"I told her that I had every thing in readiness, and that I trusted she would not refuse to accompany me, that my lord might pass for her. I pressed her to come immediately, as we had no time to lose." This sudden announcement, which a less sagacious mind might have deemed injudicious, had the effect which Lady Nithisdale expected; the undertaking was one of such risk, that it could only be an enterprise of impulse, except to her whose affections were deeply interested in the result. The consent of Mrs. Mills was carried by storm, as well as that of another coadjutor, a Mrs. Morgan, who usually bore the name of Hilton, to whom Lady Nithisdale dispatched a messenger, begging her to come immediately. "Their surprise and astonishment," remarks Lady Nithisdale, speaking of these, her two confidantes, "made them consent, without ever thinking of the consequences." The scheme was, that Mrs. Mills, who was tall and portly, should pass for Lord Nithisdale; Mrs. Morgan was to carry concealed the bundle of "clothes that were to serve Mrs. Mills when she left her own behind her." After certain other preparations, all managed with infinite dexterity and shrewdness, these three heroines set out in a coach for the Tower, into which they were to be admitted, under the plea of taking a last leave of Lord Nithisdale. Lady Nithisdale, even whilst her heart throbbed with agitation, continued to support her spirits. "When we were in the coach;" she relates, "I never ceased talking, that they her companions might have no leisure to repent.
"On our arrival at the Tower, the first I introduced was Mrs. Morgan (for I was only allowed to take in one at a time). She brought in the clothes which were to serve Mrs. Mills when she left her own behind her. When Mrs. Morgan had taken off what she had brought for my purpose, I conducted her back to the staircase; and in going I begged her to send my maid to dress me, that I was afraid of being too late to present my last petition that night if she did not come immediately. I dispatched her safe, and went partly down stairs to meet Mrs. Mills, who had the precaution to hold her handkerchief to her face, as is natural for a woman to do when she is going to take her last farewell of a friend on the eve of his execution. I had indeed desired her to do so, that my lord might go out in the same manner. Her eyebrows were rather inclined to be sandy, and my lord's were very dark and very thick. However, I had prepared some paint of the colour of hers, to disguise his with; I also brought an artificial head-dress of the same coloured hair as hers, and I painted his face and his cheeks with rouge to hide his long beard, which he had not had time to shave.
"All this provision I had before left in the Tower. The poor guards, whom my slight liberality the day before had endeared me to, let me go quietly out with my company, and were not so strictly on the watch as they usually had been; and the more so, as they were persuaded, from what I had told them the day before, that the prisoners would obtain their pardon. I made Mrs. Mills take off her own hood, and put on that which I had brought for her. I then took her by the hand and led her out of my lord's chamber; and in passing through the next room, in which were several people, with all the concern imaginable I said, 'My dear Mrs. Catherine, go in all haste, and send me my waiting-maid; she certainly cannot reflect how late it is. I am to present my petition to-night, and if I let slip this opportunity I am undone, for to-morrow is too late. Hasten her as much as possible, for I shall be on thorns till she comes.' Everybody in the room, who were chiefly the guards' wives and daughters, seemed to compassionate me exceedingly, and the sentinel officiously opened me the door. When I had seen her safe out, I returned to my lord and finished dressing him. I had taken care that Mrs. Mills did not go out crying, as she came in, that my lord might better pass for the lady who came in crying and afflicted; and the more so, as he had the same dress that she wore. When I had almost finished dressing my lord in all my petticoats except one, I perceived it was growing dark, and was afraid that the light of the candles might betray us, so I resolved to set off. I went out leading him by the hand, whilst he held his handkerchief to his eyes. I spoke to him in the most piteous and afflicted tone, bewailing bitterly the negligence of Evans, who had ruined me by her delay. Then I said, 'My dear Mrs. Betty, for the love of God, run quickly and bring her with you; you know my lodging, and if you ever made dispatch in your life, do it at present: I am almost distracted with this disappointment.' The guards opened the door, and I went down stairs with him, still conjuring him to make all possible dispatch. As soon as he had cleared the door I made him walk before me, for fear the sentinel should take notice of his walk, but I continued to press him to make all the dispatch he possibly could. At the bottom of the stairs I met my dear Evans, into whose hands I confided him. I had before engaged Mr. Mills to be in readiness before the Tower to conduct him to some place of safety, in case we succeeded. He looked upon the affair as so very improbable to succeed, that his astonishment, when he saw us, threw him into such a consternation that he was almost out of himself; which Evans perceiving, with the greatest presence of mind, without telling him anything, lest he should mistrust them, conducted him to some of her own friends on whom she could rely, and so secured him, without which we certainly should have been undone. When she had conducted him and left him with them, she returned to Mr. Mills, who had by this time recovered himself from his astonishment. They went home together; and having found a place of security, they conducted him to it. In the mean time, as I had pretended to have sent the young lady on a message, I was obliged to return up stairs and go back to my lord's room in the same feigned anxiety of being too late, so that everybody seemed sincerely to sympathise in my distress. When I was in the room, I talked as if he had been really present. I answered my own questions in my lord's voice, as nearly as I could imitate it. I walked up and down as if we were conversing together, till I thought they had time enough thoroughly to clear themselves of the guards. I then thought proper to make off also. I opened the door and stood half in it, that those in the outward chamber might hear what I said, but held it so close that they could not look in. I bade my lord formal farewell for the night, and added, that something more than usual must have happened to make Evans negligent on this important occasion, who had always been so punctual in the smallest trifles, that I saw no other remedy than to go in person. That if the Tower was then open, when I had finished my business, I would return that night; but that he might be assured I would be with him as early in the morning as I could gain admittance into the Tower, and I flattered myself I should bring more favourable news. Then, before I shut the door, I pulled through the string of the latch, so that it could only be opened in the inside.
"I then shut it with some degree of force, that I might be sure of its being well shut. I said to the servant as I passed by (who was ignorant of the whole transaction), that he need not carry in candles to his master till my lord sent for them, as he desired to finish some prayers first."[31]
Thus ended this singular, successful, and heroic scheme. It was now necessary that the devoted Lady Nithisdale should secure her own safety.
She had, it seems, been bent upon proffering a last petition to King George, in case her attempt had failed. She drove home to her lodgings, where a friend, named Mackenzie, waited to take her petition. "There is no need of a petition," were the words that broke from the agitated woman; "my lord is safe, and out of the Tower, and out of the hands of his enemies, though I know not where he is." Lady Nithisdale then discharged the coach which had brought her to her lodgings, a precaution which she always observed for fear of being traced,—never going in the same vehicle to more than one place. She sent for a chair, and went to the Duchess of Buccleugh, who had promised to present her petition, having taken her precaution against all events. The Duchess expected her, but had company with her; and Lady Nithisdale barely escaped being shown into the room where her friend was with her company. She, however, excused herself, and, sending a message to her Grace, proceeded to the residence of the Duchess of Montrose. "This lady had ever," said Lady Nithisdale, "borne a part in my distresses;" she now left her company to see and console the wife of the rebel lord, of whom, she conjectured, Lady Nithisdale must have taken, that night, a last farewell. As the two friends met, the Duchess, to her astonishment, found her visitor in a transport of joy; "she was extremely shocked and frightened," writes Lady Nithisdale; "and has since confessed to me that she thought my troubles had driven me out of myself." She cautioned Lady Nithisdale to secrecy, and even to flight; for the King had been extremely irritated by the petition already sent in by Lady Nithisdale. The generous Duchess was, among those who frequented the Court, the only person that knew Lady Nithisdale's secret. After a brief interview, Lady Nithisdale, sending for a fresh chair, hurried away to a house which her faithful attendant Evans had found for her, and where she was to learn tidings of Lord Nithisdale. Here she learned that Lord Nithisdale had been removed from the lodging to which he had at first been conducted, to the mean abode of a poor woman just opposite the guard-house. Here the former Lord of Carlaverock and of Nithisdale met his wife. Lady Nithisdale hurries over the meeting, but her simple account has its own powers of description.
The good woman of the house had, it seems, but one small room up a pair of stairs, and a very small bed in it. "We threw ourselves on the bed that we might not be heard walking up and down. She left us a bottle of wine and some bread, and Mrs. Mills brought us some more in her pockets the next day. We subsisted on this provision from Thursday till Saturday night, when Mr. Mills came and conducted my lord to the Venetian Ambassador's. We did not communicate the affair to his Excellency, but one of the servants concealed him in his own room till Wednesday, on which day the Ambassador's coach-and-six was to go down to Dover to meet his brother. My lord put on a livery, and went down in the retinue, without the least suspicion, to Dover; where Mr. Michel (which was the name of the Ambassador's servant) hired a small vessel, and immediately set sail for Calais. The passage was so remarkably short, that the captain threw out this reflection,—that the wind could not have served better if the passengers had been flying for their lives, little thinking it to be really the case.
"Mr. Michel might have easily returned without suspicion of being concerned in my lord's escape; but my lord seemed inclined to have him with him, which he did, and he has at present a good place under our young master. This is an exact and as full an account of this affair, and of the persons concerned in it, as I could possibly give you, to the best of my memory, and you may rely upon the truth of it. For my part, I absconded to the house of a very honest man in Drury Lane, where I remained till I was assured of my lord's safe arrival on the Continent. I then wrote to the Duchess of Buccleugh (everybody thought till then that I was gone off with my lord) to tell her that I understood I was suspected of having contrived my lord's escape, as was very natural to suppose; that if I could have been happy enough to have done it, I should be flattered to have the merit of it attributed to me; but that a bare suspicion without proof, would never be a sufficient ground for my being punished for a supposed offence, though it might be motive sufficient for me to provide a place of security; so I entreated her to procure leave for me to go about my business. So far from granting my request, they were resolved to secure me if possible. After several debates, Mr. Solicitor-General, who was an utter stranger to me, had the humanity to say, that since I showed such respect to Government as not to appear in public, it would be cruel to make any search after me. Upon which it was resolved that no further search should be made if I remained concealed; but that if I appeared either in England or Scotland, I should be secured. But this was not sufficient for me, unless I could submit to see my son exposed to beggary. My lord sent for me up to town in such haste, that I had not time to settle anything before I left Scotland. I had in my hand all the family papers, and I dared trust them to nobody: my house might have been searched without warning, consequently they were far from being secure there. In this distress, I had the precaution to bury them in the ground, and nobody but myself and the gardener knew where they were. I did the same with other things of value. The event proved that I had acted prudently; for after my departure they searched the house, and God only knows what might have transpired from those papers! All these circumstances rendered my presence absolutely necessary, otherwise they might have been lost; for though they retained the highest preservation after one very severe winter, (for when I took them up they were as dry as if they came from the fire-side,) yet they could not possibly have remained so much longer without prejudice."
Lord Nithisdale went to Rome, and never revisited his native country; indeed, the project of the Rebellion of 1745, and the unceasing efforts and hopes by which it was preceded on the part of the Jacobites, must have rendered such a step impracticable to one who seems to have been especially obnoxious to the house of Hanover.
His escape, according to Lady Nithisdale, both infuriated and alarmed George the First, "who flew into an excessive passion," as she expresses it, on the news transpiring; and exclaimed that he was betrayed, and that it could not have been done without a confederacy. He instantly dispatched messengers to the Tower, to give orders that the prisoners who were still there, might be the more effectually secured. He never forgave Lady Nithisdale; and the effects of his powerful resentment were such, as eventually to drive her for ever from England.
Inexperienced, young, a stranger in the vast metropolis, Lady Nithisdale was now left alone, to skulk from place to place that she might avoid the effects of the royal displeasure. She absconded to the house of an "honest man" in Drury Lane, where she remained in concealment until she heard of her husband's safe arrival on the Continent. A report, meantime, prevailed of her having been the means of Lord Nithisdale's escape; and it was generally believed that she had gone with him. To the surprise of the Duchess of Buccleugh, Lady Nithisdale one day appeared before her, the object of that sudden and perhaps undesired visit being to obtain, by the influence of the Duchess, leave to quit London; and to disseminate, through her Grace, a belief that the safety of Lord Nithisdale was not procured by his wife's means. It must have been one of the most aggravating circumstances to that noble and affectionate being, to have employed so much artifice in the conduct of this affair; but, if ever artifice be allowable, it is when opposed as a weapon to tyranny. Besides, Lady Nithisdale had now not only her own safety to consider; she had to protect the interests of her son.
Those whom she had mortally offended were eager to punish her courage by imprisonment.
The Solicitor-General, however, showed a more compassionate spirit than his employers, and in the course of several debates in the House of Commons, submitted that if Lady Nithisdale paid so much respect to Government as not to appear in public, it would be cruel to make any farther search after her. It was therefore decided that unless the lady were seen in England or Scotland, she should be unmolested; but if she were observed in either of those countries, she should be secured. This might be a decision of mercy, but Lady Nithisdale could not submit to it, unless she left her son's estate to be ruined by waste and plunder. Hurried as she had been to London, she had found time only to make one arrangement, which proved to be of the utmost importance.
"I had in my hands," she relates, "all the family papers, and dared trust them to nobody. My house might have been searched without warning, consequently they were far from being secure there. In this distress I had the precaution to bury them in the ground, and nobody but myself and the gardener knew where they were: I did the same with other things of value. The event proved that I had acted prudently to save these papers."
Lady Nithisdale determined to return, at all risks, to Scotland; and it was, perhaps, from her care in concealing the important documents to which she refers, that the estates were not escheated. She soon put into execution the heroic determination, of which she made no boast. Her journey was full of perils; not only those incident to the time and season of the year, but the great risk of being betrayed and discovered. Little respect was paid, in that reign, when truly the spirit of chivalry was extinguished, to the weaker sex. Ladies, active and instrumental as they were in political intrigues, if found out, were made to pay the penalty of their dissaffection with hard imprisonment; or, if at large, wandered from place to place, conscious that the eye of the law pursued their footsteps. Lady Seaforth, the wife of one of the rebel lords, was reduced to necessity, even of the common necessaries of life; and Lady Widdrington and her children shared the same cruel privations.[32]
Believing herself, also, to be an object of peculiar dislike to George the First, Lady Nithisdale's courage in braving the royal displeasure a second time, certainly appears to border upon folly and a rash temerity. But she knew well that if she could once reach the land of the Maxwells, the strict respect paid to the head of the clan, and the remarkable fidelity of all ranks of the Scotch to those who trust to their honour, would there prove her safeguard. The great danger was in making the journey. But the young heroic Countess dismissed all fear from her mind, and prepared for her enterprise.
"In short," she thus prefaces her narrative, "as I had once exposed my life for the safety of the father, I could not do less than hazard it once more for the fortune of the son. I had never travelled on horseback but from York to London, as I told you; but the difficulties did not arise now from the severity of the season, but the fear of being discovered and arrested. To avoid this, I bought three saddle-horses, and set off with my dear Evans and a very trusty servant, whom I brought with me out of Scotland. We put up at all the smallest inns on the road, that could take in a few horses, and where I thought I was not known; for I was thoroughly known at all the considerable inns on the northern road. Thus I arrived safe at Traquhair, where I thought myself secure, for the lieutenant of the county being a friend of my lord's, would not permit any search to be made after me without sending me previous notice to abscond. Here I had the assurance to rest myself two whole days, pretending that I was going to my own house with leave from Government. I sent no notice to my house, that the magistrates of Dumfries might not make too narrow enquiries about me. So they were ignorant of my arrival in the country till I was at home, where I still feigned to have permission to remain. To carry on the deceit the better, I sent to all my neighbours and invited them to come to my house. I took up my papers at night and sent them off to Traquhair. It was a particular stroke of providence that I made the dispatch I did, for they soon suspected me, and by a very favourable accident, one of them was overheard to say to the magistrates of Dumfries, that the next day they would insist on seeing my leave from Government. This was bruited about, and when I was told of it, I expressed my surprise that they should be so backward in coming to pay their respects; 'but,' said I, 'better late than never: be sure to tell them that they shall be welcome whenever they choose to come.'
"This was after dinner, but I lost no time to put everything in readiness with all possible secrecy; and the next morning before day-break, I set off again for London with the same attendants, and, as before, put up at the smallest inns and arrived safe once more."[33]
The report of her journey into Scotland had preceded Lady Nithisdale's return to London; and, if we may credit her assertions, which are stated with so much candour as to impart a certain conviction of their truthfulness, their King was irritated beyond measure at the intelligence. Orders were immediately issued for her arrest; and the Monarch protested that Lady Nithisdale did whatever she pleased in spite of him; that she had given him more trouble than any other woman in Europe. Again driven into obscurity, Lady Nithisdale took the opinion of a very celebrated lawyer, whose name she does not specify, and, upon his opinion, determined to retire to the Continent. The reasons which her legal adviser assigned for this counsel was, that although, in other circumstances, a wife cannot be prosecuted for saving her husband, yet in cases of high treason, according to the rigour of the law, the head of a wife is responsible for that of a husband. Since the King was so incensed against Lady Nithisdale there could be no answering for the consequences, and he therefore earnestly besought her to leave the kingdom.
Lady Nithisdale, conscious of the wisdom of this recommendation, and wearied, perhaps, of a life of apprehension, determined to adopt the plan recommended.
It is evident that she joined Lord Nithisdale at Rome, whither he had retired; for the statement which she has left concludes in a manner which shows that the devoted and heroic wife had been enabled to rejoin the husband for whom she had encountered so much anxiety, contumely, and peril. Her son, it appears, also accompanied her, from her reference to "our young Master," meaning the Master of Nithisdale; since, when she wrote, the Prince Charles Edward could not be endowed with that appellation, his father being then alive. Her narrative is thus concluded:[34]—
"This is the full narrative of what you desired, and of all the transactions which passed relative to this affair. Nobody besides yourself could have obtained it from me; but the obligations I owe you, throw me under the necessity of refusing you nothing that is in my power to do. As this is for yourself alone, your indulgence will excuse all the faults which must occur in this long recital. The truth you may, however, depend upon; attend to that and overlook all deficiencies. My lord desires you to be assured of his sincere friendship. I am, with the strongest attachment, my dear sister, yours most affectionately,
"Winifred Nithisdale."
Little is known of the Earl of Nithisdale after his escape to Rome, where he died in 1744. He thus lived through a period of comparative quiet, till his native country was again on the eve of being embroiled in a civil war, more replete with danger, sullied by greater crimes, and more disastrous to his native country, than the short-lived struggle of 1715. An exile from his Scottish possessions, Lord Nithisdale possibly implanted in the mind of his own son that yearning to establish the rights of the Stuarts which appears not to have been eradicated from the hearts of the Scottish Jacobites until their beloved and royal race had become lineally extinct.
The descendants of William, Earl of Nithisdale, have never been able to ascertain where his Lordship is buried. His noble and admirable wife died at Rome, as well as her husband; but her remains were brought to this country, and they are deposited at Arundel Castle.
John Maxwell, who assumed the title of Earl of Nithisdale, appears to have remained absent from Scotland until the troubles of 1745 began. It was probably on the death of his father in 1744, that he returned to take possession of the family estates,—that this, the representative of the family of Maxwell, ventured to appear in Dumfriesshire.
The following correspondence which passed between the Earl of Nithisdale, popularly so called, and his friend, Mr. Craik, of Arbigland[35] in Dumfriesshire, is a curious commentary upon the motives and reasons which actuated the minds of the Jacobites in the second attempt to re-establish the Stuart family. The first letter from Mr. Craik is dated October the thirteenth, 1745, when Edinburgh Castle was blockaded by Charles Edward, who was publishing his manifestoes from the saloons of Holyrood House. The answer from Lord Nithisdale is written in reply to one of remonstrance addressed to him by his friend. There is no date, but it is obviously written at Edinburgh.
The remonstrances from Mr. Craik were instantly dispatched, to avert, if possible, any decided step on the part of Lord Nithisdale. The arguments which it contains shew the friendly intention of the earnest writer. Lord Nithisdale had, in his former letter, challenged his friend to assign his reasons for dissuading him from the enterprise.
"My waiting for a safe hand to convey this to you has prevented my answering yours of the thirteenth sooner. It must give me great pleasure that you have not determined to engage in the present enterprize, which from several apparent symptoms I had reason to apprehend; and if you stick by your promise of doeing nothing rashly (fitt only for desperados indeed!) in a matter of such moment, I shall be sett at ease from the anxiety I felt on your account.
"In mine which gave occasion to yours, I really had no intention to enter into the merits of the cause: all I meant was, to make experiment how far my interest with you could prevail to keep you undetermined till meeting, when I might promise myself more success in reasoning upon the subject, than while you remained in town, where the spirit of the place, the people you converse with, the things you hear and see, all unite to inflame your passions and confound your understanding. But since it has, beyond my intention, engaged you to explain your sentiments at large, and to call upon you to give my opinion, and since I suppose your arguments contain all that can be said by those of the party who would be thought to judge coolly and act reasonably at this juncture, I shall, with the freedom and openness of a friend, consider them as they lye before me in yours; and if I am forced to exceed the limits of a letter, you may blame yourself, who drew me in. You tell me you are ready to believe; I agree in opinion with you, that as matters are come to this length, it's now greatly to the interest of Scotland to wish success to the undertaking, and that nothing but the improbability of success should hinder every Scotsman to join in it. This tho' a verrie material point, you take for granted without assigning a single reason; but as I know it is one of their delusive arguments, now much in use where you are, and the chief engine of the party to seduce well-meaning men to concur in the ruin of the constitution and their country, I shall give you what I apprehend you must mean by it in the most favourable light it will bear; and then from an impartial stating of the fact as it truely stands, leave yourself to judge how far an honest man, a wise one, and a lover of his country, can justify either to himself or the worlde, his being of this opinion. The meaning of your argument I take to be this: that by the unaccountable success of the enterprize and the tame submission of the people in general, if the scheme misgive all Scotland becomes involved in the guilt, and may expect the outmost severitys this Government and the people of England can afflict them with; but on the other hand, should the undertaking be crowned with success, as Scotesmen have the merit of it, they must become the peculiar favourites of the family they have raised to the throne, and reap all the advantages they can promise themselves from a grateful and generous prince. I hope I have done justice to your argument, allow me allso to do justice to facts and truth.
"The people of Great Britain having found, from repeated experiments, how precarious their libertys were in the hands of the princes who founded their title to govern them in hereditary right,—that however absurd the pretence was in itself, no example could make them forego a claim which so much flattered their ambition, and upon which only, with any shew of reason, arbitrary power and tyranny can be built at last,—determined to secure (as far as human prudence can) the possession of that inestimable blessing to themselves and posterity by fixing the royal power in a family whose only title should be the free choice of the people, and who, should they attempt, would be restrained from inslaving those they governed, and would not only act most absurdly, but might reckon upon having the same voice of the people against them.
"The maxims by which our hereditary princes conducted themselves, were sufficiently felt to the sad experience of our forefathers; thank God we were reserved for happier times! History will inform you of their repeated and unwearied attempts to subvert the constitution and inslave a free people. Their sacrifizing the interest of the nation to France, their violating their oaths and promises, their persecutions and their schemes to establish a religion which in its nature is inconsistent with the toleration of any other, though reasons of state may make it wink at this on particular occasions,—but should I descend to particulars, it would lead me beyond the limites I have prescribed myself.
"The present family have now reigned over us these thirty years, and though during so long a time they may have fallen into errors, or may have committed faults, (as what Government is without?) yett I will defy the most sanguin zealot to find in history a period equal to this in which Scotland possessed so uninterrupted a felicity, in which liberty, civil and religious, was so universally enjoyed by all people of whatever denomination—nay, by the open and avowed ennemys of the family and constitution, or a period in which all ranks of men have been so effectually secured in their property. Have not trade, manufactures, agriculture, and the spirit of industry in our country, extended themselves further during this period and under this family than for ages before? Has any man suffered in his liberty, life, or fortune, contrary to law? Stand forth and name him if you can. Tho' the King's person, his family, his government, and his ministers, have been openly abused a thousand times in the most scurrilous and reproachful terms, could it ever provoke him to one arbitrary act or to violate those laws which he had made the rule of his government? Look into the reigns of the James's and the Charles's, and tell me wither these divine and hereditary princes were guided by the same spirit of mildness and forgivness?
"I am sensible how often and how many destructive designs have been imputed to the prince upon the throne and his ministers, of the cry raised against standing armies, of the complaints of corruption, long parliaments, and Hanoverian interest pursued in opposition to that of Britain; but I am allso sensible there is not a true friend to liberty, a dispassionate and sober man, but who (now the mask is laid aside) perceives they were, at bottom, the artifices and popular pretences of men struggling to force themselves into power, or of those who in the dark were aiming the destruction of our happy constitution.
"Men endued with popular talents, of figure and fortune in the world, and without the advantages of apparent disinterestedness on their side, will allways have address enough, with a seeming plausibility, to pervert every act of Government at home, and to defame and run down every publick transaction abroad; and disciples will never be wanting of capacity and passions fitted to become the dupes of such false apostles. The corruption complained of is but too universal, and it's to be feared too deep-rooted to be cured; it is the constant attendant of peace and wealth; and such is the depravity of our natures, that these blessings cannot be enjoyed without having this plague, the most sordid and detestable of all vices, accompanying them. But if it is in our governours, it is also in the people, and change your kings and ministers as often as you please, whoever is in possession, or whoever is in quest of power, will allways lay hold of the vices, the follys, or the prejudices of mankind to exclude others from it or to acquire it to themselves.
"It's to be hoped most people now perceive with what views they were taught to exclaim against and oppose a standing body of native and freeborn troops; but it is to be lamented their eyes were reserved to be opened only by the greatest of all publick calamitys."
It appears, however, from the following letter of Mr. Craik, that Lord Nithisdale was really implicated in the insurrection:—
"My Lord,
"I am sincerely and deeply touched with your Lordship's situation, and can honestly assure you it would give me a real satisfaction could I any how contribute to save you on this unhappy occasion. As you have done me the honour to ask my opinion how you are to conduct yourself, and as the Doctor has informed me of the circumstances of your journey, I should but ill deserve the character of humanity and good nature you are pleased to give me, if I did not, with freedom and candour, lay before you what, after this day having fully considered it, appears to me most for your honour, and the safty and preservation of your life and family.
"It is certain the Habeas Corpus Act is suspended, and I doubt not but as soon as the lenth you have gone and your being returned is known above, warrants will be issued to carrie you up to London; if you retire out of the kingdom, it will not prevent your being attainted; and I am afraid the unfortunate step you have made will putt your estate but too much within the reach of the law, and your family is undone. If you stay till you are apprehended, not only your estate, but your person is in the mercy of the Government, and how far severitys on this occasion may be carried, is not for me to prescribe; only I am apprehensive your religion, quality, and estate, will make you but too obnoxious to the Government, and when the affair is over, informers will not be wanting to furnish them with materials.
"We are not ignorant what arts and industry have been employed to draw you out of the retirement and quiet you were well disposed to remain in. We are sensible you were imposed upon by those already embarked; and it will acquit you before God and every sober man, if you no longer keep measures with those who have deceived you in a matter of such moment, when your life and fortune were at stake. My lord, I have impartially laid before you the present circumstance you are in, as far as my abilities enable me to judge, that you may have it under your Lordship's consideration; I shall next take the freedom to suggest what to me appears the safest and most prudent part now left to you to act, and which I likeways submit to your Lordship's own judgment, without taking upon me to decide. What I mean is this, that your Lordship should, without loss of time, surrender your person to the Governor of Carlisle, and acquaint him you came to throw yourself upon the clemency of the Government; at the same time, your Lordship would, by express, have some proper friend at London advised of your intention, and one of some weight and interest, and who was fitt to put your conduct in the most favourable light. You will easily perceive that this confidence in the Government, and voluntary surrender of your person, and your preventing all others in an early repentance must distinguish you, in the eyes of the Government, from every other person who has embarked, and entitle you to its favour and protection: whereas, if you wait till you are apprehended, or leave the kingdom, your case, tho' quite different, will be ranked with those who have gone the greatest lengths. If your Lordship approve of this, if you think proper to lett me know by a line to-morrow, I shall not faill to be in town on Tuesday; and as I have a friend at London who I know is very capable and well disposed to serve you, if it be agreeable to you, shall, with the Doctor, concert the letter proper to be sent."
The answer of Lord Nithisdale contains a curious summary of some of the motives which actuated the Jacobites of 1745.
"Dear Sir,
"I have both yours, giving your opinion on the present affairs, without assigning your reasons, and as I take it, urging an answer from me, whether I am determined to take a share in the present enterprise, which you seem to think I should not. I shall answer the last first, by telling you that I have not yet fully digested my thoughts on that matter; only be assured I'll do nothing rashly—that's only for desperados. As to the other, I'm ready to believe you agree in opinion with me, that as matters are come this length, it's now greatly the interest of Scotland to wish success to the undertaking; and that nothing but the improbability of success should hinder every Scotsman to join in it; and indeed I don't think there's great reason to fear that either, unless vast numbers of foreign forces are poured into the country for support of the party in possession.
"The Militia of England are little to be feared, nor do I believe they'll be trusted with arms, as there's a chance what way they may be used, particularly by that part of the country who only know how to handle them. As to the Dutch who are come over, there's now greater reason to believe they'll be recalled, and it may be some time before others are sent in their place, if at all. I do believe the United States, if they dare, will give all the support they can; but if France shall really prove in earnest, I imagine they'll consider it necessary to be quiet. Other foreign forces may be sent in, but on the other hand there's a very great improbability; thir people will likewise get aid, and here there's assembling a very numerous resolute army. The prospect of the situation of the country for some time to come, must affect every well-wisher to it, and the consequences to this part, if the undertaking shall misgive, appear to me terrible; if it succeed, what have we to fear? You'll answer, the introduction of Popery and arbitrary government; but I don't imagine, considering the success and fate of his grandfather and uncle, that will be attempted; and as to any fear that we may be made dependant and tributary to the foreign powers giving aid to the present adventure, that I'm not apprehensive of, nor do I imagine it would be in his power to accomplish, tho' inclinable to it. I shall say no more on the subject; only it's easier preventing an evil than remedying, and that may be applyed to both sides; only this one further I observe, that I think it's the interest of the nation to have a sovereign settled whose title is unquestionable: we see the inconveniencys attending the other. You'll perhaps answer, there will still be a Pretender; but I reply, not so dangerous an one, if at all. You write, in your letter, that people may, without meaning, be treated and led away with popular arguments. I assure you I'm none of these—what I have said now, is on a Sunday forenoon. However, I should wish you communicate my mind to nobody. If any material news occur before the bearer leave Edinburgh, you shall have them; and to-morrow I'll mind your commission, and any other you shall give with respect to your nursery, &c., which I hope you're still carrying on, and that your garden-wall is now completed. If you had some pieces of cannon to place in it, would it not keep out against an army not provided with battering-pieces, seeing it's at a sufficient distance from the thundering of any castle? Were it not for fear of your horses, I should wish you came in here and saw the fortifications made on our city-wall, and the army against which they were intended; the last is worth your while. No Court in Europe is filled with such a set of well-look'd brave fellows.
"I hope my dykers are going on, and beg you'll acquaint the tenants to have the rents ready, in regard I'm to be soon in the country, and won't make any stay above a day or two; this to you, but to yourself I can yet fix no time for coming out as I can't think of leaving Edinburgh till I see how matters turn, and it's also necessary to stay and take care of my house, furniture, papers, &c. I believe I shall eat my Christmas goose with you, if I don't go into England, which I would incline for sake of a jaunt, if I thought it safe and had a right set with me. I ever am, dear Sir,
"Your's &c."
Another letter from a kinsman of Lord Nithisdale's shews that he was not alone in his inclination to join in the Insurrection of 1745.
"October 13th.
"Dr. Willie,
"By accounts this day from Edinburgh, allmost everybody is going along with the stream, so that a short delay wou'd lose all the merit. This has determined me to do the thing so suddenly, that I have not time to send for you, unless it were to see me go off, which is impossible. I depend upon your protection for those I leave behind. What gives me the greatest concern is least some such creditors as have still my father's security, should molest him in my absence. I recommend particularly to you, that if you can hear of any, you'll endeavour to make them sensible that they are as safe as before, and tell the comissary that I expect the same piece of friendship from him, who lyes more in the way of hearing what passes of that kind. I believe there are three or four thousand French or Irish landed in Wales, with Lord John Drummond. The Highland army marches south the beginning of the week. Farewell dear Willie. God bless you! Ever your's
(Signed) Ja. Maxwell."
"Saturday.—I set out before daylight to-morrow."
From Mr. Maxwell of Carruchan, to Mr. Craik of Arbigland.
Since Lord Nithisdale's name did not appear in the list of the young Chevalier's officers, we must conclude that he did not persevere in his resolutions. There is no date to Mr. Craik's second letter, but it must have been written after Carlisle had surrendered to the Duke of Cumberland,—an event which took place on the thirtieth of December, 1745.
The Earl of Nithisdale, as he was styled, lived until the year 1776, and possibly in peace and prosperity, since the family estates were spared to him. He married his first cousin, Lady Catherine Stewart, daughter of the Earl of Traquhair by Lady Mary Maxwell, and left an only daughter.
This lady, named after her celebrated grandmother Winifred, was also, by courtesy, endowed with the honours of the forfeited rank, and styled Lady Winifred Maxwell. Her Ladyship would have inherited the Barony of Herries, of Terregles, but for the attainder of her grandfather. The estates of Lord Nithisdale were inherited by her son, Marmaduke William Constable, Esq., of Everingham Park, in the county of York; who, on the death of his mother, assumed, by royal licence, the surname of Maxwell. The title of Nithisdale, except for the attainder, would have descended upon the next heir, Mr. Maxwell of Carruchan.[36]
The origin of the distinguished surname of Gordon is not clearly ascertained: "some," says Douglass, "derive the Gordons from a city of Macedonia, named Gordonia; others from a manor in Normandy called Gordon, possessed by a family of that name. The territory of Gordon in Berwickshire was, according to another account, conferred by David the First upon an Anglo-Norman settler, who assumed from it the name of Gordon."
William Gordon, sixth Earl of Kenmure, was descended from a younger son of the ducal house of Gordon; in 1633 Sir John Gordon of Lochinvar was created Viscount Kenmure and Lord of Lochinvar; and the estates continued in an unbroken line until they descended to William, the sixth Viscount, who was the only Scottish peer in 1715 who suffered capital punishment.
This unfortunate nobleman succeeded his father in 1698; and possessed, up to the period of his taking the command of the army in the south, the estates belonging to his family in the Stuartry of Kirkcudbright. Kenmure Castle, still happily enjoyed by the family of Gordon, stands upon an eminence overlooking the meadows, at that point where the river Ken expands into a lake. The Castle was originally a single tower, to which various additions have been made according to the taste of different owners. The Castle Keep is now ruinous and unroofed, but the body of the house is in good repair. A fine prospect over the scenery of the Glenhens is commanded by the eminence on which the castle stands. An ancient avenue of lime-trees constitutes the approach to the fortress from the road.
In this abode dwelt the Viscount Kenmure until the summons of Lord Mar called him from the serene tenour of a course honoured by others, and peaceful from the tranquillity of the unhappy nobleman's own disposition; for his was not the restless ambition of Mar, nor the blind devotion of the Duke of Perth; nor the passion for fame and ascendancy which stimulated Lord George Murray in his exertions. Lord Kenmure was, it is true, well acquainted with public business, and an adept in the affairs of the political world, in which he had obtained that insight which long experience gives. His acquaintance with books and men was said to be considerable; he is allowed, even by one who had deserted the party which Lord Kenmure espoused, to be of a "very extraordinary knowledge."[37] But his calm, reflective mind, his experience, his resources of learning, rather indisposed than inclined this nobleman from rising when called upon to lend his aid to the perilous enterprise of James Stuart. Beloved in private life, of a singularly good temper, calm, mild, of simple habits, and plain in his attire, he was as it was generally observed, the last man whom one might have expected to rush into the schemes of the Jacobite party.
That one so skilled in human affairs should venture, even in a subordinate degree, to espouse so desperate a cause as that of James was generally reputed to be, might seem to prove that even the wise were sanguine, or that they were carried away by the enthusiasm of the hour. Neither of these circumstances appear to bear any considerable weight in revolving the conduct of Lord Kenmure.
A stronger influence, perhaps, than that of loyalty operated on the conduct of Viscount Kenmure. He was married: his wife, the spirited and energetic Mary Dalzell, was the only sister of Robert, sixth Earl of Carnwath. Her family were deeply imbued with the principles of hereditary right and of passive obedience; and Lady Kenmure cherished these sentiments, and bestowed the energies of her active mind on the promotion of that cause which she held sacred. The house of Dalzell had been sufferers in the service of the Stuarts. By her mother's side, Lady Kenmure was connected with Sir William Murray of Stanhope, and with his singular, and yet accomplished son, Sir Alexander Murray of Stanhope, who was taken prisoner at Preston, fighting for the Jacobites. The Earl of Carnwath, Lady Kenmure's brother, was one of those men whose virtues and acquirements successfully recommend a cause to all who are under the influence of such a character. Having been educated at Cambridge, he had imbibed an early affection for the liturgy of the Church of England; his gentle manners, his talents, and his natural eloquence, established him in the affections of his friends and acquaintance. This nobleman was, like his sister, ready to sacrifice everything for conscience sake: like her, he was a sufferer for that which he esteemed to be justice. He was afterwards taken prisoner at Preston, impeached before the House of Peers in 1716, and sentenced to be executed as a traitor, and his estate forfeited; but eventually he was respited and pardoned. He survived to be four times married.
Another of Lady Kenmure's brothers, John Dalzell, was, it is true, a captain in the army upon the breaking out of the Rebellion in 1715; but, at the summons of him whom he esteemed his lawful Sovereign, he threw up his commission, and engaged in the service of James.
When Lord Kenmure received a commission from the Earl of Mar to head the friends of the Chevalier in the South, he had ties which perhaps were among some of the considerations which led him to hesitate and to accept the proffered honour unwillingly. On his trial he referred to his wife and "four small children," as a plea for mercy. But Lady Kenmure, sanguine and resolute, did not view these little dependent beings as obstacles to a participation in the insurrection. If she might be considered to transgress her duty as a mother, in thus risking the fortunes of her children, she afterwards compensated by her energy and self-denial for her early error of judgment.
It had been arranged that the insurrection in Dumfriesshire was to break out in conjunction with that headed in Northumberland by Mr. Forster. To effect this end, numbers of disaffected, or, as the Jacobite writers call them, well-affected noblemen and gentlemen assembled in parties at the houses of their friends, moving about from place to place, in order to prepare for the event.
It was on the twelfth of October, 1715, that Viscount Kenmure set out in the intention of joining the Earl of Wintoun, who was on his road to Moffat, and who was accompanied by a party of Lothian gentlemen and their servants. It is said by the descendants of Viscount Kenmure, on hearsay, that his Lordship's horse three times refused to go forward on that eventful morning; nor could he be impelled to do so, until Lady Kenmure taking off her apron, and throwing it over the horse's eyes, the animal was led forward. The Earl of Carnwath had joined with Lord Kenmure, and rode forwards with him to the rencontre with Lord Wintoun. Lord Kenmure took with him three hundred men to the field.[38]
At the siege of Preston, in which those who fell dead upon the field were less to be compassionated than the survivors, Lord Kenmure was taken prisoner. His brother-in-law, the Earl of Carnwath, shared the same fate. They were sent with the principal state prisoners to London. The same circumstances, the same indignities, attended the removal of Lord Kenmure to his last earthly abode, as those which have been already related as disgracing the humanity of Englishmen, when the Earl of Derwentwater was carried to the Tower.
The subsequent sufferings of these brave men were aggravated by the abuses which then existed in the state prisons of England. The condition of these receptacles of woe, at that period, beggars all description. Corruption and extortion gave every advantage to those who could command money enough to purchase luxuries at an enormous cost. Oppression and an utter carelessness of the well-being of the captive, pressed hardly upon those who were poor. No annals can convey a more heartrending description of the sufferings of the prisoners confined in county gaols, than their own touching and heartfelt appeals, some of which are to be found in the State Paper Office.
In the Tower, especially, it appears from a diary kept by a gentleman who was confined there, that the greatest extortion was openly practised. Mr. Forster and a Mr. Anderton, who were allowed to live in the Governor's house, were charged the sum of five pounds a-week for their lodging and diet,—a demand which, more than a century ago, was deemed enormous. Several of the Highland chiefs, and among them the celebrated Brigadier Mackintosh, were "clapped up in places of less accommodation, for which, nevertheless, they were charged as much as would have almost paid the rent of the best houses in St. James's Square and Piccadilly." Mr. Forster, it must be added, was obliged to pay sixty guineas for his privilege of living in the governor's house; and Mr. Anderton to give a bribe of twenty-five guineas for having his irons off. A similar tax was made upon every one who entered, and who could pay, and they were thankful to proffer the sum of twenty guineas, the usual demand, to be free from irons. It was, indeed, not the mere freedom from chains for which they paid, but for the power of effecting their escape. Upon every one who did not choose to be turned over to the common side, a demand was made of ten guineas fee, besides two guineas weekly for lodging, although in some rooms men lay four in a bed. Presents were also given privately, so that in three or four months' time, three or four thousand pounds were paid by the prisoners to their jailers.
Many of the prisoners being men of fortune, their tables were of the most luxurious description; forty shillings was often paid for a dish of peas and beans, and thirty shillings for a dish of fish; and this fare, so unlike that of imprisonment, was accompanied by the richest French wines. The vicious excesses and indecorums which went on in the Tower, among the state prisoners, are said to have scandalized the graver lookers on.[39] The subsequent distress and misery which ensued may, of course, be traced, in part to this cause.
Lord Derwentwater, ever decorous and elevated in his deportment, was shocked at the wayward and reckless conduct of some of the Jacobites on their road to London, told one of the King's officers at Barnet that these prisoners "were only fit for Bedlam." To this it was remarked, that they were only fit for Bridewell. Whilst hopes of life continued, this rebuke still applied. The prisoners were aided in their excesses by the enthusiasm of the fair sex. The following extract from another obscure work, "The History of the Press-yard," is too curious to be omitted. "That while they [the prisoners] flattered themselves with hopes of life, which they were made to believe were the necessary consequences of a surrender at discretion, they did, without any retrospect to the crimes they were committed for, live in so profuse a manner, and fared so voluptuously, through the means of daily visitants and helps from abroad, that money circulated very plentifully; and while it was difficult to change a guinea almost at any house in the street, nothing was more easy than to have silver for gold to any quantity, and gold for silver, in the prison,—those of the fair sex, from persons of the first rank to tradesmen's wives and daughters, making a sacrifice of their husbands' and parents' rings, and other precious moveables, for the use of those prisoners; so that, till the trial of the condemned lords was over, and that the Earl of Derwentwater and Viscount Kenmure were beheaded, there was scarce anything to be seen amongst them but flaunting apparel, venison pasties, hams, chickens, and other costly meats, with plenty of wine."
Meantime the trial of the attainted lords took place, and checked, like the sudden appearance of a ghostly apparition, this horrible merriment,—with which, however, few names which one desires to cherish and to respect are connected. The same forms that attended the impeachment and trial of his companions, were carried on at the trial of Lord Kenmure. The unhappy nobleman replied in few and touching words, and, in a voice which could not be heard, pleaded guilty; an inconsistency, to express it in the mildest terms, of which he afterwards sincerely repented.
At the end of the trial, to the question "What have you to say for yourself why judgment should not be passed upon you according to law?" "My lords," replied Lord Kenmure, "I am truly sensible of my crime, and want words to express my repentance. God knows I never had any personal prejudice against his Majesty, nor was I ever accessory to any previous design against him. I humbly beg my noble Peers and the honourable House of Commons to intercede with the King for mercy to me, that I may live to show myself the dutifullest of his subjects, and to be the means to keep my wife and four small children from starving; the thoughts of which, with my crime, makes me the most unfortunate of all gentlemen."
After the trial, great intercessions were made for mercy, but without any avail, as far as Lord Derwentwater and Lord Kenmure were concerned. They were ordered for execution on the 24th of February, 1716.
The intelligence of the condemnation of these two lords, produced the greatest dismay among their fellow sufferers in the Tower; and the notion of escape, a project which was singularly successful in some instances, was resorted to, in the despair and anguish of the moment, by those who dreaded a cruel and ignominious death.
Lord Kenmure, meantime, prepared for death. A very short interval was, indeed, allowed for those momentous considerations which his situation induced. He was sentenced on the ninth of February, and in a fortnight afterwards was to suffer. Yet the execution of that sentence was, it seems, scarcely expected by the sufferer, even when the fatal day arrived.
The night before his execution, Lord Kenmure wrote a long and affecting letter to a nobleman who had visited him in prison a few days previously. There is something deeply mournful in the fate of one who had slowly and unwillingly taken up the command which had ensured to him the severest penalties of the law. There is an inexpressibly painful sentiment of compassion and regret, excited by the yearning to live—the allusion to a reprieve—the allusion to the case of Lord Carnwath as affording more of hope than his own—lastly, to what he cautiously calls "an act of indiscretion," the plea of guilty, which was wrung from this conscientious, but sorrowing man, by a fond value for life and for the living. So little did Lord Kenmure anticipate his doom, that, when he was summoned to the scaffold the following day, he had not even prepared a black suit,—a circumstance which he much regretted, since he "might be said to have died with more decency."
The following is the letter which he wrote, and which he addressed to a certain nobleman.