Belhaven, delivered in the last parliament, held in Edinburgh in 1706,
in which his lordship, speaking of this nobleman, then Captain Fraser,
on occasion of the Scots plot, commonly called Fraser's plot, says "That
he deserved, if practicable, to have been hanged five several times, in
five different places, and upon five different accounts at least; as
having been notoriously a traitor to the court of St. James's, a traitor
to the court of St. Germain's, a traitor to the court of Versailles, and
a traitor to his own country of Scotland; in being not only an avowed
and restless enemy to the peace and quiet of its established government
and constitution, both in church and state, but, likewise, a vile
Proteus-like apostate, and a seducer of others in point of religion, as
the tide or wind changed: and, moreover, that (abstracted from all
those, his multiplied acts of treason, abroad and at home) he deserved
to be hanged as a condemned criminal, outlaw, and fugitive, for the
barbarous, cruel, and most flagitious rape, he had, with the assistance
of some of his vile and abominable band of ruffians, violently committed
on the body of a right honourable and virtuous lady, the widow of the
late Lord Lovat, and sister of his Grace the late Duke of Athol. Nay, so
hardened was Captain Fraser, that he audaciously erected a gallows, and
threatened to hang thereon one of the said lady's brothers, and some
other gentlemen of quality, who accompanied him in going to rescue him
out of that criminal's cruel hand."
On the morning fixed for his execution, 9th April 1747, Lord Lovat, who
was now in his 80th year, and very large and unwieldy in his person,
awoke at about three o'clock, and was heard to pray with great devotion.
At five o'clock he arose, and asked for a glass of wine and water, and
at eight o'clock, he desired that his wig might be sent, that the barber
might have time to comb it out genteelly, and he then provided himself
with a purse to hold the money which he intended for the executioner. At
about half-past nine o'clock he ate heartily of minced veal, and ordered
that his friends might be provided with coffee and chocolate, and at
eleven o'clock the sheriff's came to demand his body. He then requested
his friends to retire while he said a short prayer; but he soon called
them back, and said that he was ready.
At the bottom of the first pair of stairs, General Williamson invited
him into his room to rest himself, which he did, and, on his entrance,
paid his respects to the company politely, and talked freely. He desired
of the general, in French, that he might take leave of his lady, and
thank her for her civilities; but the general told his lordship, in the
same language, that she was too much affected with his lordship's
misfortunes to bear the shock of seeing him, and therefore hoped his
lordship would excuse her. He then took his leave, and proceeded. At the
door he bowed to the spectators, and was conveyed from thence to the
outer gate in the governor's coach, where he was delivered to the
sheriffs, who conducted him in another coach to the house near the
scaffold, in which was a room lined with black cloth, and hung with
sconces, for his reception. His friends were at first denied entrance;
but, upon application made by his lordship to the sheriffs for their
admittance, it was granted. Soon after, his lordship, addressing himself
to the sheriffs, thanked them for the favour, and, taking a paper out of
his pocket, delivered it to one of them, saying he should make no
speech, and that they might give the word of command when they pleased.
A gentleman present beginning to read a prayer to his lordship while he
was sitting, he called one of the warders to help him up, that he might
kneel. He then prayed silently a short time, and afterwards sat again in
his chair. Being asked by one of the sheriffs if he would refresh
himself with a glass of wine, he declined it, because no warm water
could be had to mix with it, and took a little burnt brandy and bitters
in its stead. He requested that his clothes might be delivered to his
friends with his corpse, and said for that reason he should give the
executioner ten guineas. He also desired of the sheriffs that his head
might be received in a cloth, and put into the coffin, which the
sheriffs, after conferring with some gentlemen present, promised should
be done; as also that the holding up the head at the corners of the
scaffold should be dispensed with, as it had been of late years at the
execution of lords. When his lordship was going up the steps to the
scaffold, assisted by two warders, he looked round, and, seeing so great
a concourse of people, "God save us," says he, "why should there be such
a bustle about taking off an old grey head, that cannot get up three
steps without three bodies to support it?"
Turning about, and observing one of his friends much dejected, he
clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Cheer up thy heart, man! I am not
afraid; why should you be so?" As soon as he came upon the scaffold, he
asked for the executioner, and presented him with ten guineas in a
purse, and then, desiring to see the axe, he felt the edge, and said,
"he believed it would do." Soon after, he rose from the chair which was
placed for him, and looked at the inscription on his coffin, and on
sitting down again, he repeated from Horace,
"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori;"
and afterwards from Ovid,
"Nam genus et proavos, et quæ non fecimus ipsi,
Vix ea nostra voco"--
He then desired all the people to stand off, except his two warders, who
supported his lordship while he said a prayer; after which, he called
his solicitor and agent in Scotland, Mr. W. Fraser, and, presenting his
gold-headed cane, said, "I deliver you this cane in token of my sense of
your faithful services, and of my committing to you all the power I have
upon earth," and then embraced him. He also called for Mr. James Fraser,
and said, "My dear James, I am going to heaven; but you must continue to
crawl a little longer in this evil world." And, taking leave of both, he
delivered his hat, wig, and clothes, to Mr. William Fraser, desiring him
to see that the executioner did not touch them. He ordered his cap to be
put on, and, unloosing his neckcloth and the collar of his shirt,
kneeled down at the block, and pulled the cloth which was to receive his
head close to him. But, being placed too near the block, the executioner
desired him to remove a little further back, which, with the warders'
assistance, was immediately done; and, his neck being properly placed,
he told the executioner he would say a short prayer, and then give the
signal by dropping his handkerchief. In this posture he remained about
half a minute, and then, throwing his handkerchief on the floor, the
executioner at one blow cut off his head, which was received in the
cloth, and, with his body, was put into the coffin, and carried in a
hearse back to the Tower, where it was interred near the bodies of the
other lords.
His lordship professed himself a papist, and, at his request, was
attended by Mr. Baker, attached to the chapel of the Sardinian
ambassador; and though he insisted much on the services he had done the
royal family in 1715, yet he declared, but a few days before his death,
that he had been concerned in all the schemes formed for restoring the
house of Stuart since he was fifteen years old.
This nobleman's intellectual powers seem to have been considerable, and
his learning extensive. He spoke Latin, French, and English, fluently,
and other modern languages intelligibly. He studied at Aberdeen, and
disputed his philosophy in Greek; and, though he was educated a
protestant, yet, after three years' study of divinity and controversy,
he turned papist. He maintained an appearance of that facetious
disposition for which he was remarkable, to the last; and seems to have
taken great pains to quit the stage, not only with decency, but with
that dignity which is thought to distinguish the good conscience and the
noble mind.
The following lines upon the execution of these noblemen are said to
have been repeated with great energy by Dr. Johnson, although there
appears to be no ground for supposing that they were the Doctor's own
composition. They first appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine:
"Pitied by gentle minds, Kilmarnock died;
The brave, Balmerino, were on thy side;
Ratcliffe, unhappy in his crimes of youth,
Steady in what he still mistook for truth,
Beheld his death so decently unmoved,
The soft lamented, and the brave approved.
But Lovat's end indifferently we view,
True to no king, to no religion true:
No fair forgets the ruin he has done;
No child laments the tyrant of his son;
No Tory pities, thinking what he was;
No Whig compassions, for he left the cause;
The brave regret not, for he was not brave,
The honest mourn not, knowing him a knave."
FRANCIS TOWNLEY, JAMES DAWSON, AND OTHERS.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
These prisoners were parties to the same plot, and all of them held
ranks in the Pretender's army. Dawson had paid addresses to a young
lady, to whom he was to have been married immediately after his
enlargement, if the solicitations that were made for his pardon had been
attended with the desired effect.
The circumstance of his love, and the melancholy that was produced by
his death, are so admirably treated in the following ballad of
Shenstone, that Dawson's story will probably be remembered and regretted
when that of the rest of the rebels will be forgotten.
JEMMY DAWSON: A BALLAD.
Come listen to my mournful tale,
Ye tender hearts and lovers dear,
Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh,
Nor will you blush to shed a tear.
And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,
Do thou a pensive ear incline;
For canst thou weep at every woe,
And pity every 'plaint, but mine?
Young Dawson was a gallant youth,
A lighter never trod the plain;
And well he loved one charming maid,
And dearly was he loved again.
One tender maid, she loved him dear,
Of gentle blood the damsel came;
And faultless was her beauteous form,
And spotless was her virgin fame.
But curse on parties' hateful strife,
That led the faithful youth astray!
The day the rebel clans appear'd--
(Oh! had he never seen that day!)
Their colours and their sash he wore,
And in their fatal dress was found;
And now he must that death endure
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.
How pale was then his true-love's cheek
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear!
For never yet did Alpine snows
So pale nor yet so chill, appear.
"Yet, might sweet mercy find a place,
And bring relief to Jemmy's woes,
O George! without a prayer for thee
My orisons should never close.
"The gracious prince that gives him life
Would crown a never-dying flame;
And every tender babe I bore
Should learn to lisp the giver's name.
"But though, dear youth, thou shouldst be dragg'd
To yonder ignominious tree,
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend
To share thy bitter fate with thee."
O, then her mourning-coach was call'd;
The sledge moved slowly on before;--
Though borne in a triumphal car,
She had not loved her favourite more.
She follow'd him, prepared to view
The terrible behests of law;
And the last scene of Jemmy's woes,
With calm and steadfast eyes she saw.
Distorted was that blooming face
Which she had fondly loved so long,
And stifled was that tuneful breath
Which in her praise had sweetly sung;
And sever'd was that beauteous neck
Round which her arms had fondly closed;
And mangled was that beauteous breast
On which her love-sick head reposed;--
And ravish'd was that constant heart
She did to every heart prefer;
For, though it could his king forget,
'Twas true and loyal still to her.
Amidst those unrelenting flames
She bore this constant heart to see;
But, when 'twas moulder'd into dust,
"Yet, yet," she cried, "I'll follow thee!
"My death, my death, can only show
The pure and lasting love I bore;
Accept, O Heaven! of woes like ours,
And let us--let us weep no more."
The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retired;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And, sighing forth his name, expired.
Though justice ever must prevail,
The tear my Kitty sheds is due;
For seldom shall we hear a tale
So sad, so tender, and so true.
These offenders were hanged on Kennington Common. They had not hung
above five minutes when Townley was cut down, being yet alive: and his
body being placed on the block, the executioner chopped off his head
with a cleaver. His heart and bowels were then taken out, and thrown
into the fire; and the other parties being separately treated in the
same manner, the executioner cried out, "God save King George!"
The bodies were quartered, and delivered to the keepers of the New Jail,
who buried them: the heads of some of the parties were sent to Carlisle
and Manchester, where they were exposed; but those of Townley and
another were fixed on Temple Bar, and after remaining some time, fell
down.
It would be useless to attempt to enumerate the other persons whose
crimes and misfortunes at this time consigned them to the gibbet; but
some account of the escape of the Pretender may not be uninteresting. It
would appear that the battle of Culloden having decided the fate of his
cause, where the Pretender had his horse shot under him by one of the
king's troopers as he was endeavouring to rally his soldiers, he retired
to the house of a factor of Lord Lovat, at about ten miles from
Inverness, where he met with that lord and supped with him. After supper
he started on his journey to Fort Augustus, and next day went on to
Invergarry. A boy, whom he found there caught him a salmon and he dined,
and afterwards waited for some of his troops, who had promised to meet
him there. Being disappointed, however, in his object, he proceeded to
Lockharciage, and he arrived there on the 18th of April, at about two in
the morning, and slept, but at five he set out on foot, and travelled
through the Glen of Morar, where he arrived at four the next morning. He
reached Arrashag in twelve hours after, and was there joined by Captain
O'Neil on the 27th, who informed him that his cause was hopeless, and
recommended him, therefore, to sail at once for France. One Donald
M'Leod was engaged to hire a ship, and on the 28th the Chevalier went on
board an eight-oared boat, in company with Sullivan and O'Neil, ordering
the people who belonged to the boat to make the best haste they could to
Stornoway, where it was proposed they should take ship. The night
proving very tempestuous, they all begged of him to go back, which he
would not do; but to keep up the spirits of the people, he sang them a
Highland song. The weather growing worse and worse, about seven in the
morning of the 29th, they were driven on shore on a point of land called
Rushness, in the island of Benbecula, where, when they got on shore, the
Pretender helped to make a fire to warm the crew, who were almost
starved to death with cold. On the 30th, at six in the evening, they set
sail again for Stornoway, but meeting with another storm, were obliged
to put into the island of Scalpa, in the Harris, where they all went on
shore to a farmer's house, passing for merchants that were shipwrecked
in their voyage to the Orkneys: the Pretender and Sullivan going by the
name of Sinclair, the latter passing for the father, and the former for
his son. They thought proper to send from thence to Stornoway, with
instructions to freight a ship for the Orkneys; and on the 3d of May
they received a message that a ship was ready. On the 4th they set out
for that place, where they arrived on the 5th about noon, but meeting
with their messenger, Donald M'Leod, they found that he had got into
company, and told a friend of his for whom he had hired the ship; upon
which there were two hundred people in arms at Stornoway, upon a report
that the Pretender was landed with five hundred men, and was coming to
burn the town; so that they were obliged to lie all night upon the
moor, with no other refreshment than biscuit and brandy. On the 6th they
resolved to go in the eight-oared boat to the Orkneys; but the crew
refused to venture, so that they were obliged to steer south along the
coast-side, where they met with two English ships; and this compelled
them to put into a desert island, where they remained till the 10th,
without any provision but some salt fish they found upon the place.
About ten in the morning of that day they embarked for the Harris, and
at break of day on the 11th they were chased by an English vessel, but
made their escape among the rocks. About four in the afternoon they
arrived on the island of Benbecula, where they remained till the 14th,
and then they set out for the mountain of Currada, in South Uist, where
they staid till the militia of the Isle of Skye came to the island of
Irasky. They now sailed for the island of Uia, where they remained three
nights, till, having intelligence that the militia were coming towards
Benbecula, they immediately got into their boat, and sailed for
Lochbusdale. Being met, however, by some ships of war, they were obliged
to return to Lochagnart, and at night sailed for Lochbusdale; upon
arriving at which place they staid eight days on a rock, making a tent
of the sail of the boat. They found themselves here in a most dreadful
situation; for, having intelligence that Captain Scott had landed at
Kilbride, they were obliged to separate, and the Pretender and O'Neil
went to the mountains, where they remained all night, and soon after
were informed that General Campbell was at Bernary; so that now they had
forces very near on both sides of them, and were absolutely at a loss
which way to move. In their road they met with a young lady, one Miss
M'Donald, to whom Captain O'Neil proposed assisting the Pretender to
make his escape, which at first she refused; but, upon his offering to
put on women's clothes, she consented, and desired them to go to the
mountain of Currada till she sent for them. They accordingly there staid
two days; but hearing nothing from the young lady, the Pretender
concluded she would not keep her word, and therefore resolved to send
Captain O'Neil to General Campbell, to let him know he was willing to
surrender to him; but about five o'clock in the evening a message came
from the young lady, desiring them to meet her at Rushness. Being afraid
to pass by the Ford, because of the militia, they luckily found a boat,
which carried them to the other side of Uia, where they remained part of
the next day, afraid of being seen by the country people. In the evening
they set out for Rushness, and arrived there at twelve at night; but not
finding the young lady, and being alarmed by a boat full of militia,
they were obliged to retire two miles back, where the Pretender remained
on a moor till O'Neil went to the young lady, and prevailed upon her to
come to the place appointed at night-fall of the next day. About an hour
after, they had an account of General Campbell's arrival at Benbecula,
which obliged them to move to another part of the island, where, as the
day broke, they discovered four sail close on the shore, making directly
up to the place where they were; so that there was nothing left for them
but to throw themselves among the heath. When the wherries were gone,
they resolved to go to Clanronald's house; but when they were within a
mile of it, they heard General Campbell was there, which forced them to,
retreat again. The young Pretender having at length, with the assistance
of Captain O'Neil, found Miss M'Donald in a cottage near the place
appointed, it was there determined that he should put on women's clothes
and pass for her waiting-maid. This being done, he took leave of
Sullivan and O'Neil with great regret, who departed to shift for
themselves, leaving him and his new mistress in the cottage, where they
continued some days, during which she cured him of the itch. Upon
intelligence that General Campbell was gone further into the country,
they removed to her cousin's, and spent the night in preparing for their
departure to the Isle of Skye: and they set out the next morning for
that place, with only one man-servant, named M'Lean, and two rowers.
During their voyage they were pursued by a small vessel; but a thick fog
rising, they arrived safe at midnight in that island, and landed at the
foot of a rock, where the lady and her maid waited while her man M'Lean
went to see if Sir Alexander M'Donald was at home. M'Lean found his way
thither, but lost it in returning; and his mistress and her maid, after
in vain expecting him the whole night, were obliged in the morning to
leave the rock, and go in the boat up the creek to some distance, to
avoid the militia which guarded the coast. They went on shore again
about ten o'clock, and, attended by the rowers, inquired the way to Sir
Alexander's. When they had gone about two miles, they met M'Lean; and he
told his lady that Sir Alexander was with the Duke of Cumberland, but
his lady was at home, and would do them all the service she could. They
then immediately discharged their boat, and went directly to the house,
where they remained two days, being always in her ladyship's chamber,
except at night, to prevent a discovery. But a party of the M'Leods,
having intelligence that some strangers were arrived at Sir Alexander's,
and knowing his lady to be well affected to the Pretender, came thither,
and demanding to see the new-comers, were introduced to Miss's chamber,
where she sat with her new maid. The latter, hearing the militia were at
the door, had the presence of mind to get up and open it, which
occasioned his being the less noticed; and after they had narrowly
searched the chests, they withdrew. The inquiry, however, alarmed the
young lady, and the next day she sent her apparent maid to a steward of
Sir Alexander's: but hearing that his being in the island was known, he
removed to Macdonald's, at Kingsborough, ten miles distant, where he
remained but one day; for on receiving intelligence that it was rumoured
that he was disguised in a woman's habit, Macdonald furnished him with a
suit of his own clothes, and he went in a boat to M'Leod's at Raza. No
prospect of escaping to France, however, presented itself there, and he
returned to the Isle of Skye, being thirty miles, with no attendant but
a ferryman, M'Leod assuring him that the elder Laird of Mackinnon would
there render him all the service in his power. On his reaching
M'Kinnon's, the old man instantly knew him, and advised him to go to
Lochaber; and he accordingly proceeded thither in a vessel procured for
that purpose. M'Donald, at the head of one hundred resolute Highlanders,
then appeared to assist him, and after roving about with them from place
to place, he at length removed to Badenoch. He was there very much
harassed by the King's troops, and losing many of his men in the
skirmishes which daily took place, they were at length obliged to
disperse; and the Pretender, with Lochiel of Barrisdale and some others,
skulked about in Moidart. Here they received information that two French
privateers were at anchor in Lochnanaugh, in one of which, _L'Heureux_,
this unfortunate prince eventually embarked, with twenty-three
gentlemen, and one hundred and seven soldiers, and soon after arrived
safely in France.
WILLIAM YORK,
AGED TEN YEARS, CONVICTED OF MURDERING SUSAN MAHEW, AGED FIVE YEARS.
This unhappy child was but ten years of age when he committed the
dreadful crime of which he was convicted. He was a pauper in the
poorhouse belonging to the parish of Eye, in Suffolk, and was committed,
on the coroner's inquest, to Ipswich jail, for the murder of Susan
Mahew, another child, of five years of age, who had been his bedfellow.
The following is his confession, taken by a justice of the peace, and
which was, in part, proved on the trial, with many corroborating
circumstances of his guilt.