The roads of Liddesdale, in Dandie Dinmont's days, could not be
said to exist, and the district was only accessible through a
succession of tremendous morasses. About thirty years ago the
author himself was the first person who ever drove a little open
carriage into these wilds, the excellent roads by which they are
now traversed being then in some progress. The people stared with
no small wonder at a sight which many of them had never witnessed
in their lives before.
NOTE 2, p. 102
The Tappit Hen contained three quarts of claret--
Weel she loed a Hawick gill,
And leugh to see a tappit hen.
I have seen one of these formidable stoups at Provost Haswell's,
at Jedburgh, in the days of yore It was a pewter measure, the
claret being in ancient days served from the tap, and had the
figure of a hen upon the lid. In later times the name was given to
a glass bottle of the same dimensions. These are rare apparitions
among the degenerate topers of modern days.
NOTE 3, p. 102
The account given by Mr. Pleydell of his sitting down in the midst
of a revel to draw an appeal case was taken from a story told me
by an aged gentleman of the elder President Dundas of Amiston
(father of the younger President and of Lord Melville). It had
been thought very desirable, while that distinguished lawyer was
king's counsel, that his assistance should be obtained in drawing
an appeal case, which, as occasion for such writings then rarely
occurred, was held to be matter of great nicety. The solicitor
employed for the appellant, attended by my informant acting as his
clerk, went to the Lord Advocate's chambers in the Fishmarket
Close, as I think. It was Saturday at noon, the Court was just
dismissed, the Lord Advocate had changed his dress and booted
himself, and his servant and horses were at the foot of the close
to carry him to Arniston. It was scarcely possible to get him to
listen to a word respecting business. The wily agent, however, on
pretence of asking one or two questions, which would not detain
him half an hour, drew his Lordship, who was no less an eminent
ban vivant than a lawyer of unequalled talent, to take a whet at a
celebrated tavern, when the learned counsel became gradually
involved in a spirited discussion of the law points of the case.
At length it occurred to him that he might as well ride to
Arniston in the cool of the evening. The horses were directed to
be put in the stable, but not to be unsaddled. Dinner was ordered,
the law was laid aside for a time, and the bottle circulated very
freely. At nine o'clock at night, after he had been honouring
Bacchus for so many hours, the Lord Advocate ordered his horses to
be unsaddled; paper, pen, and ink were brought; he began to
dictate the appeal case, and continued at his task till four
o'clock the next morning. By next day's post the solicitor sent
the case to London, a chef-d'oeuvre of its kind; and in which, my
informant assured me, it was not necessary on revisal to correct
five words. I am not, therefore, conscious of having overstepped
accuracy in describing the manner in which Scottish lawyers of the
old time occasionally united the worship of Bacchus with that of
Themis. My informant was Alexander Keith, Esq., grandfather to my
friend, the present Sir Alexander Keith of Ravelstone, and
apprentice at the time to the writer who conducted the cause.
NOTE 4, p. 180
We must again have recourse to the contribution to Blackwood's
Magazine, April 1817:--
'To the admirers of good eating, gipsy cookery seems to have
little to recommend it. I can assure you, however, that the cook
of a nobleman of high distinction, a person who never reads even a
novel without an eye to the enlargement of the culinary science,
has added to the "Almanach des Gourmands" a certain Potage a la
Meg Merrilies de Derndeugh, consisting of game and poultry of all
kinds, stewed with vegetables into a soup, which rivals in savour
and richness the gallant messes of Camacho's wedding; and which
the Baron of Bradwardine would certainly have reckoned among the
epulae lautiores.'
The artist alluded to in this passage is Mons. Florence, cook to
Henry and Charles, late Dukes of Buccleuch, and of high
distinction in his profession.
NOTE 5, p. 212
The Burnet whose taste for the evening meal of the ancients is
quoted by Mr. Pleydellwas the celebrated metaphysician and
excellent man, Lord Monboddo, whose coenae will not be soon
forgotten by those who have shared his classic hospitality. As a
Scottish judge he took the designation of his family estate. His
philosophy, as is well known, was of a fanciful and somewhat
fantastic character; but his learning was deep, and he was
possessed of a singular power of eloquence, which reminded the
hearer of the os rotundum of the Grove or Academe.
Enthusiastically partial to classical habits, his entertainments
were always given in the evening, when there was a circulation of
excellent Bourdeaux, in flasks garlanded with roses, which were
also strewed on the table after the manner of Horace. The best
society, whether in respect of rank or literary distinction, was
always to be found in St. John's Street, Canongate. The
conversation of the excellent old man, his high, gentleman-like,
chivalrous spirit, the learning and wit with which he defended his
fanciful paradoxes, the kind and liberal spirit of his
hospitality, must render these noctes coenaeque dear to all who,
like the author (though then young), had the honour of sitting at
his board.
NOTE 6, p. 215
It is probably true, as observed by Counsellor Pleydell, that a
lawyer's anxiety about his case, supposing him to have been some
time in practice, will seldom disturb his rest or digestion.
Clients will, however, sometimes fondly entertain a different
opinion. I was told by an excellent judge, now no more, of a
country gentleman who, addressing his leading counsel, my
informer, then an advocate in great practice, on the morning of
the day on which the case was to be pleaded, said, with singular
bonhomie, 'Weel, my Lord (the counsel was Lord Advocate), the
awful day is come at last. I have nae been able to sleep a wink
for thinking of it; nor, I daresay, your Lordship either.'
NOTE 7, p. 235
Whistling, among the tenantry of a large estate, is when an
individual gives such information to the proprietor or his
managers as to occasion the rent of his neighbour's farms being
raised, which, for obvious reasons, is held a very unpopular
practice.
NOTE 8, p. 286
This hard word is placed in the mouth of one of the aged tenants.
In the old feudal tenures the herezeld constituted the best horse
or other animal on the vassals' lands, become the right of the
superior. The only remnant of this custom is what is called the
sasine, or a fee of certain estimated value, paid to the sheriff
of the county, who gives possession to the vassals of the crown.
NOTE 9, p. 301
This mode of securing prisoners was universally practised in
Scotland after condemnation. When a man received sentence of death
he was put upon THE GAD, as it was called, that is, secured to the
bar of iron in the manner mentioned in the text. The practice
subsisted in Edinburgh till the old jail was taken down some years
since, and perhaps may be still in use.
