William Findlater (1784-1869)
It would appear, from a genealogical tree found among the papers of the late Robert Findlater, Inverness, that the Findlaters were not only Presbyterians, but also a clerical race, thus, Alexander Findlater was the first minister of Hamilton after the Revolution (1688), his son, Thomas, was minister of Linton; and he had three grandsons, the respective ministers of Cults, Peebles, and Newlands. Alexander, the minister of Cults, had a son, William, grandfather to the subject of this memoir. Willam’s son Robert settled, about the year 1780 merchant at Drumond, in the parish of Kiltearn, Easter Ross, where he had two sons, William and Robert, and one daughter, Isabella. William was born on 10th May 1784 and received his education at the parish school until he was ready to enter Edinburgh University. The domestic training which Mr Findlater received previous to entering college has already been described by himself, in a memoir of his brother Robert, published in 1840.
His conversion, and we believe that of many, if not most, of those similarly trained, more nearly resembled that of Timothy than that of Saul of Tarsus. In a letter to David Black, minister of Lady Yester’s, Edinburgh, he says:—
“The first impression I recollect to have had was about 8 years [at which time he would have been 11 years]. I thought I was much impressed during the service, I went home very penitent, and went immediately to pray. I continued a while, and I thought I took great delight in it; tears mingled with my broken sighs and sobs, but I do not think I was at this time convinced of the evil of sin, the corruption of my nature, or the necessity of an inward change to any great degree. In a few days it was forgotten. Shortly after this I went every Sabbath day with my father, mother, and a few others to hear sermon in a neighbouring parish, from Mr Calder, Urquhart.”
He then goes on to state how his father, observing his levity on one of those occasions, forbade his afterwards going with them for a year and a half. He also stopped the translating of a chapter from English into Gaelic, which he and Robert were accustomed to do alternately at family worship. He was much cast down by this severe sentence, and although his mother interceded for him, the stern old man would not change it without a confession of his fault. This he at last made before he left home for Edinburgh, as he could not bear the thought of going there unpardoned by his father. His father then prayed with him that the Lord would convince him of the nature and evil of his sin, and he was permitted once more to accompany his parents to church. In the same letter to Mr Black, he speaks of a ride he had with the Rev. Mr Stewart, Dingwall: “When I went home,” he says, “I was much impressed with what he had said, and seeking a convenient place and opportunity, poured out my soul before the Lord. I wept much that night, but it was not a sincere repentance, only a temporary conviction, arising chiefly from respect to Mr Stewart. His own recent change convinced me there was a reality in religion which I did not experience aright.” These things are recorded, and many such might be given, because they throw light on his subsequent preaching, to which they give, as it were, the key-note, for he was as jealous of a superficial profession of religion in others as in himself.
Mr Findlater was licensed by the Presbytery of Dingwall on 26th November 1806. From this date to May 1807 he preached in various distracts of Lochbroom, when the “Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge appointed him to the mission of Eriboll, Kinlochbervie and Melness, in the Presbytery of Tounge, by which Presbytery he was ordained, 7th April 1808. During the first six months of his residence in the Presbytery, he was the invited guest of Mrs M’cKay, widow of Major Donald M’cKay of Eriboll. While there, a visitor from a neighbouring parish being asked what he thought of the young minister, replied “Mr Findlater is a minister every day of the week.” Thus early did his consistent conduct attract attention.
The bounds of the mission assigned him were very extensive, as anyone may see by glancing at the map of Sutherlandshire; and as there were no roads in the district, and the climate during the winter is exceptionally wet and stormy, none but a man of very strong physique could have gone through the fatique of walking, each alternate week, from Eriboll to Kinlochbervie and back, and then from Eriboll to Melness, across the Moin and then with occasional excursions to Strathmore; yet, during the five years he held this appointment, there is scarcely a break in his list of fulfilled engagements.
The state of religion was at this time very prosperous within the bounds of the mission, so that we have heard him state that there was about twenty-four men at the monthly meeting at Cambus-in-dune whom he could call on to pray, or to state their Christian experience, if it happened to be a fellowship meeting. But this was not to last long, for a social change began about the year 1810, which swept as with a bosom over this district of the Reay Country. This was the introduction of sheep farming at a large scale, in order to accomplish which, in one district of the parish consisting of 517 inhabitants, almost the whole were turned off [the land] and emigrated to North America, selling their cattle to pay for their passage, a few went to Caithness, and those who could not afford to emigrate, were packed into small townships already inhabited. Bidding farewell to these godly emigrants was one of the most painful trials of Mr Findlater’s life; they found a home and plenty beyond the Atlantic, and became a salt in the midst of our Colonial possessions.
The Rev. John Thomson, minister of Durness, dying in 1811, Mr Findlater, through the recommendation of Lord Reay, was presented to the parish by the Crown, and inducted on 30th April 1812. His ministry there continued for the long period of fifty-two years. Mr Findlater had previously, on the 15th March 1810, married Mr Thomson’s fourth daughter, Mary. Of their family of eight, there now remains four daughters and one son. When he entered upon his new charge at Durness, the principal obstacle he had to contend with was the people’s inveterate love of dancing; and it required all his wisdom and firmness to put a check to these very frequent night revels. It is still told in the parish how two of his servant maids were helped down from a garret window on one of these occasions, and made off to the ball. This being discovered, George, the beadle, was dispatched for the girls. But the sound of the bagpipes was too much for George, who, on arriving at the house, threw off his greatcoat and joined in the reel, continuing to dance until the minister himself appeared and dismissed the assembly, no doubt administering a sharp rebuke to the trio from the manse. He used to say that Rob Don’s songs had just done the harm to Durness which those of Burns’ did to Ayrshire. At the same time no one formed a better estimate of the poet’s genius than he did.
Mr Findlater not only spoke, but wrote Gaelic correctly and fluently. He took great pains in teaching some grown-up people to read, making the Gospel of Luke in parallel columns of English and Gaelic his textbook. The class met on Sabbath evening, and it was interesting to notice old men and boys reading the same book, and sitting side by side.
Another source of usefulness was his power of letter-writing, in which he had few equals. Many years ago, when a parish in an adjoining County became vacant, the young man for whom it was intended not having completed his studies, the patron thought that a stepping stone for his young friend might be made of a venerable minister in Sutherlandshire, verging on ninety, if not beyond that age. In offering him the living, Mr ____ urged upon the old gentleman the good he might do yet by bringing his experience to bear upon that parish. The flattering bait took, and the good old man seemed for a while all on fire with youthful enthusiasm, so that his family feared that he might accept the living. Mr Findlater, hearing of this, wrote a letter to his aged friend, asking advice in regard to a painful case which had come to his knowledge, describing a gallant old soldier, who had been in many a battle, but was now so seduced by the charms and wiles of a young Delilah, that he was about to forsake the wife of his youth, the partner of a lifetime’s joys and sorrows. When this was read to the old man, who was now nearly blind, he made the reader pause, exclaiming, “Where is the rascal? send him to me immediately!” “Oh father” said his son “do you not see what Mr Findlater means?” In a moment the old text “Thou art the man” flashed upon him and no more was said about the presentation to ____.
On another occasion in 1846, there was a great dearth in the Highlands on the breaking out of the potato disease. A ball was proposed, the proceeds of which were to be given for the alleviation of the abounding distress. Mr Findlater, seeing the incongruity of such a proposal, wrote a long letter with some ten or twelve reasons against it, which he sent to the gentleman at the head of the movement. This made such an impression upon them, that though the preparations for the ball had well nigh been completed, they wisely and gracefully allowed the scheme to collapse.
There must always be a great measure of uniformity in the life of a country minister, and that of the minister of Durness was no exception to the general rule. There were one or two presbyteries to attend annually, at the expense of great bodily fatique, but the genial welcome at the manse of Tongue from the M’ckenzies, the business of the meeting, and the subsequent pleasant social intercourse, made up for all. He also enjoyed the meetings of Assembly, which, in going to and returning from Edinburgh, occupied a whole month of the year. Then the summer sacraments in various parishes had to be attended, while the winter months were occupied in catechetical visits throughout his parish.
During his lengthened ministry he married the three generations of one family the grandmother, mother, and daughter, and baptised the daughter’s child. He was much attached to his parish, which he used to call “bonnie Durness,” and expended several hundreds in trenching and fencing its glebe, which is a very large one; superintending this was his principal recreation, and so correct was his eye in regard to work, that it became a common saying among the people, when anything was badly done, “Cùiridh e suil a mhinistair,” that will hurt the minister’s eye.
About the year 1840-41, there occurred what were termed “the Durness riots.” These arose from an old evil, that of removing the people from one township and packing them into another already over-peopled, the consequence being that the officers of the law were interfered with in the execution of their disagreeable duty. A party of soldiers was ordered to be in readiness at Fort-George to back them; but owing to the representation which Mr Findlater made of the peoples cause to the Edinburgh authorities, a special Commissioner was sent to Durness, and the matter was amicably settled. So grateful were the people for their pastor’s interposition, that they gave a public dinner to himself and another gentleman who had also taken their side.
About the year 1823, the Presbytery of Tongue deposed the parish teacher of Durness for carelessness and incompetency, but he appealed to the Court of Session, and was reponed (and is still there). The expenses, amounting to £800, fell upon the four members of Presbytery. This, happening in his own parish, was deeply felt by Mr Findlater, but it was only a slight instalment of what he and his brethren were yet to receive at the hands of that court. Everyone now knows the history of the Disruption, and in no part of Scotland did it better deserve the name than in Sutherlandshire. Mr Findlater had not a single scruple from the beginning of the conflict as to the path of duty, and when the Disruption took place he was followed by almost all his congregation. He has himself described that sorrowful time as follows:—
It was a calm evening early in the month of July that we took our final departure from the manse. For several days the hurry and bustle always accompanying removal, the packing up of furniture, distributing small tokens of remembrance, provisions and articles of dress among the poor, who came from the neighbouring hamlets to bid farewell to my wife and children, occupied our time, and occasionally suppressed the feelings which the varied recollections of home called up, a home which to us would be one no more. Here my beloved wife herself drew her first breath, as well as her eight children. Her last resort was the churchyard, where she stood over her sons, one a babe of a few weeks, the other a promising youth of twenty years of age and the grave of her venerable father, for forty-seven years the minister of Durness. Some of the children were with a neighbouring family. After extinguishing the only fire, which was in the kitchen, putting the keys in the doors, leaving the rooms swept and emptied for the next incumbent, for a few minutes we retired — the one to the study, the other to the closet. Few words were spoken, and the outer door was locked.
We called our son and the young children who had gone to take a last look of the garden and its house; its walks had been for some time neglected, and the honeysuckle was spreading over them in sweet luxuriance; a few roses were plucked, but they soon faded and their fragrance passed away—not so the recollections of these scenes of early days. The lake, the wild flowers on its banks, the fields and green knolls where the lambs skipped joyously, and the high hills in the distance—all this is painted on memories, ‘scenes of their youth where every spot could please!’ On the first rising ground which was to conceal the manse from our view a momentary look was taken, our hearts were full; we were reminded that this was not our rest. The sunshine of many earthly joys had departed never to return .
We thought now of the children whom the Lord had given us, the two who had gone before and those still with us. The two young ones, walking on in front, were occasionally conversing in broken accents, unable at their tender age to account for our departure.
Upon our arrival at the inn, after a slight repast taken in silence, we united in offering up from heavy hearts the accustomed sacrifice of prayer and praise. Committing ourselves to the guardian care of the God of Jacob, who had encouraged us to cast all our cares on Him, who had hitherto cared for us, whose name is Jehovah-Jireh.
It was deemed expedient to divide our family; our eldest son taking his two sisters and the servants to Thurso by boat, while I accompanied my wife, who all along manifested much courage, and the youngest children, a day’s journey by land, and then returned to the inn where I have since resided.
Here, in my old parish, I feel pleasure in proclaiming to a poor yet patient people upon the hillside, or under a canvas tent, the glorious principles which have constrained so many of God’s dear servants to come out and be separate, to deny themselves, take up their cross and follow Christ, and to stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has made them free. Dated 1844.
During the year and half spent alone in the Durness inn he was very happy in mind, and went about as usual among his people. In 1845, when the Duke of Sutherland relented and gave sites, he was permitted to enjoy the society of his family again in the Free Church Manse, where he continued until advancing years and failing health constrained him to give up the charge which he had so long held to the Presbytery of Tongue.
There being no suitable house for his successor, he again left the manse and removed to Tain, where he lived “in his own hired house” until his death. It was there that, on a day when the Prince of Wales was expected to pass, and which happened to be the Fast Day, he was met on his way to church by one going in the opposite direction, who said, “What! Mr Findlater, are you not going to see the Prince of Wales?” “No,” the old man quietly answered, “I am going to meet a higher Prince.” His reverence for the Sabbath distinguished him through life, and towards the close, when his faculties became clouded, each day was a Sabbath day to him; nor had he to wait long before he awoke to realise the joys of the eternal rest.
He quietly breathed his last on the morning of the 29th July 1869, in the eighty-fifth year of his age, and fifty-seventh of his ministry. After having lived so long within the roar of the billows of Cape Wrath, he now lies in the same grave with his father and mother and his beloved Mary, in the quiet churchyard of Kiltearn, beside the calm ripple of the Cromarty Firth.
Eric J Findlater.
In: Highland Disruption Worthies, Edinburgh, 1877.
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REV. WILLIAM FINDLATER, DURNESS
From: The Free Church of Scotland Monthly Record of September 1869, p.206
Mr. Findlater of Durness, the oldest but one among the Pre-Disruption ministers, died at Tain on the 29th of June last, in the eighty-sixth year of his age and the sixty-first of his ministry. His father, Robert Findlater was known in the North Highlands as a man of eminent piety and gifts; and whilst there were at that time in Easter Ross very many Christians of high attainment, he was universally regarded as being second to none of them1. William Findlater was born at Kiltearn, on the 10th of May 1784. Under the training of his godly parents, and under the preaching of Charles Calder of Ferrintosh—on whose ministry the family attended— he was early in life brought to know the truth. With their father’s full consent, he and his brother Robert, whose ministry was so owned on Lochtayside, devoted themselves to the work of the ministry. William Findlater, having studied in Edinburgh, was in November 1800 licensed by the Presbytery of Dingwall.
In those days of absolute patronage, the missions of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge were an opening for godly preachers knowing the Gaelic language; and the Society having in appointed Mr Findlater to the mission of Eriboll, in Sutherlandshire. He was in 1808 ordained by the Presbytery of Tongue; and in 1812, on the death of the parish minister, Mr. Thomson, whose daughter he had married, he was settled as minister of the parish of Durness.
Though one of the most modest and unassuming of men, he very soon took a high position as a minister of Christ. Deeply godly, thoroughly educated and full of the old Reformation theology, ministers and people soon felt that they had among them a servant of God whom they could not but esteem and love. Partly from natural temperament, but mainly from the circumstance that he instinctively shrank from all that was artificial and put on, he had none of the noisy eloquence for which some other ministers were remarkable; but his clear declaration of the gospel of peace, his deep personal experience of the power of the truth, and the skill and tenderness which he showed in dealing with the conscience, made his preaching very instructive and very savoury to deeply-exercised Christians. Then to educated men his English sermons, from their simple, beautiful style, and the flashes of genius which at times came out, were intensely interesting. He was a retiring man, but those who knew him well had great pleasure in his society. His humble piety, his stores of information, and his cheerfulness, and at times his quiet playfulness and wit, made him a most genial and delightful companion.
He continued to be parish minister of Durness till 1843, when he left his living and joined the Free Church. It so happened that during the week of the Disruption the writer of this notice occupied the same lodgings with him in Edinburgh; and he can never forget the impression made on him by what he saw in Mr. Findlater. On the morning of the 18th of May his view of the path of duty was clear and unclouded; and though he was then sixty years old, and had a numerous family, it was not merely that he was submissive, he was cheerful, and even joyful, in laying down his all on the altar of principle.
He continued to labour in Durness as minister of the Free Church till 1865; and when no longer able to visit his people, he from time to time prepared Gaelic addresses, and got them printed and circulated in the parish. In 1865 he felt that his work was done; and, a colleague and successor being appointed, he removed to Tain, in Ross-shire. To the last his religion sustained him. Owing to old age, his memory had to a great extent failed as to ordinary matters; but when he prayed at family worship, it was felt that there was no change then—that his prayers were as full and fresh as ever. On Friday, the 2nd of July, he was buried in his father’s grave, in the churchyard of Kiltearn — the church of old Thomas Hogg — there to wait for a blessed resurrection..
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Foonote
1. The biographical sketch of his father, Robert Findlater, can be found here: https://www.shrbt.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/Mr-Robert-Findlater-Drummond.pdf