always a dangerous, and scarcely ever a pleasing character in woman. As
Lady Townshend gazed on the prisoners at the bar, and saw the elegant
and melancholy aspect of Lord Kilmarnock, the heart that was not wholly
seared by a worldly career is said to have been deeply and seriously
touched by the graces of that incomparable person, and the mournful
dignity of his manner. Perhaps, opposition to her husband, whose
grandfather was Minister to George the First, and whose mother was a
Walpole, gave the additional luxury of partisanship; that passion which
lasted even some weeks after the scene was closed; and when the
fashionable world were left to enjoy, undisturbed by any fears of any
future rebellion, all the dangerous attractions of the dissolute Court.
The first day's proceedings being at an end, the prisoners were
remanded to the Tower. On the following morning the proceedings were
resumed, and the Lords having assembled in the Painted Chamber, took
their places in Westminster Hall. The three lords were then again
brought to the bar, again kneeled down, again were bidden to arise. The
Attorney-General having prayed for judgment upon the prisoners, they
were desired by the Lord High Steward to say "why judgment of death
should not be passed against them according to law."
The reply of Lord Kilmarnock is described as having been a "very fine
speech, delivered in a very fine voice;" his behaviour during the whole
of the trial, a "most just mixture between dignity and submission." Such
is the avowal of one who could not be supposed very favourable to the
party; but whose better feelings were, for once, called into play during
this remarkable scene.[367]
The address of Lord Kilmarnock, however beautiful and touching in
expression, will not, however, satisfy those who look for consistency in
the most solemn moments of this chequered state of trial; but in
perusing the summary of it, let it be remembered that he was a father;
the father of those who had already suffered deeply for his adherence to
Charles Edward; that he was the husband of a lady who, whatever may have
been their differences, was at that awful hour still fondly beloved;
that he dreaded penury for his children, an apprehension which those who
remembered the fate of the Jacobites of 1715 might well recall; a dread,
aggravated by his rank; a dread, the bitterness of which is
indescribable; the temptations it offers unspeakably great. These
considerations, far stronger than the fear of death, actuated Lord
Kilmarnock. He arose, and a deep silence was procured, whilst he offered
no justification of his conduct, "which had been," he said, "of too
heinous a nature to be vindicated, and which any endeavour to excuse
would rather aggravate than diminish." He declared himself ready to
submit to the sentence which he was conscious that he had deserved.
"Covered with confusion and grief, I throw myself at his Majesty's
feet."
He then appealed to the uniform honour of his life, previous to the
insurrection, in evidence of his principles. "My sphere of action,
indeed, was narrow; but as much as I could do in that sphere, it is well
known, I have always exerted myself to the utmost in every part of his
Majesty's service I had an opportunity to act in, from my first
appearance in the world, to the time I was drawn into the crime, for
which I now appeal before your Lordships."
He referred to his conduct during the civil contest; to his endeavours
to avert needless injury to his opponents; to his care of the prisoners,
a plea which he yet allowed to be no atonement for the "blood he had
been accessary to the spilling of. Neither," he said, "do I plead it as
such, as at all in defence of my crime."
"I have a son, my lords," he proceeded, "who has the honour to carry his
Majesty's commission; whose behaviour, I believe, will sufficiently
evince, that he has been educated in the firmest revolution principles,
and brought up with the warmest attachment to his Majesty's interests,
and the highest zeal for his most sacred person.
"It was my chief care to instruct him in these principles from his
earliest youth, and to confirm him, as he grew up, in the justice and
necessity of them to the good and welfare of the nation. And, I thank
God, I have succeeded;--for his father's example did not shake his
loyalty; the ties of nature yielded to those of duty; he adhered to the
principles of his family, and nobly exposed his life at the battle of
Culloden, in defence of his King and the liberties of Great Britain, in
which I, his unfortunate father, was in arms to destroy."
Lord Kilmarnock next alluded to the services of his father in 1715, when
his zeal and activity in the service of Government had caused his death:
"I had then," he added, "the honour to serve under him."
Lord Kilmarnock proceeded to explain his own circumstances at the time
of the insurrection: he declared that he was not one of those dangerous
persons who could raise a number of men when they will, and command them
on any enterprise they will: "my interests," he said, "lie on the south
side of the Forth, in the well inhabited, and well affected counties of
Kilmarnock and Falkirk, in the shires of Ayr and Stirling." His
influence he declared to be very small.
This portion of his appeal was ill-advised; for it seems to have been
the policy of Government to have selected as objects of royal mercy
those who had most in their power, not the feeble and impoverished
members of the Jacobite party. It has been shown what favour would have
been manifested to the chief of the powerful clan Cameron, had he
deigned to receive it: and the event proved, that not the decayed
branches, but the vigorous shoots were spared. Lord Cromartie, who had
taken a far more signal part in the insurrection than either Kilmarnock
or Balmerino, and whose resources were considerable, was eventually
pardoned, probably with the hope of conciliating a numerous clan.
After appealing to his surrender in extenuation of his sentence, and
beseeching the intercession of the Lords with his Majesty, Lord
Kilmarnock concluded--"It is by Britons only that I pray to be
recommended to a British monarch. But if justice allow not of mercy, my
lords, I will lay down my life with patience and resignation; my last
breath shall be employed in the most fervent prayers for the
preservation and prosperity of his Majesty, and to beg his forgiveness,
and the forgiveness of my country." He concluded, amid the tears and
commiseration of a great majority of those who heard his address.
The Earl of Cromartie was then called upon to speak in arrest of
judgment. His defence is said to have been a masterly piece of
eloquence. It ended with a pathetic appeal, which fell powerless on
those who heard him.[368]
"But, after all, if my safety shall be found inconsistent with that of
the public, and nothing but my blood be thought necessary to atone for
my unhappy crimes; if the sacrifice of my life, my fortune, and family,
are judged indispensable for stopping the loud demands of public
justice; if, notwithstanding all the allegations that can be urged in my
favour, the bitter cup is not to pass from me, not mine, but thy will, O
God, be done."[369]
Balmerino then arose to answer the accustomed question. He produced a
paper, which was read for him at the bar, by the clerk of the court. It
was a plea which had been sent by the House of Lords that morning to the
prisoners, and which, it was hoped, would save all of these unfortunate
men. It contained an objection to the indictments, stating that the act
for regulating the trials of rebels, and empowering his Majesty to
remove such as are taken in arms from one county to another, where they
might be tried by the common courts of peers, did not take effect till
after the facts, implying treason, had been committed by the
prisoners.[370] The two Earls had not made use of this plea, but Lord
Balmerino availed himself of it, and demanded counsel on it. Upon the
treatment which he then encountered, the following remark is made by one
who viewed the scene, and whose commiseration for the Jacobites forms
one of the few amiable traits of his character.[371]
"The High Steward," relates Horace Walpole, "almost in a passion, told
him, that when he had been offered counsel, he did not accept it;--but
do think on the ridicule of sending them the plea, and then denying them
counsel on it."[372] A discussion among the Lords then took place; and
the Duke of Newcastle, who, as the same writer truly remarks, "never
lost an opportunity of being absurd," took it up as a ministerial point
"in defence of his creature, the Chancellor." Lord Granville, however,
moved, according to order, to return to the Chamber of Parliament, where
the Duke of Bedford and many others spoke warmly for their "having
counsel," and that privilege was granted. "I said _their_," observes
Walpole, "because the plea would have saved them all, and affected nine
rebels who had been hanged that very morning."
The Lords having returned to the Hall, and the prisoners being again
called to the bar, Lord Balmerino was desired to choose his counsel. He
named Mr. Forester, and Mr. Wilbraham, the latter being a very able
lawyer in the House of Commons. Lord Hardwicke is said to have remarked
privately, that Wilbraham, he was sure, "would as soon be hanged as
plead such a cause." But he was mistaken: the conclusion of the trial
was again deferred until the following day, Friday, August the first,
when Mr. Wilbraham, accompanied by Mr. Forester, appeared in court as
counsel for the prisoners. Previously, however, to the proceedings of
the last day, Lord Balmerino was informed that his only hope was
ill-founded; the plea was deemed invalid by the counsel; and the straw
which had, with the kindest and most laudable intentions, been thrown on
the stream to arrest his fate, was insufficient to save him. He bore
this disappointment with that fortitude which has raised the character
of his countrymen: when he appeared on that last day, in Westminster
Hall, with his brother prisoners, he submitted, in the following brief
and simple words, to his destiny. "As your lordships have been pleased
to allow me counsel, I have advised with them; and my counsel tell me,
there is nothing in that paper which I delivered in on Wednesday last,
that will be of any use to me; so I will not give your lordships any
more trouble."
When again asked, according to the usual form, as well as the other
prisoners, whether he had anything more to say in arrest of judgment,
Lord Balmerino replied; "No, my Lords, I only desire to be heard for a
moment." Expressing his regret that he should have taken up so much of
their lordships' time, he assured them that the plea had not been put in
to gain time, but because he had believed there was something in the
objection that would do him good. He afterwards added these few words,
which one might have wished unsaid: "My lords, I acknowledge my crime,
and I beg your lordships will intercede with his Majesty for me."
The Serjeant-at-Arms was then distinctly heard proclaiming silence; and
the Lord High Steward delivered what Horace Walpole has termed, "his
very long, and very poor speech, with only one or two good passages in
it." On this, there may be, doubtless, contending opinions. Those who
looked upon the prisoners, and saw men in the full vigour of life,
condemned to death, for acting upon acknowledged, though misapplied
principles, could scarcely listen to that protracted harangue with an
unbiassed judgment. The tenour of the Lord High Steward's address had,
throughout, one marked feature; it presented no hope of mercy; it left
no apology nor plea upon which the unhappy prisoners might expect it. It
amplified every view of their crime, and pointed out, in strong and able
language, its effect upon every relation of society.
In conclusion, Lord Hardwicke said, "I will add no more: it has been his
Majesty's justice to bring your lordships to a legal trial; and it has
been his wisdom to show, that as a small part of his national forces was
sufficient to subdue the rebel army in the field, so the ordinary course
of his law is strong enough to bring even their chiefs to justice.
"What remains for me, is a very painful, though a very necessary part.
It is to pronounce that sentence which the law has provided for crimes
of this magnitude--a sentence full of horror! Such as the wisdom of our
ancestors has ordained, as one guard about the sacred person of the
king, and as a fence about this excellent constitution, to be a terror
to evil doers, and a security to them that do well."
And then was heard, thrilling every tender heart with horror, the
sentence of hanging, first to be put into execution, and followed by
decapitation. The horrible particularities were added--"_of being hanged
by the neck,--but not till you are dead--for you must be cut down
alive;_"--the rest of this sentence, since it has long ago been suffered
to fall into oblivion, may, for the sake of our English feelings, rest
there. By those to whom it was addressed, it was heard in the full
conviction that it might be carried out on them: since that very
morning, nine prisoners of gentle birth had suffered the extreme
penalties of that barbarous law.[373]
Of the calm manner in which his doom was heard by one of the state
prisoners, Horace Walpole has left the following striking anecdote:
"Old Balmerino keeps up his spirits to the same pitch of gaiety: in the
cell at Westminster, he showed Lord Kilmarnock how he must lay his head;
bid him not wince, lest the strokes should cut his head or his
shoulders; and advised him to bite his lips. As they were to return, he
begged they might have another bottle together, as they should never
meet any more till--he pointed to his neck. At getting into his coach,
he said to the gaoler, 'Take care, or you will break my shins with this
d----d axe.'"[374]
The English populace could not forbear delighting in the composure of
Balmerino, who, on returning from Westminster Hall after his sentence,
could stop the coach in which he was about to be conducted to the Tower
to buy gooseberries; or, as he expressed it in his national phrase,
_honey-blobs_.[375]
That night, not contented with saying publicly at his levee, that Lord
Kilmarnock had proposed murdering the English prisoners, the Duke of
Cumberland proposed giving his mistress a ball; but the notion was
abandoned, lest it should have been regarded as an insult to the
prisoners, and _not_ because a particle of highminded regret for the
sufferers could ever enter that hard and depraved heart. Too well did
the citizens of London understand the Duke of Cumberland's merits,
when, it being proposed to present him with the freedom of some company,
one of the aldermen cried aloud, "Then let it be of the Butchers'!"[376]
The commission was dissolved in the usual forms: "all manner of persons
here present were desired to depart in the fear of God, and of our
sovereign Lord the King." The white staff of office was broken by the
Lord High Steward; the Lords adjourned to the Chamber of Parliament; the
prisoners returned to the Tower.[377]
Three weeks elapsed, after the trial, before the execution of Lord
Kilmarnock and Lord Balmerino. During that interval, hope sometimes
visited the prisoners in their cells, great intercession being made for
them by persons of the highest rank. But it was in vain, for the
counsels of the Duke of Cumberland influenced the heart of his royal
father, who it is generally believed, would otherwise have been disposed
to compassion. During this interval, the sorrows of the prisoners were
aggravated by frequent rumours that their beloved Prince was taken; but
he was safe among his Highlanders, and defied the power even of an armed
force to surprise him in his singular and various retreats.
The Earl of Cromartie was the only one of the three prisoners to whom
royal mercy was extended. This nobleman had been considered, before the
Insurrection, as the only branch of the Mackenzies who could be relied
upon. He had been backward in joining the Jacobite army, and had never
shared the confidence of Charles Edward. He had been disgusted with the
preference shown to Murray and to Sullivan, to the prejudice of more
powerful adherents of the cause: and it was reported, had rather
surrendered himself to the Earl of Sutherland's followers, than resisted
when they apprehended him.[378]
Amiable in private life, affable in manner, and exempt from the pride of
a Highland chieftain, this nobleman had been beloved by his neighbours
of inferior rank; to the poor he had been a kind benefactor. The
domestic relations of life he had fulfilled irreproachably. Every heart
bled for him; and the case of his son, Lord Macleod, who had espoused
the same cause, excited universal commiseration.
On the Sunday following the trial, Lady Cromartie presented her petition
to the King: he gave her no hopes; and the unhappy woman fainted when he
left her.
It is pleasing to rest upon one action of clemency, before returning to
the horrors of capital punishment. To the intercession of Frederick
Prince of Wales, Lord Cromartie eventually owed his life; that
intercession is believed to have been procured by the merits and the
attractions of Lady Cromartie, who was indefatigable in her exertions.
This Lady, the daughter of Sir William Gordon of Dalfolly, is said to
have possessed every quality that could render a husband happy.
Beautiful and intellectual, she manifested a degree of spirit and
perseverance when called upon to act in behalf of her husband and
children, that raised her character to that of a heroine. She was then
the mother of nine children, and about to give birth to a tenth. During
the period of suspense, her conduct presented that just medium between
stoicism and excess of feeling, which so few persons in grief can
command.[379]
At last, a reprieve for Lord Cromartie arrived on the eleventh of
August; it was not, however, followed by a release, nor even by a free
pardon. During two years, Lord Cromartie was detained a prisoner in the
Tower, there, being condemned to witness the departure of his generous
friends, Kilmarnock and Balmerino, to the scaffold. On February the
eighteenth, 1748, he was permitted to leave his prison, and to lodge in
the house of a messenger. In the following August he went into
Devonshire, where he was desired to remain. A pardon passed the Great
Seal for his Lordship on the twentieth of October, 1749, with a
condition that he should remain in any place directed by the King. He
died in Poland-street in London, on the twenty-eighth of September,
1766.[380]
On Thursday, the seventh of August, the Reverend James Foster, a
Presbyterian minister, was allowed access to Lord Kilmarnock, to prepare
him for a fate which now seemed inevitable. Great intercession had been
made for the ill-fated prisoner, by his kinsman, James, sixth Duke of
Hamilton, and husband of the celebrated beauty, Miss Gunning; but the
friendly efforts of that nobleman were thought rather to have "hurried
him to the block."[381] When a report reached him that one of the
prisoners would be spared, Lord Kilmarnock had desired, with the utmost
nobleness of soul, that Cromartie should be preferred to himself.
Balmerino lamented that he had not been taken with Lord Lovat; "for
then," he remarked, "we might have been sacrificed, and these two brave
men have been spared." But these regrets were unavailing, and Lord
Kilmarnock and his friend prepared to meet their doom.
Mr. Foster, on conversing with Lord Kilmarnock, found him humbled, but
not crushed by his misfortunes; contrite for a life characterized by
many errors, but trustful of the Infinite mercy, to which we fondly turn
from the stern justice of unforgiving man. And the reverend gentleman on
whom the solemn responsibility of preparing a soul for judgment was
devolved, appears to have discharged his task with a due sense of its
delicacy, with fidelity and kindness.
Having introduced himself to Lord Kilmarnock with the premises that his
Lordship would allow him to deal freely with him; that he did not expect
to be flattered, nor to have the malignity of his crimes disguised or
softened;--Mr. Foster told him, "that in his opinion, the wound of his
mind, occasioned by his private and public vices, must be probed and
searched to the bottom, before it could be capable of receiving a
remedy." "If he disapproved of this plan," Mr. Foster thought "he could
be of no use to him, and therefore declined attendance." To this Lord
Kilmarnock replied that, "whilst he thought it was not Mr. Foster's
province to interfere in things remote from his office, yet it was now
no time to prevaricate with him, nor to play the hypocrite with God,
before whose tribunal he should shortly appear."
This point being settled, the minister of the Gospel deemed it necessary
to persuade the Earl, that he was not to be amused with vain delusive
hopes of a reprieve; that he must view his sentence as inevitable;
otherwise that his mind might be distracted between hope and fear; and
that true temper of penitence which alone could recommend him to Divine
mercy would be unattainable.
The unfortunate Earl touchingly answered, that indeed, when he consulted
his reason, and argued calmly with himself, he could see no ground of
mercy; yet still the hope of life would intrude itself. He was afraid,
he said, that buoyed up by this delusive hope, when the warrant for his
execution came down, he should have not only the terror of his sentence
to contend with, but the fond delusions of his own heart:--to overcome
the bitter disappointment--the impossibility of submission. He therefore
assured Mr. Foster, that he would do all in his own power to repel that
visionary enemy, and to fix his thoughts on the important task of
perfecting his repentance, and of preparing for death and eternity.
In regard to the part which Lord Kilmarnock had taken in recent events,
there seemed no difficulty in impressing his mind with a deep sense of
the responsibility which he had incurred in helping to diffuse terror
and consternation through the land, in the depredation and ruin of his
country: and in convincing him that he ought to consider himself
accessory to innumerable private oppressions and murders. "Yes," replied
Lord Kilmarnock, with deep emotion "and murders of the innocent too,"
And frequently he acknowledged this charge with tears, and offered up
short petitions to God for mercy.
But when Mr. Foster mentioned to him that the consequences of the
"Rebellion and its natural tendency was to the subversion of our
excellent free constitution, to extirpate our holy religion, and to
introduce the monstrous superstitions and cruelties of Popery," Lord
Kilmarnock hesitated; and owned, at length, that he did not contemplate
such mischiefs as the result of the contest; that he did not believe
that the young Chevalier would run the risk of defeating his main design
by introducing Popery; nor would so entirely forget the warnings which
the history of his family offered, so far as to make any attacks upon
the liberties and constitution of the country. His entering into the
Rebellion was occasioned, as he then declared, by the errors and vices
of his previous life; and was a kind of desperate scheme to extricate
him from his difficulties. Humbled and penetrated by the remembrance of
former levity, Lord Kilmarnock remarked, that not only was Providence
wise and righteous, but to him, gracious; and that he regarded it as an
unspeakable mercy to his soul, that he had not fallen at the battle of
Culloden, impenitent and unreflecting; for that, if the Rebellion had
been successful, he should have gone on in his errors, without ever
entertaining any serious thought of amendment. "Often," added the
contrite and chastened man, "have I made use of these words of Christ,
'Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not
as I will, but as thou wilt.'" But he had checked himself by the
reflection, that it was not for him who had been so great a sinner, to
address himself to God in the same language with his blessed Saviour,
who was perfectly innocent and holy.
In time, aided by the representations of his spiritual attendant, the
deepest remorse for a life not untainted by impurity of conduct, was
succeeded by religious peace. It was then that the prisoner turned to
that Bread of Life which Christ hath left for those who hunger and
thirst after righteousness. But the Minister who led him into the fold
of the Great Shepherd, would not consent to administer to him the Holy
Sacrament without a full confession made in the presence of the
gentleman gaoler, of his past offences, and of his contrition for them.
At that solemn moment, when the heart was laid open to human witnesses,
Lord Kilmarnock professed the deepest penitence for his concurrence in
the Rebellion, and for the irregularities of his private life: he
declared his conviction that the Holy Sacrament would be of no benefit
to him whatsoever, if his remorse and contrition were not sincere. This
assurance was, in other words, yet, in substance the same, emphatically
repeated. During the conversations held with Lord Kilmarnock, Mr. Foster
perceived that the confessions of the penitent were free and ingenuous;
that he examined his own heart with a searching and scrupulous care,
sternly challenging memory to the aid of conscience. At last, he
declared that he should rather prefer the speedy execution of his
sentence to a longer life, if he were sure that he should again be
entangled by the snares and temptations of the world. This was a few
days before his death.
Gradually, but effectually, the spirit that had so much in it of a
heavenly temper; the heart, so framed to be beloved, was purified and
elevated; so that, a beautiful and holy calm, a heavenly
disinterestedness, a patience worthy of him who bore the name of
Christian, were manifested in one whom it were henceforth wrong to call
unhappy. When Lord Cromartie's reprieve became known to Mr. Foster, he
dreaded, lest this subdued, yet fortified mind, should be disturbed by
the jealousies to which our worldly condition is prone: he trembled lest
the sorrow of separation from a world which Lord Kilmarnock had loved
too fondly, should be revived by the pardon of his friend. "Therefore,"
relates Mr. Foster, "in the morning before I waited upon him, I prepared
myself to quiet and mollify his mind. But one of the first things he
said to me was, that he was extremely glad that the King's mercy had
been shown to Lord Cromartie." "My Lord," inquired Mr. Foster, "I hope
you do not think you have any injustice shown you?" Lord Kilmarnock's
answer was, "Not in the least; I have pleaded guilty: I entirely
acquiesce in the justice of my sentence; and if mercy be extended to
another, I can have no reason to complain, when nothing but justice is
done to me."
With regard to some points upon which the public odium was directed to
the young Chevalier and his party, Lord Kilmarnock was very explicit in
his last conversations with Mr. Foster. We have already seen how far he
was enabled to clear himself concerning his conduct to the prisoners at
Inverness. A report having been industriously circulated, probably with
a view to excuse the barbarities of the Duke of Cumberland, that an
order had been issued in the Pretender's council at Inverness, to
destroy the prisoners who might be taken at the battle of Culloden, Mr.
Foster put the question to Lord Kilmarnock, Whether that statement were
true? "I can most sincerely and freely answer, No," was the satisfactory
reply; and a similar contradiction was given by the dying man to every
accusation of a similar tendency.[382]
On Monday the eleventh of August, General Williamson desired Mr. Foster,
"in the gentlest terms that he could use, to apprize Lord Kilmarnock,
that he had received the order for his, and for Lord Balmerino's
execution." Mr. Foster at first refused to undertake this office. "I was
so shocked at it," writes the good man "that I could not think of
delivering the message myself, but would endeavour to prepare the
unfortunate Lord for it, by divesting him, as far as I could, of all
hope of life." Such, indeed, had been the continual aim of all the
reverend minister's counsels; and he had hoped to entrust the last
mournful task of informing him of the order to other hands. On finding
Lord Kilmarnock in a very resigned and calm state of mind, he ventured,
however, to hint to him how necessary was that diligent and constant
preparation for death which he had endeavoured to impress upon his mind.
This was sufficient: the ill-fated prisoner immediately inquired,
"whether the warrant for his execution was come down?" "I told him that
it was," relates Mr. Foster, "and that the day fixed upon was the
following Monday."
Lord Kilmarnock received this intimation with a solemn consciousness of
the awful nature of its import; but no signs of terror nor of anxiety
added to the sorrows of that hour. In the course of conversation, he
observed to Mr. Foster, that "he was chiefly concerned about the
consequences of death, in comparison of which he considered the 'thing
itself' a trifle: with regard to the manner of his death he had, he
thought, no great reason to be terrified, for that the stroke appeared
to be scarcely so much as the drawing of a tooth, or the first shock of
a cold bath upon a weak and fearful temper." At the last hour,
nevertheless, the crowd,--the scaffold,--the doom, upset that sublime
and heavenly resignation,--the weakness of the flesh prevailed, although
only for an instant.
In the silence and solitude of his prison, Lord Kilmarnock's
recollection reverted to those whom human nature were shortly to be left
to buffet with the storms of their hard fate. It reverted also to those
who might, in any way, have suffered at his hands. The following
touching epistle, addressed to his factor, Mr. Robert Paterson, written
two days only before his execution, shows how tender was his affection
for his unhappy wife: in how Christian a spirit towards others he died.
His consideration for the poor shoemakers of Elgin is one of those
beautiful traits of character which mark a conscientious mind. The
original of this letter is still in existence, and is in the possession
of the great-grandson of him to whom it was addressed.[383]
"Sir,
"I have commended to your care the inclosed packet, to be delivered
to my wife in the manner your good sense shall dictate to you, will
be least shocking to her. Let her be prepared for it as much by
degrees, and with great tenderness, as the nature of the thing will
admit of. The entire dependance I have all my life had the most just
reason to have on your integrity and friendship to my wife and
family, as well as to myself, make me desire that the inclosed
papers may come to my wife through your hands, in confidence; but
you will take all the pains to comfort her, and relieve the grief I
know she will be in, that you and her friends can. She is what I
leave dearest behind me in the world; and the greatest service you
can do to your dead friend, is to contribute as much as possible to
her happiness in mind, and in her affairs.
"You will peruse the State[384] before you deliver it to her, and
you will observe that there is a fund of hers (I don't mention that
of five hundred Scots a-year); as the interest of my mother-in-law's
portion in the Countess of Errol's hands, with, I believe, a
considerable arrear upon it; which, as I have ordered a copy of all
these papers to that Countess, I did not care to put in. There is
another thing of a good deal of moment, which I mention only to you,
because if it could be taken away without noise it would be better;
but if it is pushed it will be necessary to defend it. That is, a
bond which you know Mr. Kerr, Director to the Chancery, has of me
for a considerable sum of money, with many years interest on it,
which was almost all play debt. I don't think I ever had fifty
pounds, or the half of it, of Mr. Kerr's money, and I am sure I
never had a hundred; which however I have put it to, in the inclosed
declaration, that my mind may be entirely at ease. My intention with
respect to that sum was to wait till I had some money, and then buy
it off, by a composition of three hundred pounds, and if that was
not accepted of, to defend it; in which I neither saw, nor now see
anything unjust; and now I leave it on my successors to do what they
find most prudent in it. Beside my personal debt mentioned in
general and particular in the State,[385] there is one for which I
am liable in justice, if it is not paid, owing to poor people, who
gave their work for it by my orders; it was at Elgin in Murray; the
regiment I commanded wanted shoes. I commissioned something about
seventy pair of shoes and brogues, which might come to about three
shillings, or three and sixpence each, one with another. The
magistrates divided them among the shoemakers of the town and
country, and each shoemaker furnished his proportion. I drew on the
town for the price out of the composition laid on them, but I was
told afterwards at Inverness, that it was believed the composition
was otherwise applied, and the poor shoemakers not paid. As these
poor people wrought by my orders, it will be a great ease to my
heart to think they are not to lose by me, as too many have done in
the course of that year; but had I lived, I might have made some
enquiry after it; but now it is impossible, as their hardships in
loss of horses, and such things which happened through my soldiers,
are so interwoven with what was done by other people, that it would
be very hard, if not impossible, to separate them. If you will write
to Mr. Jones of Dalkinty, at Elgin, (with whom I was quartered when
I lay there,) he will send you an account of the shoes, and if they
were paid to the shoemakers or no; and if they are not, I beg you'll
get my wife, or my successors, to pay them when they can.
"Receive a letter to me from Mrs. Boyd, my cousin Malcomb's widow; I
shall desire her to write to you for an answer.
"Accept of my sincere thanks for your friendship and good services
to me. Continue them to my wife and children.
"My best wishes are to you and yours, and for the happiness and
prosperity of the good town of Kilmarnock, and I am, sir, your
humble servant,
"KILMARNOCK."
Tower of London, August 16th, 1746.
On the Saturday previous to the execution of Lord Kilmarnock, General
Williamson gave his prisoners a minute account of all the circumstances
of solemnity, and outward terror, which would accompany it. Lord
Kilmarnock heard it much with the same expression of concern as a man of
a compassionate disposition would read it, in relation to others. After
suggesting a trifling alteration in the arrangements after the
execution, he expressed his regret that the headsman should be, as
General Williamson informed him, a "good sort of man;" remarking, that
one of a rougher nature and harder heart, would be more likely to do
his work quickly. He then requested that four persons might be appointed
to receive the head when it was severed from the body, in a red cloth;
that it might not, as he had heard was the case at other executions,
"roll about the scaffold and be mangled and disfigured." "For I would
not," he added, "though it may be but a trifling matter, that my remains
should appear with any needless indecency after the just sentence of the
law is satisfied." He spoke calmly and easily on all these particulars,
nor did he even shrink when told that his head would be held up and
exhibited to the multitude as that of a traitor. "He knew," he said,
"that it was usual, and it did not affect him." During these singular
conversations, his spiritual attendant and the General, could hardly
have been more precise in their descriptions had they been portraying
the festive ceremonials of a coming bridal, than they were in the
fearful minutiæ of the approaching execution. It was thought by them
that such recitals would accustom the mind of the prisoner to the
apparatus and formalities that would attend his death, and that these
would lose their influence over his mind. "He allowed with me," observes
Mr. Foster, "that such circumstances were not so melancholy as dying
after a lingering disorder, in a darkened room, with weeping friends
around one, and whilst the shattered frame sank under slow exhaustion."
But experience and human feelings contradict this observation of the
resigned and unhappy sufferer; we look to death, under such an aspect,
as the approach of rest; but human nature shrinks from the violent
struggle, the momentary but fierce convulsion, plunging us, as it were,
into the abyss of the grave.
At this moment of his existence, when it was certain ruin at Court and
in the army, to befriend the Jacobite prisoner, a friend, the friend of
his youth, came nobly forward to attend Lord Kilmarnock in his dying
moments. This was John Walkinshaw Craufurd, of Craufurdland in the
county of Ayr, between whose family and that of the House of Boyd, a
long and intimate friendship of several centuries had existed; "so much
so," observes a member of the present family of Craufurd,[386] "that a
subterranean passage is said to exist between our old castles, of which
we _fancy_ proofs; but these are fire-side legends."
"The family of Craufurd," observes Mr. Burke, "is one of antiquity and
eminence in a part of the empire where ancestry and exploit have ever
been held in enthusiastic admiration." By marriage, in the thirteenth
century, it is allied anciently with the existing house of Loudon; and
its connection and friendship with the House of Boyd was cemented by the
death of one of its heads, Robert Craufurd, in 1487, in consequence of a
wound received at the Wyllielee, from attending James Boyd, Earl of
Arran, in a duel with the Earl of Eglintoun. In the days of Charles the
First and Second, the Craufurds had been Covenanters, as appears in the
history of that time: and in the year 1745, they were stanch Whigs; and
Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd had, when called upon to pay a mournful
proof of respect to Lord Kilmarnock, attained the rank of Colonel in the
British army. Besides the ancient friendship of the family, there had
been several intermarriages; and the father of Colonel Craufurd had
espoused, after the death of Miss Walkinshaw, Elenora, the widow of the
Honorable Thomas Boyd, the brother of Lord Kilmarnock.
Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd was a fine specimen of the true Scottish
gentleman, and of the British officer. He was a very handsome, stately
man, of high-bred manners, and portly figure, whom his tenantry both
feared and honoured. He lived almost continually in the highest circles
in London, except when in service, and also at the Court, visiting his
Castle in Ayrshire only in the hunting season, for he kept a pack of
hounds. To such a man the sacrifice of public opinion, then all against
the Jacobites,--the sure loss of Court favour,--the risk of losing all
military promotion, were no small considerations; yet he cast them all
to the winds, and came nobly forward to pay the last respect to his
kinsman and friend.
Already had he distinguished himself at the battle of Dettingen and
Fontenoy; and he might reasonably expect the highest military honours:
yet he incurred the risk of attending Lord Kilmarnock on the scaffold,
and performing that office for him which that nobleman required. I
almost blush to write the sequel; for _this_ act, Colonel Craufurd was,
immediately after the last scene was over, put down to the very bottom
of the army list.[387] Such was the petty and vindictive policy of the
British Government, influenced, it may be presumed, by the same dark
mind that visited upon the faithful Highlanders the horrors of military
law, in punishment of their fidelity and heroism. "The King," observes
Horace Walpole, referring to these and other acts, "is much inclined to
mercy; but the Duke of Cumberland, who has not so much of Cæsar after a
victory, as in gaining it, is for the utmost severity."[388]
Whilst the mind of Lord Kilmarnock was thus gradually prepared for
death, Lord Balmerino passed cheerfully the hours which were so soon to
terminate in his doom. Fondly attached to his young wife, Balmerino
obtained the boon of her society in his prison. So much were the people
attracted by the hardihood and humour of this brave old man, that it was
found necessary by the authorities to stop up the windows of his
prison-chamber in the Tower, in order to prevent his talking to the
populace out of the window. One only was left unclosed, with
characteristic cruelty: it commanded a view of the scaffolding erected
for his execution.[389] One day the Lieutenant of the Tower brought in
the warrant for his death: Lady Balmerino fainted. "Lieutenant," said
Lord Balmerino, "with your d----d warrant you have spoiled my Lady's
dinner."
Lord Balmerino is said to have written to the Duke of Cumberland a "very
sensible letter," requesting his intercession with the King; but this
seems to have been unavailing, from the well-known exclamation of George
the Second, when solicited for the other prisoners, "Will no one speak a
word to me for poor Balmerino?"
The day appointed for the execution was the eighteenth of August, at
eight in the morning. Mr. Foster visited Lord Kilmarnock, and found him
in a calm and happy temper, without any disturbance of that serenity
which had of late blessed his days of imprisonment. He affected not to
brave death, but viewed it in the awful aspect in which even the best of
men, and the most hopeful Christians, must consider that solemn change.
He expressed his belief, that a man who had led a dissolute life, and
who yet believed the consequences of death, to affect indifference at
that hour, showed himself either to be very impious, or very stupid.
One apprehension still clung to his mind, proving how sensitive had been
that conscience which strove in vain to satisfy itself. He told Mr.
Foster "he could not be sure that his repentance was sincere, because it
had never been tried by the temptation of returning to society."
Lord Kilmarnock continued in a composed state of mind during the whole
morning. After a short prayer, offered up by Mr. Foster, at his desire,
he was informed that the sheriffs waited for the prisoners. He heard
this announcement calmly; and said to General Williamson, with his
wonted grace, "General, I am ready to follow you." He then quitted his
prison, and descended the stairs. As he was going down, he met Lord
Balmerino; and the friends embraced. "My Lord," said the noble
Balmerino, "I am heartily sorry to have your company in this
expedition."[390]
The prisoners then proceeded to the outward gate of the Tower, where the
Sheriffs, who had walked there in procession, received them: this was
about ten o'clock in the morning of the eighteenth of August. The bodies
of the two noblemen having been delivered with the usual formalities to
the Sheriffs, they proceeded to the late Transport Office, a building
near the scaffold. Two Presbyterian ministers, Mr. Foster and Mr. Home,
accompanied Lord Kilmarnock, whilst the Chaplain of the Tower and
another clergyman, attended Lord Balmerino. Three rooms, hung with
black, were prepared; one for each of the condemned noblemen; another,
fronting the scaffold, for spectators. Here, those who were so soon to
suffer, had a short conference with each other, chiefly relating to the
order, said to have been issued at Culloden, to give no quarter. This
was a subject, not only of importance to Lord Kilmarnock's memory, but
to the character of the Jacobite party generally.
"Did you, my Lord," said the generous Balmerino, still anxious, even at
the last hour, to justify his friends, "see or know of any order, signed
by the Prince, to give no quarter at the battle of Culloden?"
"No, my Lord," replied Kilmarnock.
"Nor I neither," rejoined Balmerino; "and therefore it seems to be an
invention to justify their own murderous scheme."
To this Lord Kilmarnock answered, "No, my Lord, I do not think it can be
an invention, because, while I was a prisoner at Inverness, I was told
by several officers that there was such an order, signed 'George
Murray,' and that it was in the Duke of Cumberland's custody." To this
statement, (which was wholly erroneous) Lord Balmerino exclaimed, "Lord
George Murray! Why then, they should not charge it on the Prince." After
this explanation, he bade Kilmarnock a last farewell: as he embraced
him, he said, in the same noble spirit, that he had ever shown, "My dear
Lord Kilmarnock, I am only sorry I cannot pay all this reckoning alone:
once more, farewell for ever."
Lord Kilmarnock was then left with the sheriffs, and his spiritual
advisers. In their presence, he solemnly declared himself to be a
Protestant, and said that he was thoroughly satisfied of the legality of
the King's claim to the throne. He had been educated in these
principles, and he now thoroughly repented having ever engaged in the
Rebellion. He afterwards stated to his friends that he had within this
week taken the sacrament twice in evidence of the truth of his
repentance.
The hour of noon was now fast approaching, when the last act of
relentless justice was to be performed. Mr. Foster, after permitting the
Earl a few moments to compose himself, suggested that he should engage
with him in prayer, and afterwards proceed to the scaffold. The minister
then addressed himself to all who were present, urging them to join with
him in this last solemn office, and in recommending the soul of an
unhappy penitent to the mercy of God. Those who were engaged in this sad
scene, sank on their knees, whilst, after a petition relating to the
prisoner, a prayer was offered up "for King George, for our holy
religion, for our inestimable British liberties." This prayer, for the
royal family, Lord Kilmarnock had often protested he would, at the
latest moment, offer up to the throne of God.
After this solemn duty had been performed, Lord Kilmarnock bade an
affectionate farewell to the gentlemen who had accompanied him, and here
Mr. Foster's office ceased, the Rev. Mr. Home, a young clergyman, and a
personal friend of Lord Kilmarnock, succeeding him in attendance upon
the prisoner. Many reports prevailed of Lord Kilmarnock's fear of death,
and of the weakness of his resolution; and Balmerino, it is said,
apprehended that he would not "behave well," an expression used,
perhaps, in reference to his opinions, perhaps in anticipation of a
failure of courage. As leaning upon the arm of his friend Mr. Home,
Lord Kilmarnock saw, for the first time, that outward apparatus of death
to which he had taken such pains to familiarise himself; "nature still
recurred upon him;"--for an instant, the home of peace, to which he was
hastening, was forgotten;--"the multitude, the block, the coffin, the
executioner, the instrument of death," appalled one, whose character was
amiable, rather than exalted. He turned to his attendant, and exclaimed,
"Home, this is terrible!" Yet his countenance, even as he uttered these
words, was unchanged, and in a few moments, he regained the composure of
one whose hope was in the mercy of his Creator. What else could sustain
him in the agonies of that moment? "His whole behaviour," writes Mr.
Foster, "was so humble and resigned, that not only his friends, but
every spectator, was deeply moved; the executioner burst into tears, and
was obliged to use artificial spirits to support and strengthen him." As
the man kneeled down, after the usual custom, to pray for forgiveness,
Lord Kilmarnock desired him to have courage, and placing a purse of gold
in his hand, told him that the dropping of a handkerchief should be the
signal for the blow.
Mr. Foster having rejoined Lord Kilmarnock on the scaffold, a long
conversation, in a low voice, took place between them; for Lord
Kilmarnock made no speech. "I wish," said Mr. Foster, "I had a voice
loud enough to tell the multitude with what sentiments your Lordship
quits the world." Again, the unfortunate nobleman embraced his friends;
and bade Mr. Foster, who quitted the scaffold a few minutes before his
execution, a last farewell. During all this time, which was more than
half an hour, he took no notice of the multitude below: except,
observing that the green baize over the wall obstructed the view, he
desired that it might be lifted up that the crowd might see the
spectacle of his execution.
A delay now took place, attributed by some to Lord Kilmarnock's
"unwillingness to depart:"[391] but owing to a few trivial circumstances
which, as Mr. Foster remarks, "are unnecessary to be mentioned in order
to vindicate the noble penitent from the imputation of fear in the
critical moment." To the last, a scrupulous attention to decorum, and
nicety in dress characterized Lord Kilmarnock. At his trial, he was
described as having been a little too precise, and his hair "too exactly
dressed for a person in his situation." On the scaffold the same care
was manifested. He appeared in a mourning suit, and his hair, which was
unpowdered, was dressed according to the fashion of the day, in a bag,
which it took some time to undo, in order to replace the bag by a cap.
Even then, the cap being large, and the hair long, his lordship was
apprehensive that some of the hair might escape, and intercept the
stroke of the axe. He therefore requested a gentleman near him, to tie
the cap round his head, that he might bind up the hair more closely. As
this office was performed, the person to whom he had applied, wished his
lordship a continuance of his resolution until he should meet with
eternal happiness. "I thank you," returned Lord Kilmarnock, with his
usual courtesy and sweetness; "I find myself perfectly easy and
resigned."
There was also another impediment,--the tucking of his shirt under his
waistcoat was next adjusted. Then Lord Kilmarnock, taking out a paper
containing the heads of his last devotions, advanced to the utmost stage
of the scaffold, and kneeled down at the block, on which, in praying, he
placed his hands, until the executioner remonstrated, begging of him to
let his hands fall down, lest they should be mangled, or should
intercept the blow. He was also told that the neck of his waistcoat was
in the way; he therefore arose, and with the help of Colonel Walkinshaw
Craufurd, had it taken off. Near him were standing those who held the
cloth ready to receive his head; among these Mr. Home's servant heard
Lord Kilmarnock tell the executioner, that in two minutes he would give
the signal. A few moments were spent in fervent devotion; then the sign
was given, and the head was severed from the body by one stroke. It was
not exposed to view according to custom: but was deposited in a coffin
with the body, and delivered to his Lordship's friends. One peculiarity
attended this execution. It is not required by law that the head of a
person decapitated should be exposed; but is a custom adopted in order
to satisfy the multitude that the execution has been accomplished.
Since, by Lord Kilmarnock's dying request, this practice was omitted,
the Sheriffs ordered that all the attendants on the scaffold should
kneel down, so that the view of the execution might not be impeded[392]
to those who were below.
The scaffold was immediately cleared, and put in order for another
victim; and Mr. Ford, the Under-Sheriff, who had attended the first
execution, went into the room in the Transport Office where Balmerino
awaited his doom. "I suppose," inquired the undaunted Balmerino, "that
my Lord Kilmarnock is no more." And having asked how he died, and being
told the account, he said: "It is well done, and now, gentlemen, I will
no longer detain you, for I desire not to protract my life." He spoke
calmly, and even cheerfully; Lord Kilmarnock had shed tears as he bade
his friends farewell, but Balmerino, whilst others wept, was even
cheerful, and hastened to the scaffold. His deportment, when in the room
where he awaited the summons to death, was graceful and yet simple,
without either any ostentation of bravery, or indications of
indifference to his fate. He did not defy the terror, he rose above it.
He conversed freely with his friends, and refreshed himself twice with
wine and bread, desiring the company to drink to him, as he expressed it
in his Scottish phrase, "ain degrae ta haiven;" but above all, he prayed
often and fervently for support, and support was given.
True to the last to his professions, Lord Balmerino was dressed in what
was called by a contemporary, "his Rebellious Regimentals," such as he
had worn at Culloden; they were of blue cloth, turned up with red;
underneath them was a flannel waistcoat and a shroud. He ascended the
scaffold, "treading," as an observer expressed it, "with the air of a
General," and surveying the spectators, bowed to them; he walked round
it, and read the inscription on his coffin, "Arthurus Dominus de
Balmerino, decollatus, 18^o die August. 1746, ætatis suæ 58^o;" observed
"that it was right," and with apparent pleasure looked at the block
saying, it was his "pillow of rest." Lord Balmerino then pulling out his
spectacles, read a paper to those who stood around him, and delivered it
to the Sheriff to do with it as he thought proper. It was subsequently
printed in a garbled form, much of it being deemed too treasonable for
publication, and in that form is preserved in the State Trials.[393] It
is now given as it was really spoken.
"I was bred in the anti-revolution principles, which I have ever
persevered in, from a sincere persuasion that the restoration of the
Royal Family, and the good of my native country, are inseparable. The
action of my life which now stares me most in the face, is my having
accepted a commission in the army from the late Princess Anne, who I
knew had no more right to the crown than her predecessor, the Prince of
Orange, whom I always considered as an infamous usurper.
"In the year 1715, as soon as the King landed in Scotland, I thought it
my indispensable duty to join his standard, though his affairs were then
in a desperate situation.
"I was in Switzerland in the year 1734, where I received a letter from
my father acquainting me that he had procured me remission, and desiring
me to return home. Not thinking myself at liberty to comply with my
father's desire without the King's approbation, I wrote to Rome to know
his Majesty's pleasure, and was directed by him to return home; and at
the same time I received a letter of credit upon his banker at Paris,
who furnished me with money to defray the expense of my journey, and put
me in repair. I think myself bound, upon this occasion, to contradict a
report which has been industriously spread, and which I never heard of
till I was prisoner; that orders were given to the Prince's army to give
no quarter at the battle of Culloden. With my eye upon the block, which
will soon bring me unto the highest of all tribunals, I do declare that
it is without any manner of foundation, both because it is impossible it
could have escaped the knowledge of me, who was captain of the Prince's
Life Guards, or of Lord Kilmarnock, who was colonel of his own regiment;
but still more so, as it is entirely inconsistent with the mild and
generous nature of that brave Prince, whose patience, fortitude,
intrepidity, and humanity, I must declare upon this solemn occasion, are
qualities in which he excels all men I ever knew, and which it ever was
his desire to employ for the relief and preservation of his father's
subjects. I believe rather, that this report was spread to palliate and
excuse the murders they themselves committed in cold blood after the
battle of Culloden.
"I think it my duty to return my sincere acknowledgments to Major White
and Mr. Fowler, for their humane and complaisant behaviour to me during
my confinement. I wish I could pay the same compliment to General
Williamson, who used me with the greatest inhumanity and cruelty; but
having taken the sacrament this day, I forgive him, as I do all my
enemies.
"I die in the religion of the Church of England, which I look upon as
the same with the Episcopal Church of Scotland, in which I was brought
up."
After delivering this speech, Lord Balmerino laid his head upon the
block, and said, "God reward my friends, and forgive my enemies: bless
and restore the King; preserve the Prince, and the Duke of York,--and
receive my soul."
The executioner then being called for, and kneeling to ask forgiveness,
Lord Balmerino interrupted him. "Friend, you need not ask my
forgiveness; the execution of your duty is commendable." He then gave
the headsman three guineas, saying, "this is all I have; I can only add
to it my coat and waistcoat," which, accordingly, he took off, laying
them on the coffin for the executioner. After putting on a flannel
jacket made for the occasion, and a plaid cap, he went to the block in
order to show the executioner the signal. He then returned to his
friends. "I am afraid," he said, addressing them, "that there are some
here who may think my behaviour bold: remember, sir," he added,
addressing a gentleman near him, "what I tell you; it arises from a just
confidence in God, and a clear conscience." Memorable, and beautiful
words, distinguishing between the presumption of indifference, and the
security of a living faith. When he laid his head on the block to try
it, he said, "if I had a thousand lives I would lay them all down in the
same cause."
Lord Balmerino then showed the Executioner where to strike the blow; he
examined the edge of the axe, and bade the man to strike with
resolution; "for in _that_, friend," he said, as he replaced the axe in
the hand of the man, "will consist your mercy." He asked how many
strokes had been given to Lord Kilmarnock. Two clergymen coming up at
that moment, he said, "no, gentlemen, I believe you have already done me
all the service you can." He called loudly to the warder, and gave him
his perriwig; and instantly laid down his head upon the block, but being
told that he was on the wrong side, he vaulted round, and extending his
arms uttered this short prayer: "O Lord, reward my friends, forgive my
enemies:"--he uttered, it has been stated, another ejaculation for king
James; but that petition was suppressed in the printed accounts of his
death: then, pronouncing these words, "receive my soul," he gave the
signal by throwing up his arm, as if he were giving the signal for
battle. His intrepidity, and the suddenness of that last sign terrified
the executioner, whose arm became almost powerless; the affrighted man
struck the blow on the part directed, but though, it is hoped, it
destroyed all sensation, the head was not severed, but fell back on the
shoulders, exhibiting a ghastly sight. Two more strokes of the axe were
requisite to complete the work. Then, the head having been received in a
piece of scarlet cloth, the lifeless remains of the true, and noble
hearted soldier were deposited in a coffin, and delivered to his
friends.
A vast multitude viewed this spectacle, so execrable in its cruelty, so
great in the deportment of the sufferers. Even on the masts of ships, in
the calm river, were the spectators piled; all classes of society were
interested in this memorable scene; and, for a few short weeks, the
fashionable circles were diverted by the humours of Lady Townshend, and
the witticisms of George Selwyn. During the imprisonment of Kilmarnock,
it had been the fancy of the former to station herself under the window
of his chamber in one of the dismal towers in which he was detained; to
send messages to him, and to obtain his dog and snuff-box. But even this
show of affected feeling failed to make compassion fashionable in the
regions of St. James's. Calumny was busy at the grave of the beheaded
Jacobites; and the accounts of those who attended them in their last
hours were attacked by anonymous pamphleteers. It was said, among other
things, that Balmerino uttered no prayer at the last moment; and his
behaviour was contrasted with that of Kilmarnock. On this allegation,
Mr. Ford, the Under-Sheriff, who was on the scaffold, observes, "the
authors of these attacks being concealed are unworthy of other notice,
since nothing is easier to an ingenious and unprejudiced mind, than to
distinguish between the subject and the man: my Lord Kilmarnock was
happily educated in right principles, which he deviated from, and
repented; whereas, the great, though unhappy Balmerino, was unfortunate
in his,--but, as he lived, he died."[394]
The characters of these two noblemen, who, in life, held a very
dissimilar course, until they coöperated in arms, are strongly
contrasted. To Kilmarnock belonged the gentle qualities which enhance
the pleasures of society, but often, too, increase its perils: the
susceptible, affectionate nature, not fortified by self-controul; the
compassionate disposition, acting rather from impulse than principle.
Infirm in principle, his rash alliance with a party who were opposed to
all that he had learned to respect in childhood; and whom he joined,
from the stimulus of a misdirected ambition, cannot be justified. To
this, it was generally believed, he was greatly incited by the
persuasions of his mother-in-law, the Countess of Errol.
Whilst we bestow our cordial approbation on those who engaged in civil
strife from a sense of duty, and from notions of allegiance, which had
never been exterminated from their moral code, we condemn such as,
attaching themselves to the Jacobite party, outraged their secret
convictions, betrayed the trusts of Government, and violated the promise
of their youth. Such a course must spring either from selfishness, or
weakness, or from a melancholy union of both. In Lord Kilmarnock it was
far more the result of weakness than of self-interest: his fortunes were
desperate, and his mind was embittered towards the ruling government:
his admiration was attracted by the gallantry and resolution of those
who adhered to the Chevalier: his sense of what was due to his rank, and
the consciousness of high descent, coupled with empty honours and real
poverty, stimulated him to take that course which seemed the most likely
to regain a position, without ever enjoying which a man may be happy,
but which few can bear to lose. This was his original error; he joined
the standard of Charles Edward,--but he was no Jacobite. He fought
against his own convictions, the hereditary and ineffaceable
prepossessions implanted in the heart by a parent.
From henceforth, until immured in the Tower, all in the career of Lord
Kilmarnock was turbulence; and, it must be acknowledged, crime. For
nothing can justify a resistance of sovereign power, save a belief in
its illegality. "I engaged in the rebellion," was Lord Kilmarnock's
confession, "in opposition to my own principles, and to those of my
family; in contradiction to the whole tenor of my conduct." Such were
his expressions at that hour when no earthly considerations had power to
seduce him into falsehood.
By those historians who espouse the Jacobite cause, this avowal has been
severely censured; and Lord Kilmarnock has been regarded as deserting
the party which he had espoused. But, with his conviction, such a line
of conduct as that which he pursued in prison, could alone be honest,
and therefore alone consistent with his religious hopes, before he
quitted life. Such censure has been well answered in Lord Kilmarnock's
own words, "I am in little pain for the reflections which the
inconsiderate or prejudiced part of my countrymen, (if there are any
such whom my suffering the just sentence of the law has not mollified,)
may cast upon me for this confession. The wiser or more ingenious will,
I hope, approve my conduct, and allow with me, that next to doing right
is to have the courage and integrity to avow that I have done wrong."
These sentiments were not, be it observed, made public until after his
death.
If, in early life, the career of Lord Kilmarnock were tainted by
dissolute conduct, his deep contrition, his sincere confession of his
errors, his endeavours to amend them, redeem those very errors in the
eyes of human judgment, as they will probably plead for him, with One
who is more merciful than man. In his prison, his patience in suspense,
his forbearance to those who had urged on his death, his generous
sentiments towards his companions in misfortune,--his care for others,
his trust in the mercy of his Saviour, present as instructive a lesson
as mortals can glean from the errors and the penitence of others.
Contrasted with the gentle, unfortunate Kilmarnock, the gallant bearing
of Balmerino rises to heroism. One cannot, for the sake of his party,
help regretting that he had not taken a more prominent part in the
councils of the young Chevalier, or held a more distinguished position
in the field. His integrity, his strong sense, and moral courage might
have had an advantageous influence over the wavering, and confirmed the
indecisive. In the field, his would have been the desperate valour which
suits a desperate cause; but his resources were few, and his influence
proportionately small.
The soldier of fortune, driven at an early age from home, sent from
country to country, serving, with little hope of advancement, under
various generals, Balmerino had learned to view life almost as a matter
of indifference, compared with the honest satisfaction of preserving
consistency. His existence had been one of trial, and of banishment from
all domestic pleasures, and in the perils of his youthful days, he had
learned to view it as so precarious, that his final doom came not to him
as a surprise, but seemed merely a natural conclusion of a career of
danger and adventure. His heroism may excite less admiration even than
the resignation of those who had more to lose; but his intrepidity, his
courageous sincerity, his contempt of all display, his carelessness of
himself, and the tender concern which he evinced for others, are
qualities which we should not be _English_ not to appreciate and
venerate. His were the finest attributes of the soldier and the
Jacobite: the firm, unflinching adherence; the enthusiastic loyalty; the
utter repugnance to all compromising; and the lofty disregard of
opinion, which extorted, even from those who endeavoured to ridicule, a
reluctant respect.
For the relentless pretext of what was called justice, which sent this
brave man to his doom, there is no possibility of accounting, except in
the deep party hatred of the Government. Lord Kilmarnock is believed to
have owed his death to the false report industriously spread of his
having treated the English prisoners with cruelty; but no such plea
could injure Balmerino. One dark influence, at that time all powerful at
court, all powerful among the people, denied them mercy;--and the crowds
which witnessed the death of Kilmarnock and of Balmerino, hastened to do
homage to the Duke of Cumberland. Nothing can, in fact, more plainly
show the effect of frequent executions upon the character of a people
than the details of the year 1746. With the inhabitants of London, like
the French at the time of the Revolution, the value of life was lowered;
the indifference to scenes of horror formed a shocking feature in their
conduct. In the great world, jests, and witticisms delighted the
Satellites of power. It was the barbarous fashion to visit Temple Bar
for the purpose of viewing the heads exhibited there; spying glasses
being let out for the ghastly spectacle. And the coarse, unfeeling
invectives of the press prove the general state of the public mind, in
those days, more effectually than any other fact could do:--in the
present times, the cruelty which pursues its victim to the grave would
not be tolerated.
In his latest hours, the chief concern of Lord Kilmarnock seems to have
been for his eldest son, to whom he addressed the following beautiful
letter.