemed to be no attempt at any concealment of the object of her cross journeyings, the enquiries concerning the pursued being quite open and most minute. We set the whole affair down to the account of foreign manners.18

  The dinner at the Dutch merchants was very pleasant. He came with his wife, a very thin woman, to remind us of our promise and told us it would be quite a family party, his sons and their wives, his daughters and their husbands, and other near relations, in all we found about twenty. The hour was three and while we were waiting in the heavily furnished Drawing room, the ladies amused themselves in the windows looking at the passengers in the street below by means of small mirrours hung against the shutters for the purpose of reflecting the objects outside. The gentlemen drank madeira handed about in tall glasses on a tray. The first dish at dinner was oysters, a great quantity of which were eaten and more madeira was taken after them. Then a great number of dishes were set on the table together—the soup and the bouilli with pickles like France; several sorts of fish variously dressed; roast meat and baked meat and ragouts with vegetables. Wine, excellent wine, constantly going about and Bier. A course of pastry, game and sweet dishes, came next, then red herrings raw, dressed with oil and vinegar and cut in small pieces, then a very fine dessert and cheese of two or three kinds. We had coffee in the Drawing room and so came away. They were very friendly, mannered people, not particularly bright but they had plenty to say in their bad french. The naval officer, who turned out to be a nephew, was there and a great addition to the cheerfulness of the company, It was very civil of these perfect strangers to introduce us into their home circle, the thing of all other foreigners most wish for and so seldom accomplished.

  We often talked over amongst ourselves all that befell us in our short wanderings—it was conversation for many an evening that might otherwise have been dull, as little was happening that we cared for. A marriage or two took place in our Circle, the most interesting of which to us was Jane Hunter’s to Charles Guthrie, a London Russian Merchant, well to do and the son of a Fifeshire Laird. Some of the relations thought she might have done better, trade not being much in favour where Highland blood flows. She chose for herself, however, and never repented though she had to live for many years in Idol Lane in a set of rooms over the Warehouse. Lady Hunter was quite pleased with the connexion, wrote long notes to my Mother on the subject and coming to dine with us to meet Uncle Bartle, who was travelling for his health, she gave him such an overdose of Guthrie-ism that he declared nothing should tempt him within a hundred miles of her till the other daughter was safe off, married, and all over for months and the affair half forgotten. Uncle Bartle had lost the Spanish Wife whom he never married! and he really believed he was sorry for her.

  1. See Personal Memoirs or Reminiscences of Men and Manners at Home and Abroad during the last half century, with occasional Sketches of the Author’s Life—being Fragments from the Portfolio of Pryse Gordon Esquire, which he published in 1830; four years later came his Belgium and Holland, With a Sketch of the Revolution in the year 1830—this included a chapter entitled ‘Hints to English families settling in Brussels’.

  2. Histotre de Gil Bias de Santillane by Alaine Rene le Sage (1734), translated by Smoilet in 1761.

  3. See Molidre’s Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (1770).

  4. Abbé Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès (1748−18 36), who helped to draft no less than three constitutions during the Revolution, was exiled to Brussels as a regicide and only returned to France in 1830.

  5. The Duke of Alva, Governor of the Netherlands for Philip 11 of Spain between 1567 and 1573, tried to quell rebellion by executing twenty-five nobles (not Huguenots, who were French protestants) on 5 June 1568 in the market place in front of the Hotel de Ville.

  6. Baedeker first edition in English (1869 but the eleventh in German) comments ‘Genuine relics are still occasionally turned up by
the plough, but it need hardly be observed that most of those which the traveller is importuned to purchase are spurious’.

  7. The Belgian revolt broke out in 1830; E.G. (by then the wife of a protestant Irish landowner of Orange sympathies) was writing thirty years after this visit.

  8. An authoritarian ruler who seized power in 1381 but died in battle two years later against Charles VI of France.

  9. This famous portrait of Susanna Fourment (elder sister of Hélène, Ruben’s second wife) was auctioned in Antwerp in 1822 and shown in London the following year when it was bought by Peel for the unprecedented sum of £3000.

  10. Straw-coloured (straw-plaiting for hats came from Livomo in Tuscany).

  11. This masterpiece was painted by Rubens between 1611 and 1614; it had only been returned to the Cathedral in 1814 after twenty years in Paris during the war.

  12. A character in John Gay’s Beggar’s Opera (1728).

  13. Charles, second Earl Grey (1764−1845), was one of the leaders of her father’s Whig party.

  14. Strikes and riots in Glasgow culminated in the Radical War of April 1820 when radical weavers were dispersed in a skirmish at Bonnymuir.

  15. E.G.’s sister. Jane married him as her second husband.

  16. (1776−1817) French author, essayist, critic and famous conversationalist, this brilliant lady was widely fêted in England during her visit in 1813.

  17. A four-wheeled covered carriage, with a seat behind covered with a hood.

  18. Jean Baptiste Jules Bernadotte, Napoleon’s Marshal, was chosen King of Sweden in 1810 and reigned for thirty-four years. His wife, Desirée Clary, daughter of a wealthy Marseilles merchant, had been Napoleon’s first fiancée and was the sister of Joseph Buonaparte’s wife, Julie. The Due de Richelieu (1766−1822) became Prime Minister in February of this same year, 1820.