History of Civilization in England, Vol. 3 of 3. Henry Buckley
Buckle
History of Civilization in England, Vol. 3 of 3
CHAPTER I
CONDITION OF SCOTLAND TO THE END OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY
In the preceding view of the rise and decay of Spain, I have sought to exhibit the successive steps by which what was formerly one of the greatest nations of the earth, was broken, and cast down from its high estate. As we look back on that scene, the picture is, indeed, striking. A country rich in all natural productions, inhabited by a brave, a loyal, and a religious people, removed, too, by its geographical position from the hazards of European revolutions, did, by the operation of those general causes which I have indicated, suddenly rise to unparalleled grandeur; and then, without the occurrence of any new combination, but by a mere continuance of the same causes, fall with an equal velocity. Yet, these vicissitudes, strange and startling as they appear, were perfectly regular. They were the legitimate consequence of a state of society, in which the spirit of protection had reached its highest point, and in which, every thing being done for the people, nothing was done by the people. Whenever this happens, there may be great political progress, but there can be no really national progress. There may be accessions of territory, and vast increase of fame and of power. There may be improvements in the practice of administration, in the management of finances, in the organization of armies, in the art and theory of war, in the tricks of diplomacy, and in those various contrivances by which one nation is able to outwit and insult another. So far, however, from this benefiting the people, it will injure them in two different ways. In the first place, by increasing the reputation of the ruling classes, it encourages that blind and servile respect which men are too apt to feel for those who are above them, and which, wherever it has been generally practised, has been found fatal to the highest qualities of the citizen, and therefore to the permanent grandeur of the nation. And, in the second place, it multiplies the resources of the executive government, and thus renders the country unable, as well as unwilling, to correct the errors of those who are at the head of affairs. Hence, in Spain, as in all countries similarly circumstanced, it was at the very moment when things were most prosperous at the surface, that they were most rotten at the foundation. In presence of the most splendid political success, the nation hastened to its downfall, and the crisis was fast approaching, in which, the whole edifice being overturned, nothing would be left, except a memorable warning of the consequences which must ensue, when the people, giving themselves up to the passions of superstition and loyalty, abdicate their own proper functions, forego their own responsibility, renounce their highest duties, and degrade themselves into passive instruments to serve the will of the Church and the throne.
Such is the great lesson taught by the history of Spain. From the history of Scotland, we may gather another lesson, of a different, and yet of a similar, kind. In Scotland, the progress of the nation has been very slow, but, on the whole, very sure. The country is extremely barren; the executive government has, with rare exceptions, been always weak; and the people have never been burdened with those feelings of loyalty which circumstances had forced upon the Spaniards. Certainly, the last charge that will be brought against the Scotch, is that of superstitious attachment to their princes.1 We, in England, have not always been very tender of the persons of our sovereigns, and we have occasionally punished them with what some consider excessive severity. With this, we have been frequently taunted by the more loyal nations of the Continent; and, in Spain in particular, our conduct has excited the greatest abhorrence. But, if we compare our history with that of our northern neighbours, we must pronounce ourselves a meek and submissive people.2 There have been more rebellions in Scotland than in any other country; and the rebellions have been very sanguinary, as well as very numerous. The Scotch have made war upon most of their kings, and put to death many. To mention their treatment of a single dynasty, they murdered James I. and James III. They rebelled against James II. and James VII. They laid hold of James V., and placed him in confinement. Mary, they immured in a castle, and afterwards deposed. Her successor, James VI., they imprisoned; they led him captive about the country, and on one occasion attempted his life. Towards Charles I., they showed the greatest animosity, and they were the first to restrain his mad career. Three years before the English ventured to rise against that despotic prince, the Scotch boldly took up arms, and made war on him. The service which they then rendered to the cause of liberty it would be hard to overrate; but the singular part of the transaction was, that having afterwards got possession of the person of Charles, they sold him to the English for a large sum of money, of which they, being very poor, had pressing need. Such a sale is unparalleled in history; and although the Scotch might have plausibly alleged that this was the only gain they had derived, or ever could derive, from the existence of their hereditary prince, still the event is one which stands alone; it was unprecedented; it has never been imitated; and its occurrence is a striking symptom of the state of public opinion, and of the feelings of the country in which it was permitted.
While, however, in regard to loyalty, the opposition between Scotland and Spain is complete, there is, strange to say, the most striking similarity between those countries in regard to superstition. Both nations have allowed their clergy to exercise immense sway, and both have submitted their actions, as well as their consciences, to the authority of the Church. As a natural consequence, in both countries, intolerance has been, and still is, a crying evil; and in matters of religion, a bigotry is habitually displayed, discreditable indeed to Spain, but far more discreditable to Scotland, which has produced many philosophers of the highest eminence, who would willingly have taught the people better things, but who have vainly attempted to remove from the national mind that serious blemish which mars its beauty, and tends to neutralize its many other admirable qualities.
Herein lies the apparent paradox, and the real difficulty, of Scotch history. That knowledge should not have produced the effects which have elsewhere followed it; that a bold and inquisitive literature should be found in a grossly superstitious country, without diminishing its superstition; that the people should constantly withstand their kings, and as constantly succumb to their clergy; that while they are liberal in politics, they should be illiberal in religion; and that, as a natural consequence of all this, men who, in the visible and external department of facts and of practical life, display a shrewdness and a boldness rarely equalled, should nevertheless, in speculative life, and in matters of theory, tremble like sheep before their pastors, and yield assent to every absurdity they hear, provided their Church has sanctioned it; that these discrepancies should coexist, seems at first sight a strange contradiction, and is surely a phenomenon worthy of our careful study. To indicate the causes of this anomaly, and to trace the results to which the anomaly has led, will be the business of the remaining part of this volume; and although the investigation will be somewhat lengthy, it will not, I hope, be considered prolix, by those who recognise the importance of the inquiry, and are aware how completely it has been neglected, even by those who have written most fully on the history of the Scottish nation.
In Scotland, as elsewhere, the course of events has been influenced by its physical geography; and by this I mean, not only its own immediate peculiarities, but also its relation to adjoining countries. It is close to Ireland; it touches England; and by the contiguity of the Orkney and Shetland Isles, it was eminently exposed to the attacks of that great nation of pirates, which for centuries inhabited the Scandinavian peninsula. Considered merely by itself, it is mountainous and sterile; nature has interposed such obstacles, that it was long impossible to open regular communications between its different parts, which, indeed, in regard to the Highlands, was not effected till after the middle of the eighteenth century.3 Finally, and this, as we shall presently see, was a matter of great importance, the most fertile land in Scotland is in the south, and was, therefore, constantly ravaged by the English borderers. Hence, the accumulation of wealth was hindered; the growth of towns was discouraged, by the serious hazards to which they were liable; and it was impossible to develop that municipal spirit, which might have existed, if the districts most favoured by nature had been situated in the north of Scotland, instead of in the south. If the actual state of things had been reversed, so that the Highlands were in the south,4 and the Lowlands in the north, it can hardly be doubted, that, after the cessation in the thirteenth century of the great
One of their own historians complacently says, ‘but the Scots were seldom distinguished for loyalty.’
Indeed, a well-known Scotchman of the seventeenth century, scornfully says of the English, ‘such is the obsequiousness, and almost superstitious devotion of that nation towards their prince.’
In England, the travelling was bad enough; in Scotland, it was far worse. Morer, stating what he saw in 1689, says ‘Stage-coaches they have none; yet there are a few Hackney's at Edinburgh, which they may hire into the country upon urgent occasions. The truth is, the roads will hardly allow 'em those conveniences, which is the reason that their gentry, men and women, chuse rather to use their horses.’
As to the northern parts, we have the following account, written in Inverness, between 1726 and 1730. ‘The Highlands are but little known even to the inhabitants of the low country of Scotland, for they have ever dreaded the difficulties and dangers of travelling among the mountains; and, when some extraordinary occasion has obliged any one of them to such a progress, he has, generally speaking, made his testament before he set out, as though he were entering upon a long and dangerous sea-voyage, wherein it was very doubtful if he should ever return.’
The history of the improvement of the roads during the latter half of the eighteenth century, has never been written; but it is of the greatest importance for its intellectual results, in causing national fusion, as well as for its economical results, in helping trade. Some idea may be formed of the extraordinary energy displayed by Scotland in this matter, by comparing the following passages:
I use the word Highlands, in the common, though improper, sense of including all Scotland from the Pentland Firth to the beginning of the mountains, a few miles north of Glasgow, Stirling, Perth, and Dundee. All such distinctions are necessarily somewhat vague, because the boundaries of nature are never clearly marked. Compare