The Mosstrooper: A Legend of the Scottish Border. Fittis Robert Scott
writing summaries and paragraphs, and in supplying from notes the abstracts of speeches which were then rarely printed verbatim. He remained in this position till 1861, providing also original articles for the “Courier” and for other newspapers. One of the incidents of this period of his life may be narrated, as showing how steadfastly he remained true to the memory of his early friends. James Stewart, the Dunkeld shoemaker, who had contributed Scottish poetry to the “Saturday Journal,” died in Perth Infirmary in 1843, and was buried in Greyfriars Burying-ground. His grave was not marked by any tomb-stone, and Fittis determined that this neglect should be remedied. In 1857 he brought out a volume of Stewart’s works bearing the title “Sketches of Scottish Character, and other Poems,” which he published by subscription, and with the proceeds he was able to place a memorial stone over the grave of his former comrade. The “People’s Journal,” which was begun in Dundee in 1858, provided an avenue for occasional contributions by Fittis, and in 1864 his serial story, “The Secret Witness,” appeared in its columns. His connection with the “People’s Journal” continued intermittently for many years, his latest contribution being a series published in 1891, under the title of “Haunted Houses in Perth.” In 1865 he wrote the novel “Gilderoy,” which was issued as a serial in the “Scottish Journal,” and was published in the following year as a volume in Routledge’s Railway Library. Mr. Fittis was married in 1866, and, after a union lasting for 37 years, his wife survived him. At that time the “Penny Post,” published in Glasgow, was the most popular of weekly papers in that district, and was early in the field as one of the first journals to issue serial stories. The late Mr. David Pae, of Dundee (afterwards editor of “The People’s Friend”) ran several of his most successful stories in the “Penny Post” in the “fifties.” Mr. Fittis in 1866 supplied his novel “The King of the Cairds”; in 1867 “A Master’s Crime”; and in 1872 “A Lass with a Tocher,” and “In the Pages of the Past” to this periodical. The “Edinburgh North Briton” was another of the weekly papers to which he contributed, his stories there published being “Aggie Lyon,” in 1866, and “The Sexton’s Mystery” in 1871. To the “North Berwick Advertiser” he contributed in 1870 “The Captain of the Bass,” besides reprinting some of the “Tales of Scotland.” By his writings in these papers the name of Robert Scott Fittis became widely known throughout Scotland.
A change came over the literary work of Mr. Fittis in the early “seventies.” While he did not entirely give up writing fiction, he devoted most of his time and energy to veritable history. In 1872 the Rev. Thomas Morris, a promising young Glasgow student, who became assistant in one of the Edinburgh churches, had started a weekly column in the “Perthshire Constitutional,” under the title of the “Antiquarian Repository.” He died suddenly in 1873, and Mr. Fittis was then engaged to carry on this column, which had become a feature of the paper. The work was entirely congenial to him. There was ample scope for the use of his vast stores of miscellaneous knowledge of Scottish history, tradition, and literature, and he fully utilised his opportunity. From 1873 till 1881 he continued to produce two weekly columns, republishing the matter in book form at the end of every year. He thus brought together the most complete and varied series of volumes relating to the history, antiquities, and literature of Perthshire ever attempted. The following table gives the titles and dates of these seven remarkable volumes: —
A mere glance at the list will give an idea of the industry of the writer, while the fact that the books have been accepted as the work of a painstaking and accurate historian proves their value. All these books are at present (1906) out of print, and command good prices when they come into the market.
After he had ceased his regular contributions to the “Perthshire Constitutional,” much of the time of Mr. Fittis was taken up in genealogical research, a task for which his long experience peculiarly fitted him. Yet he did not neglect historical writing, though severe illness frequently interrupted his labours. The five last volumes which he published were not issued serially, but made their first appearance in book form. Their titles and dates are as follows: —
The activity of Mr. Fittis continued almost up to the close of his life, and his two last books were produced after he had passed the allotted span of three-score years and ten. His death took place on 11th October, 1903, after he had been engaged in literature for sixty-two years.
The work of Robert Scott Fittis was not allowed to pass unnoticed and unrewarded by those best qualified to appreciate it. In 1893 his case was brought to the knowledge of Mr. W. E. Gladstone, and he then received £100 from the Queen’s Bounty Fund. Three years later (1896) Mr. A. J. Balfour gave £100 from the same fund. In 1899, Mr. Thomas, Sheriff-Clerk of Perthshire, raised a sum of money among the friends and admirers of Mr. Fittis, which Mr. Balfour doubled. With this sum an annuity of £20 was purchased, which Mr. Fittis received till his death. During his literary life Mr. Fittis had brought together an extensive and valuable library, chiefly of books relating to Scottish history and literature, and containing nearly 7000 volumes. After his decease these books were purchased by Dr. Andrew Carnegie, and presented to the Sandeman Library, Perth. Shortly after the death of Mr. Fittis a movement was set on foot for the securing and erecting of a suitable monument over his grave in Wellshill Cemetery, and sufficient money was raised not only to accomplish this purpose, but also to provide an enlarged photographic portrait of Mr. Fittis, which was presented to the Sandeman Library, as a memorial of one of Perth’s most notable sons. Even from this brief outline of his career it will be seen that Robert Scott Fittis, by his self-sacrificing and protracted labours, in the Roman phrase, “merits remembrance for his services to the commonweal.”
Chapter I
O mirk, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest’s roar;
A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower,
Lord Gregory, ope thy door.
IT was an early Spring eve in a year long before King James III. of Scotland perished in his flight from the lost field of Sauchieburn, and was succeeded on the throne by his son, Prince James, who headed the rebellion which resulted in the hapless monarch’s assassination at Beaton’s Mill.
On that Spring eve the setting sun, breaking through heavy cloud-masses, poured his red radiance athwart the snow-flecked summits of the hilly chain known as the Cheviots, the scene of Chevy Chase and of many another Border fight, and the boundary for a considerable distance between Scotland and the sister kingdom. The day had been dull and bleak, scarce enlivened by a transient glint of sunshine; nevertheless, the aspect of Nature somewhat indicated that the reign of “surly Winter” was over. As far as the eye could reach, the snow and ice had almost wholly melted from the face of the low country on either side of the hills; and the drooping snowdrop, emblem of purity, and harbinger of genial skies, decked the Frost-king’s grave.
The red sun went down, leaving a trail of fire at the “gates of the west”; and a dreary quietude brooded on the hills – scant sign or sound of life being apparent save what the homeward-bound rooks made as they sailed, weary of wing, this way and that. But as the gloaming fell, a solitary pedestrian emerged from one of the passes on the Scottish side of the marches – a tall and stoutly-built but youthful man. A short cloak of untanned deerskin hung from his shoulders, being secured at the throat by a knot of thongs, and it partly hid a doublet, called, in Border phrase, a jack, of boiled leather, fitting close to the body, and strengthened on the breast (if not also all over the shoulders and sleeves) by small circular plates of hammered iron sewed on in overlapping fashion like the scales of a fish. A broad buff belt around his waist, held by a polished brass buckle, sustained an iron-hiked sword and a long knife or dagger, termed a whinger, hafted with buck-horn, curiously carved. His right hand – the other being studiously concealed under his mantle, and apparently carrying something rather bulky – was encased in a leathern gauntlet, the back of which was defended by little plates of mail like those on the jack. On his head he wore an iron bascinet cap, rusty and much dinted, and from under its rim straggled locks of dark brown hair inclining