Insides Print Ready v2 Proof

'The heart ay's the part ay,
that makes us right or wrang'

AGNES
CRAIG
MACLEHOSE
BURNS'
CLARINDA
HERSTORY

BY
MAUREEN BELL

1

First published by
Maureen Bell

2 Emerson Road West
Bishopbriggs
Glasgow
G64 1QA

Telephone - 0141-258-7231
E-mail – [email protected]

Copyright © 2018 Maureen Bell

All Rights Reserved

Frontispiece Clarinda's silhouette by John Miers 1788

ISBN 978-1-5272-2610-4
Printed by Book Printers Scotland, Glasgow, UK

2ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My gratitude for the incalculable work done by previous authors,
biographers and researchers over the past two hundred and twenty plus
years is genuine and from the heart. They lit my way.
I also thank my son Gareth who problem solved for me whenever my
laptop, where my book has lived for many years, chose to go into freefall,
always at the most inopportune moment.

i3ii

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Tae The Lasses
The Burns Calendar

4iv

THE RELATIONSHIP IN THREE VERSES

Thine am I, my faithful fair,
Thine my lovely Nancy;
Ev'ry pulse along my veins,
Ev'ry roving fancy.
To thy bosom lay my heart,
There to throb and languish;
Tho' despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.
(cFebruary 1790)

Ae fond kiss,
An' then we sever!
Ae fareweel,
An' then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears
I'll pledge thee,
Warrin' sighs an' groans
I'll wage thee.
(27th December 1791)

O May, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet
As the mirk night o' December,
For sparklin' was the rosy wine,
An' private was the chamber;
An' dear was she I darena name,
But I will aye remember.
An' dear was she I darena name,
But I will aye remember.
(cDecember 1794)

v5

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6vi 6

PREFACE

This book will not sit beside those of a heavily serious historical nature, it
was not written like that. This is my take on an ordinary woman born two
hundred and sixty years ago, and of how, unbeknown to her, she found
herself in the right place, at the right time, with the right people.

The romance of Agnes MacLehose and Robert Burns is as old as love itself.
It is a story of passion, frustration, parting and ending. It has a little
adventure in it, and lots of religious talk. In fact, after working my way
through Agnes' letters, I became a born-again atheist, but I think Burns
saw something deeper which made him stick through the righteous
onslaughts.

What came to the surface for me when writing this book was, if Agnes had
been a 'dae whit yer telt wife' of the time and stayed in Glasgow with
James MacLehose and suffered his brutalities, how much we would have
missed from the legend of Burns and his writings. The loss of 'Ae Fond
Kiss' would have been a tragedy itself. She took him places he'd never
been before.

I also wondered, what would have happened had Robert Burns not fallen
from the coach and been incapacitated? For a start there would have been
a lot less letters, but could the liaison have taken a more serious course?
Robert and Agnes would surely have met many more times than they did,
and from the start they were deeply attracted to one another. Would she
have divorced James MacLehose? Could they ever have married? Who can
tell? For certain, Agnes would never be anyone's 'bit on the side'.

The relationship, and it was a relationship, though unconsummated, only
lasted about fifteen weeks, and yet two hundred and thirty years from
their first private meeting, because of their vivid writings, it feels alive,
and you take sides. In my writings I have tried to be as accurate as
possible, and as fair as possible. But I can't say as unbiased as possible.

There is not much known about Agnes after Burns' death, she was just
ordinary after all. Many letters belonging to her have gone missing, which
is a surprise as she was addicted to pen and ink and must have received
and written thousands. Her grandson tried to trace many letters for his
1843 book of 'Correspondences', but in vain. She had outlived too many
people.

v7ii

Agnes was born and raised in the Saltmarket/Trongate area, Glasgow's
Merchant City district, two hundred and sixty years ago and though she
might not recognise it immediately, I am sure that if she returned today,
she would recognise the energy still thriving in the streets and be happy to
see a few buildings still standing from her time.
Maureen Bell
Bishopbriggs
Glasgow
26th April 2018

v8iii

POTTED GLASGOW

1136 - The first stone-built Glasgow Cathedral was consecrated in the
presence of King David I. It was situated on the banks of the Molendinar
Burn, near the site of a Celtic monastery - Cathures (Old Glasgow)
founded by Saint Kentigern/Mungo (518-604/528-614). The Cathedral
Crypt houses the tomb of the Saint. The name Mungo translates to 'dear
one' and was given to the baby Kentigern by Saint Serf (Servanus) who led
a monastery at Culross, the birthplace of the Saint. Kentigern’s feast day is
the 13th January, said to be the day he died. The 1136 Cathedral was
destroyed by fire a short while later and was rebuilt in 1197.

1190 - Glasgow Fair was instituted by William The Lion at the request of
Bishop Jocelyn. It was originally held within the boundaries of Glasgow
Cathedral and lasted for one week in July.

1350 - Glasgow is visited by the Black Death.

1451 - Glasgow was given permission to create a University. Glasgow
then, had been written about as 'a place of renown, where the air is mild, and
the victuals are plentiful.'

1471 - Provand’s Lordship, 'The Auld Hoose', Glasgow's oldest remaining
dwelling-house to this day, is built.

1491 - Bishop of Glasgow, Robert Blackadder (later Archbishop) was
permitted to operate a Tron scale. A Tron was a public 'precision'
weighing balance for produce and other materials. and that is what the
name Tron-gate means, the place where goods were weighed coming into
the city.

January 1696 - The Statute of Nestiness was passed after the Saltmarket
was blocked by dung. It reached fifteen feet high and nothing could pass
it. People flung their filth out their windows and it settled in the lowest
point, the midden, this was the Saltmarket. A fine of 5 merks was given to
those caught flouting the law.

March 1712 - Glasgow Green flooded, the Clyde rose by 20 feet, the
Bridgegait was under water.

In 1726 Daniel Defoe wrote of Glasgow, 'Glasgow is, indeed, a very fine city,
the four principal streets are the fairest for breadth, and the finest built that I have

i9x

ever seen in one city together. The houses are all of stone and generally equal and
uniform in height.' He also remarked, 'It is the cleanest and most beautiful, and
best city in Britain, London excepted.'

On 2nd December 1729 The General Session of the Kirk appointed a
committee which mooted that a place was necessary for relief of the poor
of the town, raising a petition on the same date. 'Those eligible for poor relief
were those unable to support themselves, either through age or incapacity, the
‘sturdy beggar’ or the able-bodied poor were not generally entitled to support.'
The Town's Hospital and Poorhouse was opened on 15th November 1733
on Great Clyde Street at the edge of Glasgow Green. It held an infirmary, a
workhouse, a home for the aged infirm, a home for orphans, as well as an
asylum. By 1851 it contained over 500 inmates who carried out weaving,
spinning, knitting, tailoring and shoemaking in the workhouse.
The Hospital was closed in 1844 and although reopened in 1848, because
of the cholera outbreak, it was later demolished, and a warehouse erected
in its place. The old Royal Lunatic Asylum building on Parliamentary
Road rehoused the Poorhouse.

Near the Tollbooth, constructed in 1626 at Glasgow Cross, the centre of
trading activity, a Town Hall was built in 1737. A rousing round of 28
'musick bells' was commissioned for the Tolbooth Steeple, drawing
people's attention to the status of the Merchant City. Today only the
Steeple survives from the days of Glasgow's 'Rialto', built in the style of
Renaissance Venice.

Glasgow was anti-Jacobite and was treated as such by the Jacobite Army.
From 26th December 1745-3rd January 1746, Jacobite headquarters were
situated in the Trongate. Prince Charles knew he had no friends in the city,
and it is suggested that there was an attempt on his life in the Saltmarket.
This suggested attempt did not deter him from hosting lavish parties.

Until 1750 Glasgow had only thirteen streets, Bell Street, Bridgegait Street,
Candleriggs Street, Canon Street, Drygate Street, Gallowgate Street, High
Street, King's Street, Prince's Street, Rottenrow Street, Saltmarket Street,
Stockwell Street and Trongate Street (originally Saint Thenew's Gate -
Thenew was Kentigern's mother).

In 1750 the Glasgow and Ship Bank was established in Glasgow, also in
1750s shops as we would recognise them first opened in the Trongate.

In 1755 Glasgow's population was c23,500. In 1780 it was c42,000. In 1851 it

1x0

was the largest city in Scotland with c329,096 inhabitants.

HMS Glasgow was a 20-gun sixth-rate post-ship of the Royal Navy.
Launched in 1757, it took part in the American Revolutionary War. The
ship is famous for her encounter with the maiden voyage of the
Continental Navy off Block Island on 6 April 1776. In that action, the
Glasgow engaged a squadron of 6 ships of the Continental Navy,
managing to escape intact. It later chased two large Continental frigates in
the Caribbean before it was accidentally burned in Montego Bay, Jamaica
in 1779.

Patrick Bogle is considered the first known Glasgow golfer c1760 - 23rd
September 1760: 'Anent the Golf. The which day a petition given in by Patrick
Bogle of Hamilton's Farm for self and others who use the exercise of the golf,
craving liberty on their expense to make an addition to the present lodge in the
Green, on the east side thereof for their better accommodation.'

Pavements were installed in the mid-1700s and were called 'Plainstones'.
They were laid in front of the Tollbooth and meant only to be used by the
Tobacco Lords and Ladies, the rich. Paupers who strayed on to them were
cane slapped by their betters and put back in their place, the gutter.

Tobacco Lords wore scarlet cloaks, cocked hats, bushy wigs, knee
breeches, silk stockings while 'Pacing the Plainstones' (pavement). Tobacco
Ladies wore red cloaks with hoods. They supped at the Tontine Hotel &
Coffee House c1740/1760. Trongate was full of coffee houses especially
around Glasgow Cross.

Trongate, mid-1700s - in 1/16 mile there were 200 brothels and 150
shebeens & pubs. Entertainment was cockfighting (which at times took
place in coffee houses), theatres and fine art exhibitions.

The tenement which forms the entrance to the Argyll Arcade was built
c1780 and glass windows installed in shops on Argyle Street and
Buchanan Street. (History of Glasgow/Pinkertons Resource page).

The first street lights in the Trongate were placed on the south side c1767,
though earlier oil lights had been hung in the city c1717. Previously before
a pavement had been laid down and oil lamps were then placed on
wooden pedestals to light the way of the pedestrian of quality.

Argyle Street, it is said took the name it is known by when the body of

1xi1

Archibald Campbell, 3rd Duke of Argyll, who died in London on 15th
April 1761 aged 79, seated on his chair at dinner, lay for a time in the Black
Bull Inn situated on the street, before travelling to his burial place at
Kilmun.
Changes of name for Argyle Street > St Enoch's (St Thenew's) Gate leading
to a chapel at the Square, demolished during Reformation > Dumbarton
Road > Wester Gate > Anderston Walk > Argyle Street. (Did you know -
Argyle Street; Street Names of the City of Glasgow - Carol Foreman).

Agnes could have seen the first lightning conductor in Glasgow which was
erected in the University steeple in the High Street in 1772 under the
direction of Natural Philosopher and Radical, John Anderson, aka 'Jolly
Jack Phosphorus', friend of James Watt and Benjamin Franklyn. He died in
1796 and is buried in the Ramshorn Cemetery, Glasgow.

In 1779 the first police force in the United Kingdom was founded in
Glasgow, comprising of one Inspector and 8 Officers. Due to lack of funds
it was disbanded twice, in 1781 and 1790. The Glasgow Police Act was
passed in 1800, the first Police Act ever passed in Britain.

George Square, named after George III was laid out in 1781. It was
originally a watery patch of ground where horses were slaughtered, and
puppies drowned. 2 & 3 storey houses were built by the Adam Brothers.
Building mainly took place between 1787 and the 1820's.
The houses in the Square, owned by the privileged and the rich, had
railings protecting private gardens, much to the annoyance of the citizens
who pulled them down on numerous occasions. In 1872 it was discovered
that 'the whole enclosure belonged to the public so long excluded from it'. There
is no statue of George III in the Square. The Tobacco Lords were angry at
him for losing the Americas thus affecting their work/wealth in Glasgow.
Burns' 'Bonnie Lass O' Ballochmyle', Wilhelmina Alexander, resided at 60
George Square until her death. (Burns Chronicle 1906).

Vincenzo Lunardi, 'The Daredevil Aeronaut' and Diplomat, Secretary to
the Neapolitan Ambassador to Britain, set off in his hydrogen filled
balloon from St Andrew's Churchyard/Square, Glasgow on 23rd
November 1785. The flight took around two hours and covered 110 miles
passing over Hamilton, Lanark and landing at Hawick. Two weeks later,
in December, another flight landed in Campsie Glen in Milton of Campsie,
ten miles from where he started. It was cut short due to bad weather
conditions. On his first flight in Scotland on 5th October 1785 from
Edinburgh to Ceres in Fife, Lunardi reached a height of 2,000 feet. On the

1x2ii

15th October he was made a member of St Andrews Golf Club.
Lunardi made five flights in Scotland and in his book described Scots as ‘a
hardy race…full of men of science and liberality’ and the countryside along his
journey as ‘almost alpine’ and full of ‘enchanted regions of romance.’
On 25th August 1784 in Edinburgh, James Tytler was the first person in
Britain to ascend in a balloon. Two days later at a height c350 feet he
floated half a mile from Green House (now Holyrood Park) to the village
of Restalrig.
Letetia Ann Sage (nee Robinson), an actress and dresser at Drury Lane
Theatre, London, became the first British aviatrix when on 29th June 1785
she and a Mr. Biggin accidently set off in Lunardi's balloon, without
Lunardi, from St George's Field, near the banks of the Thames. They dined
on chicken and wine during this inadvertent occurrence and landed in a
field in Harrow, much to the distress of an angry farmer whose crops had
been ruined. Mrs. Sage and Mr. Biggin's reputations were tarnished by
hints of impropriety occurring during the long hours of flight and feasting
in the basket before landing. Saucy postcards were printed and sold.

The Tron Steeple, constructed in 1636, is the sole reminder of the
Collegiate Church of St Mary and St Anne, founded in 1525. The Church
was burned down by inebriate members of the Hellfire Club, a lot of rich
debauched men, unanswerable to society, downing serious amounts of
booze, when they (apparently) came across an unattended watchman's fire
on the early morning of 15th February 1793 and decided to have a heat and
a party. Things got out of hand, and only by sheer luck did they not
succeed in burning down the then centre of Glasgow. Reportedly drunk as
skunks, it is said that they had the sozzled foresight to flee the city before
the angry citizens got a hold of them and claim their right of rough justice.

The original Royal Infirmary was opened in December 1794 and was
designed by Robert and James Adam. The building had five floors, eight
wards and c100 beds. There was a circular operating room on the fourth
floor. Another floor was underground.

Coaching services -
Travelling coaches had been around since before the 13th century and
made their journeys in 'stages' of 10/15 miles at a time, for horse changing
etc., hence the name. In style they were more like covered wagons, rather
than sophisticated travelling vehicles. The first stagecoach route was from
Edinburgh-Leith in 1610. The first official Mail/Postal Coach was
inaugurated in 1635, and eventually carried up to seven passengers, four
inside, three on top.

x1ii3i

We drive on the left because it allowed the sword hand of the driver of the
coach (generally the right) free to brandish said sword and defend himself
if attacked. The Romans also marched to this rule. Europeans drive on the
right it is said, due to a decree by Napoleon.
1652 - Edinburgh-London stagecoach took a fortnight.
1678 - First regular stagecoaches run between Edinburgh and Glasgow.
1749 - Glasgow - Edinburgh coach took 2 days to go 45 miles, Edin/Glas
Caravan.
1751 - The 'Fly' took 36 hours.
1763 – First Glasgow-Greenock stagecoach, 29th June. Passengers paid 5/-
inside (£47), 2/6 outside (£24).
1787 - Glasgow-Edinburgh there were now 6 coaches per day

Saracen's Head Diligence leave 9am - arrive 3pm
Black Bull Coach
Holy Town Inn Coach 8am - 5pm
King's Arms Fly
Leaping Horse, Trongate Coach 8am - 4pm
Crown Inn, Gallowgate Coach
8am - 4/5pm

8am - 4/5pm

8am - 4pm

Black Bull Inn - In the 1770s Patrick Heron of the Black Bull Inn, advertised
that 'there sets out from his house, and from Mrs Gibson's Inn, Grassmarket,
Edinburgh, a stage coach to go to Edinburgh by Falkirk and to reach Edinburgh
that evening and run it from Glasgow upon Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays,
and from Edinburgh on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.' (Old Glasgow
Pubs).
People associated with the Black Bull - Robert Burns, Adam Smith, David
Hume, Edmund Burke. Burns is reputed to have stayed at the Saracen's
Head Hotel as well as the Black Bull. It was the Headquarters for members
of the Fox Club, followers of Whig politics, founded later was the Pitt Club
which was for Tories.
In 1758/59 the Highland Gaelic Society named it The Highland Society's
House.

In the 1700's Glasgow was influenced by a new type of Merchant, the
Tobacco Lord. These were men on the make with no time to waste. There
was money to be had and they had the brains and energy to find it.
America was their main export country, Virginia their main colony, and
Tobacco their leafy gold. They were drawn to the old Glasgow of the
thirteen streets because of its nearness to the River Clyde, where their
cargoes could be landed. This was the original Merchant City Centre. But
as well as making money from the city some also had a philanthropic

1xi4v

attitude and tried to give something back.

This was a time of change in Scottish society. The working classes with a
bit of fire in their bellies who were willing to take the chance which may
only ever appear once in a lifetime, could move from the gutter to the
middle class in a very short time. The middle was the place to be with all
that space to move and stretch. A title might buy you respect and fear and
envy, money could buy you this plus a nobleman and a title. It was a little
déclassé to be seen parading with a sword, so long walking canes became
the fashion of the time. Many of these had a thin sword secreted in the
shaft of the stick.

Clothes for the wealthy were bright, colourful silks, satins and velvets,
cloth that was imported from all over the world. Lairds, clerics and
tradesmen wore dark sombre, working colours. The rabble wore
homemade clothing made from coarse linen, hodden grey cloth or plaid.
But if they could find something colourful to wear they were on to it.
Robert Burns wore a plaid of yellowy-green. Wigs were expensive
therefore worn by those who could afford them. To maintain style the
poor grew their hair long and pulled it into a ponytail. Burns wore his hair
in a ponytail as a young lad to be in the height of fashion and 'irk the auld
fowk'.

Education was valued, and education of women too. In 1755 a Literary
Society was started in Glasgow, though it was mainly frequented by
University types and the rich. The flourishing modern style Coffee Houses
and Taverns were popular places for like-minded people (men) to meet for
discussion and enlightenment and the compulsory alcoholic drink.

HODGE-PODGE CLUB
Hodge Podge poem by Dr. Moore (four verses of) -
A club of choice fellows, each fortnight, employ
An evening in laughter, good humour, and joy;
Like the national council, they often debate.
And settle the army, the navy, and state.

In this club there's a jumble of nonsense and sense,
And the name of Hodge-Podge they have taken from thence:
If, in jumbling verses, this ditty I frame.
Pray be not surprised if a Hodge-Podger I am.

Rough Peter's (Peter Blackburn) the next who is about to appear,

x1v5

With his weather-beat phiz, and his heathery hair.
His humour is blunt, and his sayings are snell -
An excellent heart in a villainous shell!

The surly companion, who brings up the rear.
Who looks so morose, and still speaks with a sneer,
Would fain have you think he's a poet and wit,
But, indeed, Mr. Moore (Dr. John Moore), you're confoundedly bit.
(Glasgow Directory 1787/Nat. Jones Directory/Glasgow Tobacco
Aristocracy, electricscotland).
The Club was established in 1752 and met fortnightly at 7pm in the
Trongate, either at MacDonald's, vintner or the Eagle
Tavern/Crookshanks Tavern, landlord Mr Cruikshanks.
Founder members were James Luke, James Simpson, Robert Maltman,
Peter Blackburn, Dr. Thomas Hamilton, John Dunlop, Dr. John Moore
(author of 'Zeluco' and father of General Moore of Corunna), later
members were Thomas Wright, William Anderson.
People wanting to join could be 'black-balled' as could the name of any
woman put forward for their 'Annual Toast to the Lassies'. (The Hodge
Podge Club, 1752-1900, T.F. Donald, 1900).
Adam Smith, author of the Wealth of Nations, spoke to the membership.
William Craig joined the club in 1773, the year that Agnes (Nancy) Craig
was included in the Toast List of Ladies whom they considered to be the
most beautiful and eligible in Glasgow. The toast was given with 'Glasgow
Punch'.
'Glasgow Punch' - Jamaican Rum, water, sugar, lemon, lime. Served in
handsome china bowls. Toast - 'The Trade of Glasgow and the Outward
Bound'. A mixture of water, lemon, sugar is referred to as the sherbet and
is an art in mixing itself. Rum is added to the sherbet with proportions
being roughly one to seven. Lime is cut and rubbed round rim of bowl or
glass then squeezed into the mixture. OR 1 tbsp. icing sugar into a
tumbler add juice of 1 lemon and a wineglass of Jamaica rum, fill the glass
with chipped ice and stir well (modern version).

Newspapers on offer were, Glasgow Courant, 1715 (changed to the West-
Country Intelligence after three issues), the Glasgow Journal, 1729/1741,
The Glasgow Mercury, 1778-1796, The Glasgow Advertiser (later the
Glasgow Herald in 1815) 1783, The Glasgow Courier, 1791. The following
is from the Glasgow Mercury of January 1780. 'From THURSDAY,
JANUARY 13, to THURSDAY, JANUARY 20, 1780 the Magistrates and Town
Council of Glasgow having fixed upon a PLAN for a CHURCH and STEEPLE to
be built in St. Enoch's Square, which may be seen in the hands of the Town Clerk,

1xv6i

all such persons as are willing to contract for building and finishing the same,
agreeable to the plan and scheme thereto annexed, are requested to give in their
proposals, with an estimate of the expense, to the Magistrates, on or before the
22nd day of January next, that the Committee appointed by the Council may take
the same into consideration. 22 December 1779.' (www.lastchancetoread.com).

1758
There were two Provosts in Glasgow in 1758, Robert Christie followed by
John Murdoch.
On 28th April 1758, the 70th (Glasgow Lowland) Regiment of Foot was
raised to fight in the Seven Years war, Commanded by Colonel Parslow.
The Upholsterer, a political comedy was published and performed for the
first time in Glasgow.
In 1758 Janet Paterson was drummed out of Glasgow for resetting stolen
goods. 'She had a label on her breast and some stolen yarn around her
neck'. (They Belonged to Glasgow - Rudolph Kenna and Ian Sutherland).
£1 in 1758 was equivalent to £163.46 in 2017, and inflation was about 2%.
A maid's wages were about £2 a year.
All up to date monetary values in the book are in brackets and relate to
2017.
(Bank of England Inflation Rates Calculator/Inflation.iamkate.com).

x1v7ii

AGNES CRAIG
MACLEHOSE

Early Years 1...Early Years 2 ...Teenage Years 1
Teenage Years 2...Edinburgh...Glasgow...Decision Time

118

EARLY YEARS 1

MONDAY’S CHILD IS FAIR OF FACE

April 1758

On Monday the 26th April 1758 when Agnes, the future Mrs. MacLehose
and Burns' famed Clarinda, arrived in the world, she was thought too
sickly to survive. She was the new born daughter of 'Toun Surgeon'
Andrew Craig and his wife Christian MacLaurin Craig, a couple who had
suffered the agonies of losing, for no apparent reason, babies before in
their seven years of marriage. They could only hope that Agnes would not
join these departed children. Christian by name, and by upbringing a
devout Christian and believer, used every prayer she knew and thousands
more invented on the spot begging, threatening and bartering with God to
ensure that their beautiful child remain with her and Andrew and have
her allotted span on earth.

Pacing the well-worn carpet, Andrew once again felt useless. He was a
trained medical man and yet could do nothing to heal his own ailing baby.
It appeared that they would have to face up to grieving for the loss of
another child. He saw children die every day in the hospitals he worked in
and in the hovel like homes of his poorer patients, but this was his child.
Andrew Craig was a modern scientist as well as a man of faith, so he had
to concede that if medicine could not work maybe prayer might, though
he doubted it, having prayed so hard before for the lives of his lost babies,
even if William his Reverend brother, convinced him it could. The scientist
in him wondered how many chances he would have to give God before
his faith finally left him for good.

Standing, watching over his wife and daughter, something deep inside
Andrew told him to put his faith and confidence not in God or medicine,
but in this child. He looked at her, brand new to the world and already at
odds with it, as if an argument she had started in Heaven was to be
continued here on earth. As he bent towards her, a wry smile creased his
cheeks. Agnes looked, moved and sounded a fighter. Each time she
flashed open her beautiful blue eyes, her baby fists punching at the air
around her, she sucked in life, and her crying certainly was getting louder
and stronger, in fact much more a complaint than a whimper he felt.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, his heart could not help but be
joyous. If she did survive, he thought, Heaven save us from her voice.

129

1758 - 1767

And minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day baby Agnes thrived and
grew stronger. True she was sickly for quite a time, but she had her heart
set on being a citizen of this world, not the next. As the weeks, months and
years passed she survived infancy, bumped and tumbled her way through
toddlerhood and, by the time she reached childhood, she was on a firm
footing with life. Her early nodding acquaintance with the Grim Reaper
hardened her mettle and made her strong, determined and, it had to be
said, more than a little thrawn. Prone to unladylike behaviour, which both
irked and amused her parents, Agnes' leadership qualities and personality
drew the Saltmarket children to her. If there was mischief skulking about
she and her friends would always be there to welcome it into their gang
with open arms and expectant grins.

Though Christian would have preferred Agnes to work on her what
seemed like never ending sampler, an acceptable and douce pass time for a
young lass, her daughter had other ideas, ideas that bore no relation at all
to needles and thread and sore eyes and bloodied fingers. Agnes loved
being outdoors and needed lots of company. She and her pals played in
the Gallowgate streets of the 1760s, blithely unaware of the social changes
that were happening around them, eyeing the brightly coloured dressed
men who strode by, and who were inclined to brush the children from off
their pathway if they were found on the nearly new installed plainstones.

On occasions the children were given coin by these gentlemen, though
usually only when the gentleman was in his cups. Their parents were
displeased if they ever heard about it, so the children swore each other to
secrecy about these 'gifts'. The playmates noticed that the men all seemed
to have the same kind of grey hairstyles and black hats, and they thought
that facially they all looked like rodents on two black legs. They hated
those who shooed them out of the way with their long sticks and they
stuck out their tongues and thumbed their noses at them behind their
backs as the men passed them by. Agnes' mother thought that playing in
the streets, fun though it was for a growing child, was ungenteel for an
emerging ladylike girl and tried as hard as she could to convince Agnes to
remain indoors but there was more chance of stopping time than an Agnes
on the run.

1767- 1770

Well may Agnes have enjoyed this time of innocence. Childhood was not a

230

given promise for many children in the 18th century. Agnes knew of her
siblings who had died before she was born, and she later witnessed the
death of others. She felt sad for never having known them, though she did
remember a sister born in 1764 and named Mary. But she never knew
what sadness really felt like until tragedy struck in the small close family
unit in December 1767, when aged only 39, Christian MacLaurin Craig
passed away. What a sad uncelebrated Christmas it was that year.

Andrew looked after his wife in her dying weeks, tending her both as a
husband and a doctor, but to no avail. He was with Christian at her last
breath and never recovered from losing the love of his life. He never re-
married, never considered it, though many of his friends and family
members had married again in the same circumstance. Several tried to set
him up with suitable ladies, but his life was dedicated to his two
remaining daughters and his utter commitment to his patients, especially
the poor, the weak, the forgotten and the vulnerable.

Agnes never got over her mother's death and missed her until the day she
herself died. When recalling her, Agnes referred to Christian as a saintly
woman whose strong character and religious influence ultimately made
her, Agnes, the person she was. How much of her mother was in Agnes
we will never know, but Christian did marry a man that her father,
renowned Kirk minister, John MacLaurin, disapproved of, so she had had
her own trait of thrawness. The Rev. MacLaurin wanted her to marry a
man of the cloth, not someone who could be up to his elbows in the
internal workings of human anatomy (begging the question did 'Toun
Surgeon' Craig ever deal with Resurrectionists?) so maybe what at times
irked Christian about Agnes as she was growing up was the reflection of
Christian herself.

Agnes had a strong social conscience which was inherited from both
maternal and paternal sides of her family and she must have listened
intently to her father when he returned from the homes of the poor or the
Poor House Hospital near where they lived as he related his day's work to
the family. Her respect and love for her father never died and, like her
feelings for her mother, she took them with her to her grave.

The only woman in Agnes' life now was her sister Margaret, the first born
in the family and only she and Agnes left of Christian's many children.
Margaret (Peggy) aged fifteen, was six years older than Agnes, quite a
young lady and someone Agnes loved and looked up to. She was what
Agnes meant to aspire to when she grew up to be an adult. Margaret was

241

the one Agnes had to turn to when she needed advice as, since her
mother's death, her big sister was now considered to be the woman of the
house. Margaret tried to keep things running as usual until her father's
grief settled into acceptance.

They were a tight trio, the well-loved middle-aged man and his two
lassies. Looking at his eldest daughter, Andrew realised that soon she
would be catching the eye of some young callant, he was not looking
forward to that time. How he missed his wife and her common sense, she
would make him face up to the fact that there must come a time when he
had to give up his beautiful daughters, it was the circle of life, but until
then God save any young man who looked in their direction with more
than indifference in his eye. Even then that would be an insult as his
daughters, and he would broach no argument on this, were two of the
most attractive young ladies in Glasgow. Oh, what was a father to do?

Eventually the Craig household adjusted to a different routine. Though
Christian was sorely missed life had to carry on. 'Toun Surgeon' Craig
worked long shifts at both the Town's Hospital and the Merchant's
Hospital, this combined with his private and pauper patients meant that
he was out of the house for hours on end. Margaret was practically in total
charge of the home and finances and appeared to be doing a good job in
bringing Agnes up. Luckily Agnes adored her elder sister and didn't cause
too much consternation or upset at the situation, though at times she did
try and take advantage, but she was quickly put in her place by the
'grown-ups'. The girls were the best of friends and as time moved on both
were soon partaking of society's pleasures once again, as Andrew knew
they should, and he encouraged them, in fact he was very insistent about it
- at times he did enjoy the quiet at home, but not too much of it.

Andrew never worried about Agnes when she was with Margaret as she,
who had learned the most from Christian, had blossomed into a very
sensible and caring young woman. She took her responsibilities seriously,
and number one responsibility over all was her wee sister. As the months,
then years moved on from Christian's death, Andrew welcomed the warm
glow of laughter back in the house. When he came in from work in the
evening, he listened as the girls talked about their day's entertainments
and adventures and, often he drifted off to sleep with a gentle smile on his
face hearing them relive their exploits.

As the social whirl span around them drawing them into its heart, the girls
proved to be very popular in the city. The mantle shelf above the fire was

252

crowded with invitations to teas and soirees, not only that but there was
talk of evening classes beginning for women at the University. Agnes
would have loved to have gone, and was desperate to go, but she was too
young for enrolling. What an exciting time to be alive for a young woman,
she thought. Agnes' generation would be different to her mother's
generation - and she, Agnes, would be properly educated if it was the last
thing she did. She would have no truck with young men, they were
childish and too emotionally bristly for her anyway, with their 'trainee
man' behaviour. If she did marry, and she was not sure she wanted to do
so, it would be to a man who loved her for who she was, a man like her
father who loved her mother even to beyond the grave.
Margaret tried to keep the house running to her mother's rules, but
ultimately some things changed slowly to become her rules. Andrew did
not mind this at all and was aware that she, though she didn't realise it,
was preparing herself to become the mistress of her own home. The
practice and experience she got with running his house would serve her
well in her own future life, he let her get on with it.

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EARLY YEARS 2

1770 - 1771

As the months from Christian's death passed into years Agnes, young as
she was, was aware of Margaret becoming different, strangely changing.
At times she was a bit moody and Agnes often caught her gazing out into
space and sighing, and she was forever reading these new-fangled
romantic novels which so many young women of Margaret's age were
reading, and some young men too apparently. Though only aged twelve,
Agnes, quite astutely, suspected she knew why, and who was the cause.

It all began the afternoon they visited a friend for tea and there the sisters
met a man, an extremely mature man, called Captain James Kennedy of
Kailzie and Auchtyfardle. For Heaven's sake, she thought, who would call
a place Auchtyfardle, the place name was just begging to be joked about,
and where was it anyway, Scotland - The Moon?

Margaret was ridiculous when she and Agnes were introduced to him, she
could hardly look at him and her eyes were fixed firmly on the floor
covering as though memorising the pattern was a matter of life and death.
When he was introduced to her and spoke to her, just the once mind you,
she went red. It was so embarrassing! But after the introduction when the
Captain moved on to circulate, Agnes caught Margaret taking sleekit
glances at him while he spoke to others. What was wrong with the girl? It
was obvious that she liked him, but why in Heavens was she acting this
way? As for the Captain, well, he kept casting his glance in Margaret's
direction when he thought she was not looking. Women! Men!

As time passed Margaret contrived to be at the same gatherings as Captain
Kennedy whenever she heard he was in Glasgow. Her initial shyness,
which even shocked her, developed into a quiet confidence, especially
when she heard from friends that the Captain had been asking about her.
Agnes, always a quick learner, was beginning to realise that if her sister
was happy then both she and her father fared better at home, fewer soulful
sighs, prolonged silences and singed dinners for a start, so she encouraged
her sister to talk of the Captain and even to invite him to dine with them
on his visits to the big city.

Andrew realised that he was at a crossroads with his eldest daughter and
needed to let her go with his blessing. Luckily, he liked James Kennedy,

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even though he was ages with himself, therefore a lot older than his
daughter. Through connections to Christian's relatives, Andrew was aware
of the Kennedy family and their history. Andrew could see that James
loved Margaret and would look after her, and importantly, Agnes too, if
anything happened to Andrew himself. But giving up his daughter to
another man hurt. Margaret was so like Christian, unlike Agnes who was
truly her own person, an untamed spirit who had her own way to walk.
Where did she get it, this spirit, was it inherited from someone back down
the historical family line? He hoped the path she eventually found would
not be too much of a rough one for her to tread.

On the 30th April 1771, four days after Agnes' thirteenth birthday,
Margaret Craig married Captain James Kennedy at St. Andrew's Kirk in
Glasgow, just around the corner from where she was born and brought up.
Margaret was two months short of her nineteenth birthday, James was
nearly 61. Andrew, torn between feelings of sadness and joy, proudly
passed his daughter to the man he was sure would love and care for her
for as long as he lived. It was a happy home that held the wedding
celebration after the Kirk service, teenage Agnes had a brand-new dress to
wear, and Andrew watching from his place at the fireside saw what he
had been dreading, Agnes' rapid and unstoppable evolution into
womanhood.

Andrew hated to see Margaret leave his home, she was his first born and
the closest person resembling Christian he knew, he realised that, like
Christian, the empty space she left in his house would never be filled. Next
to go would be Agnes, then he would on his own with only his work to fill
his days. Agnes knew she would miss her sister. but she knew that her
sister's new home at Auchtyfardle House in Lesmahagow, would also be
her home so she was excited at that thought. At thirteen she would have
two houses to play in. As for Margaret, on the outside she was excited and
confident for her future and full of promises to her father and sister
regarding visits and dinners, but inside she was afraid of the approaching
responsibilities.

Margaret now was a married woman in the eyes of God and society but
was not sure if she was ready for all that that entailed. Running her
father's house was easy, the work had been put in place by her mother all
she had to do was follow her mother's map. She didn't have to furnish the
house, everything was there. Not only that, but her parent's abode was in a
tenement block in Glasgow, not a large manor out in the back of beyond.
She was surprised and shocked to find that by marrying into the Kennedy

285

family, because of tradition, so much was expected of and from her.
Would her house be thought stylish? Would people notice every faux pas?
It would have been easier if she and James had moved in to her father's
house, but that was impossible.

She wondered would she be allowed to put her own stamp on
Auchtyfardle? There was over a century of Kennedy décor in place there,
in place since the time of the first Kennedy, Robert, who took over the
house in the mid-1640s from the *Weir's who owned it since pre - 1546. She
pondered on how hard her mother found married life at the beginning,
but then her mother was a month short of her twenty-third birthday when
she wed, Margaret was just short of nineteen, and four years was quite a
big difference. But Margaret knew that James loved her, and she knew that
she loved him, and with his career they could have an exciting life ahead,
children and all.
*(The Weir's were supporters of Mary Queen of Scots and were implicated in the
death of Mary's husband, and Elizabeth I's favourite, Lord Darnley. Auchtyfardle
became an auxiliary hospital during the 1914-18 war and was demolished in
1957).

Children, oh Heavens the thought of children! She now understood that to
have them was a worry, but not to have them was a tragedy. The
Kennedys, as well as the Craigs, needed to carry on their lineage. She
could not help but remember her siblings that had died. Margaret being
the eldest recalled them all. Each death weakened her mother and
devastated her father. No one knew why they died, not even present day
progressive medicine could save them. If anyone could have known the
reason, it would have been her father and he, like her mother, had to put it
down to God's will.

And maybe it was God's will, after all Agnes was alive. Margaret
remembered her illnesses and how hard her little sister fought for life. She
wondered if she was pregnant now. If she was well then good, if she
wasn't then she would not be too unhappy to wait just a wee bit longer
before that responsibility hit her.

Margaret was pregnant. Everyone was delighted for the couple. James was
the perfect husband with the perfect wife in the perfect house in progress
waiting for their perfect child to complete their perfect world. Margaret
had rearranged several rooms at Auchtyfardle in the latest style, and with
just the two of them, the old house was kept very tidy indeed. The couple
rattled together well in the very extensive abode.

296

Andrew's step was a little lighter as he set off in the mornings to his
workplace with thoughts of his first grandchild always to the fore of his
mind. Agnes expected to be an aunt before her fourteenth birthday and
was already trying to influence her sister on her future niece or nephew's
name. Agnes had developed a taste for the exotic as she had secretly been
peeking at the old romantic novels Margaret had left behind. Her sister
did not need them anymore as she was now living her own romantic idyll
in her big country house with James.

Some of the names in these novels impressed themselves on Agnes'
teenage mind, Eloise, Clarinda, Tobias, Sylvander. Trotting out her
suggestions to her big sister who was on a visit from Auchtyfardle one
day, Agnes was firmly put in her place - Sylvander Kennedy would never
sit well in the Trongate, it would be shortened to Silly Kennedy, and as for
Clarty Clarinda..., Margaret humphed! Anyway, she had decided on James
for the first boy, after his father or Christian for the first girl, after their
beloved mother.

Agnes might have been a tad miffed but got the point. It was tradition that
the first child be named for a grandparent, but times were fast changing,
and young people were less tied to the conventions of the past. They were
the modern generation, the post 1745 generation, they were an enigma to
their parents and as far as their grandparents were concerned, a
completely different species of humanity never ever seen before...how
soon the generations forget their own youth.

As the time for the baby's birth drew near, excitement became mixed with
fear and trepidation. This was an age of high infant mortality. Few families
had been untouched by the death of a child, and none more than the Craig
family. Of the children Christian gave birth to in her sixteen-year
marriage, only two survived to adulthood, Margaret and Agnes and they
were the gifts Andrew Craig lived for and would have willingly died for.
There was also the unvoiced fear of the mother dying. Many hale young
women succumbed in child bed, they began to bleed, and nothing could
stop it, or they became infected. Doctors tried to keep everything clean, but
at times it just wasn't enough and the mothers, some so very young, were
drawn to the other side.

Come New Year 1772 Margaret was still pregnant and healthy. James was
very solicitous of his wife, even if he thought that some of her requests
were a bit out of the ordinary and indeed, often weird, but he was told that
this was to be expected - 'women's problems, on your life, don't dare question,

1207

just comply'. Margaret missed her mother so much. She had so many
questions to ask. There were female relatives on both sides that she could
go to, but it was not the same - it was a primordial need that she had, she
had never felt that before.

The local people were kind and handed in little gifts of clothing for the
awaited child. They were looking forward to changes by the Lord and
Lady of the Manor. Auchtyfardle was a big house and after the upheaval
of just less than thirty years ago (the '45) it was time for change, a time to
modernise and to look forward. Margaret won them over with her youth
and down to earth attitude, and they respected her.

Spring 1772

As the Winter passed and Spring showed it was on its way, James
suggested that they travel to his other home at Kailzie in
Peeblesshire/Traquair for the birth. He had owned Kailzie since 1767 and
wanted their first child to be born there, Margaret agreed. It was not an
easy journey for a woman nearing her term, but she was fit and healthy
and there had been no suggestion of any problems with the child, so
sometime in late February the couple set off southwards.

Andrew was worried about her travelling so late in her pregnancy, but his
daughter assured him that all was well, and that she was quite strong
enough for the journey, it did not stop him from worrying, but he had to
accept her decision, and he did understand the reason behind it.

On arriving at Kailzie Margaret was tired and more than a little buffeted
about by the bumpy roads, but otherwise all was well, she retired for the
night to rest and the over the next few days put her feet up and directed
everyone from her comfortable chair. She admitted that the views over the
Tweed Valley from Kailzie House were breath taking and could never stop
herself from spending time at every window she passed soaking in each
different live painting of nature - it was good for her soul, and for the soul
of her child as well, she thought.

March roared in like a lion and the four seasons battered Kailzie House for
about ten days - and Margaret was worried. If only her mother were here,
but she wasn't. Nor was her father. She felt very vulnerable and alone,
even though James was being very kind to her. The first pain of labour she
felt almost split her in two, she had never felt anything like it before, she
could feel it attach itself to her skin, the doctor was sent for and he arrived

2181

in his carriage as quickly as he could. One of the old women who worked
for James had served at many births in the neighbourhood and helped the
doctor as a midwife.

Unfortunately, it was not an easy birth and the labour lasted for hours,
with Margaret growing weaker and weaker as the time went on. Everyone
was afraid for the outcome but did not want to say it out loud. The doctor
and the midwife did all they could to make Margaret comfortable. Finally,
when it seemed that she could not give any more, with a last effort she
gave birth to her child, a daughter, on 14th March 1772. The child was
healthy, but like her mother had been through, hell to get here. The baby
was checked over, warmly wrapped and handed to Margaret, and through
her weariness and pain she could feel nothing but love for this little being -
nothing else mattered except that her child was born and was well. She
kissed the baby and held her close. The doctor left to tell James of his
daughter's birth.

Within minutes the midwife called the doctor to come back, he rushed up
the stairs - Margaret was bleeding badly. The midwife took the baby and
the doctor set to work trying to stop the blood flow. Margaret was
weakening. James ran into the room and was by her side, he kept calling to
her while the doctor worked. Sometimes she came back to him and smiled.
The last thing Margaret, aged nineteen and three quarters, married for less
than a year, saw on this earth was her husband and behind him her child
held by the midwife, and though she guessed she was dying, her heart
glowed with love as she watched both fade from her life. The baby girl,
who was named Margaret Nasmyth Kennedy, survived well and after her
marriage in 1795 she went on to become a mother of ten children.

Andrew Craig aged visibly almost directly after Margaret's death. Each
new day seemed a punishment to him. A parent should not have to bury
their child, and he had buried too many of his. Of all the deaths, even
Christian's, Margaret's tore his soul the most. He knew her, he could read
her, and he respected her. James Kennedy, though he deeply loved
Margaret, would move on. He could find another wife, old though he may
be, father more children. That was the way of life, but he also knew that
Margaret would never leave James' heart. She would have her own little
corner there, where he could turn to when he needed solace and advice.
Andrew knew this because there was a little corner in his heart where
Christian reigned supreme.

Agnes tried to be brave after Margaret's death and tried to be the woman

1229

that her sister had been. She was there for her father, and her brother-in-
law, if he needed her. Her father did not smile much these days. When he
was not working he slept, but sometimes she would hear him sigh
Margaret's name. Margaret lived in his dreams and he was happy there.
While her father slept, Agnes wept, she had never tasted such loneliness
and emptiness before, not even when her mother died.
She knew she would have to grow up very quickly and resented it a little,
though she felt guilty at this feeling. Agnes swore that she would do her
best to see her father through this, she would happily give him her time
then maybe she might still have some childhood left to her to enjoy.
Shifting her gaze towards the fireplace she saw Andrew move in his chair,
and in his sleep in the candle glow Agnes could see his face light up.
“Margaret”, he murmured, and a smile touched the corners of his mouth.
Her sister had come to visit.

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TEENAGE YEARS 1

1773

1773 saw the blossoming of Pretty Miss Nancy Craig. Her childlike
gaucheness and her approaching womanness clashed like the battle of two
titans. One minute she was playing street games like hopscotch, marbles,
skipping ropes, blind man's bluff, and the next she was being flattered by
the young men who tried to attract her attention by fair means or foul.
Some of the foul ended in fisticuffs and manky clothes. Agnes Craig rose
above all this - 'Trainee Men’! Agnes scoffed.

Her father could see the effect she had on men, men of all ages, but she
remained unaware of this potential elemental power she wielded. He
watched her from his window as she strode home along the Saltmarket,
one man even walked into a cart, he was so intent in seeing where she was
going, looking back at her and not in the direction he should have been.
Andrew hated the way older men looked at Agnes and he could imagine
the vile thoughts going through their minds. He was not like that, he never
forgot that every young woman was someone's daughter, and they
deserved to be respected, included in that were the daughters of the poor.
Andrew had lost enough daughters in his lifetime.

The mantle shelf was again filling with invitations for Agnes to attend
parties and teas, and eventually life and a kind of apologetic predictability
emanated in the house. This was all down to Agnes. She occasionally
dragged her father along as her escort to a soiree and he was surprised to
find how much he enjoyed being in company again, especially youthful
company. He would catch a glimpse of a young woman who reminded
him of Margaret, at first it made him sad, but later he began to enjoy from
a distance any similarity...and pretend. Agnes, protectively from a
distance, watched him out of the corner of her eye and saw him begin to
melt and bend and converse again, anything other than work was a bonus.
The day she heard him guffaw out loud she knew he was healing.

Agnes was acquiring the reputation of being very spirited, even a wild
child in the making. She knew all the young available men and their
credentials and saw herself as a bit of a matchmaker. No Glasgow society
gathering was unaware of Nancy Craig, and her invitations made her
well-travelled throughout the city. The cabmen of the Saltmarket knew the
'Toun Surgeon's' lassie, not only was she attractive and pleasant to speak
to, but she tipped well. Their faces beamed when her beaming face

1341

appeared and spread even wider when she paid her fare on reaching her
destination.

At one party, without her father, as she was taking visual and pencilled
notes in her aide memoire of the young gentlemen in attendance, for any
future information to be passed on to friends, her eyes were drawn to a
very good looking dark haired young man posing like the proverbial
haddy in the corner of the room. She hadn't come across him before, but he
looked interesting. She watched as he surveyed the room, his eyes
brushing hers for the slightest instant before moving on. No, she decided,
he hadn't seen her as she took him in from head to toe. That was a little
unfortunate, she thought, replacing her notepad in her purse. But James
MacLehose in that brief instant had taken in everything, physically, he
wanted to know about Miss Agnes Craig. She would do him nicely - but
not today, there was someone else on his mind, someone a little older,
more experienced in the ways of the world, much more of a willing
promise, a lot easier to charm.

Hoping not to be too obvious, Agnes rose from her seat and meandered
through the room, now and then stopping at friends and acquaintances to
ask as unconcerned as she could about the young man and found out his
name - James MacLehose, his occupation - a law agent in Glasgow and his
family background - they were well thought of merchants in the city, she
also heard that they owned an old distillery on the Molendinar near the
Drygate. Though she was unaware of it she was weighing up this
handsome and quite dashingly dressed young man as a possible future
sweetheart. When James MacLehose heard that she was asking about him
he prepared himself for her conquest of him, he wouldn't struggle too
hard.

Winter 1773

One night, late in 1773, Andrew Craig arrived home in an agitated state,
which was quite unusual for him. Agnes did not know what was wrong.
He must have had a hard day at the hospital, though he did keep glancing
in her direction with a strange look in his eyes. She hadn't done anything
untoward as far as she knew, well not recently anyway, so it couldn't be
her, could it? They ate their supper in silence. Agnes tried but could not
get her father into conversation of any kind. He sat by the fire, an open
book unread on his knee, while Agnes cleared the table and washed the
dishes. Still, silence reigned. Picking up her own half read book she sat in
the chair opposite him. He was deep in thought, something was troubling

3125

him, he always bit the side of his lip when he was worried, and there went
the biting again. Then came the questions.

Her father asked her about her friends, the parties she attended, her
successful social life. She couldn't think where he was going with this, he
knew all the answers already. Then he switched tack and asked if she had
heard of a club that met in one of the taverns in the Trongate called the
Hodge Podge Club. She answered that she had come across the name on
her travels and that some of the young men she was acquainted with were
members, even cousin William Craig the lawyer. It was a club where
wealthy, like-minded men went to meet and converse on things they
found interesting. Now and then they had speakers along to give a talk. It
had been going for nearly thirteen years, women were not allowed, that
was all she knew of it.

Did she know that the club ended their meeting with a Toast? Many of the
clubs did so there was nothing unusual in that, she responded. Did she
know that they had a special Toast, or should he say a special 'Toast List'?
No, why, what was special about that? The 'Toast List' was dedicated to
the most eligible and attractive ladies in Glasgow. Was it? Were any of her
friends on it?? Did she know anyone at all on it??? She most certainly did -
herself, and not only that, she was the top of the 'Toast List' for 1773.
Agnes was delighted and dropping her book leapt up and danced round
the room. Andrew sat in his chair his head in his hands. Ooops! thought
Agnes. Such fun! thought Agnes.

Christmas was nearing, but as soon as it was passed Andrew Craig
thought again about a plan he had been mulling over - sending his
daughter to one of the new *finishing schools in Edinburgh for a few
months, if only to stress to her the danger that might befall her reputation
if she had the slightest whiff of scandal attached to her, which would ruin
her good name and standing in her city. He had already made enquiries to
the owner of a residential school which had recently opened, some of his
friends had sent their daughters to some older, well established schools,
but old or new, all the schools came with a high recommendation.
*(Up until the eighteenth century the education of poor girls was taught in Dame
Schools. These informal schools were usually set up by a widow or unmarried
woman and the teaching was basic - reading, sewing and cooking. From the mid
1600's boarding schools for girls had been in vogue, especially in Edinburgh and
London. These were also headed by women, and some were run as a family
venture. Originally, they were aimed at daughters of the nobility, but by the start
of the 1700's the 'nobility' was complaining that their daughters were having to

1363

mix with the daughters of traders and craftsmen, albeit wealthy, who were using
their money to send their female offspring to these salubrious institutions. The
learning was the same as for the poor girls, education revolved round basic
literacy, numeracy, needlework, cookery, household management, but polite
accomplishments and piety were heavily stressed).
Andrew was convinced that Agnes needed a change, she was becoming
too central in the social amours of Glasgow, not herself of course, but it
was relayed to him that her name often crept up when two people were
heard of getting together. Now this 'Toast List' nonsense made his mind
up. As a Glasgow man it humoured him to think that six months in
Edinburgh would cure anyone of anything. Now all he had to do was pass
on his decision to Agnes and shut his ears to her protestations and refusals
to go. It wouldn't be an easy victory for Andrew, and he had to be a touch
Machiavellian in his approach. Agnes would be no walk over, but he was
resolute in his decision and eventually after a few tantrums and logical
debates, from both parent and child, Agnes convinced herself that it would
be a great adventure and a benefit to herself in the future.

3147

TEENAGE YEARS 2

Early 1774

Standing on a cold Argyle Street in early 1774 with the wind throwing all
kinds of debris in his face, Andrew was now not so positive about this
decision. The almost sixteen-year-old Agnes was in the coach settling
herself for her long journey, geeing herself up by thinking that it could
have been worse, Edinburgh was no Glasgow, but it wasn't a penal colony
either, she could have been sent somewhere further away - maybe
England. Heaven Forfend!

It was just before eight in the morning and the horses' harnesses were
being checked for the journey. The new Black Bull Inn, built in 1758, was
situated in Argyle Street and was the starting place for the Edinburgh
coach. It would reach the White Hart Inn situated in the Grassmarket, at
approximately six o'clock that evening. The journey was made three times
a week at a breath-taking speed of four to six miles per hour, depending
on oncoming or prevailing winds.

Andrew saw that there weren't many people on the coach that morning,
which was a little surprising as it was usually busy, still it would give
Agnes a lot of room to herself. Looking behind him, he noticed a young
personable man quickly approaching the coach. So, Agnes would have
company after all, he hoped the young man wouldn't make a nuisance of
himself. He glared at him in a paternal warning like manner. Another
thing for Andrew to worry about!

Forty miles ran between Glasgow and Edinburgh. It was not really a long
way, but the road was bad, pitted with holes, ruts, broken trees and
sometimes escaped animals. It needed complete concentration from the
two drivers who alternated charge of the horses. They also needed breaks
to change over the horses, and always stopped at an Inn somewhere for
lunch, where the passengers had the chance to give their rear ends a rest
from being flayed on the wooden seats. Andrew saw his daughter settled
in the coach, she had some bread and cheese for the journey and a few
sweets, plus her novellas.

Although Agnes was unsure about all of this and did not want to leave her
friends, at her age things change so much in six months and she would
miss these changes, she realised that she was drawn to the excitement and
the challenge of meeting new people and in a brand new, much more

1385

sophisticated city. She heard Edinburgh was being completely made over,
on the way to becoming a truly modern European Capital totally different
to Glasgow. When she got there, she would become an explorer and learn
and absorb all that the Athens of the North threw at her. Who knows?
Today Edinburgh, tomorrow maybe the Continent! The world could
become her oyster, if she was lucky, or at the very least her Atlantic Bay
scallop.

As Andrew kissed his daughter's soft cheek his heart told him that he was
not doing the right thing, but his head reminded him, if that was true, it
was for the right reason. She was all he had left, so why was he sending
her so far away? In his being he trusted her completely, wild child though
she may be, but he knew that Christian would not have approved. She
would never have allowed it, but it was too late now. He put on his
bravest face and best grin for his daughter.

He stood back to let the young man get in the coach and surmised that he
was going for a short time as he did not appear to have much or any
luggage with him, maybe it was a business trip. They nodded to each
other. With one last whisper to Agnes, he cupped her face and told her he
loved her and would miss her until she came home to him. Andrew stood
as the coach door was shut and watched as the lead driver scrambled to
his seat, settle himself as comfortably as possible, grasp the reins in both
his hands and ready himself to crack his long whip at the foremost horses -
they were nearly on their way.

Inside the coach was dim, curtains still hung over the side windows.
Agnes pulled her window curtain back to see her father as he waved her
off. Andrew caught his breath, stunned at the beauty of his daughter, the
window framing her face. This living painting would remain with Andrew
Craig for the rest of his life. With a beaming smile which hid his heavy
worried heart, he realised he was missing Agnes even before the horses
took their first step.

Andrew stood alone at the Black Bull, watching as the coach was
swallowed up as the distance between him and his daughter stretched.
Bites of distance, 10 yards, 50 yards, 100 yards...The further and faster the
coach went, the higher flew the clouds of dust from the horses' hooves,
looking like a strange ethereal mist enveloping the carriage. Andrew Craig
shivered, not with the cold, he was dressed for that, but because of
something that scared him, and he had no idea what it was. How was he
to know he had just had contact with the man who would in two years

3169

nearly ruin his daughter's life? His walk homewards that morning was one
of the loneliest and slowest he had ever made. Later that evening, alone in
his silent house, he offered himself for his remaining daughter's safety. He
slept fitfully. Margaret didn't visit him that night.

Agnes took a small carrying case in the carriage and with so much room
she placed it on the seat beside her. She nearly flooded in tears when her
father whispered his love for her just before the coach left, thinking of him
now took an enormous amount of self-control not to burst out sobbing that
very minute. Agnes had never been away from home, as after the death of
her mother, Andrew needed to keep his daughters by his side. Since
Margaret's death Agnes never felt the need nor want to be away from her
home or her father. He must have been really worried to send her away to
what seemed to him like another culture, and he did look so old and tired
as she waved to him. Still, on the bright side, it was only for six months.

But how much would Glasgow change in that time, it was moving so fast
now, just as so many cities were changing, becoming very modern in their
architecture and feel. There was talk of a new Square being built in the
centre. It was to be called George Square, after the King in London.
Mansions were going to be built. Maybe she would live in one of these
mansions when she married, she and her handsome husband, and
beautiful well-mannered and healthy children. She closed her eyes to paint
the picture of her future home and family in her mind. Her reverie was
interrupted by the pleasant voice of her companion for the journey
offering her a small book to read on the way. She was a bit annoyed to be
taken from her dream time as she had just begun to furnish her new salon,
with her new rugs in her new mansion near the newly built George
Square, and the new all the rage curtains and ties had to be just right.

Slowly opening vibrant blue her eyes, which got the young man in a spin,
she looked side long in the direction of her fellow traveller. In the carriage
light she thought she recognised him. Pulling the curtain back to let in
more daylight she knew she knew him, but from where? He was sitting in
the opposite corner of the coach from her. The corner, yes that was it, the
last time she saw him he was standing in the corner of a room at a party
she was at. Now what was his name, Robert, Jack, John, no James, that was
it, James MacLehose. How funny. She had not thought about him for ages,
though his name had cropped up several times in her social circle. He
seemed to be doing well in his career. He certainly looked like it by the cut
and style of his clothes. Well this might prove to be an interesting and
entertaining journey after all.

2307

James MacLehose had been taken with Agnes Craig from the first time he
saw her. He had intended to try and get to know her better, but after the
first sighting, with his business situations, they never seemed to be
together in the same place at the same time. But he was aware of her
everywhere he went. Agnes Craig this! Nancy Craig that! Pretty Miss
Nancy! But always in retrospect. Then to cap it all she was voted the top of
the Toast List for the celebrated Hodge Podge Club. What a woman! They
had never been formally introduced so he could not call on her, and her
father was a surgeon not a lawyer, so how could he ensure that their paths
crossed?

Then fate stepped in. He heard that Agnes was going to boarding school in
Edinburgh for six months. His heart dropped into his boots. Suddenly an
idea came into his head. If he could find out when she was going he could
travel on the same coach and maybe, no undoubtedly, she would
recognise him. Ten hours encased in an uncomfortable wooden box alone
together would certainly make sure that a conversation would occur. Fate
was even kinder to James, not only did he find out when she was
travelling but he found out she would be unchaperoned, and he came up
with the plan of buying up all the available seats on the coach so that they
would be alone on the road to Edinburgh. Well, so far, so good.

James was very attentive to Agnes on the journey and in return she shared
her provisions with him. They stopped en route for horse swapping a
couple of times and spent an hour at an Inn where they could dine if they
wished. They did! James treated Agnes to a perfect lunch. She had never
dined alone with a man other than her father before, this was a strange
experience for her, one she could certainly get used to. As they neared
Edinburgh she told him what an entertaining companion he had been, and
he told her that he hoped they would meet again when she returned to
Glasgow, especially as they had so many people in common. The look in
Agnes' eyes told him that she could not wait for the six months to pass.

When they reached the depot at the White Hart Inn, James helped unload
Agnes' luggage, then called for a cart-man to deliver Agnes and her
belongings to her boarding school, paying the man and giving him a
noticeably generous tip, brushing aside Agnes' protests that her father had
furnished her with monies to cover the expense of a carter. She was
impressed with his kindness and appreciated the unforeseen extra cash.
Agnes extended her hand to James, and like the gentleman he often could
be, he lowered his head and gently touched his lips to it, and with a bow
left Agnes to give the cart-man her address.

3281

Just before he turned the corner, he stopped and looked back and was
pleased to see that Agnes was still looking in his direction. Embarrassed at
being caught out, she gave him a little wave. James doffed his hat to her
then walked around the corner. He stood with his back to the wall. Oh yes,
he thought, you are mine now, Pretty Miss Nancy, the best gamble I have
taken in ages. Pulling himself to his fullest height he strutted down the
Edinburgh streets looking for a tavern, a room and a companion for the
night. He was here now so he might as well enjoy it.

2329

EDINBURGH

Much to her delight Agnes enjoyed her time in Edinburgh. Being a very
socially outgoing person, she quickly made friends with her open
personality, humour and somewhat odd common sense. Many of the
young ladies at the school turned to her for advice, and how she loved
giving advice. But she missed home and her old friends and especially her
father, and she missed the feel of the streets of her home city. Glasgow,
rough though it was, was possessed with a buzz of industry. The people,
poor or rich, were in a hurry, needing to do things, always with the want
to be somewhere else.

Some outsiders felt that Glasgow was an angry place, but they mistook
energy for ire. Edinburgh seemed genteel with time for talking, gossiping,
watching, judging, putting people into boxes and slamming the lid. It was
easier for the cream to stir and rise in Glasgow, in Edinburgh the cream
was quite stale as if it hadn't been disturbed for centuries. But for all that
Agnes loved Edinburgh, though she couldn't ever see herself living there
forever. There were too many restrictions for a free spirit, and far too
many social rules to follow for a Glaswegian wild child.

The young women she met at the school varied from the very rich to
others like herself, daughters of professional families, though none had
achieved a 'Toast List' accolade. Their social education, whether in
Glasgow or elsewhere, was limited so they attended these schools to
broaden their learning and horizons and acquire an understanding of how
to behave properly in decent upwardly mobile company. They were to be
educated in the three 'R's' though not too much, by orders of their fathers,
who in general feared educated women.

This suited many, but not Agnes and not her father. She had a hunger for
learning and was always the first to finish whatever book they were given
to read for discussion. As usual, Agnes’ voice was always heard during
these discourses making many pertinent points, the majority of which did
not always please her tutors, or even seem relative to the subject being
discussed at times. Agnes never lost her love for literature, or debate, and
it carried her through to old age.

In the art of composition, penmanship and correspondence she was an 'A'
plus student. Given half a chance, in a week she could go through her own
ink plus her immediate neighbours' quota. What a joy, six months of

4203

reading and writing and debating, no meals to make, no dishes to wash,
no clothes to clean. Ah! to be alive now was bliss. The tutors would often
take the young ladies out in a group around the city of Edinburgh, the
good and not so good areas.

Like Glasgow there was a boom in building. There was talk of houses
being built to the north, they were to be grand terraced houses like those
in far off London with pavements or plainstones in front where people
could walk in cleanliness as opposed to the dirt roads which stained and
muddied dresses. Men were lucky, wearing boots and trousers, the
footwear took all the dirt, all that was needed was a brush and a wipe to
clean them. For women hem hooks helped a little but were not all that
successful. It took hours to wash and clean dress and underskirt items, as
wet mud seeped upwards.

THE RETURN

For Agnes the six months flew by too quickly, and by Autumn it was time
for her to return home. She would miss Edinburgh, it had been unexpected
fun. She knew she had changed in herself. Her confidence had grown, and
the half year sojourn had taught her to trust her own mind. Unfortunately,
that didn't always work out well in her future choices. But apart from that
she had enjoyed a sense of freedom, though she realised that this freedom
was still within the control boundary of the school, though definitely not
penal colony grade. Her self-esteem grew, she went to Edinburgh a girl
and she was returning to her father a sophisticated young lady.

She was desperately looking forward to seeing her father again. He had
written to her weekly and she had tried to show how she was improving
in her replies to him. Andrew read them with a smile on his face. Agnes'
letters were trying hard to be those of a sophisticate, but she couldn't help
occasionally slipping into being his wee lassie again. These were the bits in
the letters that Andrew Craig loved, other bits he roared with laughter at,
and his heart would ache unbearably for the want of seeing his daughter
again. He needed her home, the house needed her back, her warmth, her
noise, but especially her laughter. How he missed the laughter. For him
the six-month period seemed like a lifetime.

Likewise, waiting in the wings for her return was James MacLehose. The
months apart had not been wasted, he had found out all he wanted to
know about her, more so from her acquaintances than her friends. She
would be his wife. Her sixteenth birthday was spent in Edinburgh so

2441

eighteen would be a good age for her to marry. It would also give him a
couple of years to play, set up his business, carouse with his friends and
win her over to his side. MacLehose was a very complicated personality,
but personable and plausible when necessary. He decided that he would
not be at the first party she attended, or the second, but he would contrive
to be at the third, lingering in the background. This would be a fine game,
especially as he was pulling the strings, a puppet master supremo. Timing
was always the key to success.

Andrew Craig was at the Black Bull half an hour ahead of the expected
arrival time of the Edinburgh coach. It was freezing cold outside, so he sat
in the warm smoky bar room. He knew many of the faces but chose to sit
alone at a table by the fire. He hoped Agnes would not have changed too
much. Her pretentions could be hard enough at times, but if she had
learned to be a snob, mixing with the cream of the Capital, he would be
very disappointed in her, and in himself for sending her there.

He sipped at his claret and felt it seep and track round his internal organs.
The fire was doing its job on his exterior, though the smoke was making
his eyes water. Glancing at his half hunter pocket watch he saw that it was
nearing time for the coach to arrive, hopefully there were no problems on
the road, there could be, though thankfully not highwaymen. He needed
to hire a cart-man to carry Agnes' luggage home. So, with a silent toast to
seeing his daughter he threw the remaining liquor towards the back of his
throat. Now for the cart-man!

THE ARRIVAL

It was a dark and cold Glasgow that Agnes Craig returned to. Her coach
was full this time, four old men and one middle aged woman. They had
been friendly enough though, and surprisingly quite good company. But
they were now complaining of sore joints from the bumpy journey, as was
even the young supple and well-padded Agnes. Next time she would take
a cushion to sit on, that is if there would ever be a next time.

The mist was rolling in off the Clyde. She could taste it in her lungs. She
needed a nice glass of claret to moisten her mouth. She was sixteen now,
surely her father would not mind. Her father, she had missed him so, she
didn't realise how much before, probably because of all that was
happening in Edinburgh. She hoped he looked better than he did when
she left, anyway she had brought him a present. Tucked in her hand
luggage was a scarf that she had bought for him.

4225

Every Saturday a weaver and his children set up a stall in the High Street
at the Luckenbooths to sell the wares he and his family made during the
week. His prices were very reasonable, unlike the shops in the area. He
gave Agnes a good price on the scarf when he heard that she was
returning to Glasgow because, he said, she had been nice to him and his
children, always asking how his wife was keeping and never looking
down her nose at him, unlike many of her richer scholastic friends. Agnes
insisted she pay the correct price, but the man refused to take her money
unless she accepted his offer. She deferred and handed over her cash, but
before walking away she leaned over the stall, much to the consternation
of the weaver, and gave him a peck on the cheek. Her friends looked at her
horrified, but she just turned and walked away, a smile on her face and a
spring in her step. The scarf she bought was twice the size of all the others,
her father could wrap it round his neck and mouth about five times in
inclement weather, like they were driving through tonight, so he could
keep the damp from his chest and lungs.

Andrew Craig had hired one of the many cart-men waiting to serve the
arriving travellers. They were rough and ready men, willing to do
anything for a penny or two. They carted anything from fish, cotton bales,
glass, luggage etc. They were always on the road moving something to
somewhere. A twenty-four-hour service! Free enterprise were the two new
words being bandied about, the workers did not know what it meant, but
if they could earn money, they were all for it. The more enterprising cart-
men used larger carts to carry more goods and the ambitious ones kept a
separate cart for fish. Andrew would not need a large cart tonight for
Agnes' one trunk and few parcels, so they would be home in quick time.

In the distance the carriage lights, like fireflies, could be seen jouking on
each side of the coach as it hurtled towards the terminus, hitting every dip
in the road. On arriving the drivers appeared frozen, it gave them much
discomfort as they uncurled and made to get down from their seat, their
legs nearly solid from the cold, though they had been covered with
blankets. The stable boys came out to unhook the horses and take them
away to brush and dry them down. The steam from the horses and the
mist from the Clyde formed two pillars as they streamed past the carriage
lights. The steam looked so clean and the mist so dirty thought Andrew
Craig.

A porter ran out to help the passengers from the coach. The middle-aged
lady exited first to be followed by the old men, there was a symphony of
moans and groans relating to stiff joints and other complaints emanating

2463

from the dark as they disembarked. Then like an apparition, piece by
piece, from darkness into lamp light, Agnes emerged from the carriage.
First her foot, then her skirt, then her hands grasping on to the young
porter's arm, finally her bowed head appeared through the small door.
Her father did not approach her, he wanted to view her as she emerged
fully from the coach, wanted to soak her in, his returning artform to be
studied and admired, his Venus emerging from the carriage. Finally, with
both feet firmly on Glasgow soil again, Agnes lifted her face, eyes
searching for her father.
Andrew inbreathed slowly, Christian would have been so proud of Agnes.
She had changed physically in six months, that was to be expected, but the
eyes were the same, she was still their wee lass. Father and daughter stood
looking at each other for what seemed an eternity, unbidden uncontrolled
tears slipped from the old man's eyes as he opened his arms wide with
love and need for Agnes to fill.

4247

GLASGOW

1774-1775

Agnes fitted back into her social circle as if she had never been away. She
had many stories to tell of Edinburgh, both good and bad, and as she was
talking to Glaswegians, they wanted to hear the bad stories first, the
badder the better. Historic rivalry never dies. It took a wee while for her to
get back into the way of cooking and cleaning. Try as hard as she could,
she could not convince her father that they needed someone to 'do' for
them, Andrew would never allow her to get above herself. Her personal
library was growing as was her expenditure on writing paper. Still it was
worth it to have her enliven the old home and he had a conversationalist
to live with once again, even if she was addicted to the world of debate,
never using a sentence when a paragraph would suffice.

From her first day back, she had visitors to the house and the mantle shelf
was becoming untidy again with her invitations. She was surprised to see
that Mr. MacLehose had neither called nor written, and within a couple of
days she was trying, very nonchalantly, to find out about him, what he
was up to, where he was working, was he perchance attached to anyone,
someone she might know? She was only interested in the last question.
The answer was that James MacLehose remained unattached. She noticed
that many of her friends were guarded when they spoke of him but
thought possibly that it was because she had been away and maybe she
was being just a little bit over sensitive. Anyway, she would just have to
contrive a meeting with him. Taking a pile of her invitation cards, she
sorted them out into what she considered to be the most probable parties
that he would attend and replied to them first.

MacLehose knew she had returned to Glasgow, he knew the parties she
had been invited to and he knew she had been asking about him. As was
his plan he was not at the first couple of parties she attended, but turned
up for the third, arriving early to watch her enter the room. She was more
attractive than he remembered, Edinburgh had done her well. She had a
subtle confidence about her and when she appeared people were drawn to
her side. Next thing, everyone was laughing. Encased by the window
frame he waited until her glance found him, he nodded, Agnes took a
sharp intake of breath and it seemed like ages before she let it out. As the
colour rose in her cheeks so her eyes lowered to the floor, so this was how
her sister Margaret had felt, she thought.

2485

They did not talk much at that party, but at the next one James MacLehose
approached Agnes. Her heart began to flutter like a frightened bird or was
that just because she had read it in one of the romances she was now
hooked on reading, she wondered. Anyway, she was pleased to see him.
Agnes Craig that well known social butterfly hardly circulated at all
during the party spending her time speaking to charming James. It was the
same at the next soiree they met at. She felt secure enough now with him
to let him kiss her cheek when they parted at the end of the evening, and it
was not long after that when their lips first met. After a short fencing bout
with their noses, Agnes experienced her first real adult kiss. It was alright,
but she didn't feel like swooning as was the usual outcome mentioned in
her novellas. Maybe that feeling would come later?

1775-1776

James was always on his best behaviour with Agnes, but her friends were
aware of stories about him, his drinking, his gambling and his debts. His
family, it was said, had they not paid his last debt, he would have landed
in prison. Her friends tried to tell Agnes this, but she was oblivious to
hearing anything said against him. She was in love, and Agnes' love was
deaf and blind where MacLehose was concerned. Her heart overruled her
head and her head surrendered and finally conceded the battle.

The stories about MacLehose's reputation soon reached her father's ears
and he in turn set out to find if the accusations against the young man
were true or not. Much to his chagrin, true they were. Andrew tried to
reason with his daughter with no success. She would not leave this man
alone, nor hear a bad word said against him. He knew his daughter's
impulsive and head strong nature and was afraid that she might do
something stupid like run away with MacLehose in a romantic strop, and
that would destroy her reputation, so all he could do was ban him from
his house - James MacLehose was never to cross his doorstep without
permission.

Agnes cried and pleaded with her father, but he would not bend. Her
friends told her that she was too good for MacLehose. She was honest,
charming and beautiful, she could get someone better, there were queues
of men who were willing to take his place. But the determination that
made Agnes strive to survive as a baby rose again to the surface in the
guise of its alter ego - thrawness, and she would not be moved. James
MacLehose was drawing her away from her friends, isolating her to his
company.

4269

At a time when she was low because of her friends' attitude, he performed
his coup de grace - he proposed. Agnes, without thinking or consulting
anyone, accepted. Having given her word, she could not take it back, but
how would she tell her father.

Andrew Craig found himself between a rock and a hard place. It all rested
on him now. After many sleepless nights he conceded to Agnes' decision,
not that he would ever accept it or MacLehose, but at least he would be
there to catch her and protect her when the marriage failed, as he was sure
it must. When James MacLehose finally crossed Andrew Craig's threshold
after Agnes had accepted his proposal it felt as if something slithery and
evil had been given permission to desecrate Andrew's once happy home.

WOO'D AN' MARRIED AN' A'

1776

On a beautifully bright summer morning on the 1st July 1776, Agnes Craig
aged eighteen and a bit, married James MacLehose aged nearly twenty-
two. The service was held in the same Church that her sister Margaret had
been married in, St. Andrew's Kirk in the Saltmarket, and the minister was
the Rev. William Craig, her uncle. Attending the wedding was William's
son, William junior, now resident of Edinburgh, who had always carried a
subdued torch for his delightful and charming cousin. No way could
William Jnr. have ever seen that within six short years he would be the
only support left to her, nor that that support would be in given in
Edinburgh.

As Andrew Craig walked his daughter down the aisle, his heart and head
screamed that she was doing the wrong thing. He had protected her all her
life, since her first pugilistic bout with eternity, and here he was handing
her over to a man that he knew in his soul was completely wrong for her.
It wasn't right, but there was nothing else he could do. He promised
himself in front of his God, that when MacLehose broke her heart she
would be able to return to his home, her family home, to heal and mend.
As he did in the coach two years previously when she left for Edinburgh,
before giving her to MacLehose, Andrew Craig whispered in Agnes' ear
how much he loved her and that whatever happened he would always be
there for her, she was his blood, his life, and he would never desert her.

APRES MARRIAGE

3407

1776-1780

The start of the marriage appeared to have promise. James behaved
himself and was a very attentive husband. Agnes could see herself in that
George Square mansion with her Prince Charming and her perfect family,
proving everyone wrong in their bad mouthing of her husband. Even
Andrew Craig admitted that James was acting like the perfect spouse and
was now ready and willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and accept
him into his family. But James MacLehose had a close-knit circle of like-
minded male friends who covered up for him. All were of the same ilk
though, and when push came to shove, it was each man for himself.

Niggles crept in without Agnes even being aware of them. Agnes was
always full of fun and life, and showed it, but there were a couple of
instances when James got annoyed, chiding her that she should behave in
a more respectful manner as she was now a married woman with
responsibilities and a status, his status, to uphold. The fact that he did this
in front of others began to eat into her confidence. Agnes took this on
board and tried her hardest to be the quiet demure genteel wife desired of
by her husband. But this solemnity was not in her nature, and when she
slipped again, James really got annoyed.

When in September 1776 Agnes found out she was pregnant she was
delighted and afraid, remembering what happened to her sister. Telling
her fears to MacLehose gave him a hypothetical rod to beat and berate her
with. She was now totally dependent on him, nothing more than a useful
possession, a show wife. The little respect and love MacLehose might have
had for Agnes flew out of their tiny Georgian window. He now revealed,
in all his true glory, the real James MacLehose, weak, brutal, violent,
abusive, alcoholic and sadistic. The genii burst from the bottle with no
intention of ever returning - the cork had disintegrated.

From finding out about the pregnancy, in company if Agnes said the
wrong thing, he gloried in rebuking her, especially in front of her friends,
accused her of flirting with other men, and in his cups questioned his
paternity of his child. Agnes was humiliated but would not be drawn into
an argument in company, but at home she gave as good as she got. Soon
the verbal abuse became physical. She became afraid for her life and that
of her unborn child and learned to read the signals when MacLehose was
about to turn nasty.

On 23rd May 1777, less than a year into the marriage, she bore her first

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child, a boy she named William, after James' father and grandfather. He
died less than three months later, on 14th August. MacLehose never
considered that his actions contributed to the baby’s death ignoring the
fact that he harmed Agnes physically and mentally. Agnes was
heartbroken, MacLehose was drunk, and blamed her for the death of his
son making sure she suffered.

James MacLehose was not a stupid man, he was a hypocritical bully with
an evil streak, but he had guile. He convinced everyone that he was the
victim. She had the temper, as for the debts she ran up, well any man
would lose it, sometimes. Agnes wondered on occasions why her
acquaintances looked at her strangely. Many chose to believe her husband
though they were all aware of his reputation. There had always been a
little frisson of jealousy around Agnes Craig for some people, she was too
attractive, she was too funny, she was too intelligent by half. Her true
friends stood by her, but at times even they could not work out why she
got together with him, the phrase 'there but for the grace of God goes me',
thought them.

By November 1777 she was pregnant again. MacLehose would be master
in his own house! Agnes knew she had made the biggest mistake in her
life, but she could not bring herself to admit it to anyone else. Family and
friends had warned her time and time again about him, but she refused to
listen, so on her own head be it. Even she believed that she deserved all
she got. She was too proud to turn to her father, though she knew she
could, but a marriage gone wrong in just over a year was beyond
humiliation, and she knew that she would be the one harshly judged, not
the behaviour of her errant and disgraceful husband. MacLehose was less
violent during this pregnancy, though he used his tongue as a verbal
mallet, maybe this next child would be healthy and live, though for it to
make MacLehose change was an impossible wish.

Andrew Craig MacLehose was born on the 1st July 1778, on the second
anniversary of their wedding. He was a healthy little boy with hopefully a
long life ahead of him. MacLehose did not change after the birth of this
healthy son, the boy became another financial burden. MacLehose wanted
the status of respectability that marriage gave, but not the responsibility
that went with it; he wanted children, but only to show off his masculinity
and breeding prowess; he wanted to be a lawyer, but only for the status,
power and manipulation it allowed him. If the baby cried for too long he
would storm out the house and find somewhere he could drink. When he
came home if the baby was sleeping he wanted him awake, to play with.

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Agnes was at her wits end. Anything she said was an excuse for a slap, but
he never damaged her face, too noticeable.

Agnes found solace in her son and the bond she had with him lasted his
lifetime. Her life was built round the boy, and her visits to her father made
it possible to forget about her husband's cruelty for an hour or so. Andrew
Craig saw the suffering in his daughter's face, her drawn look, the bruises
hidden under her dress sleeves and make up, but he never interfered or
asked any questions, he knew her pride would make her reticent in the
honesty of her answers.

Their third anniversary in July 1779 found Agnes pregnant once more.
James was losing all sense of control of his drinking and he he hardly went
to work. She tried to speak to her husband's family, but they had had
enough of him. They were just glad that she had taken him off their hands.
They were sorry, but they could not help her financially either, they had a
lot of bills to pay, and James owed them enough as it was. MacLehose had
control of the finances and carried the money with him always. Agnes
hated having to ask him for money. Ask - no beg him for money, 'do' for
him.

By April 1780 she had two children to feed and support. A little boy, her
third son had been born that month and she named him William, hoping
that William 2 would live. In those days it was not unusual for a child to
be given the name of a sibling who had previously died. With her love and
special attention, the little boy, though frail, survived. As for James
MacLehose, his son was just another mouth to swallow up his cash. By
August 1780 Agnes was pregnant again.

SEPARATION

1780

MacLehose disappeared for days on end, she didn't miss him, in fact the
house was a better place for her and her children without him, but she had
little money to feed them. She had reached a point in her marriage where
she was past hate for her husband. If he were reported dead she knew she
would feel nothing, not even joy. She had no interest in what happened to
him, her children were her life. But she could not stay and demean herself
any longer, begging for food for her children, performing for this cruel
man.

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