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It was while watching a trailer for a television programme about what people did in their sleep that I remembered it - a story that I had heard while I was serving my naval apprenticeship in Rosyth. It was Christmas Eve. My division had drawn a short straw and was one of the divisions that had to stay over Christmas while the other half of the establishment went on leave. On Christmas Day and Boxing Day we would work Sunday routine, but Christmas Eve was supposed to be a day of normal routine. Some hope. Nobody felt like work, least of all the civilian instructors, and groups of people collected together just to pass the time of day. One of the instructors recited a monologue entitled 'The four fortyfour for Forfar', (and that is all I can remember of it, though it was entertaining at the time). And then another instructor told a story about a famous Scottish lawyer by the name of Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, of whom I had never heard. But as he lived in the time of Charles II perhaps I might be excused. The story goes like this. One day, while Sir George was at Rosehaugh, a poor widow from a neighbouring estate called to consult him because she was being threatened with eviction from her small croft which she rented, although the lease had still some time to run. He examined the lease, and told her that it contained a flaw which meant that, if the case came to court, it was unlikely that she would win, and that he thought her best plan was to give in. This upset the poor woman, and, seeing her distress, he asked her to call upon him the next day when he would consider her case more carefully. That night, his clerk, who always slept in the same room as his Lordship, was surprised when, about midnight, Sir George rose from his bed still fast asleep, lit a candle which stood on his table, sat down on his chair, and start scribbling away, just as if he had been wide awake. The clerk watched him, and, when he had finished, saw him place what he had written in his private desk, then lock it, extinguish the candle, and get back into bed. Next morning, at breakfast, Sir George remarked that he had had a very strange dream about the poor widow's affair in which he had made a clear case in her favour. His clerk got up from the table and asked Sir George for the key of his desk. Having unlocked the desk he picked up the pages of manuscript, and as he handed them to Sir George, inquired, "Is this like your dream?" On looking over it for a few seconds, Sir George said, "Dear me, this is my very dream!" He was quite surprised when his clerk informed him how he had behaved in the night, and when the widow arrived, he told her what to do in order to remain in her croft. The widow was successful in the court action, and, with her young family, was allowed to stay in their home. Then he told a second story more fitting to the season of the year - a ghost story, yet one that is supposed to be true. It concerned the same man, Sir George Mackenzie. His main home was in Edinburgh, and he usually took a walk before dining, his favourite route being along Leith Walk, in those days a quiet road extending off the east end of Princes Street, not the bustling thoroughfare it is today. One day, while exercising in this way, he was accosted by a grey-headed old gentleman who, without either an introduction or an apology, told him that there was to be a very important case in London in the near future, at which his presence would be required. It was a case of the heirship of a very extensive estate in the neighbourhood of London in which a pretended claimant was trying to disinherit the real heir on the ground of his inability to produce proper titles. He was also told that in one of the attics of the mansion-house on the estate there was an old oak chest with two bottoms, and in this secret compartment was a parchment with the necessary information. At this point the old man disappeared, leaving Sir George quite bewildered, but as he continued his walk he soon recovered and thought nothing more of the matter. But, the next day, he was again met in the same place by the old gentleman, who urged him to go to London without delay, and assured him that he would be handsomely compensated for his trouble. Again Sir George didn't take much notice, but, on the third day he was met by the same old gentleman who pleaded with him to go straight away to London, otherwise the case would be lost. Three times in three days this old man had appeared with the same story, which made Sir George wonder if there might be something in it, so the following morning he set off on horseback, and arrived in London on the morning of the day before the case was to come to court. A few hours later saw him in front of the mansion-house described by the old man. There he met two gentlemen engaged in earnest conversation - one the heir to the property and the other a celebrated London barrister - to whom he immediately introduced himself as the principal law officer of the Crown for Scotland. The barrister no doubt thought that Sir George had come to take over the case and spoke to him in a surly and disrespectful manner of Scotland in general and Scottish lawyers in particular. This disagreeable dialogue was put to an end by the other gentleman taking Sir George into the house. After sitting and conversing for a few minutes, Sir George asked to be shown over the house. He was fascinated by the portraits in the drawing room, and there was one which attracted his attention. After a close look at it he asked who the gentleman was. When the young man told him that it was a portrait of his grandfather, Sir George was surprised, because this was the same man who had accosted him three times in Leith Walk. Sir George then enquired if there were any attics, and was taken to the top of the house. In one of the attic rooms there was a large mass of old papers, which they looked through without finding anything to assist in the forthcoming court case. Then, just as they were about to give up their search, Sir George noticed an old trunk lying in a corner. He was told that it had been there for many years, and that it was empty. Sir George went over to the old moth-eaten trunk and gave it a hearty kick as if to relieve his feelings about the barrister, who was still outside. The kick splintered the trunk, and among the pieces they found the original titles to the property. The next day Sir George entered the court just as the case was about to be called, and after the pretended claimant's counsel opening remarks, produced the titles to the estate, which all at once decided the case in favour of the young man. Sir George returned to Edinburgh straight away, well paid for his trouble; but never again, while on his favourite walk, did he encounter the old grey-headed gentleman. Bill Hutchings |
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