They had not been above five or six days at sea, till one [fol. 348.] evening the Lyon ship of war appeared, and came pretty near them, and then disappeared. Next morning she came again in view and disappeared. She continued to do so three or four times, and the last time of her appearing she came within a mile or so of them; when the captain of the Elizabeth (a Frenchman) came on board the frigate, and told Mr. Welch if he would assist him by keeping one side of the Lyon in play at a distance, he would immediately put all things in order for the attack. Mr. Welch, well knowing the trust he had on board, answered him civilly, and told him it was what he could not think of doing, and withal remarked to him it was his humble opinion that he should not think of fighting unless he should happen to be attacked, because his business was to be convoy to the frigate in the voyage. However, he said, as he pretended not to any command over him, he might do as he thought proper.
The French captain to all this replied, that from the Lion's appearing and disappearing so often, it seemed as if she were looking out for another ship to assist her, and if she should happen to be joined by any other, they no doubt would instantly fall upon the Elizabeth and the frigate, and devour them both; and therefore he behoved to think it the wisest course to fight the Lion when single, because the Elizabeth in that case was fit enough for the engagement, and would bid [fol. 349.] fair enough to give a good account of the Lion. Upon this the French captain drew his sword, took leave of Mr. Welch and his company, went on board the Elizabeth with his sword still drawn in his hand, and gave the necessary orders for the attack.
Immediately the Elizabeth bore down upon the Lion (each of them consisting of about sixty guns, and therefore equally matched), and began the attack with great briskness. The fight continued for five or six hours, when the Lion was obliged to sheer off like a tub upon the water.
About the time when the captain came on board the frigate, the Prince was making ready to go on board the Elizabeth for more air and greater conveniency every way, the frigate being crowded with the gentlemen, the servants, and the crew. His friends reckoned it very lucky that he had not gone on board.
The frigate all the time of the engagement lay at such a small distance, that (as the Prince observed to several friends in Scotland) the Lion might have sunk her with the greatest ease. But he said it was their good fortune that the Lion had despised [fol. 350.] them, and thought not the frigate worth the while. Besides, the Lion found enough of employment for all her hands in playing her part against the Elizabeth.
During the time of the fight the Prince several times observed to Mr. Welch what a small assistance would serve to give the Elizabeth the possession of the Lion, and importuned him to engage in the quarrel. But Mr. Welch positively refused, and at last behoved to desire the Prince not to insist any more, otherwise he would order him down to the cabin.
After the fight was all over, Mr. Welch sailed round the Elizabeth, and enquired particularly how matters stood with the captain and the crew. A lieutenant came upon deck from the captain, who was wounded in his cabin, and told Mr. Welch that between thirty and forty officers and gentlemen (besides common men) were killed and wounded, and that if Mr. Welch could supply him with a mainmast and some rigging, he would still make out the voyage with him.
Mr. Welch replied that he could not furnish him with either mainmast or rigging, and that although he should have happened [fol. 351.] to be capable to serve him in these things, yet he would not have made it his choice to lose so much time as it would require to put the Elizabeth in some better order. He desired to tell the captain it was his opinion that he should without loss of time return to France, and that he himself would do his best to make out the intended voyage. The Elizabeth accordingly returned to France, and the frigate continued her course to the coast of Scotland. She had not been long parted from the Elizabeth till the crew descried two ships of war at some distance, which they could not have well got off from; but that a mist luckily interveened, and brought them out of sight.
Two or three hours before landing, an eagle came hovering over the frigate, and continued so to do till they were all safe on shore. Before dinner the Duke of Athol had spied the eagle; but (as he told several friends in Scotland) he did not chuse then to take any notice of it, lest they should have called it a Highland freit in him. When he came upon deck after dinner, he saw the eagle still hovering about in the same manner, and following the frigate in her course, and then he could not help remarking it to the Prince and his small retinue, [fol. 352.] which they looked upon with pleasure. His grace, turning to the Prince said, 'Sir, I hope this is an excellent omen, and promises good things to us. The king of birds is come to welcome your royal highness upon your arrival in Scotland.'
When they were near the shore of the Long Isle, Duncan Cameron was set out in the long boat to fetch them a proper pilot. When he landed he accidentally met with Barra's piper, who was his old acquaintance, and brought him on board. The piper piloted them safely into Erisca (about July 21st), a small island lying between Barra and South Uist. 'At this time,' said Duncan Cameron, 'there was a devil of a minister that happened to be in the island of Barra, who did us a' the mischief that lay in his power. For when he had got any inkling about us, he dispatched away expresses with informations against us. But as the good luck was, he was not well believed, or else we would have been a' tane by the neck.'
When Duncan spoke these words, 'a devil of a minister,' he bowed low, and said to me, 'Sir, I ask you ten thousand pardons for saying so in your presence. But, good faith, I can assure you, sir (asking your pardon), he was nothing else but the devil of a minister.'
[fol. 353.] When they landed in Eriska, they could not find a grain of meal or one inch of bread. But they catched some flounders, which they roasted upon the bare coals in a mean low hut they had gone into near the shore, and Duncan Cameron stood cook. The Prince sat at the cheek of the little ingle, upon a fail sunk, and laughed heartily at Duncan's cookery, for he himself owned he played his part awkwardly enough.[159]
Next day the Prince sent for young Clanranald's uncle (Alexander MacDonald of Boisdale), who lived in South Uist, and discovered himself to him. This gentleman spoke in a very discouraging manner to the Prince, and advised him to return home. To which it is said the Prince replied, 'I am come home, sir, and I will entertain no notion at all of returning to that place from whence I came; for that I am persuaded my faithful Highlanders will stand by me.' Mr. MacDonald told him he was afraid he would find the contrary. The Prince condescended upon Sir Alexander MacDonald and the Laird of MacLeod as persons he might confide in. Mr. MacDonald begged leave to tell him that he had pitched upon the wrong [fol. 354.] persons; for from his own certain knowledge he could assure him these gentlemen would not adhere to his interest; on the contrary, they might chance to act an opposite part. And seeing the Prince had been pleased to mention Sir Alexander MacDonald's name, Boisdale desired he might run off an express to him, and let his return be the test of what he had advanced. He added withal, that if Sir Alexander MacDonald and the Laird of MacLeod declared for him, it was his opinion he might then land on the continent, for that he doubted not but he would succeed in the attempt. But if they should happen to refuse their assistance (which he still insisted would be the case), then their example would prove of bad consequence, and would tend only to make others backward and to keep at home. And in that event he still thought it advisable to suggest his returning back to where he came from.
According to this advice the Prince did send a message to Sir Alexander MacDonald, intimating his arrival, and demanding assistance. Before the messenger could return, Æneas MacDonald (anxious to have the honour of seeing the Prince in the house of his brother, the Laird of Kinlochmoidart) prevailed upon the Prince to set out for the continent, and [fol. 355.] they arrived at Boradale in Moidart, or rather Arisaig, upon July 25th, St. James's day, 1745.[160] When the messenger returned to the Prince he brought no answer with him, for Sir Alexander refused to give any.
It is worth remarking here that though MacDonald of Boisdale had played the game of the government by doing all he could to dissuade the Prince from making the attempt; and after the standard was set up, by keeping back all Clanranald's men (to the number of four or five hundred good stout fellows) that lived in South Uist and the other isles, yet his conduct could not screen him from rough and severe treatment. For after the battle of Culloden he suffered in his effects as well as others, and had the misfortune to be made a prisoner and to be carried to London by sea, in which expedition he had the additional affliction of having his brother, the Laird of Clanranald, senior (who had never stirred from his own fireside), and his lady to bear him company, and none of them were released till the 4th of July 1747. However, to do Boisdale justice, he was of very great use to the Prince (as Donald MacLeod and Malcolm have both declared) when wandering up and down [fol. 356.] through South Uist, Benbicula, and other parts of the Long Isle, and exerted his utmost power to keep him out of the hands of his enemies.[161]
After the Prince's arrival upon the continent, some friends met to consult what was to be done, and I have heard it affirmed by good authority that Keppoch honestly and bravely gave it as his opinion that since the Prince had risqued his person and generously thrown himself into the hands of his friends, therefore it was their duty to raise their men instantly merely for the protection of his person, let the consequence be what it would. Certain it is that if Keppoch, Lochiel, young Clanranald, etc., had not joined him, he would either have fallen into the hands of his enemies or been forced immediately to cross the seas again.[162]
The royal standard was set up at Glenfinnan (August 19th), the property of Clanranald, at the head of Lochshiel, which marches with Lochiel's ground, and lies about ten miles west from Fort William. The Prince had been a full week before this, viz., from Sunday the 11th, at Kinlochmoydart's house, and Lochiel had been raising his men who came up with them just as the standard was setting up.
The Prince stayed where the standard was set up two days, [fol. 357.] and I have heard Major MacDonell frequently say in the Castle of Edinburgh, that he had never seen the Prince more chearful at any time, and in higher spirits than when he had got together four or five hundred men about the standard. Major MacDonell presented the Prince with the first good horse he mounted in Scotland, which the Major had taken from Captain Scott, son of Scotstarvet.
On Friday, August 23d, the Prince lodged in Fassafern, three miles down the Loch Eil, and about five miles from Fort William. On sight of a warship which lay opposite to the garrison, the Prince crossed a hill and went to Moy or Moidh, a village on the river Lochy belonging to Lochiel. There he stayed till Monday, August 26th, waiting intelligence about General Cope; and that day he crossed the river Lochy, and lodged in a village called Leterfinla, on the side of Loch Lochy. At 12 o'clock at night, being very stormy and boisterous, he learned that General Cope was at Garvaimor, whereupon the men stood to arms all night. But the General had altered his route, and by forced marches was making the best of his way for Inverness, which (as was given out) happened by an express from President Forbes advising the General not to attempt [fol. 358.] going up the country to attack the Highlanders at the Pass of Coricrag (very strong ground) where they had posted themselves, but to make all the haste he could to Inverness, where he might expect the Monroes, etc., to join him, whereby he would be considerably reinforced.
Upon notice that the General was marching towards Inverness, about six hundred of the Highlanders urged the being allowed to follow him under cloud of night and promised to come up with him and to give a good account of him and his command. But the Prince would not hear of such an attempt, and desired them to wait for a more favourable opportunity. It was with much difficulty that they could be prevailed upon to lay aside the thoughts of any such enterprize. This I had from the brave Major MacDonell.
When the Prince was coming down the Highlands to meet General Cope (as was supposed) he walked sixteen miles in boots, and one of the heels happening to come off, the Highlanders said they were unco glad to hear it, for they hoped the want of the heel would make him march at more leisure. So speedily he marched that he was like to fatigue them all.
[fol. 359.] August 27th. The Prince slept at Glengary's house, and next night lay at Aberchallader, a village belonging to Glengary.[163]
August 30th. The Prince and his army were at Dalnacardoch, a publick house in Wade's road, as appears from a letter writ by the Duke of Athol to a lady[164] desiring her to repair to Blair Castle to put it in some order, and to do the honours of that house when the Prince should happen to come there, which he did the day following, August 31st. I saw the letter and took the date of it.
When the Prince was at Blair he went into the garden, and taking a walk upon the bowling-green, he said he had never seen a bowling-green before. Upon which the above lady called for some bowls that he might see them; but he told her that he had got a present of some bowls sent him as a curiosity to Rome from England.
September 2d. He left Blair and went to the house of Lude, where he was very chearful and took his share in several dances, such as minuets, Highland reels (the first reel the Prince called for was, 'This is not mine ain house,' etc.), and a Strathspey minuet.
September 3d. He was at Dunkeld, and next day he dined [fol. 360.] at Nairn House, where some of the company happening to observe what a thoughtful state his father would now be in from the consideration of those dangers and difficulties he had to encounter with, and that upon this account he was much to be pitied, because his mind behoved to be much upon the rack—the Prince replied that he did not half so much pity his father as his brother. 'For,' said he, 'the king has been inured to disappointments and distresses, and has learnt to bear up easily under the misfortunes of life. But poor Hary! his young and tender years make him much to be pitied, for few brothers love as we do.'
September 4th. In the evening he made his entrance into Perth upon the horse that Major MacDonell had presented him with.
September 11th. Early in the morning he went on foot attended by few and took a view of the house of Scoon; and leaving Perth that day, he took a second breakfast at Gask, dined at Tullibardine, and that night went towards Dumblain and next day to Down.
September 14th. In the morning the Prince, after refreshing himself and his army at the Laird of Leckie's house, marched by Stirling Castle and through St. Ninians. From Stirling Castle a six-pounder was discharged four times at him, which [fol. 361.] determined Lord Nairn, who was bringing up the second division of the army, to go farther up the country in order to be out of the reach of the canon of the Castle. When the Prince was in St. Ninians with the first division, Mr. Christie, provost of Stirling, sent out to them from Stirling a quantity of bread, cheese, and ale in abundance, an order having come before by little Andrew Symmer desiring such a refreshment. Colonel Gardiner and his dragoons had galloped off towards Edinburgh from their camp near Stirling Castle the night before, or rather the same morning, when it was dark, September 14th, without beat of drum.
September 16th. The Prince and his army were at Gray's Mill upon the Water of Leith, when he sent a summons to the Provost and Town Council of Edinburgh to receive him quietly and peaceably into the city. Two several deputations were sent from Edinburgh to the Prince begging a delay till they should deliberate upon what was fittest to be done. Meantime eight or nine hundred Highlanders under the command of Keppoch, young Lochiel, and O'Sullivan, marched in between the Long Dykes without a hush of noise, under the favour of a dark night, and lurked at the head of the Canongate about the [fol. 362.] Nether Bow Port till they should find a favourable opportunity for their design, which soon happened. The hackney coach that brought back the second deputation, entred at the West Port, and after setting down the deputies at their proper place upon the street, drove down the street towards the Canongate, and when the Nether Bow Port was made open to let out the coach, the lurking Highlanders rushed in (it being then peep of day) and made themselves masters of the city without any opposition, or the smallest noise.
Robert Forbes, A.M.
N.B.—When the Prince was marching his army towards England, Duncan Cameron was ordered to attend the Prince's baggage, and had got a young horse to ride upon that had not been accustomed to noise, and therefore threw Duncan upon hearing the pipes and the drums. Duncan was so bruised with the fall that he behoved to be left behind, and accordingly was carried to the house in which Lady Orbiston was then living in the neighbourhood of Dalkeith. Soon an information was given that the Highlanders had left one behind them at such a place, and he was said to be Colonel Strickland in his wounds, [fol. 363.] upon which a party of dragoons was dispatched to take the Colonel prisoner. But they found only plain Duncan, whom they brought into Edinburgh. He was committed to the city jayl, where he was so lucky as to be overlooked, either through sickness or want of evidence, when others were sent off to England to stand trial. At last he was released, nothing appearing against him, some time before the indemnity came out, and got a protection for going to his own country in the Highlands. However Duncan had no mind to make use of that protection, being resolved to return to France. He luckily fell in with Mrs. Fothringham, who was going over to France to her husband, late governor of Dundee. This lady was allowed a pass and protection for herself, a child, a man-servant, and a maid-servant, to sail for Holland. She wanted much to have Duncan Cameron along with her, because, having the French language well, he would prove an excellent guide for her to France. Duncan on the other hand was fond of [fol. 364.] having it in his power to oblige such a lady, and glad to go into any scheme whereby he could safely make his way to Holland, and therefore he agreed to pass for Mrs. Fothringham's servant, and accordingly he was insert in the pass under the name of Duncan Campbell, an Argyleshire man. They sailed from Leith Road on board of one Sibbald, upon Friday, June 19th, and arrived in Holland the 23d, 1747.
It was most lucky for Duncan Cameron that it was never known to any in the government that he was one of those who came over in the same frigate with the Prince. The most distant suspicion was never entertained about this, otherwise his fate would have turned out in quite another shape.
Robert Forbes, A.M.
Pinkay House, near Edinburgh,
September 21st, 1745.
[fol. 365.] Sir,—Since my last from Perth it hath pleased God to prosper your Majesty's arms under my command with a success that has even surprized my wishes. On the 17th we entred Edinburgh, sword in hand, and got possession of that town without being obliged to shed one drop of blood, or to do any violence. And this morning I have gained a most signal victory with little or no loss. If I had a squadron or two of horse to pursue the flying enemy there would not one man of them have escaped; as it is they have hardly saved any but a few dragoons who, by a most precipitate flight will, I believe, get into Berwick. If I had obtained this victory over foreigners my joy would have been compleat. But as it is over Englishman, it has thrown a damp upon it that I little imagined. The men I have defeated were your Majesty's enemies, it is true, but they might have become your friends and dutiful subjects when they had got their eyes [fol. 366.] opened to see the true interest of their country which I am come to save, not to destroy. For this reason I have discharged all publick rejoicing. I do not care to enter into the particulars of the action, and chuse rather that your Majesty would hear it from another than from myself. I send you this by Stewart, to whom you may give entire credit. He is a faithful, honest fellow, and thoroughly instructed in everything that has happened to this day. I shall have a loss in him; but I hope it will be soon made up by his speedy return with the most agreeable news I can receive, I mean that of your majesty's and my dearest brother's health.
I have seen two or three Gazettes filled with addresses and mandates from the bishops to the clergy. The addresses are such as I expected, and can impose on none but the weak and credulous. The mandates are of the same sort, but were artfully drawn. They order their clergy to make the people sensible of the great blessings they enjoy under the present family that governs them, particularly of the strict administration of justice, of the sacred regard that is paid to the laws, and the great security of their religion and property. This sounds all very well, and may impose upon the unthinking. [fol. 367.] But one who reads with a little care will easily see the fallacy. What occasion has a Prince who has learnt the secret of corrupting the fountain of all laws to disturb the ordinary course of justice? Would not this be to give the alarm, and amount to telling them that he was not come to protect as he pretended, but really to betray them? When they talk of the security of their religion, they take care not to mention one word of the dreadful growth of atheism and infidelity which (I am extremely sorry to hear from very sensible, sober men) have within these few years got to a flaming height; even so far that I am assured many of their most fashionable men are ashamed to own themselves Christians; and many of the lower sort act as if they were conversing upon this melancholy subject.
I was let into a thing which I never understood rightly before, which is that those men who are loudest in the cry of the growth of Popery, and the danger of the Protestant religion, are not really Protestants, but a set of profligate men, of good parts, with some learning, and void of all principles, but pretending to be republicans.
I asked those who told me this what should make these men [fol. 368.] so zealous about preferring the Protestant religion, seeing they are not Christians? And was answered that it is in order to recommend themselves to the ministry, which (if they can write pamphlets for them, or get themselves chosen members of Parliament), will be sure to provide amply for them. And the motive to this extraordinary zeal is that they thereby procure to themselves the connivance at least, if not the protection of the Government, while they are propagating their impiety and infidelity.
I hope in God Christianity is not at so low an ebb in this country as this account I have had represents it to be. Yet if I compare what I have formerly seen and heard at Rome, with something I have observed since I have been here, I am afraid there is too much truth in it.
The bishops are as unfair and partial in representing the security of their property as that of their religion, for when they mention it they do not say a word of the vast load of debt (that increases yearly) under which the nation is groaning, and which must be paid (if ever they intend to pay it) out of their property. It is true all this debt has not been contracted [fol. 369.] under the prince of this family, but a great part of it has, and the whole might have been cleared by a frugal administration during these thirty years of a profound peace which the nation has enjoyed, had it not been for the immense sums that have been squandered away in corrupting Parliaments and supporting foreign interest that can never be of any service to these kingdoms. I am afraid I have taken up too much of your majesty's time about these sorry mandates, but having mentioned them I was willing to give your majesty my sense of them.
I remember Dr. Wagstaff (with whom I wish I had conversed more frequently, for he always told me truth) once said to me that I must not judge of the clergy of the Church of England by the bishops, who were not preferred for their piety and learning, but for very different talents: for writing pamphlets, for being active at elections, and for voting in Parliament as the ministry directed them. After I have won another battle they will write for me, and answer their own letters.
There is another set of men amongst whom I am inclined to [fol. 370.] believe the lowest are the honestest, as well as among the clergy, I mean the army. For never was there a finer body of men to look at than those I fought with this morning, yet they did not behave so well as I expected. I thought I could plainly see that the common men did not like the cause they were engaged in. Had they been fighting against Frenchmen come to invade their country I am convinced they would have made a better defence. The poor men's pay and their low prospects are not sufficient to corrupt their natural principles of justice and honesty, which is not the case with their officers, who, incited by their own ambition and false notions of honour, fought more desperately. I asked one of them, who is my prisoner (a gallant man) why he would fight against his lawful prince, and one who was come to rescue his country from a foreign yoke. He said he was a man of honour, and would be true to the Prince, whose bread he ate, and whose commission he bore. I told him it was a noble principle, but ill applied, and asked him if he was not a Whig? He replied that he was. 'Well then,' said I, 'how come you to look on the commission you bear, and the bread you eat to be the [fol. 371.] Prince's and not your country's which raised you, and pays you to serve and defend it against foreigners, who came not now to defend but to enslave it, for that I have always understood to be the true principle of a Whig. Have you not heard how your countrymen have been carried abroad to be insulted and maltreated by those defenders, and to be butchered, fighting in a quarrel in which your country has little or no concern, only to aggrandize Hanover?' To this he made no answer, but looked sullen and hung down his head. The truth is there are few good officers among them. They are brave, because an Englishman cannot be otherwise, but they have generally little knowledge in their business, are corrupt in their morals, and have few restraints from religion, though they would have you believe they are fighting for it. As to their honour they talk so much of, I shall soon have occasion to try it, for, having no strong places to put any prisoners in, I shall be obliged to release them upon their parole. If they do not keep it I wish they may not fall into my hands again, for in that case it will not be in my power to protect them from the resentment of my Highlanders, who [fol. 372.] would be apt to kill them in cold blood, which (as I take no pleasure in revenge) would be extremely shocking to me. My haughty foe thinks it beneath him, I suppose, to settle a cartel. I wish for it as much for the sake of his men as my own. I hope ere long I shall make him glad to sue for it.
I hear there are six thousand Dutch troops arrived, and ten battalions of the English sent for. I wish they were all Dutch that I might not have the pain of shedding English blood. I hope I shall soon oblige them to bring over the rest, which in all events will be one piece of service done to my country in helping it out of a ruinous foreign war.
It is hard my victory should put me under new difficulties that I did not feel before, and yet this is the case. I am now charged with the care both of my friends and enemies. Those, who should bury the dead, are run away as if it was no business of theirs. My Highlanders think it beneath them to do it, and the country people are fled away. However, I am resolved to try if I can get people for money to undertake it, [fol. 373.] for I cannot bear the thoughts of suffering Englishmen to rot above ground.
I am in great difficulty how I shall dispose of my wounded prisoners. If I make an hospital of the church it will be looked upon as a great profanation, as having violated my manifesto in which I promised to violate no man's property. If the magistrates would act they would help me out of this difficulty. Come what will I am resolved I will not suffer the poor wounded men to lie in the streets, and if I can do no better I will make an hospital of the palace, and leave it to them.
I am so distracted with these cares, joined to those of my own people, that I have only time to add that I am, Sir, your Majesty's most dutiful son, and obedient servant,
Charles.
[fol. 374.] That it was a common practice amongst the red-coats after Culloden battle, dispersed up and down the Highlands, to raise the bodies of man, woman, and child out of the graves for greed of the linen, or whatever was wrapped about them, and after they had taken that off them to leave the bodies above ground. She herself had two children that died at that time, and she was advised to bury them privately in some remote heathy brae, to prevent their being taken up again; but she could not think of burying them in any other place than where their forefathers were laid, and therefore she was obliged to bribe a serjeant to keep the fellows from digging up the bodies again.
She and her poor children behoved to take to the hills, no houses being left in the whole country about them. Mrs. [fol. 375.] Cameron said she never saw the Prince in his skulking, nor knew not where he was.
Robert Forbes, A.M.
Some time before, and at the time of the battle, Lady Inches was living with her family in Inverness, her husband being in a dying condition, who was laid in his grave just as the cannonading began upon Drummossie Muir. On Friday after the battle, April 18th, she went home to her house called the Lees, within a mile or so of the field of battle. Upon the road as she went along she saw heaps of dead bodies stript naked and lying above ground. When she came to the Lees she found sixteen dead bodies in the Closs and about the house, which as soon as possible she caused bury. When she came [fol. 376.] into the Closs some of the sogers came about her, calling her a rebel-bitch, and swearing, that certainly she behoved to be such, or else so many of these damned villains would not have come to get shelter about her house. Then pulling her by the sleeve they desired her to come along with them, and they would shew her a rare sight, which was two dead bodies lying in the Closs with a curtain laid over them. They took off the curtain and made her look upon the bodies, whose faces were so cut and mangled that they could not be discerned to be faces. They told her that the party who had been formerly there had cut and mangled these villains, and had left them in the house in their wounds; but when they themselves came there they could not endure to hear their cries and groans, and therefore they had dragged them out to the Closs and given them a fire to their hinder-end. 'For,' said they, 'we roasted and smoked them to death, and have cast this curtain taken down from the side of one of your rooms over them, to keep us from seeing the nauseous sight.' Lady Inches said she saw the ashes and remains of the extinguished fire.
The house of the Lees was all pillaged, the doors of the [fol. 377.] rooms and closets, the outer doors, the windows, and all the liming being broke down to pieces. The charter-chest was broke open, and the papers were scattered up and down the house; all her horses and cattle were taken away, though Inches was not in the least concerned in the affair, save only that he was a great Whig, and had a son out with the Duke of Cumberland.
When she complained to David Bruce, he told her to go through the camp and see if she could spy out any of her furniture or goods among the sogers; and if she did, the fellows should be seized upon, and she should have the satisfaction of having them hanged. But seeing she could have no reparation of damages she did not chuse to follow Mr. Bruce's advice, and she declared she had never received one farthing for the losses sustained.
On the day of the battle when the chace happened, one of Inches's tenants and his son, who lived at the gate of the Lees, [fol. 378.] stept out at the door to see what was the fray, and were shot by the red-coats, and fell down in one another's arms, the son dying upon the spot; but the father did not die till the Friday, the 18th, when Lady Inches went to see him, and he was then expiring. Much about the same place they came into a house where a poor beggar woman was spinning, and they shot her dead upon the spot. In a word, Lady Inches said they were really mad; they were furious, and no check was given them in the least.[166]
Upon the day of the battle, about nineteen wounded men (but so as with proper care they might have been all cured) got into a barn. Upon the Thursday (the day after the battle) orders were issued out to put them to death. They were accordingly taken out, and set up at a park wall as so many marks to be sported with, and were shot dead upon the spot. In the barn there was one of the name of Shaw, whom a Presbyterian minister was going forwards to intercede for, because [fol. 379.] he was his particular acquaintance. But seeing the fury and madness of the sogers, he thought fit to draw back lest he had been set up amongst the poor wounded men as a mark to be sported with in this scene of cruelty. Lady Inches said she had forgot the minister's name, but she believed he was settled at Castle Stewart; but she would not be positive about the place of his abode, though she had got the particular story from a sister of that minister, a married woman in Inverness.[167]
To confirm this the more, it is to be remarked that when Provost Frazer and the other magistrates of Inverness (attended by Mr. Hossack, the late provost) went to pay their levee to Cumberland and his generals, the generals were employed in giving orders about slaying the foresaid men and other wounded persons. Mr. Hossack (the Sir Robert Walpole of the place, under the direction of President Forbes, [fol. 380.] and a man of humanity) could not witness such a prodigy of intended wickedness without saying something, and therefore making a low bow to General Hawley or General Husk, he said, 'I hope your excellency will be so good as to mingle mercy with judgment.' Upon this Hawley or Husk cried out in a rage, 'Damn the rebel-dog. Kick him down stairs and throw him in prison directly.'[168] The orders were literally and instantly obeyed, and those who were most firmly attached to the Government were put in prison at the same time.
The country people durst not venture upon burying the dead, lest they should have been made to bear them company till particular orders should have been given for that purpose.
The meeting-house at Inverness [and all the bibles and prayer-books in it were][169] was burnt to ashes.
Lady Inches said it was really Loudon's piper that the stout blacksmith killed, and that MacIntosh's house is seven or eight miles from Inverness. When Lady MacIntosh was to be brought a prisoner into Inverness, a great body of men, consisting of several regiments, were sent upon the command, and when she was leaving her own house the dead-beat was used by [fol. 381.] the drummers. In the commands[170] marching from and to Inverness the horses trode many corpses under foot, and the generous-hearted Lady MacIntosh behoved to have the mortification of viewing this shocking scene.
Robert Forbes, A.M.
Honoured Sir,—Before you receive this I hope to be in Paradise. Not that I have the least right to expect it from any merits of my own, or the goodness of my past life, but merely through the intercession of my Saviour and Redeemer, a sincere and hearty repentance of all my sins, and the variety of punishments I have suffered since I saw you, and the death which I shall die to-morrow, and which I trust in God will be some small atonement for my transgressions; and to which I think I am almost confident I shall submit with all the resignation and chearfulness a truly pious Christian and a brave souldier can wish.
I hope you will do my character so much justice (and, if you [fol. 382.] think proper, make use of this) as absolutely to contradict the false and malicious reports, spread only by your enemies, in hopes it might be of prejudice to you and your family, that I was persuaded and compelled by you to engage, contrary to my own inclinations. I send my tenderest love to all the dear children, and beg Almighty God to bless you and them in this world, and grant us all a happy meeting in that to come. I shall leave directions with Charles to send them some trifle whereby to remember me. Pray my excuse naming any particular friends, for there is no end. But give my hearty service and best wishes to all in general.
Mr. Syddal is very well, and sends his sincere compliments, but does not chuse to write. He behaves as well as his best friends can wish. My uncle has behaved to me in such a manner as cannot be paralell'd but by yourself. I know I shall have your prayers, which I am satisfied will be of infinite service to, dear father, your dying but contented and truly affectionate son,
Thomas Theodore Deacon.
July 29th, 1746.
[fol. 283.] Their behaviour at divine worship was always with great reverence, attention, and piety. But had you, sir, been present the last day I attended them, your soul would have been ravished by the fervour of their devotion.
From the time of their condemnation a decent chearfulness constantly appeared in their countenances and behaviour, and I believe it may truly be said that no men ever suffered in a righteous cause with greater magnanimity and more Christian fortitude. For the appearance of a violent death, armed with the utmost terrour of pain and torments, made no impression or dread upon their minds. In a word, great is the honour they have done to the Church, the K[ing], and you, and themselves, and may their example be imitated by all that suffer in the same cause.
This short but faithful account of our martyred friends will, I hope, sir, yield great consolation to you and poor Mrs. Syddal. Poor, dear Charles bears in a commendable manner [fol. 284.] his great loss and other afflictions, and behaves like a man and a Christian in all his actions.