inbred in Lady Nithisdale, she appears not to have departed from that
feminine character which rises to sublimity when coupled with a fearless
sacrifice of selfish considerations. It was the custom of the day for
ladies to share in the intrigues of faction, more or less. Lady
Fauconbridge, the Countess of Derwentwater, Lady Seaforth, all appear to
have taken a lively part in the interests of the Jacobites. The Duchess
of Marlborough was, politically speaking, extinct; but the restless love
of ascendancy is never extinct. The fashionable world were still
divided between her, and the rival whom she so despised, Catherine
Sedley, Duchess of Buckingham.
But Lady Nithisdale, living in the North, and possibly occupied with her
two children, remained, as she affirms, in the country, until the
intelligence of her lord's committal to the Tower brought her from her
seclusion years afterwards; she writes thus to her sister, the Lady Lucy
Herbert, Abbess of the English Augustine Nuns at Bruges, who had, it
seems, requested from her an account of the circumstances under which
Lord Nithisdale escaped from the Tower.
"I first came to London," Lady Nithisdale writes, "upon hearing that my
lord was committed to the Tower. I was at the same time informed that he
had expressed the greatest anxiety to see me, having, as he afterwards
told me, no one to console him till I came. I rode to Newcastle, and
from thence took the stage to York. When I arrived there, the snow was
so deep that the stage could not set out for London. The season was so
severe, and the roads so bad, that the post itself was stopped: however,
I took horses and rode to London, though the snow was generally above
the horses' girths and arrived safe without any accident."
After this perilous journey, the determined woman sought interviews with
the reigning Ministers, but she met with no encouragement; on the
contrary, she was assured that, although some of the prisoners were to
be saved, Lord Nithisdale would not be of the number.
"When I inquired," she continues, "into the reason of this distinction,
I could obtain no other answer than that they would not flatter me. But
I soon perceived the reasons, which they declined alleging me. A Roman
Catholic upon the frontiers of Scotland, who headed a very considerable
party, a man whose family had always signalized itself by its loyalty to
the royal house of Stuart, would," she argued, "become a very agreeable
sacrifice to the opposite party. They still," so thought Lady
Nithisdale, "remembered the defence of the castle of Carlaverock against
the republicans by Lord Nithisdale's grandfather, and were resolved not
to let his grandson escape from their power."
Upon weighing all these considerations, Lady Nithisdale perceived that
all hope of mercy was vain; she determined to dismiss all such
dependance from her mind, and to confide in her own efforts. It was not
impossible to bribe the guards who were set over the state prisoners:
indeed, from the number of escapes, there must either have been a very
venal spirit among the people who had the charge of the prisoners
generally, or a compassionate leaning in their favour.
Having formed her resolution, Lady Nithisdale decided to communicate it
to no one, except to her "dear Evans," a maid, or companion, who was of
paramount assistance to her in the whole affair.
Meantime, public indications of compassion for the condemned lords,
seemed to offer better hopes than the dangerous enterprise of effecting
an escape.
On the eighteenth of February, orders were sent both to the Lieutenant
of the Tower and to the Sheriffs of London and Middlesex for the
executions of the rebel lords.[29] Great solicitations had, meantime,
been made for them, and the petitions for mercy not only reached the
Court, but came down to the two Houses of Parliament, and being seconded
by some members, debates ensued. That in the Commons ended in a motion
for an adjournment, carried by a majority of seven only, and intended to
avoid any further interposition in that House. Many who used to vote
with the Government, influenced, says a contemporary writer, by "the
word _mercy_, voted with the contrary party." In the House of Peers,
however, the question being put, whether the petitions should be
received and read, it was carried by a majority of nine or ten voices.
But the sanguine hopes of those who were hanging upon the decisions of
the Lords for life or death, were again cruelly disappointed. After
reading the petitions, the next question was, whether in case of an
impeachment, the King had power to reprieve? This was carried by an
affirmative, and followed by a motion to address his Majesty, humbly to
desire him to reprieve the lords who lay under sentence of death. These
relentings, and the successive tides of feeling displayed in this high
assembly, prove how divided the higher classes were on the points of
hereditary monarchy, and others also at issue; but the Whig ascendancy
prevailed. There was a clause introduced into the address, which
nullified all former show of mercy; and the King was merely petitioned
"to reprieve such of the condemned lords as deserve his mercy; and that
the time of the respite should be left to his Majesty's discretion."
This clause was carried by five votes only.
To the address the following inauspicious answer was returned from King
George: "That on this, and other occasions, he would do what he thought
most consistent with the dignity of his Crown, and the safety of his
people."
This struggle between the parties ended, says the author of the
Register, "in the execution of two of these condemned lords, and the
removal of some others from their employments, that had been most
solicitous for their preservation."
The objects of this petty tyranny could well afford to succumb under the
workings of that mean and revengeful spirit, whilst they might cherish
the conviction of having used their efforts in the true spirit of that
Christianity which remembers no considerations of worldly interest, when
opposed to duty. Lady Nithisdale's relation of this anxious and eventful
day, the twenty-third of February, is far too animated to be changed in
a single expression. She had refused to remain confined with Lord
Nithisdale in the Tower, on the plea of infirm health; but actually,
because she well knew that she could better aid his cause whilst herself
at liberty. She was then forbidden to see her husband; but by bribing
the guards, she often contrived to have secret interviews with him,
until the day before that on which the prisoners were condemned.
"On the twenty-second of February, which fell on a Thursday, our general
petition was presented to the House of Lords, the purport of which was
to interest the Lords to intercede with his Majesty to pardon the
prisoners. We were, however, disappointed. The day before the petition
was to be presented, the Duke of St. Albans, who had promised my Lady
Derwentwater to present it, when it came to the point, failed in his
word. However, as she was the only English Countess concerned, it was
incumbent on her to have it presented. We had but one day left before
the execution, and the Duke still promised to present the petition; but
for fear he should fail, I engaged the Duke of Montrose to secure its
being done by one or the other. I then went in company with most of the
ladies of quality then in town, to solicit the interest of the Lords as
they were going to the House. They all behaved to me with great
civility, but particularly the Earl of Pembroke, who, though he desired
me not to speak to him, yet he promised to employ his interest in my
favour, and honourably kept his word, for he spoke very strongly in our
behalf."[30]
"The subject of the debate was, whether the King had the power to pardon
those who had been condemned by Parliament: and it was chiefly owing to
Lord Pembroke's speech that it was carried in the affirmative. However,
one of the Lords stood up and said that the House could only intercede
for those who should prove themselves worthy of their intercession, but
not for all of them indiscriminately. This salvo quite blasted all my
hopes, for I was assured that it was aimed at the exclusion of those who
should refuse to subscribe to the petition, which was a thing I knew my
lord would never submit to; nor, in fact, could I wish to preserve his
life on those terms. As the motion had passed generally, I thought I
could draw from it some advantage in favour of my design. Accordingly I
immediately left the House of Lords, and hastened to the Tower, where,
affecting an air of joy and satisfaction, I told the guards I passed by,
that I came to bring joyful tidings to the prisoners. I desired them to
lay aside their fears, for the petition had passed the House in their
favour. I then gave them some money to drink to the Lords and his
Majesty, though it was trifling; for I thought if I were too liberal on
the occasion, they might suspect my designs, and that giving them
something would gain their good will and services for the next day,
which was the eve of the execution."
On the following day Lady Nithisdale was too much occupied in
preparations for her scheme to visit the Tower; the evening of the
eventful twenty-third of February arrived; and when all things were put
in readiness, this resolute and well-judging woman threw herself upon
the confidence of one in whose power she was, to a certain degree, and
whose co-operation she could only secure by such a proceeding. She sent
for the landlady of the house in which she lodged, and told her that she
had made up her mind to effect Lord Nithisdale's escape, since there was
no chance of his being pardoned. She added those few but thrilling
words: "This is the last night before his execution!" While she spoke,
perhaps, the condemned nobleman was supplicating on his knees to God for
that mercy which was withheld by man. Imagination paints the despondency
of Lord Derwentwater; the calm and dignified sorrow of the justly pitied
Kenmure.
Lady Nithisdale then made a request calculated to alarm a woman of an
ordinary character; but she seems to have understood the disposition of
the person whom she thus addressed.
"I told her that I had every thing in readiness, and that I trusted
she would not refuse to accompany me, that my lord might pass for
her. I pressed her to come immediately, as we had no time to lose."
This sudden announcement, which a less sagacious mind might have
deemed injudicious, had the effect which Lady Nithisdale expected;
the undertaking was one of such risk, that it could only be an
enterprise of impulse, except to her whose affections were deeply
interested in the result. The consent of Mrs. Mills was carried by
storm, as well as that of another coadjutor, a Mrs. Morgan, who
usually bore the name of Hilton, to whom Lady Nithisdale dispatched
a messenger, begging her to come immediately. "Their surprise and
astonishment," remarks Lady Nithisdale, speaking of these, her two
confidantes, "made them consent, without ever thinking of the
consequences." The scheme was, that Mrs. Mills, who was tall and
portly, should pass for Lord Nithisdale; Mrs. Morgan was to carry
concealed the bundle of "clothes that were to serve Mrs. Mills when
she left her own behind her." After certain other preparations, all
managed with infinite dexterity and shrewdness, these three heroines
set out in a coach for the Tower, into which they were to be
admitted, under the plea of taking a last leave of Lord Nithisdale.
Lady Nithisdale, even whilst her heart throbbed with agitation,
continued to support her spirits. "When we were in the coach;" she
relates, "I never ceased talking, that they her companions might
have no leisure to repent.
"On our arrival at the Tower, the first I introduced was Mrs. Morgan
(for I was only allowed to take in one at a time). She brought in
the clothes which were to serve Mrs. Mills when she left her own
behind her. When Mrs. Morgan had taken off what she had brought for
my purpose, I conducted her back to the staircase; and in going I
begged her to send my maid to dress me, that I was afraid of being
too late to present my last petition that night if she did not come
immediately. I dispatched her safe, and went partly down stairs to
meet Mrs. Mills, who had the precaution to hold her handkerchief to
her face, as is natural for a woman to do when she is going to take
her last farewell of a friend on the eve of his execution. I had
indeed desired her to do so, that my lord might go out in the same
manner. Her eyebrows were rather inclined to be sandy, and my lord's
were very dark and very thick. However, I had prepared some paint of
the colour of hers, to disguise his with; I also brought an
artificial head-dress of the same coloured hair as hers, and I
painted his face and his cheeks with rouge to hide his long beard,
which he had not had time to shave.
"All this provision I had before left in the Tower. The poor guards,
whom my slight liberality the day before had endeared me to, let me
go quietly out with my company, and were not so strictly on the
watch as they usually had been; and the more so, as they were
persuaded, from what I had told them the day before, that the
prisoners would obtain their pardon. I made Mrs. Mills take off her
own hood, and put on that which I had brought for her. I then took
her by the hand and led her out of my lord's chamber; and in passing
through the next room, in which were several people, with all the
concern imaginable I said, 'My dear Mrs. Catherine, go in all haste,
and send me my waiting-maid; she certainly cannot reflect how late
it is. I am to present my petition to-night, and if I let slip this
opportunity I am undone, for to-morrow is too late. Hasten her as
much as possible, for I shall be on thorns till she comes.'
Everybody in the room, who were chiefly the guards' wives and
daughters, seemed to compassionate me exceedingly, and the sentinel
officiously opened me the door. When I had seen her safe out, I
returned to my lord and finished dressing him. I had taken care that
Mrs. Mills did not go out crying, as she came in, that my lord might
better pass for the lady who came in crying and afflicted; and the
more so, as he had the same dress that she wore. When I had almost
finished dressing my lord in all my petticoats except one, I
perceived it was growing dark, and was afraid that the light of the
candles might betray us, so I resolved to set off. I went out
leading him by the hand, whilst he held his handkerchief to his
eyes. I spoke to him in the most piteous and afflicted tone,
bewailing bitterly the negligence of Evans, who had ruined me by her
delay. Then I said, 'My dear Mrs. Betty, for the love of God, run
quickly and bring her with you; you know my lodging, and if you ever
made dispatch in your life, do it at present: I am almost distracted
with this disappointment.' The guards opened the door, and I went
down stairs with him, still conjuring him to make all possible
dispatch. As soon as he had cleared the door I made him walk before
me, for fear the sentinel should take notice of his walk, but I
continued to press him to make all the dispatch he possibly could.
At the bottom of the stairs I met my dear Evans, into whose hands I
confided him. I had before engaged Mr. Mills to be in readiness
before the Tower to conduct him to some place of safety, in case we
succeeded. He looked upon the affair as so very improbable to
succeed, that his astonishment, when he saw us, threw him into such
a consternation that he was almost out of himself; which Evans
perceiving, with the greatest presence of mind, without telling him
anything, lest he should mistrust them, conducted him to some of her
own friends on whom she could rely, and so secured him, without
which we certainly should have been undone. When she had conducted
him and left him with them, she returned to Mr. Mills, who had by
this time recovered himself from his astonishment. They went home
together; and having found a place of security, they conducted him
to it. In the mean time, as I had pretended to have sent the young
lady on a message, I was obliged to return up stairs and go back to
my lord's room in the same feigned anxiety of being too late, so
that everybody seemed sincerely to sympathise in my distress. When I
was in the room, I talked as if he had been really present. I
answered my own questions in my lord's voice, as nearly as I could
imitate it. I walked up and down as if we were conversing together,
till I thought they had time enough thoroughly to clear themselves
of the guards. I then thought proper to make off also. I opened the
door and stood half in it, that those in the outward chamber might
hear what I said, but held it so close that they could not look in.
I bade my lord formal farewell for the night, and added, that
something more than usual must have happened to make Evans
negligent on this important occasion, who had always been so
punctual in the smallest trifles, that I saw no other remedy than to
go in person. That if the Tower was then open, when I had finished
my business, I would return that night; but that he might be assured
I would be with him as early in the morning as I could gain
admittance into the Tower, and I flattered myself I should bring
more favourable news. Then, before I shut the door, I pulled through
the string of the latch, so that it could only be opened in the
inside.
"I then shut it with some degree of force, that I might be sure of
its being well shut. I said to the servant as I passed by (who was
ignorant of the whole transaction), that he need not carry in
candles to his master till my lord sent for them, as he desired to
finish some prayers first."[31]
Thus ended this singular, successful, and heroic scheme. It was now
necessary that the devoted Lady Nithisdale should secure her own safety.
She had, it seems, been bent upon proffering a last petition to King
George, in case her attempt had failed. She drove home to her lodgings,
where a friend, named Mackenzie, waited to take her petition. "There is
no need of a petition," were the words that broke from the agitated
woman; "my lord is safe, and out of the Tower, and out of the hands of
his enemies, though I know not where he is." Lady Nithisdale then
discharged the coach which had brought her to her lodgings, a precaution
which she always observed for fear of being traced,--never going in the
same vehicle to more than one place. She sent for a chair, and went to
the Duchess of Buccleugh, who had promised to present her petition,
having taken her precaution against all events. The Duchess expected
her, but had company with her; and Lady Nithisdale barely escaped being
shown into the room where her friend was with her company. She, however,
excused herself, and, sending a message to her Grace, proceeded to the
residence of the Duchess of Montrose. "This lady had ever," said Lady
Nithisdale, "borne a part in my distresses;" she now left her company to
see and console the wife of the rebel lord, of whom, she conjectured,
Lady Nithisdale must have taken, that night, a last farewell. As the two
friends met, the Duchess, to her astonishment, found her visitor in a
transport of joy; "she was extremely shocked and frightened," writes
Lady Nithisdale; "and has since confessed to me that she thought my
troubles had driven me out of myself." She cautioned Lady Nithisdale to
secrecy, and even to flight; for the King had been extremely irritated
by the petition already sent in by Lady Nithisdale. The generous Duchess
was, among those who frequented the Court, the only person that knew
Lady Nithisdale's secret. After a brief interview, Lady Nithisdale,
sending for a fresh chair, hurried away to a house which her faithful
attendant Evans had found for her, and where she was to learn tidings of
Lord Nithisdale. Here she learned that Lord Nithisdale had been removed
from the lodging to which he had at first been conducted, to the mean
abode of a poor woman just opposite the guard-house. Here the former
Lord of Carlaverock and of Nithisdale met his wife. Lady Nithisdale
hurries over the meeting, but her simple account has its own powers of
description.
The good woman of the house had, it seems, but one small room up a pair
of stairs, and a very small bed in it. "We threw ourselves on the bed
that we might not be heard walking up and down. She left us a bottle of
wine and some bread, and Mrs. Mills brought us some more in her pockets
the next day. We subsisted on this provision from Thursday till Saturday
night, when Mr. Mills came and conducted my lord to the Venetian
Ambassador's. We did not communicate the affair to his Excellency, but
one of the servants concealed him in his own room till Wednesday, on
which day the Ambassador's coach-and-six was to go down to Dover to meet
his brother. My lord put on a livery, and went down in the retinue,
without the least suspicion, to Dover; where Mr. Michel (which was the
name of the Ambassador's servant) hired a small vessel, and immediately
set sail for Calais. The passage was so remarkably short, that the
captain threw out this reflection,--that the wind could not have served
better if the passengers had been flying for their lives, little
thinking it to be really the case.
"Mr. Michel might have easily returned without suspicion of being
concerned in my lord's escape; but my lord seemed inclined to have him
with him, which he did, and he has at present a good place under our
young master. This is an exact and as full an account of this affair,
and of the persons concerned in it, as I could possibly give you, to the
best of my memory, and you may rely upon the truth of it. For my part, I
absconded to the house of a very honest man in Drury Lane, where I
remained till I was assured of my lord's safe arrival on the Continent.
I then wrote to the Duchess of Buccleugh (everybody thought till then
that I was gone off with my lord) to tell her that I understood I was
suspected of having contrived my lord's escape, as was very natural to
suppose; that if I could have been happy enough to have done it, I
should be flattered to have the merit of it attributed to me; but that a
bare suspicion without proof, would never be a sufficient ground for my
being punished for a supposed offence, though it might be motive
sufficient for me to provide a place of security; so I entreated her to
procure leave for me to go about my business. So far from granting my
request, they were resolved to secure me if possible. After several
debates, Mr. Solicitor-General, who was an utter stranger to me, had the
humanity to say, that since I showed such respect to Government as not
to appear in public, it would be cruel to make any search after me.
Upon which it was resolved that no further search should be made if I
remained concealed; but that if I appeared either in England or
Scotland, I should be secured. But this was not sufficient for me,
unless I could submit to see my son exposed to beggary. My lord sent for
me up to town in such haste, that I had not time to settle anything
before I left Scotland. I had in my hand all the family papers, and I
dared trust them to nobody: my house might have been searched without
warning, consequently they were far from being secure there. In this
distress, I had the precaution to bury them in the ground, and nobody
but myself and the gardener knew where they were. I did the same with
other things of value. The event proved that I had acted prudently; for
after my departure they searched the house, and God only knows what
might have transpired from those papers! All these circumstances
rendered my presence absolutely necessary, otherwise they might have
been lost; for though they retained the highest preservation after one
very severe winter, (for when I took them up they were as dry as if they
came from the fire-side,) yet they could not possibly have remained so
much longer without prejudice."
Lord Nithisdale went to Rome, and never revisited his native country;
indeed, the project of the Rebellion of 1745, and the unceasing efforts
and hopes by which it was preceded on the part of the Jacobites, must
have rendered such a step impracticable to one who seems to have been
especially obnoxious to the house of Hanover.