WILLIAM BOYD, EARL OF KILMARNOCK.

The unfortunate nobleman who is the subject of this Memoir, could boast

of as long line of ancestors as most families in Europe. Among his

forefathers were men eminent for loyalty, and distinguished for bravery,

and of honour as untainted as their blood; but when William, fourth Earl

of Kilmarnock, succeeded to his title, there was little except this high

ancestry to elate him with pride, or to raise him above dependence upon

circumstances.

The Earl of Kilmarnock derived his title from a royal borough of the

same name, in the shire of Cunningham in Ayrshire; and, in former times

when the chieftainship was in repute in that part of Scotland, that

branch of the family of Boyd, or Boyde, from whom the Earl was

descended, claimed to be chiefs.

The greatness of the Boyd family commenced with Simon, the brother of

Walter, first High Steward of Scotland, and founder of the Monastery of

Paisley, in 1160. Robert, the son of Simon, is designated in the

foundation church of that monastery, as nephew of Walter, High Steward;

and is distinguished on account of his fair complexion, by the word

Boyt, or Boyd,[316] from the Celtic Boidh, signifying fair, or yellow.

"He was," says Nisbet, "doubtless, predecessor to the Lords Boyd, and

Earls of Kilmarnock."[317]

The family of Boyd continued to flourish until, in the fifteenth

century, it was ennobled by James the Third, who owed to one of its

members, Sir Alexander Boyd of Duncow, esteemed to be a mirror of

chivalry, an inculcation into the military exercises, which were deemed,

in those days, essential to the education of royalty. But the sunshine

of kingly favour was not enjoyed by the Boyds without some alloy. Robert

Boyd of Kilmarnock, who was raised to the peerage, under the title of

Lord Boyd, and whose eldest son was created Earl of Arran, experienced

various vicissitudes. He died in England, in exile; and his brother, Sir

Alexander, perished in 1469, on a scaffold, erected on the Castle Hill

of Edinburgh. The fortunes of the family were, however, restored in the

person of Thomas, Earl of Arran, who married the eldest sister of King

James the Third. The beautiful island of Arran was given as the dower of

this lady: and her husband, who is said in the Paston Letters to have

been a "light, clever, and well-spoken, fair archer; devoutest, most

perfect, and truest to his lady, of Knights," enjoyed a short gleam of

royal favour. His vicissitudes, however, befel him whilst on an embassy

in Denmark, his enemies undermined him at home: he was driven to wander

in foreign countries, and died at Antwerp, where a magnificent monument

was erected to his memory, by Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy. His

title was attainted, but his property was restored to his son; and in

1655, the title of Earl of Kilmarnock was added to that of Lord Boyd,

which alone seems to have been retained by the family during the

intervening generations.

During the reign of Charles the First, his descendants were considered

to be steady Royalists; but, notwithstanding their claiming descent from

the Stuarts, the views and principles of the family in the troublous

period of the Revolution of 1688, underwent a total change. William, the

third Earl of Kilmarnock, and the father of the unhappy adherent of

Charles Edward, took the oaths of allegiance to the reigning family, and

supported the Treaty of Union; joining at first the party entitled the

_Squâdrone volante_; but eventually deserting them for the Whigs. When

the Insurrection of 1715 broke out, this nobleman plainly manifested

that the notions which had actuated his ancestor to join the association

at Cumberland in favour of Charles the First, were no longer deemed

valid by him. The superiority of the Burgh of Kilmarnock having been

granted in 1672 to his ancestors, the Earl summoned the inhabitants of

the Burgh to assemble, and to arm themselves in support of Government.

At the general meeting of the fencible corps at Cunningham, Lord

Kilmarnock appeared, followed by five hundred of his men, well armed,

and so admirably trained, that they made the best figure on that

occasion among the forces collected.[318] In compliance with orders

which he received from the Duke of Argyll, Lord Kilmarnock marched with

his volunteers to garrison the houses of Drummakil, Cardross, and

Gastartan, in order to prevent the rebels from crossing the Forth.

Unhappily for the fortunes of his family, the Earl died two years

afterwards: and in the year 1717, his son, then a boy of fourteen years

of age, succeeded to his title.

The mother of the young nobleman still survived: she was the Lady

Eupheme, daughter of William, eleventh Earl of Ross; and one child only,

the Earl of Kilmarnock, had been the issue of her marriage.

The youth, whose fate afterwards extorted pity from the most prejudiced

spectators of his fate, was educated in the principles of the Scottish

Church. These, as the chaplain who attended Lord Kilmarnock in the last

days of his existence observes, are far from "having the least tendency

to sedition," and a very different bias was apparent in the conduct of

the Presbyterian ministers during the whole course of the insurrections

of 1745. The young nobleman appears to have imbibed, with this

persuasion, a sincere conviction of those incontrovertible, and

all-important truths of Christianity which, happily, the contentions of

sect cannot nullify, nor the passions of mankind assail. "He always

believed," such is his own declaration, "in the great truths of God's

Being and Providence, and in a future state of rewards and punishments

for virtue and vice." He had never, he declared at that solemn moment

when nothing appeared to him of consequence save truth, "been involved

in the fashionable scepticism of the times." As he grew up, a character

more amiable than energetic, and dispositions more calculated to inspire

love than to insure respect, manifested themselves in the young

nobleman. He was singularly handsome, being tall and slender, and

possessing what was termed by an eyewitness of his trial, "an extreme

fine person;" he was mild, and well-bred, humble, and conscientious. It

is true, that in his hours of penitence he recalled, with anguish, "a

careless and dissolute life," by which, as he affirmed, he reduced

himself to great and perplexing difficulties; he repented for his "love

of vanity and addictedness to impurity and sensual pleasure," which had

"brought pollution and guilt upon his soul, and debased his reason, and,

for a time, suspended the exercise of his social affections, which were,

by nature, strong in him, and, in particular, the love of his country."

Such was his own account of that youth, which, deprived of the guidance

of a father, with high rank and great personal attractions to endanger

it, was passed, according to his own confession, in dissipation and

folly. It appears, nevertheless, that he was greatly respected by his

neighbours and tenantry, who were not, perhaps, disposed to judge very

severely the errors of a young and popular man.

When only eleven years of age, Lord Kilmarnock, then Lord Boyd, had

appeared in arms for Government with his father; on which occasion he

conducted himself so gracefully as to attract the admiration of all

beholders.[319] His early prepossessions, granting that they may have

accorded with those of his father, were, however, soon dissipated when

he allied himself with a family who had been conspicuous in the Jacobite

cause. This was the house of Livingstone, Earl of Linlithgow and

Calendar; George, the fourth Earl, having, in 1715, been engaged in the

insurrection under Lord Mar, had been attainted, and his estate of one

thousand two hundred and ninety-six pounds yearly forfeited to the

Crown. Nor has this forfeiture ever been reversed; and the present

representative of the family, Sir Thomas Livingstone, of Westquarter and

Bedlormie, remains, notwithstanding an appeal in 1784 before Lord

Kenyon, then Attorney-General, a commoner.[320]

Lady Anne Livingstone, who was the object of the young Lord Kilmarnock's

choice, is reported to have been a woman of great beauty, and, from her

exertions in her husband's behalf, appears to have possessed a fine,

determined spirit. Although her father's title was not restored, she had

sufficient interest, in 1721, to obtain from the English Government a

lease of the forfeited estates for fifty-nine years, at the rent of

eight hundred and seventy-two pounds, twelve shillings per annum.[321]

This was, no doubt, a source of considerable pecuniary benefit to her,

and also of assistance, very greatly required by Lord Kilmarnock, who

was in impoverished circumstances. Honours, indeed, centered in him, but

were productive of no real benefit. By the grandmother of his wife, the

Lady Margaret Hay, sole surviving daughter of Charles the twelfth Earl

of Errol, he had a claim to that Earldom, which, coupling with its

dignity that of the hereditary High Constable of Scotland, descended in

the female line, and after the death of a brother in infancy,

constituted the Lady Anne Livingstone a Countess of Errol in her own

right. Thus, Lord Kilmarnock had, to borrow Horace Walpole's expression,

"four earldoms in him," Kilmarnock, Errol, Linlithgow, and Calendar; and

yet he is said to have been so poor, as "often to have wanted a dinner."

But to this mode of expression we must not entirely trust for accuracy.

With the inheritance of the Earldoms of Errol, and of Linlithgow, and

Calendar, there came a stock of old Jacobite principles; Lord Linlithgow

had, indeed, suffered what was perhaps worse than death for his

adherence to James Stuart. The Earl of Errol, the grandfather of Lady

Kilmarnock, had led a more prudent course. Still he was a hearty

Jacobite, and though, as Lockhart declares, he did not at first make a

"great outward appearance," yet he was much trusted by the party; his

family had always been favourable to the Stuarts, and he was, also,

generally considered to cherish similar sentiments.[322] He had,

nevertheless, taken the oaths to Government in 1705; yet on the alarm of

an invasion in 1708, he was deemed so dangerous a person that he was

sent as a prisoner to Edinburgh Castle, where he died.

The love suit of Lord Kilmarnock was not likely, under his impoverished

circumstances, to prosper uninterruptedly. When he succeeded to his

estate he had found it much encumbered, and a considerable portion of

the old inheritance alienated. Lord Kilmarnock's disposition was not

formed for economy; he was generous even to profusion, and, as we have

seen had not escaped the temptations incident to his age. His addresses

to the Lady Anne Livingstone are said to have been prompted by his

necessities; her fortune was deemed considerable; and her family, well

knowing the state of the Earl's affairs, regarded his proposals of

marriage unfavourably. But the young nobleman during the course of his

courtship, and in opposing these objections, formed an interest in the

heart of the young lady. He was, indeed, a man born to charm the

imagination of the romantic, if not at that period of his youth, to

rivet affection by esteem. In his boyhood, although he made some degree

of progress in classical attainments, and even in philosophy and

mathematics, thus proving that natural ability was not wanting, he was

far more successful in attaining mere accomplishments, which add a

powerful charm to comeliness and symmetry than in mastering more solid

studies. He became an adept in fencing, in riding, in drawing, and also

in music; and acquired the distinctive and comprehensive designation, of

being "a polite gentleman."[323]

Disgusted with the cold discussions on settlements and rent rolls, and

disregarding maternal cautions, Lady Anne soon followed the dictates of

her own heart. She married the young and handsome nobleman without her

mother's consent, and a tardy sanction to the union was wrung from Lady

Livingstone only when it was too late to withhold her approval.

The marriage was not, it was said by those who were disposed to

scandalize the Earl of Kilmarnock, productive of happiness. The young

Countess was possessed, indeed, of beauty, wit, and good sense: but her

husband, if we may accredit the memoirs of his life, gave her much cause

to complain of his conduct. They lived, however, as the same doubtful

authority states, "if not happily, at least civilly together." Such is

the statement of a contemporary writer; it must, however, be adopted

with just as much allowance as we give to similar reports raised by

party writers in the present day: and it will be shown[324] not to

accord with the dying declarations of Lord Kilmarnock. "I leave behind,"

he wrote to his agent, "in Lady Kilmarnock, what is dearest to me."[325]

Subsequently to his marriage, Lord Kilmarnock's necessities and the

additional burden of a family induced him to apply to the English

Government for a pension, founded, as it is probable, on his father's

services to Government in 1715. But this statement, and the conditions

upon which the bounty was given are left in obscurity. "Whether," says

the anonymous biographer of Lord Kilmarnock, "my Lord Kilmarnock's

pension was a ministerial bribe, or a royal bounty, is a question I

cannot determine with any certainty; but I have reason to suspect the

former, since few pensions, granted by a certain administration, that of

Sir Robert Walpole, deserved the latter." The same writer truly

observes, that little or no dependance is to be placed on that loyalty

which wants the support of bribes and pensions. "The practice," he adds,

"is too general, and a defection of this kind of men may be fatal to

the state."[326] The pension, as it appears from Horace Walpole's

letters, was taken from Lord Kilmarnock by Lord Wilmington. "Lord

Kilmarnock," he writes to Sir Horace Mann, "is a Presbyterian, with four

earldoms in view, but so poor since Lord Wilmington's stopping a pension

that my father had given him, that he often wanted a dinner."[327]

In the last days of his existence the Earl, indeed, acknowledged that

the state of his affairs was, in part, the reason of his defection from

Government. He attributed it, (though, it must be stated, under the

pressing arguments of a minister of religion who considered what he

termed "rebellion" as the most heinous sin,) to the great and pressing

difficulties into which he had brought himself, by extravagance and

dissipation: and declared, according to the account of his spiritual

guide, that the "exigency of his affairs was very pressing at the time

of the rebellion; and that, besides the general hope he had of mending

his fortune by the success of it, he was also tempted by another

prospect, of retrieving his circumstances if he followed the Pretender's

standard."[328]

Until the commencement of the insurrection of 1745, Lord Kilmarnock

enjoyed the possession of Dean Castle, a very ancient edifice, situated

about half a mile north east of the town of Kilmarnock, in Ayrshire. "It

is," says Grose in his Antiquities of Scotland, "at a small distance

from the main road leading from Kilmarnock to Stewarton, and consists of

a large vaulted square tower, which seems to have been built about the

beginning of the fifteenth century: this is surrounded by a court and

other buildings more modern."[329] Such is the description of Dean

Castle before the year 1735; when, to add to Lord Kilmarnock's other

necessities, it was partially destroyed by fire, leaving only a ruin

which he was too much impoverished even to restore to its former

habitable state. In the "great square tower," referred to by Grose, and

of which a view is preserved in his work on Scotland, the Boyd family

had dwelt in the days of their greatness, when one of their race was

created Earl of Arran. In that tower had the Earl imprisoned his royal

wife, the Lady Margaret, sister of James the Third, who was divorced

from him, pleading, as some say, a prior contract with the Lord

Hamilton, to whom she was afterwards united, taking to him the Isle of

Arran as her dower.

It does not appear that the Earl of Kilmarnock was originally in the

confidence of the Jacobite party: and their designs were not only

matured, but far in full operation before he took an open or active part

in the Stuart cause. It happened, however, that when Charles Edward

resided at Holyrood, the Countess of Kilmarnock was living in Edinburgh.

Her beauty, and the gaiety of her manners, attracted the admiration of

the young Prince, who bestowed no small portion of attention on the

fascinating daughter of one of his father's adherents. Lady Kilmarnock

was as much attached to pleasure as the young and beautiful usually are:

she delighted in public diversions, and led the way to all parties of

amusement. Her ambition, no less than her early prepossessions

conspired, it is said, to make her a Jacobite; and she hoped, by the

favour of Charles Edward, to obtain the restoration of her father's

title. Her entreaties to the Earl of Kilmarnock to join the standard of

the Prince were stimulated, therefore, by a double motive; and, indeed,

to a generous and romantic mind, there required neither the inducements

of ambition, nor of gratified vanity, to espouse that part which seemed

most natural to the Scotch. After the battle of Preston Pans, Lady

Kilmarnock's persuasions took effect: her husband presented himself to

the young Chevalier, who received him with every mark of esteem and

distinction, declared him a member of the privy council, raised him to

the rank of a general, and appointed him colonel of his guards.[330]

Another occurrence is, however, stated to have had a considerable

influence in forming the Earl's decision.

During the course of the conflict, he met, at Linlithgow, that

incomparable man, and excellent officer, Colonel Gardiner. This

individual, whose character forms so fine a relief to the party-spirited

and debased condition of the British army in the time of George the

Second, was a native of Linlithgowshire, having been born at Carriden,

in the year of the Revolution, 1688. His life commencing in that

important era, had been one of events. He had first entered the Dutch

service; then had served in Marlborough's army at Ramilies. Until this

incident of his life, the young soldier, then only nineteen, had run a

course of dissolute pleasure, and had obtained, from the frankness and

gaiety of his disposition, the name of the _happy rake_. Being in the

Forlorn hope, he was wounded, and left in a state hovering between life

and death, on the field, and in state of partial insensibility, from

which he was aroused at times to perfect consciousness.

The ball which had struck Gardiner, had entered his mouth; and without

breaking a single tooth, or touching the forepart of his tongue, had

passed through his neck, coming out above an inch and a half on the left

side of the vertebræ. He was abandoned by Marlborough's troops, who,

according to their custom, left the wounded to their fate, while they

pursued their advantages against the French.

In this state, the first serious emotions of gratitude, the first

convictions of a peculiar Providence suggested themselves to the mind of

the young officer: and although they did not, for some years, produce an

absolute amendment of life, they laid the foundation of his future

conversion, and of that exemplary piety and purity which extorted

admiration even in a dissolute age. After being present at every battle

that Marlborough had fought in Flanders, Colonel Gardiner had signalized

his courage in the Insurrection of 1715; and in 1745 he was again

ordered to the north to meet the Jacobite forces near Edinburgh.[331]

It was during this, his last campaign, when broken by ill health and

premature age, for this brave and good man despaired of the restoration

of peace to his country, that he supped in company with Lord Kilmarnock,

at Linlithgow. Colonel Gardiner's prognostications had long been most

gloomy. "I have heard him say," declared Dr. Doddridge, "many years

before the Scottish Insurrection, that a few thousands might have a

fair chance for marching from Edinburgh to London, uncontrolled, and

throw the whole kingdom into an astonishment." This opinion was derived

from his knowledge of the defenceless state of the country, and the

general prevailing disaffection. And the pious, but somewhat distrustful

views of Gardiner led him to assign yet more solemn reasons for his

anticipations of evil. "For my own part, though I fear nothing for

myself, my apprehensions for the public are very gloomy, considering the

deplorable prevalency of almost all kinds of wickedness among us; the

natural consequences of the contempt of the Gospel. I am daily offering

up my prayers to God for this sinful land of ours, over which His

judgments seem to be gathering; and my strength is sometimes so

exhausted with those strong cries and tears, which I pour out before God

upon this occasion, that I am hardly able to stand when I arise from my

knees."[332]

Imbued with these convictions, Colonel Gardiner, when he was retreating

at Linlithgow with the troops under his command, spoke unguardedly to

Lord Kilmarnock of the prospects of the English army, and thus confirmed

the wavering inclination of that ill-fated nobleman to follow Charles

Edward.[333] The decisive step was not, it appears, taken until after

the battle of Preston Pans, in which Colonel Gardiner, who had a

mournful presentiment of the event of that engagement, fell, after a

deportment truly worthy of the British soldier, and of the Christian.

This brave officer, after having received two wounds, fought on, his

feeble frame animated by the almost supernatural force of strong

determination. As he headed a party of foot who had lost their leader,

and cried out, "Fire on, my lads, fear nothing;" his right-arm was cut

down by a Highlander who advanced with a scythe, fastened to a pole. He

was dragged from his horse; and the work of butchery was completed by

another Highlander, who struck him on the head with a broadsword:

Gardiner had only power to say to his servant, "Take care of yourself."

The faithful creature hastened to an adjoining mill for a cart to convey

his master to a place of safety. It was not until two hours had elapsed,

that he was able to return. The mangled body, all stripped and

plundered, was, even then, still breathing; and the agony of that

gallant spirit was protracted until the next day, when he expired in the

house of the minister of Tranent.

This digression, introducing as it does, one of the _real_ heroes of

this mournful period, may be pardoned.

According to the evidence on his trial, Lord Kilmarnock first joined the

standard of Charles Edward on the "banks of the river which divides

England from Scotland;"[334] but Maxwell of Kirkconnel mentions that the

Earl marched from Edinburgh on the thirty-first of October, 1745, at the

head of a little squadron of horse grenadiers, with whom were some

Perthshire gentlemen, who, in the absence of their own commander, were

placed under the conduct of Lord Kilmarnock.[335] After this decisive

step, Lord Kilmarnock continued to follow Charles during the whole of

that ill-fated campaign, which ended in the battle of Culloden. During

the various events of that disastrous undertaking, his character, like

that of many other commanders in the Chevalier's army, suffered from

imputations of cruelty. That this vice was not accordant with his

general disposition of mind, the minister who attended him on his

death-bed sufficiently attests. "For myself," declares Mr. Foster, "I

must do this unhappy criminal the justice to own, that he _never_

appeared, during the course of my attendance upon him, to be of any

other than a soft, benevolent disposition. His behaviour was always mild

and temperate. I could discern no resentment, no disturbance or

agitation in him."[336] So gentle a character is not the growth of a

day; and if ever Lord Kilmarnock were betrayed into actions of violence,

it must have been under circumstances of a peculiar nature.

Among other charges which were specified against him, was a

participation in the blowing up of the church of St. Ninian's, in the

retreat from Stirling. But when, in the retirement of his prison

chamber, the unfortunate nobleman reviewed his conduct, and confessed

the errors of his life, he fully and satisfactorily cleared himself from

the heinous imputation implied in this work of destruction. When the

army of Charles were retiring from Stirling he was confined to his bed

ill of a fever. The first intimation that he had of the blowing up of

the tower of St. Ninian's was the noise, of which he never could obtain

a clear account. By the insurgents it was represented as accidental:

"this can I certainly say, as to myself, that I had no knowledge before

hand, nor any concurrence in a designed act of cruelty." Such was Lord

Kilmarnock's declaration to Mr. Foster.

Another instance of barbarity also laid to the charge of the Earl was,

his alleged treatment of certain prisoners of war who were intrusted to

his care in the church of Inverness. He was accused of stripping these

unfortunate persons of their clothes. Upon this point he admitted that

an order to deprive the prisoners of their garments for the use of the

Highlanders was issued by Charles Edward: that the warrant for executing

this order was sent to him. He did not, as he declared, enter the church

in person, but committed the office of execution to an inferior officer.

The prisoners, as might be expected, refused to submit to this

indignity; upon which a second order was issued, and their clothes were

taken from them. The well-timed remonstrance of Boyer, Marquis

D'Eguilles, who had been sent by the court of France in the character of

Ambassador to Charles Edward, arrested, however, the act of cruelty,

which not even extreme necessity can excuse. This nobleman had arrived

some time previously at Montrose, bringing in the ship in which he

sailed, arms and a small sum of money,[337] and his influence, which was

exerted in behalf of the captives, was happily considerable. He

represented to the Earl of Kilmarnock, that the rules of war did not

authorise the outrage which was contemplated. Lord Kilmarnock, convinced

by his remarks, repaired to Charles Edward, leaving heaps of the clothes

lying in the streets of Inverness, with sentinels standing to guard

them. By the arguments which he addressed to the Prince, these garments

were restored to their unfortunate owners; and a great stain on the

memory both of Charles and of his adherent was thus partially effaced.

Of such a nature were those imputations which were charged upon Lord

Kilmarnock; but they appear to have met with only a transient credence;

whilst a general impression of his gentleness, and a prevailing regret

for his fate endured as long as the memory of the dire contest, and of

its tragical termination, dwelt in the recollection of those who

witnessed those mournful times.

After the battle of Culloden, the prisoners were immediately set free.

The Duke of Cumberland, as he entered Inverness, taking his road amid

the carcasses of the dead strewed in the way, called for the keys of the

prisons, and with his own hands released the captives there, and,

clapping them on the shoulders as they came down stairs, exclaimed,

"brother soldiers, you are free."[338] Unfortunately his compassion was

of a party nature, and was only aroused for his own adherents.

At Culloden, fatal to so many brave men, Lord Kilmarnock was spared only

to taste much more deeply of the pangs of death than if he had met it in

battle. His fate had, indeed, been anticipated by the superstitious; and

it was considered a rash instance of hardihood in the unfortunate

nobleman to resist an omen which, about a year before the rebellion had

broken out, is said to have happened in his house.

One day, as the maid who attended usually upon Lady Kilmarnock was

inspecting some linen in an upper room of Dean Castle, the door of the

apartment suddenly opened of its own accord, and the view of a bloody

head, resembling that of Lord Kilmarnock, was presented to the

affrighted woman. As she gazed in horror, the head rolled near her. She

endeavoured in vain to repel it with her foot. She became powerless, but

she was still able to scream; her shrieks brought Lord Kilmarnock and

his Countess to the chamber. The apparition had vanished; but she

related succinctly the story "which, at that time," says the historian

who repeats it,[339] "Lord Kilmarnock too much ridiculed, though it

could have been wished that he had been forewarned by the omen. Such was

the superstition of the times, in which ignorance and credulity found

such ready supporters."

At Culloden, this ill-fated nobleman occupied a post not far from the

Prince, in the rear of whom was a line of reserve, consisting of three

columns, the first of which, on the left, was commanded by Lord

Kilmarnock; the centre column by Lord Lewis Gordon and Glenbucket; and

the right by the justly-celebrated Roy Stewart. In the opposite ranks,

an ensign in the royal regiment, was his son, Lord Boyd. During the

confusion of the fight, when half-blinded by the smoke, the unhappy Lord

Kilmarnock, as if fated to fulfil the omen, mistook a party of English

Dragoons for FitzJames's Horse, and was accordingly taken prisoner. He

was led along the lines of the British infantry. The vaunted beauty of

his countenance, and the matchless graces of which so much has been

said, were now obliterated by the disorder of his person, and his

humiliating position. His hat had been lost in the conflict, and his

long hair fell about his face. The soldiers as he was led along stood in

mute compassion at this sight. Among those who thus looked upon this

unfortunate man was his son, Lord Boyd, who was constrained to witness,

without attempting to alleviate, the distress of that moment. When the

Earl passed the place where his son stood, the youth, unable to bear

that his father should be thus exposed bareheaded to the storm which

played upon the scene of carnage, stepped out of the ranks and taking

his own hat from his head, placed it on that of his father. It was the

work of an instant, and not a syllable escaped the lips of the agitated

young man.[340]

Lord Kilmarnock was carried from the moor, which already, to use the

words of an eyewitness among the Government troops, "was covered with

blood; the men, what with killing the enemy, dabbling their feet in the

blood, and splashing it about one another, looked like so many

butchers."[341] Never, did even their enemies declare, was a field of

battle bestrewn with a finer, perhaps with a nobler race. "Every body

allowed," writes one of Cumberland's officers, "that men of a larger

size, larger limbs, and better proportioned, could not be found." The

flower of their unhappy country; hundreds of these had not yet been

blessed with the repose of death, but were left to languish in agony

until the next day, when they were butchered by the orders of

Cumberland. One of them, John Alexander Fraser, in the Master of Lovat's

regiment, was rescued by Lord Boyd from destruction. A soldier had

struck him with the butt of his musket, intending, according to the

orders given, to beat out his brains. The poor wretch, his nose and

cheek-bone broken, and one of his eyes pierced, still breathed when this

young nobleman passed him. He observed the poor creature, and ordered

his servants to carry him to a neighbouring kiln, where, in time, his

wounds were cured. "He lived," observes Mr. Chambers, "many years

afterwards, a dismal memorial of the cruelties of Culloden."[342]

According to one account, Lord Kilmarnock owed his escape from the field

of battle with his life to the brave and generous Lord Ancrum, who

delivered him to the Duke of Cumberland; and the same narrative adds,

that the Duke issued orders that no one should mention the Earl's

imprisonment to his son, but considerately imparted the intelligence to

the young man himself. It is only fair to mention this redeeming trait

in a man who had so many awful, and almost inexpiable sins to answer for

at the last day, when not our professions of kindness, but our acts of

mercy or of wrong will be placed before a solemn and final account.

After his surrender at Culloden, the Earl of Kilmarnock was conveyed to

London. That metropolis, in some of its most attractive features, was

well known to him: he had frequently resided there for several months

during the year, and had associated with the friends of government who

were near the court. He was now to view it under a very different

aspect; and during the period which elapsed between his surrender and

his trial, he had ample time to weigh the respective value of that

society which had formerly so much delighted him, and in which, it is

said he "had affected to talk freely of religion;" and of those great

truths which were now his only source of support.

Whatever may have been his early errors, the remaining days of Lord

Kilmarnock were characterized by gentleness to those who were placed in

authority over him; forbearance to those who slandered him, and

submission to God. Unable to conquer a natural intense love of life, he

assumed no pretended intrepidity:[343] yet manifested a still greater

concern for his character, than for his fate. Society in general, as

well as the annalists of the times, mourned for him, and with him; and

many who beheld his doom, would have sacrificed much of their own

personal safety to avert the close of that tragic scene. But these were

not times when the generous might venture to interfere with

security.[344]

Two noblemen, differing greatly in character from Lord Kilmarnock,

shared his imprisonment: Arthur, sixth Earl of Balmerinoch, or, as it is

usually spelled Balmerino, (pronounced Balmérino), and George, Earl of

Cromartie.

Of these individuals, Lord Balmerino, although an uncultured soldier,

has excited by far the greatest interest. He was descended, like most

of his associates from an ancient family. It was of German origin,[345]

first known in Scotland in the reign of Robert Bruce, to whose sister, a

German Knight, sirnamed Elphingston, or Elphinstone, was married. Such

was the esteem in which Robert Bruce held his foreign brother-in-law,

that he gave him lands in Midlothian, which still bear the name of

Elphinstone.[346] Hence was he called Elphinstone of that Ilk--a mode of

expression employed in Scotland to prevent the repetition of the same

name. In process of time certain estates which a descendant of the

German Knight acquired at Arthbeg, in Stirlingshire, were also endowed

with that surname; and, during several centuries, the martial and hardy

race to whom those lands belonged continued in the same sphere, that of

private gentlemen, chiefs of the House of Elphinstone. They were

remarkable, in successive generations, for that bold and manly character

which eventually distinguished their ill-fated descendant, Arthur

Balmerino, and which, in time, extorted applause from the most

prejudiced politicians of the opposite party. Alexander Elphinstone, in

the reign of David the Second, might have emulated the supposed deeds of

Guy Earl of Warwick; he rivalled him in gigantic figure, in immense

strength, and knightly prowess. His disposition was not only martial,

but chivalric; for, conscious of extraordinary power, "he was more

able," says a writer of the last century, "to overlook an affront, than

men less capable of resenting it." His son, inferior in bodily strength,

equalled him in military exploits, which distinguished indeed a

succession of the Elphinstones of that Ilk.[347] At Flodden, John

Elphinstone, who was created a Lord of Parliament by James the Fourth,

was killed by the side of his royal master, and being not unlike to that

monarch in face and figure, his body was carried to Berwick by the

English, who mistook it for that of the King.[348] In the reign of James

the Sixth, James, the second son of the third Lord Elphinstone, was

created a Baron by the name and title of Lord Balmerino. He rose to high

honours in the State; but the first disgrace that befell the family

occurred in this reign. This was the marriage of John, the second Lord

Balmerino, to Jane Ker, sister of the infamous Ker, Earl of Somerset,

and favourite of James the Sixth, who, for his sake, denounced a curse

on his posterity, which seems, says the writer before quoted, "to have

followed them and the nation ever since."

Like most of the noble families in Scotland, the house of Balmerino

became impoverished during the civil wars; and when the father of Arthur

Elphinstone succeeded to his title, he found his estates wofully

diminished. He was, however, one of those men who were capable, by

ability and prudence, of redeeming the fortunes of his family.

Circumstances were, indeed, adverse to the prosperity of any whose

loyalty to the Stuarts was suspected. Lord Balmerino was prudent, but he

was sincere. He was "a man of excellent parts, improved by reading,

being, perhaps, one of the very best lawyers in the kingdom, and very

expert in the Scottish constitution; he reasoned much and pertinently in

Parliament, and testifying, on all occasions, an unshaken loyalty to his

Prince, and zealous affection to his country, he gained the esteem and

love of all good men."

Such was the father, of whom this noble character was drawn, to whom

Arthur, Lord Balmerino, owed his being. Such was the man whom it would

have been the wiser policy of the British Ministry to have conciliated,

on the accession of George the First, but whose son they drove into an

act of imprudence by their distrust and injustice.

The first wife of John, fourth Lord Balmerino, was the daughter of Hugh,

Earl of Eglintoun, and, consequently, she was connected with some of the

most strenuous supporters of the Stuart cause in the kingdom of

Scotland. By her he had two sons, Hugh, who was killed in 1708, at the

siege of Lisle, and James, who was educated to the profession of the

law. Upon the death of this lady, Lord Balmerino married Anne, daughter

of Ross, the last Archbishop of St. Andrews, and by her had two sons:

Arthur, who became eventually Lord Balmerino, and Alexander, who died in

1733, unmarried; and a daughter, Anne, who died also unmarried. The

subject of this memoir may, therefore, be deemed the last of the House

of Balmerino.[349]

Arthur Elphinstone was born in the year 1688. He had, until late in

life, no expectation of succeeding to the title of his father after the

death of Hugh, there being still an elder brother, James. The

characteristics of all this branch of the Elphinstone family appear

almost invariably to have been those of honour and justice, and James

resembled his father in the integrity of his principles. The following

character is drawn of him by a contemporary writer: "He was rather a

solid pleader than a refined orator; but he understood the law so well,

and preserved the chastity of his character so tenderly, by avoiding

being concerned in any scandalous actions, that he was listened to with

great attention by the bench, at a time when it was filled by the most

eminent lawyers that ever appeared in Scotland."

The abilities of this able and conscientious man soon raised him to the

bench, where he discharged his duties with that high and nice sense of

integrity which can only be described by the word honour. He never mixed

party-spirit with his judgments: he lent himself to no ministerial

purposes. The dignity of the judge was preserved in his manly and

courageous character: and such was his application to business, that his

court was thronged with practitioners when those of other judges were

nearly deserted.

Arthur, his younger brother, possessed not his application, but

displayed much, nevertheless, of the natural ability of his family. "He

was not much acquainted with books; and though he was rich in repartee,

yet he never affected to reason." Such is the remark of a contemporary

writer. Yet who might not envy the clear, undisturbed intellect which

showed him, in a moment of peculiar temptation, the value of plain

dealing, and the inestimable price of a good conscience?

Some members of a family seem fated to suffer for the others. Arthur

Elphinstone was educated in the principles which brought him to the

scaffold: they were those of his father and brother, who were both

fortunate enough to preserve them in their own breasts, and yet not to

encounter trouble on that account. And, during the reign of Queen Anne

the family appear to have been deemed so well affected, as to procure

them promotion, not only in civil but military service. When very young,

Arthur Elphinstone obtained the command of a company of foot in Lord

Shannon's regiment, on the accession of George the First. His real

opinions were, however, manifested by his resignation of his commission;

and by his joining the standard of Lord Mar, under whom he commanded a

company, and served in the battle of Sherriff Muir. By throwing up his

commission, he escaped being punished as a deserter, and was allowed to

retire to the Continent. According to some accounts, he went first to

Denmark; by others it is said, that he entered at once into the French

service. He remained, at all events, twenty years in exile from his

family; but in 1733, an event occurred, which greatly increased the

natural desire which his father, declining in strength, had long

cherished of again beholding his son. Alexander Elphinstone, the younger

brother of Arthur, died at Leith, two years before the Insurrection

broke out. This young man had had the misfortune in 1730, to fight a

duel, shortly after which his adversary, Lieutenant Swift, had died of

his wounds. The combat took place on the Links of Leith; the affair was

notorious, and Alexander had been threatened with a prosecution, which

was not, however, put into execution.

This painful circumstance, coupled with Alexander Elphinstone's death,

may have naturally added to the wish which Lord Balmerino entertained,

to rescue his exiled son from the sentence of outlawry under which he

stood, and to restore him again to his home. Probably the desire of

perpetuating honours which had been gained by legitimate exertions, may

have been contemplated by the aged nobleman when he revolved in his mind

how he could compass the safe return of his younger, and surviving son,

to Scotland. James, the heir to the title, great as was the lustre which

his abilities and integrity shed upon it, was not likely to perpetuate

more honours, having no children by his wife Elizabeth Carnegie,

daughter of David, fourth Earl of Northesk.

It is one of the innumerable instances of human short-sightedness, that

the very recall of Arthur Elphinstone to Scotland was the cause of the

extinction of family honours, and of that line in which they rested.

According to some accounts, he remained abroad until the general Act of

Indemnity, from which he was not excepted, took effect:[350] but by

others it is stated, that his father, having made a strong application

to Government, obtained a free pardon for his son. If such were the

case, there seems a degree of ingratitude in again joining the enemies

of Government, which one can scarcely reconcile with the generous

character of this brave man.

He was in Switzerland when he received a summons to return to his native

country. His conduct upon the arrival of this intelligence was honest

and candid towards him, to whom, according to his notions, he owed

allegiance. He wrote to the Chevalier (St. George) and laid open the

circumstances of the case before him; stating that he should not accept

the proffered pardon without his permission. James answered this

explanation with his own hand; and not only gave Arthur Elphinstone

permission to return to Scotland, but informed him that he had ordered

his banker at Paris to pay his travelling expenses. Thus authorized,

Arthur returned home, welcomed by his aged father with a satisfaction

which happily was not destined to be alloyed by any adverse

circumstances during the lifetime of the venerable nobleman.

Thus was this ill-fated man restored to that land which probably,

although long severed from its glens and mountains, he had not ceased to

love. He was now of middle age, being in his forty-fifth year; but his

disposition, in spite of his long residence among foreigners, was still

thoroughly Scotch. He was as undaunted by danger as any of his valiant

ancestors had been, consequently he had no need to have recourse to

guile; in short, falsehood would have been impossible to that frank

nature. He was blunt in speech, but endowed with the kindest heart that

ever throbbed in the dungeons of that grim fortress in which his manly

career was closed. He had not, however, the prudence which is

characteristic of his countrymen: and which, once well understood, is as

distinct from selfishness and craft as their martial vehemence has

generally been from cruelty. A service in foreign campaigns had not

lessened his ideas of honour; which were perhaps more truly cherished

among military men on the Continent, than at that period in England. Few

British troops, for example, ever proved themselves more worthy of the

name of soldiers than the Hessians who served in Scotland in 1745. To

the fine and soldierly attributes of Lord Balmerino, to an intrepidity

almost amounting to indifference, to a warm and generous heart, were

united that ready and careless humour which accord so well with the

loftier qualities of the mind, and certainly rather enhance, than

detract from the charm of graver attributes of character.

In appearance, Lord Balmerino was strongly contrasted with the

fellow-sufferer with whom his name is indelibly associated. "His

person," writes a contemporary, "was very plain, his shape clumsy, but

his make strong: and he had no marks of the polite gentleman about him.

He was illiterate in respect of his birth; but rather from a total want

of application to letters, than want of ability."[351] His manners are

said to have been natural, if not courtly; his countenance only inferior

in its ungainliness to that of Lovat, but, expressing, we may suppose, a

very different temper of mind, harsh as were its features, it

captivated, as well as that of the handsome Kilmarnock, female

regard.[352]

According to some statements, Lord Balmerino married in 1711, before the

first Insurrection;[353] but no distinct allusion to a connection of so

early a period is to be found in the authenticated narratives of his

life. It was not, it seems evident, until after his return from

Switzerland, that he married Margaret, daughter of Captain

Chalmers--"the pretty Peggy," who was at once his solace and his sorrow

when in the Tower of London. In 1736, the father, whom he had returned

to cheer in his decline, died at his house in Leith, and was buried at

the family seat at Restalrig in Leith. His son James, succeeded to the

title.[354]

When the intelligence arrived, that Charles Edward had landed in

Scotland, Arthur Elphinstone hastened to the standard of the Prince. On

the thirty-first of October, 1745, he marched from Edinburgh, on the

expedition to England, having the command of a troop of horse, not

complete, in number about forty.[355] His military talents were well

known, for he had distinguished himself in several campaigns in

Flanders.[356] But, as he took into the field only his menial servants,

no very important posts were entrusted to him; and his career appears

not to have been signalized by any remarkable military exploits. In

short, it may be truly said of him as of Dr. Donne by Izaak Walton, that

"nothing in his life became him like the leaving it."

After joining the insurgent army, Lord Balmerino engaged in all the

various movements of that enterprise. After the siege of Carlisle he

entered that city at the head of his troop, with pipes playing, and

colours flying, having been at twelve miles' distance when the town was

taken; he then proceeded in the fatal expedition to Derby, and returned

a second time to Carlisle, preceding in his march the main body of the

army towards Scotland. He was present at the battle of Falkirk, but did

not engage in it: some of the cavalry having been kept as a _corps de

reserve_ in that engagement. His participation in that day's victory

was, however, afterwards imputed to him as an act of rebellion, although

he was merely drawn up in a field near the field of battle, in company

with Lord Kilmarnock and Lord Pitsligo. The body which he commanded,

went by the name of Arthur Elphinstone's Life Guards.[357]

A few weeks before the battle of Culloden, the elder brother of Arthur

Elphinstone, James Lord Balmerino, died, leaving the title which he had

enjoyed for so short a period, to the brother, who was then engaged in

so perilous a course. This accession of honour brought with it little

increase of fortune, but rather the responsibility of succeeding to

encumbered estates. Of these most had, indeed, passed into other

families. To the first Lord Balmerino charters of numerous lands and

baronies had been given; Barntoun, Barrie, Balumby, Innerpeffer,

Balgregie, Balmerino, Dingwall, &c., were among his possessions. In

1605, the barony of Restalrig, in South Leith, was sold to Lord

Balmerino by the noted and profligate Robert Logan, Baron of Restalrig,

to whose family that now valuable property, including the grounds lying

near the river, had belonged, until the days of the Queen Regent, Mary.

This estate, on which Lord Balmerino's father resided, appears to have

been almost the only vestige of the former opulence of this branch of

the Elphinstone family.[358] His embarrassed circumstances are deemed by

some writers to have had a considerable share in deciding Lord Balmerino

to join in a contest in which he had so little to lose; but it appeared,

in the hour of trial, that his principles of allegiance to the Stuarts

had been unaltered since the days of his youth, and that they were alone

sufficient to account for the part which he adopted. At the battle of

Culloden Lord Balmerino was made prisoner by the Grants, to whom, as one

of the witnesses on his trial affirmed, he surrendered himself. He was

conveyed to Castle Grant, and from thence to London, to the same dreary

fortress in which Lord Kilmarnock was likewise immured. The fate of

these two unfortunate men, hitherto but little dependant on each other,

was henceforth associated, until the existence of both was closed on the

scaffold.

George, the third Earl of Cromartie, was the only one of their

fellow-prisoners who was arraigned and tried with Kilmarnock and

Balmerino. He had taken even a more decided part in the insurrection

than Balmerino, having raised four hundred of his clan, who were with

him in the battle of Falkirk. His son, the young Lord Macleod, was also

in the Jacobite army, and both father and son were surprised at

Dunrobin, by a party of the Earl of Sutherland's militia, on the

fifteenth of April, and taken prisoners. Lord Cromartie had, as well as

Lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino, strong ties to life, strong claims upon

his reason to have withheld him from a hazardous participation in a

cause of peril. He had been married more than twenty years to Isabel,

daughter of Sir William Gordon, and had by her a numerous family. For

this nobleman, a powerful interest was afterwards successfully exerted.

These three noblemen were brought to London early in June. They were

shortly afterwards followed by about eight hundred companions in

misfortune. Of these, who arrived in the Thames on the twenty-first of

June, about two hundred were left at Tilbury Fort; while six hundred

were deposited in the various prisons of the metropolis. From henceforth

scenes of distress, and even of horror, were daily presented to the

prisoners. The Marquis of Tullibardine expired soon after his arrival at

the Tower; Lord Macleod, with happier fate, rejoined his father; Mr.

Murray of Broughton, who was treated with a distinction, at that time,

unexplicable, was also lodged in the same fortress. Those who were led

to expect the severest measures, might envy the calm departure of the

good old Marquis of Tullibardine; but all hearts bled when the gallant

Colonel Townley, a Roman Catholic gentleman of distinction, was dragged

on a sledge, along with other prisoners, to Kennington, his arms

pinioned; insulted by a brutal multitude, and there hanged. The horrid

barbarities of this sentence being fulfilled on his body, which was

still breathing, the hangman preparing to take out the heart and bowels,

struck it several times on the chest, before life (and perhaps

consciousness) was wholly extinct.

Day after day, the awful tragedies were repeated, exceeding any similar

displays of power since the days of the Tudors. Each of these _martyrs_,

as the voice of their own party pronounced them, in their last moments

declared, that "they died in a just cause--that they did not repent of

what they had done--that they doubted not their deaths would be

avenged." When, after nine executions had taken place in one morning,

the heart of the last sufferer was thrown into the fire, a savage shout

from the infuriated multitude followed the words "God save King George!"

The unfortunate man who had just perished was a young gentleman, named

Dawson, a graduate of St. John's College, Cambridge. He had for some

time been engaged to a young lady of good family, and great interest had

been made to procure his pardon. The lovers were sanguine in their

expectations, and the day of his release was to have been that of their

marriage.

When all hope was at an end, the young lady, not deterred by the

remonstrances of her kindred, resolved upon following Mr. Dawson to the

place of execution. Her intention was at length acceded to: she drove in

a hackney-coach after the sledges, accompanied by a relative, and by one

female friend. As the shout of brutal joy succeeded the silence of the

solemn scene, the words "My love,--I follow thee,--I follow thee!"

burst from the lips of the broken-hearted girl. She fell on the neck of

her companion, and, whilst she uttered these words, "Sweet

Jesus!--receive our souls together!" expired.[359] Recitals of these

domestic tragedies, proofs of the unrelenting spirit of government,

tended to break the firmness of some of those who survived.

Lord Cromartie sank into dejection; Kilmarnock's fine and gentle nature

was gradually purified for heaven. Balmerino rose to heroism.

The prisons were crowded with captives; the noblemen alone were

committed to the Tower; even two of the Scottish chiefs were sent to

Newgate; the officers were committed to the new gaol, Southwark; the

common men to the Marshalsea. Meantime, strong and prompt measures were

determined upon by Government.

Bills of indictment for high treason were found against Lord Kilmarnock,

the Earl of Cromartie, and the Lord Balmerino, by the grand jury of the

county of Surrey: a writ of certiorari was issued for removing the

indictments into the House of Peers, on the twenty-sixth of June, and

their trial was appointed to take place on the twenty-eighth of July

following. Westminster Hall was accordingly prepared for the trials, and

a high steward appointed in the person of the justly celebrated Lord

Hardwicke.

On the petition of Lord Kilmarnock, Mr. George Ross was engaged as his

solicitor, with permission to have free access to him at all times. On

the appointed day the trials commenced. Westminster Hall was fitted up

with unprecedented magnificence; and tickets were issued by the Lord

Chamberlain to the Peers, to give access to their friends. At eight

o'clock in the morning, the Judges in their robes, with the

Garter-King-at-Arms, the Usher of the Black Rod, and the

Serjeant-at-Arms waited on the Lord High Steward at his house in Ormond

Street: Garter in his coat of the king's arms, and Black Rod, having the

white staff attended them. After a short interval the procession to

Westminster Hall began: Lord Hardwicke, designated during the term of

the trial as "his Grace," came forth to his coach, his train borne, and

followed by the chief judges and judges. His coach was preceded by his

Grace's twenty gentlemen, uncovered, in five coaches two and two; by the

Serjeant-at-Arms, and the Black Rod. The heralds occupied the back seats

of his Grace's coach; the judges in their coaches followed. As the

procession entered the Palace-yard, the soldiers rested their muskets

and the drums beat, as to the Royal Family.

Meantime, the Peers in their robes were assembled; the Lord High Steward

having passed to the House, through the Painted Chamber, prayers were

read; and the peers were called over by Garter-King-at-Arms. The Lord

Steward, followed first by his four gentlemen attendants, two and two;

and afterwards by the clerks of the House of Lords, and the clerks of

the Crown; by the Peers, and the Peers' sons, proceeded to Westminster

Hall, the Lord Steward being alone uncovered, and his train borne by a

page.

Proclamation for silence having been made by the Lord Steward's

serjeant-at-arms, the commission was read, the lords standing up,

uncovered. Then his Grace, making obeisance to the lords, reseated

himself; and Garter, and the Black Rod, with their reverences, jointly

presented the white staff, on their knees, to his Grace. Thus fully

invested with his office, the Lord Steward took his staff in his hand

and descended from the woolsack to a chair prepared for him on an ascent

before the throne.

The three lords had been brought during this time from the Tower. The

Earl of Kilmarnock was conveyed in Lord Cornwallis's coach, attended by

General Williamson, Deputy Governor of the Tower; the Earl of Cromartie,

in General Williamson's coach, attended by Captain Marshal; and Lord

Balmerino in the third coach, attended by Mr. Fowler, Gentleman Gaoler,

who had the axe covered by his side. A strong body of soldiers escorted

these carriages.

The three lords being conducted into the Hall, proclamation was made by

the Serjeant-at-Arms that the Lieutenant of the Tower should bring his

prisoners to the bar, the proclamation being made in this form:--"Oyez,

oyez, oyez, Lieutenant of the Tower of London, bring forward your

prisoners, William Earl of Kilmarnock, George Earl of Cromartie, and

Arthur Lord Balmerino, together with the copies of their respective

commitments, pursuant to the order of the House of Lords."

Then the lords were led to the bar of the House by the

Lieutenant-Governor, the axe being carried before them with its edge

turned from them. The prisoners, when they approached the bar, made

three reverences, and fell upon their knees. Then said the Lord High

Steward your "lordships may arise;" upon which the three lords arose and

bowed to his Grace the High Steward, and to the House, which compliment

was returned by the Lord High Steward, and by the Peers.

Thus began the trial; "the greatest, and the most melancholy scene,"

wrote Horace Walpole to Sir Horace Mann, "that I ever saw. As it was the

most interesting sight, it was the most solemn and fine; a coronation is

but a puppet show, and all the splendour of it idle; but this sight at

once feasted one's eyes, and engaged one's passions;"--a signal avowal

for one whom a long continuance in the world's business, and, perhaps,

worse, its pleasures, had hardened. A hundred and thirty-nine lords were

present, making a noble sight on their benches, and assisting at a

ceremony which is said to have been conducted with the most awful

solemnity and decency throughout, with one or two exceptions.[360]

The Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, who presided on this occasion, has been

justly deemed one of the brightest ornaments of the woolsack. The son of

an attorney at Dover, as Philip Yorke, he had risen to the highest

offices of the law, by his immense acquirements, and his incomparable

powers of illustration and arrangement. By his marriage with a niece of

the celebrated Lord Somers, he strengthened his political interest,

which, however, it required few adventitious circumstances to secure.

Three great men have expressed their admiration of Lord Hardwicke almost

in similar terms: Lord Mansfield, Burke, and Wilkes. "When his lordship

pronounced his decrees, wisdom herself might be supposed to speak."[361]

In manner, he was usually considered to be dignified, impressive, and

unruffled; and his intentions were allowed to be as pure and elevated,

as his views were patriotic.

On this eventful day, since we cannot reject the testimony of an

eye-witness of discernment, we must believe that party spirit, which had

usually so little influence over his sense of justice, swayed the

prepossessions of Lord Hardwicke. At all events, it affected his

treatment of the unhappy men to whom he displayed a petulance wholly

derogatory to his character as a judge, and discreditable to his

feelings as a man. "Instead of keeping up the humane dignity of the law

of England, whose character is to point out any favour to the criminal,

he crossed them, and almost scolded at any offer they made towards

defence." Such is the remark of Horace Walpole.[362] Comely in person,

and possessing a fine voice, Lord Hardwicke had every opportunity, on

this occasion, of a graceful display of dignity and courtesy; yet his

deportment, usually so calm and lofty, was obsequious, "curiously

searching for occasion to bow to the minister, and, consequently,

applying to the other ministers, in a manner, for their orders;--not

even ready at the ceremonial." Notwithstanding, Lord Hardwicke, on his

death-bed, could with confidence declare "that he had never wronged any

man." The unhappy Jacobites seem, indeed, to have been considered

exceptions to all the common rules of clemency. None of the Royal

Family were present at the trial, from a proper regard for the feelings

of the prisoners, and also, perhaps, from a nice sense of the

peculiarity of their own condition.

After the warrants to the Lieutenant of the Tower were read, the Lord

High Steward addressed the prisoners, telling them that although their

crimes were of the most heinous nature, they were still open to such

defences as circumstances, and the rules of law and justice would allow.

The indictments for high treason were then read: to these, Lords

Kilmarnock and Cromartie pleaded guilty; but when the question was put

to Lord Balmerino, he demanded boldly, but respectfully to be heard,

objecting to two clauses in the indictment, in which he was styled

"Arthur Lord Balmerino, of the town of Carlisle," and also charging him

with being at the taking of Carlisle, when he could prove "that he was

not within twelve miles of it." Not insisting upon these objections, and

the question being again put to him, he then pleaded, 'not guilty.' Lord

Kilmarnock and Lord Cromartie were removed from the bar, and the trial

of Balmerino began. It was prefaced by addresses from Sir Richard Loyd,

king's counsel, and from Mr. Serjeant Skinner, who made, what was justly

considered by H. Walpole, "the most absurd speech imaginable," calling

"Rebellion, surely the sin of witchcraft," and applying to the Duke of

Cumberland the unfortunate appellation of "Scipio."[363] The Attorney

General followed, and witnesses were afterwards examined, who fully

proved, though accused by Balmerino of some inconsistencies, his acts of

adherence to the Chevalier; his being present in towns where James

Stuart was proclaimed King; his wearing the regimentals of Prince

Charles's body guards; his marching into Carlisle at the head of his

troops, with a white cockade in his cap; his presence at the battle of

Falkirk, in a field with Lords Kilmarnock and Pitsligo, who were at the

head of a corps of reserve. Six witnesses were examined, but there was

no cross-examination, except such as Balmerino himself attempted. The

witnesses were chiefly men who had served in the same cause for which

the brave Balmerino was soon to suffer. After they had delivered their

testimony, the "old hero," as he was well styled, shook hands cordially

with them. In one or two instances, as far as can be judged by the

answers, the evidence seems to have been given with reluctance. Lord

Balmerino being asked if he had any thing to offer in his defence, he

observed that none of the witnesses had agreed upon the same day as that

which was named in the indictment for being at Carlisle; and objected to

the indictment, that he was not at the taking of Carlisle as therein

specified. His objections were taken into consideration; the Lords

retired to their chamber, and there consulted the judges whether it be

necessary that an overt act of high treason should be proved to have

been committed on the particular day named in the indictment.

The answer being in the negative, every hope of acquittal was

annihilated for Balmerino. He gave up every further defence, and

apologised with his usual blunt courtesy for giving their Lordships so

much trouble: he said that his objections had been the result of advice

given by Mr. Ross, his solicitor, who had laid the case before counsel.

The question was then put by the Lord High Steward, standing up,

uncovered, to the Lords, beginning with the youngest peer, Lord Herbert

of Cherbury; "whether Arthur Lord Balmerino were guilty of high treason,

or not guilty?" An unanimous reply was uttered by all those who were

present; "guilty upon my honour." Lord Balmerino, who had retired while

the question was put, was then brought back to the bar to hear the

decision of the Lords. It was received with the intrepidity which had,

all throughout the trial, characterised the soldier and the man. During

the intervals of form, his natural playfulness and humour appeared, and

the kindness of his disposition was manifested. A little boy being in

the course of the trial near him, but not tall enough to see, he took

him up, made room for the child, and placed him near himself. The axe

inspired him with no associations of fear. He played upon it, while

talking, with his fingers, and some one coming up to listen to what he

was saying, he held it up like a fan between his face and that of the

gentleman-gaoler, to the great amusement of all beholders. And this

carelessness of the emblem of death was but a prelude to the calmness

with which he met his fate. "All he troubled himself about," as a writer

of the time observed, "was to end as he begun, and to let his sun set

with as _full_ and _fair_ a light as it was possible."[364] During the

time that the Lords were withdrawn, the Solicitor-General Murray, and

brother of Murray of Broughton, addressed Balmerino, asking him "how he

could give the Lords so much trouble," when he had been told by his

solicitor that the plea could be of no use to him? The defection and

perfidy of Murray of Broughton were now generally known; and the

officious insolence of his inquiry was both revolting and indiscreet.

Balmerino asked who this person was, and being told, exclaimed, "Oh! Mr.

Murray, I am extremely glad to see you. I have been with several of your

relations, the poor lady, your mother, was of great use to us at

Perth."[365] An admirable and well-merited rebuke. He afterwards

declared humorously that one of his reasons for not pleading guilty was,

"that so many fine ladies might not be disappointed of their show."

Besides the interest which at such a moment the grave dignity of

Kilmarnock, contrasted with the lofty indifference of Balmerino, might

excite, there was some diversion among the Peers, owing to the

eccentricity of several of their body. Of these, one, Lord Windsor,

affectedly said when asked for his vote, "I am sorry I must say, _guilty

upon my honour_." Another nobleman, Lord Stamford, refused to answer to

the name of Henry, having been christened Harry. "What a great way of

thinking," remarks Horace Walpole, "on such an occasion." Lord Foley

withdrew, as being a well-wisher to poor Balmerino; Lord Stair on the

plea of kindred--"uncle," as Horace Walpole sneeringly remarks, to his

great-grandfather; and the Earl of Moray on account of his relationship

to Balmerino, his mother, Jane Elphinstone, being sister to that

nobleman.[366]

But the greatest source of amusement to all who were present was the

celebrated Audrey, or to speak in more polite phrase, Ethelreda, Lady

Townshend, the wife of Charles, third Viscount Townshend, and the

mother of the celebrated wit, Charles Townshend. Lady Townshend was

renowned for her epigrams, to which, perhaps, in this case, her being

separated from her husband gave additional point. When she heard her

husband vote, "_guilty upon my honour_," she remarked, "I always knew

_my_ Lord was _guilty_, but I never knew that he would own it upon his

_honour_." Her sarcastic humour was often exhibited at the expense of

friend or foe. When some one related that Whitfield had recanted, "No,

madam," she replied, "he has only _canted_." And when Lord Bath ventured

to complain to this audacious leader of fashion, that he had a pain in

his side, she cried out, "Oh! that cannot be, you have _no side_."

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