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The pleasure of 'benevolence' itself, says Mackintosh, is infinitely superior to the pleasures to which it may lead. Could it become 'lasting and intense, it would convert the heart into a heaven. And he holds up as a model Fletcher of Saltoun, who would 'lose his life to serve his country, but would not do a base thing to save it.
If Fletcher of Saltoun is in the right about the influence of national songs, you would say France was come to a poor pass. But the thing will work its own cure, and a sound-hearted and courageous people weary at length of sniveling over their disasters. Already Paul Déroulède has written some manly military verses.
As was said of Fletcher of Saltoun, he was "a gentleman steady in his principles; of nice honor, abundance of learning; bold as a lion; a sure friend; a man who would lose his life to serve his country, and would not do a base thing to save it."
He was ed. under the care of Bishop Burnet, who was then minister of Saltoun. Being firmly opposed to the arbitrary measures of the Duke of York, afterwards James II., he went to Holland, where he joined Monmouth, whom he accompanied on his ill-starred expedition.
He was of the Saltoun family, and played a part in the civil wars of Spain during the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Major Fraser was known, in Paris, to the father of my Polish correspondent. No historical problem has proved more perplexing to Englishmen than the nature of the differences between the various Kirks in Scotland.
A century ago, a Scotch writer, Fletcher, of Saltoun, gives this account of the beggarly state of Scotland. "No magistrate could ever discover, or be informed, which way one in a hundred of these wretches died, or that they were ever baptized.
This motion produced a warm debate, in the course of which Fletcher of Saltoun expatiated upon the hardships and miseries which the Scots had sustained since the union of the two crowns under one sovereign, and the impossibility of bettering their condition, unless they should take care to anticipate any design that tended to a continuation of the same calamities.
In those long gone-by days brave old Lord Saltoun, the hero of Hougomont, resided during the fishing season in the mansion-house of Auchinroath, on the high ground at the mouth of the Glen of Rothes. One morning, some five-and-forty years ago, my father drove to breakfast with the old lord and took me with him.
His name sounds old, but I never heard of it before, as the man said of the Crucifixion. Why talk about his blue blood? His blood may be gamboge yellow with green spots, for all anybody knows. What did he make his money in? Oil? Army contracts?" "I don't know," said Saltoun, looking at him thoughtfully. "First thing I ever knew you didn't know," cried the exuberant Harry.
"Looks like a good chance to lose twenty-four hundred dollars," exclaimed Tom Loudon, wrathfully. "My Gawd, Tom," said Mr. Saltoun, cocking a grizzled eyebrow, "you don't mean to tell me you think they's any chance a-tall of Racey's winning this bet, do you?" "They's just about ten times more chance for him to win than to lose."
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