including gentlemen and officers, were taken at Preston.[206] Generally
speaking, they were treated well by the military: "The dragoons were
civil to us," writes the Highlander, "their officers choosing rather to
want beds themselves than we should."[207] At Wigan the prisoners were
allowed to commune together, under the inspection of sentinels; and a
warm altercation occurred between Lord Widdrington and Brigadier
Mackintosh, in the presence of Lord Derwentwater, who took little notice
of the Brigadier, but turning to another gentleman, said: "You see what
we have brought ourselves to by giving credit to our highborn Tories--to
such men as Fenwick, Tate, Green, and Allgood. If you outlive
misfortune, and return to live in the North, I desire you never to be
seen in converse with such rogues in disguise, who promised to join us,
and animated us to rise with them." The gentleman promised that he would
observe his Lordship's counsels. "Ah!" said Lord Derwentwater, "I know
you to be of an easy temper."[208]
The prisoners were now carried on towards London by easy marches, Mr.
Patten accompanying his patron, Mr. Forster. As they went, the undaunted
Highlanders called out to the country people who came to gaze at them,
"Where are all your high-church Tories? If they would not fight with us,
let them come and rescue us." This indiscretion redoubled the vigilance
of the watch put upon the rebels. From Daventry to London, Mr. Forster
and Mr. Patten were greeted by the common people with encomiums upon a
warming-pan, in allusion to the supposed birth of the Pretender. When
the prisoners arrived at Barnet, messengers came to meet them, and to
pinion their arms with cords,--"More for distinction," adds the
subservient Mr. Patten, "than for any pain that attended." Yet the
indignity must have been cruelly galling to the highborn and gallant men
who were thus mercilessly paraded to their doom amid the cries of the
populace.
At Highgate a strong detachment of horse-soldiers and dragoons received
the prisoners from Lumley's Horse, which had hitherto guarded them; and
now they were separated into pairs, a foot-soldier holding the bridle of
each horse; and in this manner the Jacobite peers, Lord Derwentwater
among the rest, were conducted to London through "a hedge of a mob," as
the Highland soldier declares, hired, as he hints, at Lord Pelham's
charge, to muster that day. Cries of "Long live King George!" and "Down
with the Pretender!" greeted the ear as they passed on to their several
destinations. A Quaker, fixing his eyes on Mr. Patten, and seeing his
black dress, remarked, "Friend, thou hast been the trumpeter of
rebellion to those men,--thou must answer for them." The moralizer was
touched by a grenadier with the butt end of his musket, so that the
"spirit fell into the ditch." But the Quaker was not rebuffed. "Friend,"
he said to the soldier, "thou art, I fear, no true friend to King
George."
Even at the last, Mr. Forster had hopes, it is said, of being released
by a Tory mob. The Jacobite noblemen had been, indeed, all along misled,
or ignorant of the real inclinations of the mass of the people. The
dread of what they term "popery" is a deep and engrossing passion in
the hearts of the lower and even of the middle classes, and it formed an
effectual barrier against the restoration of the Stuarts. The cause of
those unfortunate Princes was never, in this country, as it was in
Scotland, the cause of the people. The personal attachment of the
Highlanders to the ancient race of Stuart, and their devotion to their
clan, superseded their religious scruples;[209] but that was not the
case in the South.
The Earl of Derwentwater and his brother were consigned to different
prisons,--the former to the Tower, the latter to Newgate; a very strict
guard was set upon the Earl, and no one was allowed to see him or speak
to him.[210]
On the seventh of January, 1716, the case of the seven rebel lords[211]
was brought before the House of Commons; and Mr. Lechmere moved that
they should not be left to the ordinary method of prosecutions, but
should be proceeded against by way of impeachment.[212] In a long and,
as far as the report enables a reader to judge, able speech, he referred
to the declaration of the Pretender, given under his sign manual and
privy seal at Commercy, on the twenty-fifth of October, 1715. "This
paper," Mr. Lechmere observed, "which he held in his hand, was
sufficient to fire the thoughts of every gentleman there; and the House
could do no more than to resent this so far as to make themselves the
prosecutors of those who avowed the cause of the Pretender, and set
themselves at the head of armies, in the heart of his Majesty's
dominions." In conclusion, "he impeached James, Earl of Derwentwater, of
high treason, which impeachment he undertook to make good."
Six other members then severally impeached the other six Jacobite lords;
and an impeachment was carried up to the Bar of the House of Lords, with
an assurance "that articles to make good the charge against the Earl of
Derwentwater and the other noblemen would shortly be exhibited."
A committee of the House of Commons, with Mr. Lechmere as their
chairman, was therefore formed; and the articles were framed, and read
before the Bar of the House of Lords. On the tenth of January the
Jacobite lords were summoned to hear the articles of impeachment: a few
days were allowed to them to prepare their replies. On the following
Saturday, the Earl of Derwentwater was brought by the Gentleman Usher of
the Black Rod before the Bar, where he knelt, until told by the Lord
Chancellor to rise. He then delivered his answer.
Those who, in perusing the annals of these times, look for strength of
character in the state prisoners who were now brought before the
tribunal of the House of Lords, or for consistency in those principles
which had led them into the field, will be painfully disappointed. In
two instances alone was there displayed an undaunted demeanour, and a
resolute adherence to the cause which they had avowed; and these were
shewn in the subsequent rebellion, by the brave and admirable Lord
Balmerino, and by the unfortunate Charles Radcliffe.
The Earl of Derwentwater expressed, in his reply, the "deepest concern
and affliction to a charge of so high and heinous a nature as that
brought against him." He acknowledged with sorrow that he had been in
arms, and did march through and invade several parts of the kingdom; and
that he was thereby guilty of the offence whereof he was charged in the
articles. "But," he continued, "if any one offence of that kind was ever
attended with circumstances which might move compassion, the said Earl
hopes he may be entitled to it." He then referred to his peaceable
disposition, and pleaded his youth and inexperience; the absence of all
malice, of all concerted conspiracy; his having made no warlike
preparations. He pleaded also, that he could not be justly reproached
with any cruel or harsh conduct while he bore arms: he specified his
advice to those with him to submit at Preston, and to trust to the
King's mercy. He adduced his anxiety to save the lives of his Majesty's
subjects by avoiding further bloodshed, and brought in proof a letter
which he had written to those of his own party, conjuring them to
capitulate. Under such circumstances, the Earl implored the mediation
both of their Lordships and of the Commons for mercy on his behalf,
"which will lay him," so he declared in conclusion, "under the highest
obligations of duty and affection to his Majesty, and perpetual
gratitude to both Houses."
The answer not appearing to the Lords to be sufficiently "express and
clear," the Earl was then asked by the Chancellor, whether he meant to
plead guilty to the articles of the impeachment. The Earl replied that
he did, and that he submitted to the King's mercy. His answer and plea
were entered accordingly, and the Earl then withdrew.[213]
On Thursday, February the ninth, the Lords came from their own House
into the hall erected in Westminster Hall, to pass sentence upon James,
Earl of Derwentwater, and upon the five other noblemen who had pleaded
guilty with him; the Earl of Wintoun, who had pleaded not guilty, being
reserved for trial.
The Lord High Steward who presided on this occasion was William Earl
Cowper, Lord Chancellor, who, for the time of trial, was called "your
Grace," and had the privilege of walking uncovered, his train borne,
except whilst the commission was read by the Clerk of the Crown.
The usual proclamation rang through the Court, and the Sergeant-at-Arms,
saying "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" enforced silence. Then another proclamation
was made, commanding the Lieutenant of the Tower to bring forth his
prisoners to the Bar, and accordingly the six rebel lords were brought
to the Bar by the Deputy-Governor of the Tower, having the axe carried
before them by the Gentleman Jailer, who stood with it on the left hand
of the prisoners, with the edge turned from him. The prisoners after
kneeling before the Bar, bowed to his Grace the High Steward, and also
to the Peers, whose sad privilege it is to try those of the same rank in
the scale of society as themselves, and often, from extensive
intermarriages, connected by ties of blood. The articles of impeachment
against James Earl of Derwentwater were read, and the prisoner's reply.
He was then asked if he pleaded guilty to the high treason in the said
articles of impeachment. His Lordship replied, "I do." He was ordered to
withdraw; but was called before the Bar the same day to receive
judgment. Upon being asked by the Lord High Steward "Why judgment should
not be passed upon him according to law?" the Earl repeated a few
circumstances mentioned in his answer to the articles. His voice was
scarcely articulate as he proceeded to say, "But the terrors of your
Lordship's just sentence, which at once deprive me of my life and
estate, and complete the misfortunes of my wife and innocent children,
are so heavy upon my mind, I am scarcely able to allege what may
extenuate my offence, if any thing may do it." He then again besought of
their Lordships the mediation in his behalf.
After the Lords Widdrington, Kenmure, Nithisdale, and Carnwath had been
severally addressed, and had replied to the Court, proclamation for
silence was again made, and judgment was given. It was prefaced by a
long and elaborate address; which, however elegant, however
explanatory, however just, it may be considered, was strongly tinctured
by the adulatory spirit of the day, and was calculated to wound and to
harden the offending prisoners, rather than to unfold with dignity the
reasons for condemnation. In conclusion, since nothing could, in the
narrowing view of party, be too dictatorial for the unfortunate
Jacobites, they were exhorted not to rely any longer on the usual
directors of their consciences, but to be assisted by some of the pious
and learned divines of the Church of England. This was addressed to men
who were, with two exceptions, of the Church of Rome, and whose chief
reliance must naturally be upon those of their own persuasion.
The terrible sentence of the law was then recorded. It was that usually
given against the meanest offenders in like kind, the most ignominious
and painful parts being remitted by the grace of the Crown to persons of
quality. Judgment was, however, pronounced, according to the usual form
for high treason.[214]
The prisoners were then reconducted to the Tower; the Lord High Steward,
standing up uncovered, broke the staff of office, and declared the
present commission to be ended. The Peers returned to the House of
Lords.
Little is known of the dreary and solemn hours which intervened between
the judgment and the execution of the sentence. But one brief
expression, in an old newspaper, relative to the young and unhappy Earl
of Derwentwater, speaks volumes: "The Earl of Derwentwater is so
desponding, that two warders are obliged to sit up with him during the
night."[215] He was visited in his prison by Thomas Townshend, Viscount
Sydney, then Under Secretary of State for George the First;[216] one of
the most amiable men, as well as refined and elegant scholars of the
day, and a nobleman whose sensibility and delicacy of feeling, which
prevented his taking a share in the more active parts of public
business, must have caused an interview with the Earl of Derwentwater to
have been deeply touching. The Duke of Roxburgh also visited the
condemned nobleman; but no record is left of these communications. The
Duke was at that time Keeper of the Privy Seal for Scotland, and
Lord-Lieutenant of the counties of Roxburgh and Selkirk. He had recently
distinguished himself at Sherriff Muir: he was at this time a young man
of twenty-five years of age, and one whom all parties have commended.
"Learned, without pedantry, he was, perhaps," says Lockhart of Carnwath,
"the best accomplished young man of Europe." To these acquirements were
added a singular charm of manner.[217] One can hardly suppose the visits
of two such men not to have had their source from some motive of
kindness.
To the credit of the House of Lords, an address was voted to the King,
petitioning that his Majesty would reprieve such of the rebel lords as
deserved his mercy. The royal answer was couched in these terms: that
"the King on this, and all occasions, would do what he thought
consistent with the dignity of the Crown and the safety of his
people."[218] It was unfortunate that, both at this time and in the
Rebellion of 1745, there was no Queen Consort. A woman's heart would,
one may trust, have pleaded for the young, gallant, and beloved
Derwentwater. The English Court was, at that time, insulted by the
audacious intrigues of foreign mistresses. These women had no interest
in the King's real fame, nor in the national credit. Such was the case
in the first Rebellion.[219] In 1745 Queen Caroline, the wife of George
the Second, was dead.
Accompanied by two courageous ladies, the young Countess of Derwentwater
threw herself at the feet of the King, and implored mercy on her
husband.[220] In the House of Commons, the First Lord of the Treasury
declared, that he had been offered a bribe of sixty thousand pounds to
save Lord Derwentwater. Sir Richard Steele spoke loudly in favour of the
condemned lords, but the declaration of Walpole suppressed all hopes of
mercy. "He was moved with indignation," he said, "to see that there
should be such unworthy members of this great body as to open their
mouths, without blushing, in favour of rebels and parricides." He
adjourned the House until the first of March, it being understood that
the peers would be executed in the mean time. It is some consolation to
reflect that the Minister had, on this occasion, only a majority of
seven.
At this juncture, when all hope seemed lost, Mary, Dowager Countess of
Derwentwater, proffered the following petition in behalf of her sons.
One can hardly suppose how it could have been disregarded; but the
Monarch had few sympathies with his people of England.
"The humble Petition of Mary Countess of Derwentwater, 1716, to the
King's most excellent Majesty, sheweth,
"That the Earl of Derwentwater and Charles Radcliffe (your
petitioner's two and only sons) having been unfortunately engaged
and surprised into a horrid and open Rebellion against your most
sacred Majesty, have surrendered themselves at Preston, and
submitted to your Majesty's great clemency and mercy.
"Their crimes are so enormous, that your petitioner can scarce hope
for a pardon; yet the greatness of their offence doth not make your
petitioner lay aside all hopes of mercy, when your petitioner and
they, who are both very young, throw themselves, absolute and
entirely, at your Majesty's feet for it; and as they have a just
abhorrence and a sincere and true repentance for what is past, so
they will give undoubted security and proof of their most dutiful
behaviour to your Majesty's Government for the future.
"Wherefore your petitioner most humbly prays that your Majesty will,
out of your royal clemency and boundless mercy and compassion, spare
the lives of your petitioner's sons, and grant them your most
gracious pardon.
"And your petitioner shall ever, as in duty bound, &c."[221]
The petition was unavailing, and the unfortunate young nobleman prepared
to meet his doom.
On the twenty-fourth of February, at ten o'clock, the Earl of
Derwentwater, with Lord Kenmure, was carried in a hackney-coach from the
Tower to the Transport Office in Tower Hill, where there was a room
prepared for their reception, hung with black, and a passage or gallery
railed in, which led to the place of execution. The scaffold was
surrounded with the Guards. Lord Derwentwater suffered first. He was
observed to turn very pale as he proceeded through the gallery and
ascended the steps; but there was a modest composure observable in his
demeanour. He held a book in his hand, from which he read prayers for
some time; then, requesting leave of the Sheriffs to read a paper to the
people, he went to the rails of the scaffold, and there delivered the
following touching and beautiful address, which, how different soever
may be the sentiments and opinions with which it is perused, can hardly
fail to impress the reader as coming from a conscientious mind:--
"Being in a few minutes to appear before the Tribunal of God, where,
though most unworthy, I hope for mercy, which I have not found from
men now in power, I have endeavoured to make my peace with His
Divine Majesty, by most humbly begging pardon for all the sins of my
life; and I doubt not of a merciful forgiveness, through the merits
of the passion of my Saviour Jesus Christ; for which end I earnestly
desire the prayers of all good Christians.
"After this, I am to ask pardon of those whom I might have
scandalized by pleading guilty at my trial. Such as were permitted
to come to me, told me that, having been undeniably in arms,
pleading guilty was but the consequence of having submitted to
mercy, and many arguments were used to prove there was nothing of
moment in so doing,--among others, the universal practice of signing
leases, whereof the preambles ran in the name of the persons in
possession.
"But I am sensible that in this I have made bold with my loyalty,
having never owned any other but King James the Third for my lawful
King: him I had an inclination to serve from my infancy, and was
moved thereto by a natural love I had to his person, knowing him to
be capable of making his people happy; and though he had been born
of a different religion to mine, I should have done for him all
that lay in my power, as my ancestors have done for his
predecessors, being thereto bound by the laws of God and man.
"Wherefore, if in this affair I have acted rashly, it ought not to
affect the innocent; I intended to wrong nobody, but to serve my
King and my country, and that without self-interest,--hoping, by the
example I gave, to have induced others to their duty; and God, who
sees the secrets of my heart, knows I speak the truth. Some means
have been proposed to me for saving my life, which I looked upon as
inconsistent with honour and innocence, and therefore I rejected
them; for, with God's assistance, I shall prefer any death to the
doing a base unworthy action. I only wish now, that the laying down
my life might contribute to the service of my King and country, and
the re-establishment of the ancient and fundamental constitution of
these kingdoms; without which, no lasting peace or true happiness
can attend them. Then I should, indeed, part with my life even with
pleasure; as it is, I can only pray, that these blessings may be
bestowed upon my dear country; and since I can do no more, I beseech
God to accept of my life as a small sacrifice to it.
"I die a Roman Catholic: I am in perfect charity with all the world
(I thank God for it), even with those of the present Government, who
are most instrumental in my death. I freely forgive all such as
ungenerously reported false things of me; and hope to be forgiven
the trespasses of my youth by the Father of Mercies, into whose
hands I commend my soul.
J. DERWENTWATER."
P.S. "If that Prince who now governs had given me my life, I should
have thought myself obliged never more to have taken up arms against
him."
After delivering this address, the unfortunate nobleman thus spoke to
the executioner: "You will find something for you in my pocket [this was
two half-guineas], and I have given that gentleman [pointing to a person
who held his hat and wig] somewhat more for you. Let me lie down once,
to see how the block fits me." This he did. Then, kneeling down again,
and uttering a short prayer with the executioner, he arose, and
undressed himself for execution, the headsman assisting him. After
which, the Earl desired the executioner to take notice, that "when he
heard the words 'sweet Jesus!' then he should do his office so soon as
he pleased." After which, his Lordship laid himself down on the block,
and said, "I forgive my enemies, and hope that God will forgive me;" and
then, turning his head up towards the executioner, he exclaimed, "After
the third time I cry '_sweet Jesus!_' strike then, and do what is most
convenient to you."
A solemn and appalling scene then ensued. The voice of Lord Derwentwater
was heard to exclaim, and the watchful ear of the executioner caught
these words: "_Sweet Jesus_, receive my spirit; _sweet Jesus_, be
merciful unto me; _sweet Jesus_"--he seemed to be going on, when the
sentence was broken and the voice for ever hushed, the executioner
severing his Lordship's head from his body, which he did at one stroke.
Then the executioner took up the head, and at the several quarters of
the scaffold elevated it with both his hands, crying with a loud voice,
"Behold the head of a traitor! God save King George!" When he had done
so, the friends of the Earl not being provided with hearse or coffin,
Sir John Fryer, the Sheriff, ordered the body to be wrapped in black
baize, to be conveyed to a hackney coach, and delivered to his friends,
one of whom had wrapped up his head in a handkerchief.[222]
On the day of the execution, Mary, Countess of Derwentwater, accompanied
by another female, dressed herself as a fishwoman, and in a cart drove
under Temple Bar, having previously bribed some people to throw the head
of her lord into her lap, as she passed under the pinnacle on which it
was placed.[223]
Various accounts have been given of the interment of the Earl of
Derwentwater. He is generally believed to have been buried in the church
of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, near the altar. But a popular tradition has
found credence, that he was buried at Dilstone. This has arisen from
the Jacobite ditty, called "Derwentwater's Good Night," or has probably
given origin to that lay, in which the Earl is made to say:--
"Albeit that here in London town
It is my fate to die,
O carry me to Northumberland,
In my father's grave to lie:
There chaunt my solemn requiem,
In Hexham's holy towers,
And let six maids of fair Tynedale,
Scatter my grave with flowers."[224]