I have an anecdote from a descendant of Principal Robertson, of an address made to him, which showed the real importance attached to all that concerned the system of drinking in his time.  The Principal had been invited to spend some days in a country-house, and the minister of the parish (a jovial character) had been asked to meet him.  Before dinner he went up to Dr. Robertson and addressed him confidentially—­“Doctor, I understand ye are a brother of my gude freend Peter Robertson of Edinburgh, therefore I’ll gie you a piece of advice,—­Bend[30] weel to the Madeira at dinner, for here ye’ll get little o’t after.”  I have known persons who held that a man who could not drink must have a degree of feebleness and imbecility of character.  But as this is an important point, I will adduce the higher authority of Lord Cockburn, and quote from him two examples, very different certainly in their nature, but both bearing upon the question.  I refer to what he says of Lord Hermand:—­“With Hermand drinking was a virtue; he had a sincere respect for drinking, indeed a high moral approbation, and a serious compassion for the poor wretches who could not indulge in it, and with due contempt of those who could but did not;” and, secondly, I refer to Lord Cockburn’s pages for an anecdote which illustrates the perverted feeling I refer to, now happily no longer existing.  It relates the opinion expressed by an old drunken writer of Selkirk (whose name is not mentioned) regarding his anticipation of professional success for Mr. Cranstoun, afterwards Lord Corehouse.  Sir Walter Scott, William Erskine, and Cranstoun, had dined with this Selkirk writer, and Scott—­of hardy, strong, and healthy frame—­had matched the writer himself in the matter of whisky punch.  Poor Cranstoun, of refined and delicate mental and bodily temperament, was a bad hand at such work, and was soon off the field.  On the party breaking up, the Selkirk writer expressed his admiration of Scott, assuring him that he would rise high in the profession, and adding:  “I’ll tell ye what, Maister Walter, that lad Cranstoun may get to the tap o’ the bar, if he can; but tak my word for’t, it’s no be by drinking.”

There was a sort of dogged tone of apology for excess in drinking, which marked the hold which the practice had gained on ordinary minds.  Of this we have a remarkable example in the unwilling testimony of a witness who was examined as to the fact of drunkenness being charged against a minister.  The person examined was beadle, or one of the church officials.  He was asked, “Did you ever see the minister the worse of drink?” “I canna say I’ve seen him the waur o’ drink, but nae doubt I’ve seen him the better o’t,” was the evasive answer.  The question, however, was pushed further; and when he was urged to say if this state of being “the better for drink” ever extended to a condition of absolute helpless intoxication, the reply was:  “Indeed, afore that cam’, I was blind fou mysel’, and I could see nae thing.”