Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 001.djvu/164

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162
Memorie of the Somervilles.
[May

SELECT EXTRACTS.

MEMORIE OF THE SOMERVILLES.

This book was published last year from the original MS. in the possession of the present Lord Somerville. It is the composition of his ancestor, James Somerville, who died in the year 1690,—who is styled in the title-page, James Eleventh Lord Somerville, but who in reality never found it convenient, in the low state to which the affairs of his family were then reduced, to assume any higher designation than that of the "Laird of Drum." His father was an officer of considerable eminence in the Scottish army during the civil wars, but the author himself is of a different way of thinking, being indeed a great stickler for the Divine right both of kings and of bishops. He is, notwithstanding, a very worthy sort of person, and gives good advice to his children, for whose benefit only he professes to write, in a manner that does him much honour.

The history of the Somerville family, during the first ages of its appearance in Scotland, is extremely inaccurate; dates and facts are often jumbled in a most absurd manner; and indeed nothing can be more uninteresting than both the subject and the manner of this whole part of the work. When, however, the author comes to treat of events more near his own time, or when he favours us with the result of his own reflections upon any general topic, there is commonly a considerable admixture both of shrewdness and naivete. Some of the anecdotes which he relates are, moreover, singularly picturesque, and for this reason we have thought fit to present our readers with a few of the most interesting passages.

The first which we shall extract is the history of a domestic tragedy, which occurred in the reign of King Robert II. and about the year 1371. The story is told with much feeling, and requires no commentary.

"Much about the beginning of this king's reigne, ther happened a sad accident in the faniilie of Sir John Harring, laird of Edmondstoune in Clidesdale, and of Gillmertoune in Mid Lothian. This gentleman haveing two beautifull daughters, the eldest named Margaret, and the youngest Geilles, both in expectatione to be sharers in a great part of ther father's estate, because he had no male children of his oune bodie but a brother's sone named Patrick, whom he designed to have marryed upon his eldest daughter, and given him the greatest part of his lands eftir his death; but the miscarriage of his eldest daughter, which had a tragicall end, frustrated all his hope and expectatione that way. For this young lady, as she was beautifull, inclyneing to melanchollie, appeared to be very devote in observeing strictly all rites and ceremonies of religion then in use, wherby it came to passe, frequenting much the abbacie of Newbottle, she became acquainted with a young monk of the Sistertian order, or the refyned Benedicts, belonging to that abbacie; who having insinuated himself much in her favour under ane specious pretext of holyness, did often converse with this lady in her most private reteirements, both in the abbacie and at her father's house in Gillmertoune, without the least suspitione that he intended any villanie; but this rascal, by his divellish rhetorick and allurements, soe far prevailled upon the simplicitie of this gentlewoman, that at lenth he deboshed her; and because he thought nether the abbacie nor her father's house to be safe for their intrigues of love, they agreed their meeting should be at a little ferme belonging to John Herring, called the Grange, a quarter of a myle or therby from Gillmertoune, neer by the road that leads to Newbottle. The mistress of this country-house being a young and a lascivious widow, some tyme before hade been ensnared, and played the wanton with his comerad; this house was therfore thought the most convenient for them to meet at, which they often did, to the great scandal of the monkes' professione, and dishonour of the women, especially of the young ladie, which occasioned all ther ruines in the end. For, notwithstanding of the secresie of this affair, and circumspectione for appoynting fitt hours for their deeds of darkness, yet there was some suspitione from the too much familiaritie betwext Sir John's daughter and this woman soe far below her qualitie; ther often being together, and the frequenting of her house, gave occasions of scandal to all; which coming to Sir John's ears, being a forward and furious man, he threatened his daughter with noe lesse than death, if ever it came to his knowledge that she went to the Grange, or frequented that woman's companie eftirwards. This she promised to her father to observe, but with noe intentione to keep the same; for noe sooner was the darkness of the ensueing night come, but at her accustomed hour she goes out at the back entry that leads to the Grange, where the two brothers in iniquitie