Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character by Edward Bannerman Ramsay

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The class of old Scottish ladies, marked by so many peculiarities,
generally lived in provincial towns, and never dreamt of going from
home. Many had never been in London, or had even crossed the Tweed. But
as Lord Cockburn's experience goes back further than mine, and as he had
special opportunities of being acquainted with their characteristic
peculiarities, I will quote his animated description at page 57 of his
_Memorials_. "There was a singular race of old Scotch ladies. They were
a delightful set--strong-headed, warm-hearted, and high-spirited--merry
even in solitude; very resolute; indifferent about the modes and habits
of the modern world, and adhering to their own ways, so as to stand out
like primitive rocks above ordinary society. Their prominent qualities
of sense, humour, affection, and spirit, were embodied in curious
outsides, for they all dressed, and spoke, and did exactly as they
chose. Their language, like their habits, entirely Scotch, but without
any other vulgarity than what perfect naturalness is sometimes
mistaken for[56]."

This is a masterly description of a race now all but passed away. I have
known several of them in my early days; and amongst them we must look
for the racy Scottish peculiarities of diction and of expression which,
with them, are also nearly gone. Lord Cockburn has given some
illustrations of these peculiarities; and I have heard others,
especially connected with Jacobite partialities, of which I say nothing,
as they are in fact rather _strong_ for such a work as this. One,
however, I heard lately as coming from a Forfarshire old lady of this
class, which bears upon the point of "resolute" determination referred
to in the learned judge's description. She had been very positive in the
disclaiming of some assertion which had been attributed to her, and on
being asked if she had not written it, or something very like it, she
replied, "Na, na; I never _write_ onything of consequence--I may deny
what I say, but I canna deny what I write."

Mrs. Baird of Newbyth, the mother of our distinguished countryman the
late General Sir David Baird, was always spoken of as a grand specimen
of the class. When the news arrived from India of the gallant but
unfortunate action of '84 against Hyder Ali, in which her son, then
Captain Baird, was engaged, it was stated that he and other officers had
been taken prisoners and chained together two and two. The friends were
careful in breaking such sad intelligence to the mother of Captain
Baird. When, however, she was made fully to understand the position of
her son and his gallant companions, disdaining all weak and useless
expressions of her own grief, and knowing well the restless and athletic
habits of her son, all she said was, "Lord pity the chiel that's chained
to our Davie!"

It is only due to the memory of "our Davie," however, to add that the
"chiel" to whom he was chained, had, in writing home to his friends,
borne the highest testimony to the kindness and consideration of Captain
Baird, which he exercised towards him in this uncomfortable alliance.
General Baird was a first-rate officer, and a fine noble character. He
left home for active service so soon (before he was fifteen) that his
education had necessarily been very imperfect. This deficiency he had
always himself through life deeply regretted. A military friend, and
great admirer of Sir David, used jocularly to tell a story of him--that
having finished the despatch which must carry home the news of his great
action, the capture of Seringapatam, as he was preparing to sign it in
great form, he deliberately took off his coat. "Why do you take off your
coat?" said his friend. To which the General quietly answered, "Oh, it's
to turn the muckle D in Dauvid."

The ladies of this class had certainly no affectation in speaking of
those who came under their displeasure, even when life and death were
concerned. I had an anecdote illustrative of this characteristic in a
well-known old lady of the last century, Miss Johnstone of Westerhall.
She had been extremely indignant that, on the death of her brother, his
widow had proposed to sell off the old furniture of Westerhall. She was
attached to it from old associations, and considered the parting with it
little short of sacrilege. The event was, however, arrested by death,
or, as she describes the result, "The furniture was a' to be roupit, and
we couldna persuade her. But before the sale cam on, in God's gude
providence she just clinkit aff hersell." Of this same Miss Johnstone
another characteristic anecdote has been preserved in the family. She
came into possession of Hawkhill, near Edinburgh, and died there. When
dying, a tremendous storm of rain and thunder came on, so as to shake
the house. In her own quaint eccentric spirit, and with no thought of
profane or light allusions, she looked up, and, listening to the storm,
quietly remarked, in reference to her departure, "Ech, sirs! what a
nicht for me to be fleein' through the air!" Of fine acute sarcasm I
recollect hearing an expression from a _modern_ sample of the class, a
charming character, but only to a certain degree answering to the
description of the _older_ generation. Conversation turning, and with
just indignation, on the infidel remarks which had been heard from a
certain individual, and on his irreverent treatment of Holy Scripture,
all that this lady condescended to say of him was, "Gey impudent of
him, I think."

A recorded reply of old Lady Perth to a French gentleman is quaint and
characteristic. They had been discussing the respective merits of the
cookery of each country. The Frenchman offended the old Scottish peeress
by some disparaging remarks on Scottish dishes, and by highly preferring
those of France. All she would answer was, "Weel, weel, some fowk like
parritch and some like paddocks[57]."

Of this older race--the ladies who were, aged, fifty years ago--no
description could be given in bolder or stronger outline than that which
I have quoted from Lord Cockburn. I would pretend to nothing more than
giving a few further illustrative details from my own experience, which
may assist the representation by adding some practical realities to
the picture.

Several of them whom I knew in my early days certainly answered to many
of the terms made use of by his lordship. Their language and expressions
had a zest and peculiarity which are gone, and which would not, I fear,
do for modern life and times.

I have spoken of Miss Erskine of Dun, which is near Montrose. She,
however, resided in Edinburgh. But those I knew best had lived many
years in the then retired society of a country town. Some were my own
relations; and in boyish days (for they had not generally much patience
with boys) were looked up to with considerable awe as very formidable
personages. Their characters and modes of expression in many respects
remarkably corresponded with Lord Cockburn's idea of the race. There was
a dry Scottish humour which we fear their successors do not inherit. One
of these Montrose ladies, Miss Nelly Fullerton, had many anecdotes told
of her quaint ways and sayings. Walking in the street one day, slippery
from frost, she fairly fell down. A young officer with much politeness
came forward and picked her up, earnestly asking her at the same time,
"I hope ma'am, you are no worse?" to which she very drily answered,
looking at him very steadily, "'Deed, sir, I'm just as little the
better." A few days after, she met her military supporter in a shop. He
was a fine tall youth, upwards of six feet high, and by way of making
some grateful recognition for his late polite attention, she eyed him
from head to foot, and as she was of the opinion of the old Scotch lady
who declared she "aye liked bonny fowk," she viewed her young friend
with much satisfaction, but which she only evinced by the quaint remark,
"Od, ye're a lang lad; God gie ye grace."

I had from a relative or intimate friend of two sisters of this school,
well known about Glasgow, an odd account of what it seems, from their
own statement, had passed between them at a country house, where they
had attended a sale by auction. As the business of the day went on, a
dozen of silver spoons had to be disposed of; and before they were put
up for competition, they were, according to the usual custom, handed
round for inspection to the company. When returned into the hands of
the auctioneer, he found only eleven. In great wrath, he ordered the
door to be shut, that no one might escape, and insisted on every one
present being searched to discover the delinquent. One of the sisters,
in consternation, whispered to the other, "Esther, ye hae nae gotten the
spune?" to which she replied, "Na; but I hae gotten Mrs. Siddons in my
pocket." She had been struck by a miniature of the great actress, and
had quietly pocketed it. The cautious reply of the sister was, "Then
just drop her, Esther." One of the sisterhood, a connection of my own,
had much of this dry Scottish humour. She had a lodging in the house of
a respectable grocer; and on her niece most innocently asking, "if she
was not very fond of her landlord," in reference to the excellence of
her apartments and the attention he paid to her comfort, she demurred to
the question on the score of its propriety, by replying, "Fond of my
landlord! that would be an _unaccountable_ fondness."

An amusing account was given of an interview and conversation between
this lady and the provost of Montrose. She had demurred at paying some
municipal tax with which she had been charged, and the provost, anxious
to prevent her getting into difficulty on the subject, kindly called to
convince her of the fairness of the claim, and the necessity of paying
it. In his explanation he referred back to his own bachelor days when a
similar payment had been required from him. "I assure you, ma'am," he
said, "when I was in your situation I was called upon in a similar way
for this tax;" to which she replied, in quiet scorn, "In my situation!
an' whan were ye in my situation?--an' auld maid leevin' in a flat wi'
an ae lass." But the complaints of such imposts were urged in a very
humorous manner by another Montrose old lady, Miss Helen Carnegy of
Craigo; she hated paying taxes, and always pretended to misunderstand
their nature. One day, receiving a notice of such payment signed by the
provost (Thorn), she broke out: "I dinna understand thae taxes; but I
just think that when Mrs. Thorn wants a new gown, the provost sends me a
tax paper!" The good lady's naive rejection of the idea that she could
be in any sense "fond of her landlord," already referred to, was
somewhat in unison with a similar feeling recorded to have been
expressed by the late Mr. Wilson, the celebrated Scottish vocalist. He
was taking lessons from the late Mr. Finlay Dun, one of the most
accomplished musicians of the day. Mr. Dun had just returned from Italy,
and, impressed with admiration of the deep pathos, sentiment, and
passion of the Italian school of music, he regretted to find in his
pupil so lovely a voice and so much talent losing much of its effect for
want of feeling. Anxious, therefore, to throw into his friend's
performance something of the Italian expression, he proposed to bring it
out by this suggestion: "Now, Mr. Wilson, just suppose that I am your
lady love, and sing to me as you could imagine yourself doing were you
desirous of impressing her with your earnestness and affection." Poor
Mr. Wilson hesitated, blushed, and, under doubt how far such a
personification even in his case was allowable, at last remonstrated,
"Ay, Mr. Dun, ye forget I'm a married man!" A case has been reported of
a country girl, however, who thought it possible there might be an
excess in such scrupulous regard to appearances. On her marriage-day,
the youth to whom she was about to be united said to her in a triumphant
tone, "Weel, Jenny, haven't I been unco ceevil?" alluding to the fact
that during their whole courtship he had never even given her a kiss.
Her quiet reply was, "Ou, ay, man; _senselessly_ ceevil."

One of these Montrose ladies and a sister lived together; and in a very
quiet way they were in the habit of giving little dinner-parties, to
which occasionally they invited their gentlemen friends. However,
gentlemen were not always to be had; and on one occasion, when such a
difficulty had occurred, they were talking over the matter with a
friend. The one lady seemed to consider such an acquisition almost
essential to the having a dinner at all. The other, who did not see the
same necessity, quietly adding, "But, indeed, oor Jean thinks a man
_perfect salvation_."

Very much of the same class of remarks was the following sly observation
of one of the sisterhood. At a well-known tea-table in a country town in
Forfarshire, the events of the day, grave and gay, had been fully
discussed by the assembled sisterhood. The occasion was improved by an
elderly spinster, as follows:--"Weel, weel, sirs, these are solemn
events--death and marriage--but ye ken they're what we must a' come
till." "Eh, Miss Jeany! ye have been lang spared," was the arch reply of
a younger member.

There was occasionally a pawky semi-sarcastic humour in the replies of
some of the ladies we speak of, that was quite irresistible, of which I
have from a friend a good illustration in an anecdote well known at the
time. A late well-known member of the Scottish bar, when a youth, was
somewhat of a dandy, and, I suppose, somewhat short and sharp in his
temper. He was going to pay a visit in the country, and was making a
great fuss about his preparing and putting up his habiliments. His old
aunt was much annoyed at all this bustle, and stopped him by the
somewhat contemptuous question, "Whar's this you're gaun, Bobby, that
ye mak sic a grand wark about yer claes?" The young man lost temper, and
pettishly replied, "I'm going to the devil." "'Deed, Robby, then," was
the quiet answer, "ye needna be sae nice, he'll juist tak' ye as
ye are."

Ladies of this class had a quiet mode of expressing themselves on very
serious subjects, which indicated their quaint power of description,
rather than their want of feeling. Thus, of two sisters, when one had
died, it was supposed that she had injured herself by an imprudent
indulgence in strawberries and cream, of which she had partaken in the
country. A friend was condoling with the surviving sister, and,
expressing her sorrow, had added, "I had hoped your sister was to live
many years." To which her relative replied--"Leeve! hoo could she leeve?
she juist felled[58] hersell at Craigo wi' straeberries and 'ream!"
However, she spoke with the same degree of coolness of her own decease.
For when her friend was comforting her in illness, by the hopes that she
would, after winter, enjoy again some of their country spring butter,
she exclaimed, without the slightest idea of being guilty of any
irreverence, "Spring butter! by that time I shall be buttering in
heaven." When really dying, and when friends were round her bed she
overheard one of them saying to another, "Her face has lost its colour;
it grows like a sheet of paper." The quaint spirit even then broke out
in the remark, "Then I'm sure it maun be _broon_ paper." A very
strong-minded lady of the class, and, in Lord Cockburn's language,
"indifferent about modes and habits[59]," had been asking from a lady
the character of a cook she was about to hire. The lady naturally
entered a little upon her moral qualifications, and described her as a
very decent woman; the response to which was, "Oh, d--n her decency; can
she make good collops?"--an answer which would somewhat surprise a lady
of Moray Place now, if engaged in a similar discussion of a
servant's merits.

The Rev. Dr. Cook of Haddington supplies an excellent anecdote, of which
the point is in the dry Scottish answer: An old lady of the Doctor's
acquaintance, about seventy, sent for her medical attendant to consult
him about a sore throat, which had troubled her for some days. Her
medical man was ushered into her room, decked out with the now
prevailing fashion, a mustache and flowing beard. The old lady, after
exchanging the usual civilities, described her complaint to the worthy
son of AEsculapius. "Well," says he, "do you know, Mrs. Macfarlane, I
used to be much affected with the very same kind of sore throat, but
ever since I allowed my mustache and beard to grow, I have never been
troubled with it." "Aweel, aweel," said the old lady drily, "that may be
the case, but ye maun prescribe some other method for me to get quit o'
the sair throat; for ye ken, doctor, I canna adopt _that_ cure."

Then how quaint the answer of old Mrs. Robison, widow of the eminent
professor of natural philosophy, and who entertained an inveterate
dislike to everything which she thought savoured of _cant_. She had
invited a gentleman to dinner on a particular day, and he had accepted,
with the reservation, "If I am spared."--"Weel, weel," said Mrs.
Robison; "if ye're deed, I'll no expect ye."

I had two grand-aunts living at Montrose at that time--two Miss Ramsays
of Balmain. They were somewhat of the severe class---Nelly especially,
who was an object rather of awe than of affection. She certainly had a
very awful appearance to young apprehensions, from the strangeness of
her headgear. Ladies of this class Lord Cockburn has spoken of as
"having their peculiarities embodied in curious outsides, as they
dressed, spoke, and did exactly as they chose." As a sample of such
"curious outside and dress," my good aunt used to go about the house
with an immense pillow strapped over her head--warm but formidable.
These two maiden grand-aunts had invited their niece to pay them a
visit--an aunt of mine, who had made what they considered a very
imprudent marriage, and where considerable pecuniary privations were too
likely to accompany the step she had taken. The poor niece had to bear
many a taunt directed against her improvident union, as for
example:--One day she had asked for a piece of tape for some work she
had in hand as a young wife expecting to become a mother. Miss Nelly
said, with much point, "Ay, Kitty, ye shall get a bit knittin' (_i.e._ a
bit of tape). We hae a'thing; we're no married." It was this lady who,
by an inadvertent use of a term, showed what was passing in her mind in
a way which must have been quite transparent to the bystanders. At a
supper which she was giving, she was evidently much annoyed at the
reckless and clumsy manner in which a gentleman was operating upon a ham
which was at table, cutting out great lumps, and distributing them to
the company. The lady said, in a very querulous tone, "Oh, Mr. _Divot_,
will you help Mrs. So and So?"--divot being a provincial term for a turf
or sod cut out of the green, and the resemblance of it to the pieces
carved out by the gentleman evidently having taken possession of her
imagination. Mrs. Helen Carnegy of Craigo, already mentioned, was a
thorough specimen of this class. She lived in Montrose, and died in
1818, at the advanced age of ninety-one. She was a Jacobite, and very
aristocratic in her feelings, but on social terms with many burghers of
Montrose, or Munross as it was called. She preserved a very nice
distinction of addresses, suited to the different individuals in the
town, according as she placed them in the scale of her consideration.
She liked a party at quadrille, and sent out her servant every morning
to invite the ladies required to make up the game, and her directions
were graduated thus:--"Nelly, ye'll ging to Lady Carnegy's, and mak my
compliments, and ask the _honour_ of her ladyship's company, and that of
the Miss Carnegys, to tea this evening; and if they canna come, ging to
the Miss Mudies, and ask the _pleasure_ of their company; and if they
canna come, ye may ging to Miss Hunter and ask the _favour_ of her
company and if she canna come, ging to Lucky Spark and _bid her come_."

A great confusion existed in the minds of some of those old-fashioned
ladies on the subject of modern inventions and usages. A Montrose old
lady protested against the use of steam-vessels, as counteracting the
decrees of Providence in going against wind and tide, vehemently
asserting, "I would hae naething to say to thae _im-pious_ vessels."
Another lady was equally discomposed by the introduction of gas, asking,
with much earnestness, "What's to become o' the puir whales'?" deeming
their interests materially affected by this superseding of their oil. A
lady of this class, who had long lived in country retirement, coming up
to Edinburgh, was, after an absence of many years, going along Princes
Street about the time when the water-carts were introduced for
preventing the dust, and seeing one of them passing, rushed from off the
pavement to the driver, saying, "Man, ye're _skailin'_ a' the water."
Such being her ignorance of modern improvements.

There used to be a point and originality in expressions made use of in
regard to common matters, unlike what one finds now; for example: A
country minister had been invited, with his wife, to dine and spend the
night at the house of one of his lairds. Their host was very proud of
one of the very large beds which had just come into fashion, and in the
morning asked the lady how she had slept in it. "Oh, vary well, sir;
but, indeed, I thought I'd lost the minister athegither."

Nothing, however, in my opinion, comes up to the originality and point
of the Montrose old maiden lady's most "exquisite reason" for not
subscribing to the proposed fund for organising a volunteer corps in
that town. It was at the time of expected invasion at the beginning of
the century, and some of the town magistrates called upon her and
solicited her subscription to raise men for the service of the
king--"Indeed," she answered right sturdily, "I'll dae nae sic thing; I
ne'er could raise a man _for mysell_, and I'm no ga'in to raise men for
King George."

Some curious stories are told of ladies of this class, as connected with
the novelties and excitement of railway travelling. Missing their
luggage, or finding that something has gone wrong about it, often causes
very terrible distress, and might be amusing, were it not to the
sufferer so severe a calamity. I was much entertained with the
earnestness of this feeling, and the expression of it from an old Scotch
lady whose box was not forthcoming at the station where she was to
stop. When urged to be patient, her indignant exclamation was--"I can
bear ony pairtings that may be ca'ed for in God's providence; but I
_canna stan' pairtin' frae my claes_."

The following anecdote from the west exhibits a curious confusion of
ideas arising from the old-fashioned prejudice against Frenchmen and
their language, which existed in the last generation. During the long
French war, two old ladies in Stranraer were going to the kirk; the one
said to the other, "Was it no a wonderfu' thing that the Breetish were
aye victorious ower the French in battle?" "Not a bit," said the other
old lady; "dinna ye ken the Breetish aye say their prayers before ga'in
into battle?" The other replied, "But canna the French say their prayers
as weel?" The reply was most characteristic, "Hoot! jabbering bodies,
wha could _understan'_ them?"

Some of these ladies, as belonging to the old county families, had very
high notions of their own importance, and a great idea of their
difference from the burgher families of the town. I am assured of the
truth of the following naive specimen of such family pride:--One of the
olden maiden ladies of Montrose called one day on some ladies of one of
the families in the neighbourhood, and on being questioned as to the
news of the town, said, "News! oh, Bailie----'s eldest son is to be
married." "And pray," was the reply, "and pray, Miss ----, an' fa' ever
heard o' a merchant i' the toon o' Montrose _ha'in_ an _eldest son_?"
The good lady thought that any privilege of primogeniture belonged only
to the family of _laird_.

It is a dangerous experiment to try passing off ungrounded claims upon
characters of this description. Many a clever sarcastic reply is on
record from Scottish ladies, directed against those who wished to
impose upon them some false sentiment. I often think of the remark of
the outspoken ancient lady, who, when told by her pastor, of whose
disinterestedness in his charge she was not quite sure, that he "had a
call from his Lord and Master to go," replied--"'Deed, sir, the Lord
micht hae ca'ed and ca'ed to ye lang eneuch to Ouchtertoul (a very small
stipend), and ye'd ne'er hae letten on that ye heard him."

At the beginning of this century, when the fear of invasion was rife, it
was proposed to mount a small battery at the water-mouth by
subscription, and Miss Carnegy was waited on by a deputation from the
town-council. One of them having addressed her on the subject, she heard
him with some impatience, and when he had finished, she said, "Are ye
ane o' the toon-cooncil." He replied, "I have that honour, ma'am." To
which she rejoined, "Ye may hae that _profit_, but honour ye hae nane;"
and then to the point, she added, "But I've been tell't that ae day's
wark o' twa or three men wad mount the cannon, and that it may be a'
dune for twenty shillings; now there's twa punds to ye." The councillor
pocketed the money and withdrew. On one occasion, as she sat in an easy
chair, having assumed the habits and privileges of age, Mr. Mollison,
the minister of the Established Kirk, called on her to solicit for some
charity. She did not like being asked for money, and, from her Jacobite
principles, she certainly did not respect the Presbyterian Kirk. When he
came in she made an inclination of the head, and he said, "Don't get up,
madam." She replied, "Get up! I wadna rise out o' my chair for King
George himsell, let abee a whig minister."

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