un by deceiving himself.
His faith to his own schemes was strong even to martyrdom; and the
eloquence with which he illustrated and defended them had all the charm
of sincerity and of enthusiasm. Very seldom has any blunder committed
by fools, or any villany devised by impostors, brought on any society
miseries so great as the dreams of these two friends, both of them men
of integrity and both of them men of parts, were destined to bring on
Scotland.

In 1695 the pair went down together to their native country. The
Parliament of that country was then about to meet under the presidency
of Tweeddale, an old acquaintance and country neighbour of Fletcher.
On Tweeddale the first attack was made. He was a shrewd, cautious, old
politician. Yet it should seem that he was not able to hold out against
the skill and energy of the assailants. Perhaps, however, he was
not altogether a dupe. The public mind was at that moment violently
agitated. Men of all parties were clamouring for an inquiry into the
slaughter of Glencoe. There was reason to fear that the session which
was about to commence would be stormy. In such circumstances the Lord
High Commissioner might think that it would be prudent to appease the
anger of the Estates by offering an almost irresistible bait to their
cupidity. If such was the policy of Tweeddale, it was, for the
moment, eminently successful. The Parliament, which met burning with
indignation, was soothed into good humour. The blood of the murdered
Macdonalds continued to cry for vengeance in vain. The schemes of
Paterson, brought forward under the patronage of the ministers of the
Crown, were sanctioned by the unanimous voice of the Legislature.

The great projector was the idol of the whole nation. Men spoke to
him with more profound respect than to the Lord High Commissioner. His
antechamber was crowded with solicitors desirous to catch some drops of
that golden shower of which he was supposed to be the dispenser. To be
seen walking with him in the High Street, to be honoured by him with a
private interview of a quarter of an hour, were enviable distinctions.
He, after the fashion of all the false prophets who have deluded
themselves and others, drew new faith in his own lie from the credulity
of his disciples. His countenance, his voice, his gestures, indicated
boundless self-importance. When he appeared in public he looked,--such
is the language of one who probably had often seen him,--like Atlas
co