John Playfair

‘…Play fair, though ill, and the day bad, followed poor

Seymour to his grave at Holyrood. But those who saw

him there shook their heads; and in about three monthshe joined his friend. This was an irreparable loss bothto the science and to the society of Edinburgh. Taking the whole man — his science, his heart, his manner, and his taste, I do not see how Playfair could have been improved. Profound, yet cheerful; Social, yet alwaysrespectable; strong in his feelings, but uniformly gentle;a universal favorite, yet never moved from his simplicity; in humble circumstances, but contented and charitable — he realized our ideas of an amiable philosopher.

And is he not the best philosophical writer in the 

English language? I have been told that when 

racked on his death-bed with pain, a relation wished 

to amuse him by reading one of Scott's Novels, of 

which he was very fond, but that he said he would 

rather try the Principia. Nothing can he more just 

than the application made to him, by Stewart, of Mar- 

montel's description of D'Alembert. His friends sub- 

scribed for a bust of him, and a monument. The bust 

has been most happily executed by Chantrey. The 

monument, designed by his nephew, has been placed in 

the Calton Hill, in connection with the Observatory, 

which owes its existence and its early reputation to 

Playfair. 

Lord Henry Cockburn’s entries in “Memorials of his Times” are always

of the most enjoyable kind.  Cockburn credits Playfair’s merit as a philosopher.

Most remember him as a scientist and as a mathematician with an axiom named for

him.  He was also a friend of Walter Scott, and as Cockburn notes,a fan of Scott’s novels.

John Playfair died on July 20, 1819.

Melville's Impeachment

The last English impeachment occurred in 1806, and involved Henry Dundas, the Lord Melville.  Lord Henry Cockburn writes of an incident that occurred after Dundas' acquittal, involving Walter Scott, which appears unfavorable to the author, on the surface.  The incident took place on on June 27, 1806. Cockburn treats the issue equitably, in his “Memorials of his Time”.

‘…There were two occurrences more

important — the Impeachment of Lord Melville; and the

proposed reform of the Court of Session.

The charges against Lord Melville were groundless,

and were at last reduced to insignificancy. To those

who knew the pecuniary indifference of the man, and

who think of the comparative facility of peculation in

those irregular days, the mere smallness of the Bums

which he was said to have improperly, touched, is of

itself almost sufficient evidence of his innocence. If he

had been disposed to peculate, it would not have been

for farthings. Nevertheless, his impeachment did more

to emancipate Scotland than even the exclusion of his

party from power. His political omnipotence, which

without any illiberality on his part, implied, at that time,

the suppression of all opposition, had lasted so long and

so steadily, that in despair the discontented concurred in

the general impression that, happen what might, Harry

the ninth would always be uppermost. When he was

not only deprived of power, but subjected to trial, peo-

ple could, scarcely believe their senses. The triumphant

anticipations of his enemies, many of whom exulted with

premature and disgusting joy over the ruin of the man,

were as absurd as the rage of his friends who railed,

with vain malignity, at his accusers and the Constitution.

Between the two, the progress of independence was ma-

terially advanced. A blow had been struck which, not-

withstanding his acquittal, relaxed our local fetters. Our

little great men felt the precariousness of their power;

and even the mildest friends of improvement — those who,

though opposed to him, deplored the fall of a distinguish-

ed countryman more than they valued any political bene-

fit involved in his misfortune, were relieved by seeing

that the main-spring of the Scotch pro-consular system

was weakened.

It was at a public dinner in honor of the acquittal

(27th June, 1806) that Scott produced, and his friend

James Ballantyne sang, that unfortunate song so often

brought against him afterwards, in which, Fox being

then in his last illness, there is a line cheering "Tally-

ho to the Fox" If, as was said, Scott really intended

this as a shout of triumph over the expiring orator, it was

an indecency which no fair license of party zeal can pal-

liate. But I am inclined to believe that nothing was

meant beyond one of the jocular, and not unnatural, ex-

ultations over the defeated leaders of the impeachment,

of which the song is composed. There were some import-

ant persons, however, whose good opinion by this indis-

cretion was lost to Scott forever.*

* Lockhart's explanation (Life of Scott, chap. 15) is, that Scott having (ap-

parently) just accepted of his Clerkship of Session from the Whigs, thought

it necessary to show his independence by abusing them. It seems absurd

to impute this to a sensible man. Besides, it does not hit the blot. It was

not abuse of the Whigs that gave offence, but a supposed triumphant cheer

over Fox's approaching death. ..’

Birthday: George III of Great Britain

George III was the reigning monarch of Great Britain during most of Walter Scott’s lifetime,

ruling from 1760 until his death in 1820.  George has been mentioned in more than one

previous post.  In remembrance of his birthday (June 4, 1738), today's posting includes the

following description of the annual birthday celebration in Edinburgh from Henry Cockburn’s

“Memorials of his Time".

Another [test of loyalty] was keeping the King's birth-day. This day 

was the 4th of June, which, for the 60 years that the 

reign of George the III lasted, gave an annual holiday 

to the British people, and was so associated in their 

habits with the idea of its being a free day, that they 

thought they had a right to it even after his Majesty 

was dead. And the established way of keeping it in 

Edinburgh was, by the lower orders and the boys 

having a long day of idleness and fireworks, and by the 

upper classes going to the Parliament House, and drink- 

ing the royal health in the evening, at the expense of 

the city funds. The magistrates who conducted the 

banquet, which began about seven, invited about 1500 

people. Tables, but no seats except one at each end, 

were set along the Outer House. These tables, and the 

doors and walls, were adorned by flowers and branches, 

the trampling and bruising of which increased the gen- 

eral filth. There was no silence, no order, no decency. 

The loyal toasts were let off, in all quarters, according 

to the pleasure of the Town Councillor who presided 

over the section, without any orations by the Provost, 

who, seated in his robes, on a high chair, was supposed 

to control the chaos. Respectable people, considering 

it all as an odious penance, and going merely in order 

to show that they were not Jacobins, came away after 

having pretended to drink one necessary cup to the 

health of the reigning monarch. But all sorts, who 

were worthy of the occasion and enjoyed it, persevered 

to a late hour, roaring, drinking, toasting, and quarrel- 

ling. They made the Court stink for a week with the 

wreck and the fumes of that hot and scandalous night. 

It was not unusual at old Scotch feasts for the guests, 

after drinking a toast, to toss their glasses over their 

heads, in order that they might never be debased by 

any other sentiment. The very loyal on this occasion 

availed themselves of this privilege freely, so that frag- 

ments of glass crunched beneath the feel of the walk. 

The infernal din was aggravated by volleys of musketry, 

fired very awkwardly by the Town Guard, amidst the 

shouts of the mob, in the Parliament Close.  The rabble, 

smitten by the enthusiasm of the day, were accustomed, 

and permitted, to think license their right, and exercised 

their brutality without stint. Those who were aware of 

what might take place on the street, retired from the 

banquet before the spirit of mischief was fully up. 

Those who came out so late as ten or even nine of the 

evening, if observed and unprotected, were fortunate if 

they escaped rough usage, especially if they escaped 

being … made to "Hide the Stang" a 

painful and dangerous operation, and therefore a great 

favorite with the mob. I forget when this abominable 

festival was given up. Not, I believe, till the poverty, 

rather than the will, of the Town Council was obliged 

to consent.