Attempts of Argyle and Monmouth--Account of their followers--Argyle's
expedition discovered--His descent in Argyleshire--Dissensions among his
followers--Loss of his shipping--His army dispersed, and himself taken
prisoner--His behaviour in prison--His execution--The fate of his
followers--Rumbold's last declaration examined--Monmouth's invasion of
England--His first success and reception--His delays, disappointment, and
despondency--Battle of Sedgmoor--He is discovered and taken--His letter
to the king--His interview with James--His preparations for
death--Circumstances attending his execution--His character.
It is now necessary to give some account of those attempts in Scotland by
the Earl of Argyle, and in England by the Duke of Monmouth, of which the
king had informed his parliament in the manner recited in the preceding
chapter. The Earl of Argyle was son to the Marquis of Argyle, of whose
unjust execution, and the treacherous circumstances accompanying it,
notice has already been taken. He had in his youth been strongly
attached to the royal cause, and had refused to lay down his arms till he
had the exiled king's positive orders for that purpose. But the merit of
his early services could neither save the life of his father, nor even
procure for himself a complete restitution of his family honours and
estates; and not long after the restoration, upon an accusation of
leasing-making, an accusation founded, in this instance, upon a private
letter to a fellow-subject, in which he spoke with some freedom of his
majesty's Scottish ministry, he was condemned to death. The sentence was
suspended and finally remitted, but not till after an imprisonment of
twelve months and upwards. In this affair he was much assisted by the
friendship of the Duke of Lauderdale, with whom he ever afterwards lived
upon terms of friendship, though his principles would not permit him to
give active assistance to that nobleman in his government of Scotland.
Accordingly, we do not, during that period, find Argyle's name among
those who held any of those great employments of State to which, by his
rank and consequence, he was naturally entitled. When James, then Duke
of York, was appointed to the Scottish government, it seems to have been
the earl's intention to cultivate his royal highness's favour, and he was
a strenuous supporter of the bill which condemned all attempts at
exclusions or other alterations in the succession of the crown. But
having highly offended that prince by insisting, on the occasion of the
test, that the royal family, when in office, should not be exempted from
taking that oath which they imposed upon subjects in like situations, his
royal highness ordered a prosecution against him, for the explanation
with which he had taken the test oath at the council-board, and the earl
was, as we have seen, again condemned to death. From the time of his
escape from prison he resided wholly in foreign countries, and was looked
to as a principal ally by such of the English patriots as had at any time
entertained thoughts, whether more or less ripened, of delivering their
country.
James, Duke of Monmouth, was the eldest of the late king's natural
children. In the early parts of his life he held the first place in his
father's affections; and even in the height of Charles's displeasure at
his political conduct, attentive observers thought they could discern
that the traces of paternal tenderness were by no means effaced.
Appearing at court in the bloom of youth, with a beautiful figure and
engaging manners, known to be the darling of the monarch, it is no wonder
that he was early assailed by the arts of flattery; and it is rather a
proof that he had not the strongest of all minds, than of any
extraordinary weakness of character, that he was not proof against them.
He had appeared with some distinction in the Flemish campaigns, and his
conduct had been noticed with the approbation of the commanders as well
as Dutch as French, under whom he had respectively served. His courage
was allowed by all, his person admired, his generosity loved, his
sincerity confided in. If his talents were not of the first rate, they
were by no means contemptible; and he possessed, in an eminent degree,
qualities which, in popular government, are far more effective than the
most splendid talents; qualities by which he inspired those who followed
him, not only with confidence and esteem, but with affection, enthusiasm,
and even fondness. Thus endowed, it is not surprising that his youthful
mind was fired with ambition, or that he should consider the putting
himself at the head of a party (a situation for which he seems to have
been peculiarly qualified by so many advantages) as the means by which he
was most likely to attain his object.
Many circumstances contributed to outweigh the scruples which must have
harassed a man of his excellent nature, when he considered the
obligations of filial duty and gratitude, and when he reflected that the
particular relation in which he stood to the king rendered a conduct,
which in any other subject would have been meritorious, doubtful, if not
extremely culpable in him. Among these, not the least was the declared
enmity which subsisted between him and his uncle, the Duke of York. The
Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Duke of Buckinghamshire, boasted in his
"Memoirs," that this enmity was originally owing to his contrivances; and
while he is relating a conduct, upon which the only doubt can be, whether
the object or the means were the most infamous, seems to applaud himself
as if he had achieved some notable exploit. While, on the one hand, a
prospect of his uncle's succession to the crown was intolerable to him,
as involving in it a certain destruction of even the most reasonable and
limited views of ambition which he might entertain, he was easily led to
believe, on the other hand, that no harm, but the reverse, was intended
towards his royal father, whose reign and life might become precarious if
he obstinately persevered in supporting his brother; whereas, on the
contrary, if he could be persuaded, or even forced, to yield to the
wishes of his subjects, he might long reign a powerful, happy, and
popular prince.
It is also reasonable to believe, that with those personal and private
motives others might co-operate of a public nature and of a more noble
character. The Protestant religion, to which he seems to have been
sincerely attached, would be persecuted, or perhaps exterminated, if the
king should be successful in his support of the Duke of York and his
faction. At least, such was the opinion generally prevalent, while, with
respect to the civil liberties of the country, no doubt could be
entertained, that if the court party prevailed in the struggle then
depending they would be completely extinguished. Something may be
attributed to his admiration of the talents of some, to his personal
friendship for others among the leaders of the Whigs, more to the
aptitude of a generous nature to adopt, and, if I may so say, to become
enamoured of those principles of justice, benevolence, and equality,
which form the true creed of the party which he espoused. I am not
inclined to believe that it was his connection with Shaftesbury that
inspired him with ambitious views, but rather to reverse cause and
effect, and to suppose that his ambitious views produced his connection
with that nobleman; and whoever reads with attention Lord Grey's account
of one of the party meetings at which he was present, will perceive that
there was not between them that perfect cordiality which has been
generally supposed; but that Russell, Grey, and Hampden, were upon a far
more confidential footing with him. It is far easier to determine
generally, that he had high schemes of ambition, than to discover what
was his precise object; and those who boldly impute to him the intention
of succeeding to the crown, seem to pass by several weighty arguments,
which make strongly against their hypothesis; such as his connection with
the Duchess of Portsmouth, who, if the succession were to go to the
king's illegitimate children, must naturally have been for her own son;
his unqualified support of the Exclusion Bill, which, without indeed
mentioning her, most unequivocally settled the crown, in case of a
demise, upon the Princess of Orange; and, above all, the circumstance of
his having, when driven from England, twice chosen Holland for his
asylum. By his cousins he was received, not so much with the civility
and decorum of princes, as with the kind familiarity of near relations, a
reception to which he seemed to make every return of reciprocal
cordiality. It is not rashly to be believed, that he, who has never been
accused of hardened wickedness, could have been upon such terms with, and
so have behaved to, persons whom he purposed to disappoint in their
dearest and best grounded hopes, and to defraud of their inheritance.
Whatever his views might be, it is evident that they were of a nature
wholly adverse, not only to those of the Duke of York, but to the schemes
of power entertained by the king, with which the support of his brother
was intimately connected. Monmouth was therefore, at the suggestion of
James, ordered by his father to leave the country, and deprived of all
his offices, civil and military. The pretence for this exile was a sort
of principle of impartiality, which obliged the king, at the same time
that he ordered his brother to retire to Flanders, to deal equal measure
to his son. Upon the Duke of York's return (which was soon after),
Monmouth thought he might without blame return also; and persevering in
his former measures and old connections, became deeply involved in the
cabals to which Essex, Russell, and Sidney fell martyrs. After the death
of his friends, he surrendered himself; and upon a promise that nothing
said by him should be used to the prejudice of any of his surviving
friends, wrote a penitentiary letter to his father, consenting, at the
same time, to ask pardon of his uncle. A great parade was made of this
by the court, as if it was designed by all means to goad the feelings of
Monmouth: his majesty was declared to have pardoned him at the request of
the Duke of York, and his consent was required to the publication of what
was called his confession. This he resolutely refused at all hazards,
and was again obliged to seek refuge abroad, where he had remained to the
period of which we are now treating.
A little time before Charles's death he had indulged hopes of being
recalled; and that his intelligence to that effect was not quite
unfounded, or if false, was at least mixed with truth, is clear from the
following circumstance:--From the notes found when he was taken, in his
memorandum book, it appears that part of the plan concerted between the
king and Monmouth's friend (probably Halifax), was that the Duke of York
should go to Scotland, between which, and his being sent abroad again,
Monmouth and his friends saw no material difference. Now in Barillon's
letters to his court, dated the 7th of December, 1684, it appears that
the Duke of York had told that ambassador of his intended voyage to
Scotland though he represented it in a very different point of view, and
said that it would not be attended with any diminution of his favour or
credit. This was the light in which Charles, to whom the expressions,
"to blind my brother, not to make the Duke of York fly out," and the
like, were familiar, would certainly have shown the affair to his
brother, and therefore of all the circumstances adduced, this appears to
me to be the strongest in favour of the supposition, that there was in
the king's mind a real intention of making an important, if not a
complete, change in his councils and measures.
Besides these two leaders, there were on the continent at that time
several other gentlemen of great consideration. Sir Patrick Hume, of
Polworth, had early distinguished himself in the cause of liberty. When
the privy council of Scotland passed an order, compelling the counties to
pay the expense of the garrisons arbitrarily placed in them, he refused
to pay his quota, and by a mode of appeal to the court of session, which
the Scotch lawyers call a bill of suspension, endeavoured to procure
redress. The council ordered him to be imprisoned, for no other crime,
as it should seem, than that of having thus attempted to procure, by a
legal process, a legal decision upon a point of law. After having
remained in close confinement in Stirling Castle for near four years, he
was set at liberty through the favour and interest of Monmouth. Having
afterwards engaged in schemes connected with those imputed to Sidney and
Russell, orders were issued for seizing him at his house in Berwickshire;
but having had timely notice of his danger from his relation, Hume of
Ninewells, a gentleman attached to the royal cause, but whom party spirit
had not rendered insensible to the ties of kindred and private
friendship, he found means to conceal himself for a time, and shortly
after to escape beyond sea. His concealment is said to have been in the
family burial-place, where the means of sustaining life were brought to
him by his daughter, a girl of fifteen years of age, whose duty and
affection furnished her with courage to brave the terrors, as well
superstitious as real, to which she was necessarily exposed in an
intercourse of this nature.
Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun, a young man of great spirit, had signalised
himself in opposition to Lauderdale's administration of Scotland, and had
afterwards connected himself with Argyle and Russell, and what was called
the council of six. He had, of course, thought it prudent to leave Great
Britain, and could not be supposed unwilling to join in any enterprise
which might bid fair to restore him to his country, and his countrymen to
their lost liberties, though, upon the present occasion, which he seems
to have judged to be unfit for the purpose, he endeavoured to dissuade
both Argyle and Monmouth from their attempts. He was a man of much
thought and reading, of an honourable mind, and a fiery spirit, and from
his enthusiastic admiration of the ancients, supposed to be warmly
attached, not only to republican principles, but to the form of a
commonwealth. Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree had fled his country on
account of the transactions of 1683. His property and connections were
considerable, and he was supposed to possess extensive influence in
Ayrshire and the adjacent counties.
Such were the persons of chief note among the Scottish emigrants. Among
the English, by far the most remarkable was Ford, Lord Grey of Wark. A
scandalous love intrigue with his wife's sister had fixed a very deep
stain upon his private character; nor were the circumstances attending
this affair, which had all been brought to light in a court of justice,
by any means calculated to extenuate his guilt. His ancient family,
however, the extensive influence arising from his large possessions, his
talents, which appear to have been very considerable, and above all, his
hitherto unshaken fidelity in political attachments, and the general
steadiness of his conduct in public life, might in some degree
countervail the odium which he had incurred on account of his private
vices. Of Matthews, Wade, and Ayloff, whose names are mentioned as
having both joined the preliminary councils, and done actual service in
the invasions, little is known by which curiosity could be either
gratified or excited.
Richard Rumbold, on every account, merits more particular notice. He had
formerly served in the republican armies; and adhering to the principles
of liberty which he had imbibed in his youth, though nowise bigoted to
the particular form of a commonwealth had been deeply engaged in the
politics of those who thought they saw an opportunity of rescuing their
country from the tyrannical government of the late king. He was one of
the persons denounced in Keeling's narrative, and was accused of having
conspired to assassinate the royal brothers in their road to Newmarket,
an accusation belied by the whole tenor of his life and conduct, and
which, if it had been true, would have proved him, who was never thought
a weak or foolish man, to be as destitute of common sense as of honour
and probity. It was pretended that the seizure of the princes was to
take place at a farm called Rye House, which he occupied in Essex, for
the purposes of his trade as maltster; and from this circumstance was
derived the name of the Rye House Plot. Conscious of having done some
acts which the law, if even fairly interpreted and equitably
administered, might deem criminal, and certain that many which he had not
done would be both sworn and believed against him, he made his escape,
and passed the remainder of Charles's reign in exile and obscurity; nor
is his name, as far as I can learn, ever mentioned from the time of the
Rye House Plot to that of which we are now treating.
It is not to be understood that there were no other names upon the list
of those who fled from the tyranny of the British government, or thought
themselves unsafe in their native country, on account of its violence,
besides those of the persons above mentioned, and of such as joined in
their bold and hazardous enterprise. Another class of emigrants, not
less sensible probably to the wrongs of their country, but less sanguine
in their hopes of immediate redress, is ennobled by the names of Burnet
the historian and Mr. Locke. It is difficult to accede to the opinion
which the first of these seems to entertain, that though particular
injustices had been committed, the misgovernment had not been of such a
nature as to justify resistance by arms. But the prudential reasons
against resistance at that time were exceedingly strong; and there is no
point in human concerns wherein the dictates of virtue and worldly
prudence are so identified as in this great question of resistance by
force to established government. Success, it has been invidiously
remarked, constitutes in most instances the sole difference between the
traitor and the deliverer of his country. A rational probability of
success, it may be truly said, distinguishes the well-considered
enterprise of the patriot, from the rash schemes of the disturber of the
public peace. To command success is not in the power of man; but to
deserve success, by choosing a proper time, as well as a proper object,
by the prudence of his means, no less than by the purity of his views, by
a cause not only intrinsically just, but likely to insure general
support, is the indispensable duty of him who engages in an insurrection
against an existing government. Upon this subject the opinion of Ludlow,
who, though often misled, appears to have been an honest and enlightened
man, is striking and forcibly expressed. "We ought," says he, "to be
very careful and circumspect in that particular, and at least be assured
of very probable grounds to believe the power under which we engage to be
sufficiently able to protect us in our undertaking; otherwise I should
account myself not only guilty of my own blood, but also, in some
measure, of the ruin and destruction of all those that I should induce to
engage with me, though no cause were never so just." Reasons of this
nature, mixed more or less with considerations of personal caution, and
in some, perhaps, with dislike and distrust of the leaders, induced many,
who could not but abhor the British government, to wait for better
opportunities, and to prefer either submission at home, or exile, to an
undertaking which, if not hopeless, must have been deemed by all
hazardous in the extreme.
In the situation in which these two noblemen, Argyle and Monmouth, were
placed, it is not to be wondered at if they were naturally willing to
enter into any plan by which they might restore themselves to their
country; nor can it be doubted but they honestly conceived their success
to be intimately connected with the welfare, and especially with the
liberty of the several kingdoms to which they respectively belonged.
Monmouth, whether because he had begun at this time, as he himself said,
to wean his mind from ambition, or from the observations he had made upon
the apparently rapid turn which had taken place in the minds of the
English people, seems to have been very averse to rash counsels, and to
have thought that all attempts against James ought at least to be
deferred till some more favourable opportunity should present itself. So
far from esteeming his chance of success the better, on account of there
being in James's parliament many members who had voted for the Exclusion
Bill, he considered that circumstance as unfavourable. These men, of
whom, however, he seems to have over-rated the number, would, in his
opinion, be more eager than others to recover the ground they had lost,
by an extraordinary show of zeal and attachment to the crown. But if
Monmouth was inclined to dilatory counsels, far different were the views
and designs of other exiles, who had been obliged to leave their country
on account of their having engaged, if not with him personally, at least
in the same cause with him, and who were naturally enough his advisers.
Among these were Lord Grey of Wark, and Ferguson; though the latter
afterwards denied his having had much intercourse with the duke, and the
former, in his "Narrative," insinuates that he rather dissuaded than
pressed the invasion.
But if Monmouth was inclined to delay, Argyle seems, on the other hand,
to have been impatient in the extreme to bring matters to a crisis, and
was of course anxious that the attempt upon England should be made in co-
operation with his upon Scotland. Ralph, an historian of great acuteness
as well as diligence, but who falls sometimes into the common error of
judging too much from the event, seems to think this impatience wholly
unaccountable; but Argyle may have had many motives which are now unknown
to us. He may not improbably have foreseen that the friendly terms upon
which James and the Prince of Orange affected at least to be, one with
the other, might make his stay in the United Provinces impracticable, and
that, if obliged to seek another asylum, not only he might have been
deprived, in some measure, of the resources which he derived from his
connections at Amsterdam, but that the very circumstance of his having
been publicly discountenanced by the Prince of Orange and the
states-general, might discredit his enterprise. His eagerness for action
may possibly have proceeded from the most laudable motives, his
sensibility to the horrors which his countrymen were daily and hourly
suffering, and his ardour to relieve them. The dreadful state of
Scotland, while it affords so honourable an explanation of his
impatience, seems to account also, in a great measure, for his acting
against the common notions of prudence, in making his attack without any
previous concert with those whom he expected to join him there. That
this was his view of the matter is plain, as we are informed by Burnet
that he depended not only on an army of his own clan and vassals, but
that he took it for granted that the western and southern counties would
all at once come about him, when he had gathered a good force together in
his own country; and surely such an expectation, when we reflect upon the
situation of those counties, was by no means unreasonable.
Argyle's counsel, backed by Lord Grey and the rest of Monmouth's
advisers, and opposed by none except Fletcher of Saltoun, to whom some
add Captain Matthews, prevailed, and it was agreed to invade immediately,
and at one time, the two kingdoms. Monmouth had raised some money from
his jewels, and Argyle had a loan of ten thousand pounds from a rich
widow in Amsterdam. With these resources, such as they were, ships and
arms were provided, and Argyle sailed from Vly on the 2nd of May with
three small vessels, accompanied by Sir Patrick Hume, Sir John Cochrane,
a few more Scotch gentlemen, and by two Englishmen, Ayloff, a nephew by
marriage to Lord Chancellor Clarendon, and Rumbold, the maltster, who had
been accused of being principally concerned in that conspiracy which,
from his farm in Essex, where it was pretended Charles II. was to have
been intercepted in his way from Newmarket, and assassinated, had been
called the Rye House Plot. Sir Patrick Hume is said to have advised the
shortest passage, in order to come more unexpectedly upon the enemy; but
Argyle, who is represented as remarkably tenacious of his own opinions,
persisted in his plan of sailing round the north of Scotland, as well for
the purpose of landing at once among his own vassals, as for that of
being nearer to the western counties, which had been most severely
oppressed, and from which, of course, he expected most assistance. Each
of these plans had, no doubt, its peculiar advantages; but, as far as we
can judge at this distance of time, those belonging to the earl's scheme
seemed to preponderate; for the force he carried with him was certainly
not sufficient to enable him, by striking any decisive stroke, to avail
himself even of the most unprepared state in which he could hope to find
the king's government. As he must, therefore, depend entirely upon
reinforcements from the country, it seemed reasonable to make for that
part where succour was most likely to be obtained, even at the hazard of
incurring the disadvantage which must evidently result from the enemy's
having early notice of his attack, and, consequently, proportionable time
for defence.
Unfortunately this hazard was converted into a certainty by his sending
some men on shore in the Orkneys. Two of these, Spence and Blackadder,
were seized at Kirkwall by the bishop of the diocese, and sent up
prisoners to Edinburgh, by which means the government was not only
satisfied of the reality of the intended invasion, of which, however,
they had before had some intimation, but could guess with a reasonable
certainty the part of the coast where the descent was to take place, for
Argyle could not possibly have sailed so far to the north with any other
view than that of making his landing either on his own estate, or in some
of the western counties. Among the numberless charges of imprudence
against the unfortunate Argyle, charges too often inconsiderately urged
against him who fails in any enterprise of moment, that which is founded
upon the circumstance just mentioned appears to me to be the most
weighty, though it is that which is the least mentioned, and by no
author, as far as I recollect, much enforced. If the landing in the
north was merely for the purpose of gaining intelligence respecting the
disposition of the country, or for the more frivolous object of making
some few prisoners, it was indeed imprudent in the highest degree. That
prisoners, such as were likely to be taken on this occasion, should have
been a consideration with any man of common sense is impossible. The
desire of gaining intelligence concerning the disposition of the people
was indeed a natural curiosity, but it would be a strong instance of that
impatience which has been often alleged though in no other case proved to
have been part of the earl's character, if, for the sake of gratifying
such a desire, he gave the enemy any important advantage. Of the
intelligence which he sought thus eagerly, it was evident that he could
not in that place and at that time make any immediate use; whereas, of
that which he afforded his enemies, they could and did avail themselves
against him. The most favourable account of this proceeding, and which
seems to deserve most credit, is, that having missed the proper passage
through the Orkney Islands, he thought proper to send on shore for
pilots, and that Spence very imprudently took the opportunity of going to
confer with a relation at Kirkwall; but it is to be remarked that it was
not necessary for the purpose of getting pilots, to employ men of note,
such as Blackadder and Spence, the latter of whom was the earl's
secretary; and that it was an unpardonable neglect not to give the
strictest injunctions to those who were employed against going a step
further into the country than was absolutely necessary.
Argyle, with his wonted generosity of spirit, was at first determined to
lay siege to Kirkwall, in order to recover his friends; but, partly by
the dissuasions of his followers, and still more by the objections made
by the masters of the ships to a delay which might make them lose the
favourable winds for their intended voyage, he was induced to prosecute
his course. In the meantime the government made the use that it was
obvious they would make of the information they had obtained, and when
the earl arrived at his destination, he learned that considerable forces
were got together to repel any attack that he might meditate. Being
prevented by contrary winds from reaching the Isle of Islay, where he had
purposed to make his first landing, he sailed back to Dunstafnage in
Lorn, and there sent ashore his son, Mr. Charles Campbell, to engage his
tenants and other friends and dependants of his family to rise in his
behalf; but even there he found less encouragement and assistance than he
had expected, and the laird of Lochniel, who gave him the best
assurances, treacherously betrayed him, sent his letter to the
government, and joined the royal forces under the Marquis of Athol. He
then proceeded southwards, and landed at Campbelltown in Kintyre, where
his first step was to publish his declaration, which appears to have
produced little or no effect.
This bad beginning served, as is usual in such adventures, rather to
widen than to reconcile the differences which had early begun to manifest
themselves between the leader and his followers. Hume and Cochrane,
partly construing, perhaps too sanguinely, the intelligence which was
received from Ayrshire, Galloway, and the other Lowland districts in that
quarter, partly from an expectation that where the oppression had been
most grievous, the revolt would be proportionably the more general, were
against any stay, or, as they termed it, loss of time in the Highlands,
but were for proceeding at once, weak as they were in point of numbers,
to a country where every man endowed with the common feelings of human
nature must be their well-wisher, every man of spirit their coadjutor.
Argyle, on the contrary, who probably considered the discouraging
accounts from the Lowlands as positive and distinct, while those which
were deemed more favourable appeared to him to be at least uncertain and
provisional, thought the most prudent plan was to strengthen himself in
his own country before he attempted the invasion of provinces where the
enemy was so well prepared to receive him. He had hopes of gaining time,
not only to increase his own army, but to avail himself of the Duke of
Monmouth's intended invasion of England, an event which must obviously
have great influence upon his affairs, and which, if he could but
maintain himself in a situation to profit by it, might be productive of
advantages of an importance and extent of which no man could presume to
calculate the limits. Of these two contrary opinions it may be difficult
at this time of day to appreciate the value, seeing that so much depends
upon the degree of credit due to the different accounts from the Lowland
counties, of which our imperfect information does not enable us to form
any accurate judgment. But even though we should not decide absolutely
in favour of the cogency of these reasonings which influenced the chief,
it must surely be admitted that there was, at least, sufficient
probability in them to account for his not immediately giving way to
those of his followers, and to rescue his memory from the reproach of any
uncommon obstinacy, or of carrying things, as Burnet phrases it, with an
air of authority that was not easy to men who were setting up for
liberty. On the other hand, it may be more difficult to exculpate the
gentlemen engaged with Argyle for not acquiescing more cheerfully, and
not entering more cordially into the views of a man whom they had chosen
for their leader and general; of whose honour they had no doubt, and
whose opinion even those who dissented from him must confess to be formed
upon no light or trivial grounds.
The differences upon the general scheme of attack led, of course, to
others upon points of detail. Upon every projected expedition there
appeared a contrariety of sentiment, which on some occasions produced the
most violent disputes. The earl was often thwarted in his plans, and in
one instance actually over-ruled by the vote of a council of war. Nor
were these divisions, which might of themselves be deemed sufficient to
mar an enterprise of this nature, the only adverse circumstances which
Argyle had to encounter. By the forward state of preparation on the part
of the government, its friends were emboldened; its enemies, whose spirit
had been already broken by a long series of sufferings, were completely
intimidated, and men of fickle and time-serving dispositions were fixed
in its interests. Add to all this, that where spirit was not wanting, it
was accompanied with a degree and species of perversity wholly
inexplicable, and which can hardly gain belief from any one whose
experience has not made him acquainted with the extreme difficulty of
persuading men who pride themselves upon an extravagant love of liberty,
rather to compromise upon some points with those who have in the main the
same views with themselves, than to give power (a power which will
infallibly be used for their own destruction) to an adversary of
principles diametrically opposite; in other words, rather to concede
something to a friend, than everything to an enemy. Hence, those even
whose situation was the most desperate, who were either wandering about
the fields, or seeking refuge in rocks and caverns, from the authorised
assassins who were on every side pursuing them, did not all join in
Argyle's cause with that frankness and cordiality which was to be
expected. The various schisms which had existed among different classes
of Presbyterians were still fresh in their memory. Not even the
persecution to which they had been in common, and almost indiscriminately
subjected, had reunited them. According to a most expressive phrase of
an eminent minister of their church, who sincerely lamented their
disunion, the furnace had not yet healed the rents and breaches among
them. Some doubted whether, short of establishing all the doctrines
preached by Cargill and Cameron, there was anything worth contending for;
while others, still further gone in enthusiasm, set no value upon
liberty, or even life itself, if they were to be preserved by the means
of a nobleman who had, as well by his serviced to Charles the Second as
by other instances, been guilty in the former parts of his conduct of
what they termed unlawful compliances.
Perplexed, no doubt, but not dismayed, by these difficulties, the earl
proceeded to Tarbet, which he had fixed as the place of rendezvous, and
there issued a second declaration (that which has been mentioned as
having been laid before the House of Commons), with as little effect as
the first. He was joined by Sir Duncan Campbell, who alone, of all his
kinsmen, seems to have afforded him any material assistance, and who
brought with him nearly a thousand men; but even with this important
reinforcement, his whole army does not appear to have exceeded two
thousand. It was here that he was over-ruled by a council of war, when
he proposed marching to Inverary; and after much debate, so far was he
from being so self-willed as he is represented, that he consented to go
over with his army to that part of Argyleshire called Cowal, and that Sir
John Cochrane should make an attempt upon the Lowlands; and he sent with
him Major Fullarton, one of the offices in whom he most trusted, and who
appears to have best deserved his confidence. This expedition could not
land in Ayrshire, where it had at first been intended, owing to the
appearance of two king's frigates, which had been sent into those seas;
and when it did land near Greenock, no other advantage was derived from
it than the procuring from the town a very small supply of provisions.
When Cochrane, with his detachment, returned to Cowal, all hopes of
success in the Lowlands seemed, for the present at least, to be at an
end, and Argyle's original plan was now necessarily adopted, though under
circumstances greatly disadvantageous. Among these, the most important
was the approach of the frigates, which obliged the earl to place his
ships under the protection of the castle of Ellengreg, which he fortified
and garrisoned as well as his contracted means would permit. Yet even in
this situation, deprived of the co-operation of his little fleet, as well
as of that part of his force which he left to defend it, being well
seconded by the spirit and activity of Rumbold, who had seized the castle
of Ardkinglass, near the head of Loch Fin, he was not without hopes of
success in his main enterprise against Inverary, when he was called back
to Ellengreg, by intelligence of fresh discontents having broken out
there, upon the nearer approach of the frigates. Some of the most
dissatisfied had even threatened to leave both castle and ships to their
fate; nor did the appearance of the earl himself by any means bring with
it that degree of authority which was requisite in such a juncture. His
first motion was to disregard the superior force of the men of war, and
to engage them with his small fleet; but he soon discovered that he was
far indeed from being furnished with the materials necessary to put in
execution so bold, or, as it may possibly be thought, so romantic a
resolution. His associates remonstrated, and a mutiny in his ships was
predicted as a certain consequence of the attempt. Leaving, therefore,
once more, Ellengreg with a garrison under the command of the laird of
Lochness, and strict orders to destroy both ships and fortification,
rather than suffer them to fall into the hands of the enemy, he marched
towards Gareloch. But whether from the inadequacy of the provisions with
which he was to supply it, or from cowardice, misconduct, or treachery,
it does not appear, the castle was soon evacuated without any proper
measures being taken to execute the earl's orders, and the military
stores in it to a considerable amount, as well as the ships which had no
other defence, were abandoned to the king's forces.
This was a severe blow; and all hopes of acting according to the earl's
plan of establishing himself strongly in Argyleshire were now
extinguished. He therefore consented to pass the Leven, a little above
Dumbarton, and to march eastwards. In this march he was overtaken, at a
place called Killerne, by Lord Dumbarton, at the head of a large body of
the king's troops; but he posted himself with so much skill and judgment,
that Dumbarton thought it prudent to wait, at least, till the ensuing
morning, before he made his attack. Here, again Argyle was for risking
an engagement, and in his nearly desperate situation, it was probably his
best chance, but his advice (for his repeated misfortunes had scarcely
left him the shadow of command) was rejected. On the other hand, a
proposal was made to him, the most absurd, as it should seem, that was
ever suggested in similar circumstances, to pass the enemy in the night,
and thus exposing his rear, to subject himself to the danger of being
surrounded, for the sake of advancing he knew not whither, or for what
purpose. To this he could not consent; and it was at last agreed to
deceive the enemies by lighting fires, and to decamp in the night towards
Glasgow. The first part of this plan was executed with success, and the
army went off unperceived by the enemy; but in their night march they
were misled by the ignorance or the treachery of their guides and fell
into difficulties which would have caused some disorder among the most
regular and best-disciplined troops. In this case such disorder was
fatal, and produced, as among men circumstanced as Argyle's were, it
necessarily must, an almost general dispersion. Wandering among bogs and
morasses, disheartened by fatigue, terrified by rumours of an approaching
enemy, the darkness of the night aggravating at once every real distress,
and adding terror to every vain alarm; in this situation, when even the
bravest and the best (for according to one account Rumbold himself was
missing for a time) were not able to find their leaders, nor the corps to
which they respectively belonged; it is no wonder that many took this
opportunity to abandon a cause now become desperate, and to effect
individually that escape which, as a body, they had no longer any hopes
to accomplish.
When the small remains of this ill-fated army got together, in the
morning, at Kilpatrick, a place far distant from their destination, its
number was reduced to less than five hundred. Argyle had lost all
authority; nor, indeed, had he retained any, does it appear that he could
now have used it to any salutary purpose. The same bias which had
influenced the two parties in the time of better hopes, and with regard
to their early operations, still prevailed now that they were driven to
their last extremity. Sir Patrick Hume and Sir John Cochrane would not
stay even to reason the matter with him whom, at the onset of their
expedition, they had engaged to obey, but crossed the Clyde, with such as
would follow them to the number of about two hundred, into Renfrewshire.
Argyle, thus deserted, and almost alone, still looked to his own country
as the sole remaining hope, and sent off Sir Duncan Campbell, with the
two Duncansons, father and son--persons, all three, by whom he seemed to
have been served with the most exemplary zeal and fidelity--to attempt
new levies there. Having done this, and settled such means of
correspondence as the state of affairs would permit, he repaired to the
house of an old servant, upon whose attachment he had relied for an
asylum, but was peremptorily denied entrance. Concealment in this part
of the country seemed now impracticable, and he was forced at last to
pass the Clyde, accompanied by the brave and faithful Fullarton. Upon
coming to a ford of the Inchanon they were stopped by some militia-men.
Fullarton used in vain all the best means which his presence of mind
suggested to him to save his general. He attempted one while by gentle,
and then by harsher language, to detain the commander of the party till
the earl, who was habited as a common countryman, and whom he passed for
his guide, should have made his escape. At last, when he saw them
determined to go after his pretended guide, he offered to surrender
himself without a blow, upon condition of their desisting from their
pursuit. This agreement was accepted, but not adhered to, and two
horsemen were detached to seize Argyle. The earl, who was also on
horseback, grappled with them till one of them and himself came to the
ground. He then presented his pocket pistols, on which the two retired,
but soon after five more came up, who fired without effect, and he
thought himself like to get rid of them, but they knocked him down with
their swords and seized him. When they knew whom they had taken they
seemed much troubled, but dared not let him go. Fullarton, perceiving
that the stipulation on which he had surrendered himself was violated,
and determined to defend himself to the last, or at least to wreak,
before he fell, his just vengeance upon his perfidious opponents, grasped
at the sword of one of them, but in vain; he was overpowered, and made
prisoner.
Argyle was immediately carried to Renfrew, thence to Glasgow, and on the
20th of June was led in triumph into Edinburgh. The order of the council
was particular: that he should be led bareheaded in the midst of Graham's
guards, with their matches cocked, his hands tied behind his back, and
preceded by the common hangman, in which situation, that he might be more
exposed to the insults and taunts of the vulgar, it was directed that he
should be carried to the castle by a circuitous route. To the equanimity
with which he bore these indignities, as indeed to the manly spirit
exhibited by him throughout, in these last scenes of his life, ample
testimony is borne by all the historians who have treated of them, even
those who are the least partial to him. He had frequent opportunities of
conversing, and some of writing, during his imprisonment, and it is from
such parts of these conversations and writings as have been preserved to
us, that we can best form to ourselves a just notion of his deportment
during that trying period; at the same time a true representation of the
temper of his mind in such circumstances will serve, in no small degree,
to illustrate his general character and disposition.
We have already seen how he expresses himself with regard to the men who,
by taking him, became the immediate cause of his calamity. He seems to
feel a sort of gratitude to them for the sorrow he saw, or fancied he saw
in them, when they knew who he was, and immediately suggests an excuse
for them, by saying that they did not dare to follow the impulse of their
hearts. Speaking of the supineness of his countrymen, and of the little
assistance he had received from them, he declares with his accustomed
piety his resignation to the will of God, which was that Scotland should
not be delivered at this time, nor especially by his hand; and then
exclaims, with the regret of a patriot, but with no bitterness of
disappointment, "But alas! who is there to be delivered! There may,"
says he, "be hidden ones, but there appears no great party in the country
who desire to be relieved." Justice, in some degree, but still more that
warm affection for his own kindred and vassals, which seems to have
formed a marked feature in this nobleman's character, then induces him to
make an exception in favour of his poor friends in Argyleshire, in
treating for whom, though in what particular way does not appear, he was
employing, and with some hope of success, the few remaining hours of his
life. In recounting the failure of his expedition it is impossible for
him not to touch upon what he deemed the misconduct of his friends; and
this is the subject upon which of all others, his temper must have been
most irritable. A certain description of friends (the words describing
them are omitted) were all of them without exception, his greatest
enemies, both to betray and destroy him; and . . . and . . . (the names
again omitted) were the greatest cause of his rout, and his being taken,
though not designedly, he acknowledges, but by ignorance, cowardice, and
faction. This sentence had scarce escaped him when, notwithstanding the
qualifying words with which his candour had acquitted the last-mentioned
persons of intentional treachery, it appeared too harsh to his gentle
nature, and declaring himself displeased with the hard epithets he had
used, he desires they may be put out of any account that is to be given
of these transactions. The manner in which this request is worded shows
that the paper he was writing was intended for a letter, and as it is
supposed, to a Mrs. Smith, who seems to have assisted him with money; but
whether or not this lady was the rich widow of Amsterdam, before alluded
to, I have not been able to learn.
When he is told that he is to be put to the torture, he neither breaks
out into any high-sounding bravado, any premature vaunts of the
resolution with which he will endure it, nor, on the other hand, into
passionate exclamations on the cruelty of his enemies, or unmanly
lamentations of his fate. After stating that orders were arrived that he
must be tortured, unless he answers all questions upon oath, he simply
adds that he hopes God will support him; and then leaves off writing, not
from any want of spirits to proceed, but to enjoy the consolation which
was yet left him, in the society of his wife, the countess being just
then admitted.
Of his interview with Queensbury, who examined him in private, little is
known, except that he denied his design having been concerted with any
persons in Scotland; that he gave no information with respect to his
associates in England; and that he boldly and frankly averred his hopes
to have been founded on the cruelty of the administration, and such a
disposition in the people to revolt as he conceived to be the natural
consequence of oppression. He owned, at the same time, that he had
trusted too much to this principle. The precise date of this
conversation, whether it took place before the threat of the torture,
whilst that threat was impending, or when there was no longer any
intention of putting it into execution, I have not been able to
ascertain; but the probability seems to be that it was during the first
or second of these periods.
Notwithstanding the ill success that had attended his enterprise, he
never expresses, or even hints, the smallest degree of contrition for
having undertaken it: on the contrary, when Mr. Charteris, an eminent
divine, is permitted to wait on him, his first caution to that minister
is, not to try to convince him of the unlawfulness of his attempt,
concerning which his opinion was settled, and his mind made up. Of some
parts of his past conduct he does indeed confess that he repents, but
these are the compliances of which he had been guilty in support of the
king, or his predecessors. Possibly in this he may allude to his having
in his youth borne arms against the covenant, but with more likelihood to
his concurrence, in the late reign, with some of the measures of
Lauderdale's administration, for whom it is certain that he entertained a
great regard, and to whom he conceived himself to be principally indebted
for his escape from his first sentence. Friendship and gratitude might
have carried him to lengths which patriotism and justice must condemn.
Religious concerns, in which he seems to have been very serious and
sincere, engaged much of his thoughts; but his religion was of that
genuine kind which, by representing the performance of our duties to our
neighbour as the most acceptable service to God, strengthens all the
charities of social life. While he anticipates, with a hope approaching
to certainty, a happy futurity, he does not forget those who have been
justly dear to him in this world. He writes, on the day of his
execution, to his wife, and to some other relations, for whom he seems to
have entertained a sort of parental tenderness, short, but the most
affectionate letters, wherein he gives them the greatest satisfaction
then in his power, by assuring them of his composure and tranquillity of
mind, and refers them for further consolation to those sources from which
he derived his own. In his letter to Mrs. Smith, written on the same
day, he says, "While anything was a burden to me, your concern was; which
is a cross greater than I can express" (alluding probably to the
pecuniary loss she had incurred); "but I have, I thank God, overcome
all." Her name, he adds, could not be concealed, and that he knows not
what may have been discovered from any paper which may have been taken;
otherwise he has named none to their disadvantage. He states that those
in whose hands he is, had at first used him hardly, but that God had
melted their hearts, and that he was now treated with civility. As an
instance of this, he mentions the liberty he had obtained of sending this
letter to her; a liberty which he takes as a kindness on their part, and
which he had sought that she might not think he had forgotten her.
Never, perhaps, did a few sentences present so striking a picture of a
mind truly virtuous and honourable. Heroic courage is the least part of
his praise, and vanishes as it were from our sight, when we contemplate
the sensibility with which he acknowledges the kindness, such as it is,
of the very men who are leading him to the scaffold; the generous
satisfaction which he feels on reflecting that no confession of his has
endangered his associates; and above all, his anxiety, in such moments,
to perform all the duties of friendship and gratitude, not only with the
most scrupulous exactness, but with the most considerate attention to the
feelings as well as to the interests of the person who was the object of
them. Indeed, it seems throughout to have been the peculiar felicity of
this man's mind, that everything was present to it that ought to be so;
nothing that ought not. Of his country he could not be unmindful; and it
was one among other consequences of his happy temper, that on this
subject he did not entertain those gloomy ideas which the then state of
Scotland was but too well fitted to inspire. In a conversation with an
intimate friend, he says that, though he does not take upon him to be a
prophet, he doubts not but that deliverance will come, and suddenly, of
which his failings had rendered him unworthy to be the instrument. In
some verses which he composed on the night preceding his execution, and
which he intended for his epitaph, he thus expresses this hope still more
distinctly
"On my attempt though Providence did frown,
His oppressed people God at length shall own;
Another hand, by more successful speed,
Shall raise the remnant, bruise the serpent's head."
With respect to the epitaph itself, of which these lines form a part, it
is probable that he composed it chiefly with a view to amuse and relieve
his mind, fatigued with exertion, and partly, perhaps, in imitation of
the famous Marquis of Montrose, who, in similar circumstances, had
written some verses which have been much celebrated. The poetical merit
of the pieces appears to be nearly equal, and is not in either instance
considerable, and they are only in so far valuable as they may serve to
convey to us some image of the minds by which they were produced. He who
reads them with this view will, perhaps, be of opinion that the spirit
manifested in the two compositions is rather equal in degree than like in
character; that the courage of Montrose was more turbulent, that of
Argyle more calm and sedate. If, on the one hand, it is to be regretted
that we have not more memorials left of passages so interesting, and that
even of those which we do possess, a great part is obscured by time, it
must be confessed, on the other, that we have quite enough to enable us
to pronounce that for constancy and equanimity under the severest trials,
few men have equalled, none ever surpassed, the Earl of Argyle. The most
powerful of all tempters, hope, was not held out to him, so that he had
not, it is true, in addition to his other hard tasks, that of resisting
her seductive influence; but the passions of a different class had the
fullest scope for their attacks. These, however, could make no
impression on his well-disciplined mind. Anger could not exasperate,
fear could not appal him; and if disappointment and indignation at the
misbehaviour of his followers, and the supineness of the country, did
occasionally, as surely they must, cause uneasy sensations, they had not
the power to extort from him one unbecoming or even querulous expression.
Let him be weighed never so scrupulously, and in the nicest scales, he
will not be found, in a single instance, wanting in the charity of a
Christian, the firmness and benevolence of a patriot, the integrity and
fidelity of a man of honour.
The Scotch parliament had, on the 11th of June, sent an address to the
king wherein, after praising his majesty, as usual, for his extraordinary
prudence, courage, and conduct, and loading Argyle, whom they styled an
hereditary traitor, with every reproach they can devise--among others,
that of ingratitude for the favours which he had received, as well from
his majesty as from his predecessor--they implore his majesty that the
earl may find no favour and that the earl's family, the heritors,
ringleaders, and preachers who joined him, should be for ever declared
incapable of mercy, or bearing any honour or estate in the kingdom, and
all subjects discharged under the highest pains to intercede for them in
any manner of way. Never was address more graciously received, or more
readily complied with; and, accordingly, the following letter, with the
royal signature, and countersigned by Lord Melford, Secretary of State
for Scotland, was despatched to the council at Edinburgh, and by them
entered and registered on the 29th of June.
"Whereas, the late Earl of Argyle is, by the providence of God, fallen
into our power, it is our will and pleasure that you take all ways to
know from him those things which concern our government most, as his
assisters with men, arms, and money, his associates and
correspondents, his designs, etc. But this must be done so as no time
may be lost in bringing him to condign punishment, by causing him to
be demeaned as a traitor, within the space of three days after this
shall come to your hands, an account of which, with what he shall
confess, you shall send immediately to us or our secretaries, for
doing which this shall be your warrant."
When it is recollected that torture had been in common use in Scotland,
and that the persons to whom the letter was addressed had often caused it
to be inflicted, the words, "it is our will and pleasure that you take
all ways," seem to convey a positive command for applying of it in this
instance; yet it is certain that Argyle was not tortured. What was the
cause of this seeming disregard of the royal injunctions does not appear.
One would hope, for the honour of human nature, that James, struck with
some compunction for the injuries he had already heaped upon the head of
this unfortunate nobleman, sent some private orders contradictory to this
public letter; but there is no trace to be discovered of such a
circumstance. The managers themselves might feel a sympathy for a man of
their own rank, which had no influence in the cases where only persons of
an inferior station were to be the sufferers; and in those words of the
king's letter which enjoin a speedy punishment as the primary object to
which all others must give way, they might find a pretext for overlooking
the most odious part of the order, and of indulging their humanity, such
as it was, by appointing the earliest day possible for the execution. In
order that the triumph of injustice might be complete, it was determined
that, without any new trial, the earl should suffer upon the iniquitous
sentence of 1682. Accordingly, the very next day ensuing was appointed,
and on the 13th of June he was brought from the castle, first to the
Laigh Council-house, and thence to the place of execution.
Before he left the castle, he had his dinner at the usual hour, at which
he discoursed, not only calmly, but even cheerfully, with Mr. Charteris
and others. After dinner he retired, as was his custom, to his
bed-chamber, where it is recorded that he slept quietly for about a
quarter of an hour. While he was in his bed, one of the members of the
council came and intimated to the attendants a desire to speak with him:
upon being told that the earl was asleep, and had left orders not to be
disturbed, the manager disbelieved the account, which he considered as a
device to avoid further questionings. To satisfy him, the door of the
bed-chamber was half opened, and he then beheld, enjoying a sweet and
tranquil slumber, the man who, by the doom of him and his fellows, was to
die within the space of two short hours! Struck with this sight, he
hurried out of the room, quitted the castle with the utmost
precipitation, and hid himself in the lodgings of an acquaintance who
lived near, where he flung himself upon the first bed that presented
itself, and had every appearance of a man suffering the most excruciating
torture. His friend, who had been apprised by the servant of the state
he was in, and who naturally concluded that he was ill, offered him some
wine. He refused, saying, "No, no, that will not help me: I have been in
at Argyle, and saw him sleeping as pleasantly as ever man did, within an
hour of eternity. But as for me--." The name of the person to whom this
anecdote relates is not mentioned, and the truth of it may therefore be
fairly considered as liable to that degree of doubt with which men of
judgment receive every species of traditional history. Woodrow, however,
whose veracity is above suspicion, says he had it from the most
unquestionable authority. It is not in itself unlikely; and who is there
that would not wish it true? What a satisfactory spectacle to a
philosophical mind, to see the oppressor, in the zenith of his power,
envying his victim! What an acknowledgment of the superiority of virtue!
What an affecting and forcible testimony to the value of that peace of
mind which innocence alone can confer! We know not who this man was; but
when we reflect that the guilt which agonised him was probably incurred
for the sake of some vain title, or, at least, of some increase of
wealth, which he did not want, and possibly knew not how to enjoy, our
disgust is turned into something like compassion for that very foolish
class of men whom the world calls wise in their generation.
Soon after his short repose Argyle was brought, according to order, to
the Laigh Council-house, from which place is dated the letter to his
wife, and thence to the place of execution. On the scaffold he had some
discourse, as well with Mr. Annand, a minister appointed by government to
attend him, as with Mr. Charteris. He desired both of them to pray for
him, and prayed himself with much fervency and devotion. The speech
which he made to the people was such as might be expected from the
passages already related. The same mixture of firmness and mildness is
conspicuous in every part of it. "We ought not," says he, "to despise
our afflictions, nor to faint under them. We must not suffer ourselves
to be exasperated against the instruments of our troubles, nor by
fraudulent, nor pusillanimous compliances, bring guilt upon ourselves;
faint hearts are ordinarily false hearts, choosing sin rather than
suffering." He offers his prayers to God for the three kingdoms of
England, Scotland, and Ireland, and that an end may be put to their
present trials. Having then asked pardon for his own failings, both of
God and man, he would have concluded; but being reminded that he had said
nothing of the royal family, he adds that he refers, in this matter, to
what he had said at his trial concerning the test; that he prayed there
never might be wanting one of the royal family to support the Protestant
religion; and if any of them had swerved from the true faith, he prayed
God to turn their hearts, but, at any rate, to save His people from their
machinations. When he had ended, he turned to the south side of the
scaffold, and said, "Gentlemen, I pray you do not misconstruct my
behaviour this day; I freely forgive all men their wrongs and injuries
done against me, as I desire to be forgiven of God." Mr. Annand repeated
these words louder to the people. The earl then went to the north side
of the scaffold, and used the same or the like expressions. Mr. Annand
repeated them again, and said, "This nobleman dies a Protestant." The
earl stepped forward again, and said, "I die not only a Protestant, but
with a heart-hatred of popery, prelacy, and all superstition whatsoever."
It would perhaps have been better if these last expressions had never
been uttered, as there appears certainly something of violence in them
unsuitable to the general tenor of his language; but it must be
remembered, first, that the opinion that the pope is _Antichrist_ was at
that time general among almost all the zealous Protestants in these
kingdoms; secondly, that Annand being employed by government, and
probably an Episcopalian, the earl might apprehend that the declaration
of such a minister might not convey the precise idea which he, Argyle,
affixed to the word Protestant.
He then embraced his friends, gave some tokens of remembrance to his son-
in-law, Lord Maitland, for his daughter and grandchildren, stripped
himself of part of his apparel, of which he likewise made presents, and
laid his head upon the block. Having uttered a short prayer, he gave the
signal to the executioner, which was instantly obeyed, and his head
severed from his body. Such were the last hours, and such the final
close, of this great man's life. May the like happy serenity in such
dreadful circumstances, and a death equally glorious, be the lot of all
whom tyranny, of whatever denomination or description, shall in any age,
or in any country, call to expiate their virtues on the scaffold!
Of the followers of Argyle, in the disastrous expedition above recounted,
the fortunes were various. Among those who either surrendered or were
taken, some suffered the same fate with their commander, others were
pardoned; while, on the other hand, of those who escaped to foreign
parts, many after a short exile returned triumphantly to their country at
the period of the revolution, and under a system congenial to their
principles, some even attained the highest honours of the State. It is
to be recollected that when, after the disastrous night-march from
Killerne, a separation took place at Kilpatrick between Argyle and his
confederates, Sir John Cochrane, Sir Patrick Hume, and others, crossed
the Clyde into Renfrewshire, with about, it is supposed, two hundred men.
Upon their landing they met with some opposition from a troop of militia
horse, which was, however, feeble and ineffectual; but fresh parties of
militia as well as regular troops drawing together, a sort of scuffle
ensued, near a place called Muirdyke; an offer of quarter was made by the
king's troops, but (probably on account of the conditions annexed to it)
was refused; and Cochrane and the rest, now reduced to the number of
seventy took shelter in a fold-dyke, where they were able to resist and
repel, though not without loss on each side, the attack of the enemy.
Their situation was nevertheless still desperate, and in the night they
determined to make their escape. The king's troops having retired, this
was effected without difficulty; and this remnant of an army being
dispersed by common consent, every man sought his own safety in the best
manner he could. Sir John Cochrane took refuge in the house of an uncle,
by whom, or by whose wife, it is said, he was betrayed. He was, however,
pardoned; and from this circumstance, coupled with the constant and
seemingly peevish opposition which he gave to almost all Argyle's plans,
a suspicion has arisen that he had been treacherous throughout. But the
account given of his pardon by Burnet, who says his father, Lord
Dundonald, who was an opulent nobleman, purchased it with a considerable
sum of money, is more credible, as well as more candid; and it must be
remembered that in Sir John's disputes with his general, he was almost
always acting in conjunction with Sir Patrick Hume, who is proved, by the
subsequent events, and indeed by the whole tenor of his life and conduct,
to have been uniformly sincere and zealous in the cause of his country.
Cochrane was sent to England, where he had an interview with the king,
and gave such answers to the questions put to him as were deemed
satisfactory by his majesty; and the information thus obtained whatever
might be the real and secret causes, furnished a plausible pretence at
least for the exercise of royal mercy. Sir Patrick Hume, after having
concealed himself some time in the house, and under the protection of
Lady Eleanor Dunbar, sister to the Earl of Eglington, found means to
escape to Holland, whence he returned in better times, and was created
first Lord Hume of Polwarth, and afterwards Earl of Marchmont. Fullarton,
and Campbell of Auchinbreak, appear to have escaped, but by what means is
not known. Two sons of Argyle, John and Charles, and Archibald Campbell,
his nephew, were sentenced to death and forfeiture, but the capital part
of the sentence was remitted. Thomas Archer, a clergyman, who had been
wounded at Muirdyke, was executed, notwithstanding many applications in
his favour, among which was one from Lord Drumlanrig, Queensbury's eldest
son. Woodrow, who was himself a Presbyterian minister, and though a most
valuable and correct historian, was not without a tincture of the
prejudices belonging to his order, attributes the unrelenting spirit of
the government in this instance to their malice against the clergy of his
sect. Some of the holy ministry, he observes, as Guthrie at the
restoration, Kidd and Mackail after the insurrections at Pentland and
Bothwell Bridge, and now Archer, were upon every occasion to be
sacrificed to the fury of the persecutors. But to him who is well
acquainted with the history of this period, the habitual cruelty of the
government will fully account for any particular act of severity; and it
is only in cases of lenity, such as that of Cochrane, for instance, that
he will look for some hidden or special motive.
Ayloff, having in vain attempted to kill himself, was, like Cochrane,
sent to London to be examined. His relationship to the king's first wife
might perhaps be one inducement to this measure, or it might be thought
more expedient that he should be executed for the Rye House Plot, the
credit of which it was a favourite object of the court to uphold, than
for his recent acts of rebellion in Scotland. Upon his examination he
refused to give any information, and suffered death upon a sentence of
outlawry, which had passed in the former reign. It is recorded that
James interrogated him personally, and finding him sullen, and unwilling
to speak, said: "Mr. Ayloff, you know it is in my power to pardon you,
therefore say that which may deserve it:" to which Ayloff replied:
"Though it is in your power, it is not in your nature to pardon." This,
however, is one of those anecdotes which are believed rather on account
of the air of nature that belongs to them, than upon any very good
traditional authority, and which ought, therefore when any very material
inference with respect either to fact or character, is to be drawn from
them, to be received with great caution.
Rumbold, covered with wounds, and defending himself with uncommon
exertions of strength and courage, was at last taken. However desirable
it might have been thought to execute in England a man so deeply
implicated in the Rye House Plot, the state of Rumbold's health made such
a project impracticable. Had it been attempted he would probably, by a
natural death, have disappointed the views of a government who were eager
to see brought to the block a man whom they thought, or pretended to
think, guilty of having projected the assassination of the late and
present king. Weakened as he was in body, his mind was firm, his
constancy unshaken; and notwithstanding some endeavours that were made by
drums and other instruments, to drown his voice when he was addressing
the people from the scaffold, enough has been preserved of what he then
uttered to satisfy us that his personal courage, the praise of which has
not been denied him, was not of the vulgar or constitutional kind, but
was accompanied with a proportionable vigour of mind. Upon hearing his
sentence, whether in imitation of Montrose, or from that congeniality of
character which causes men in similar circumstances to conceive similar
sentiments, he expressed the same wish which that gallant nobleman had
done; he wished he had a limb for every town in Christendom. With
respect to the intended assassination imputed to him, he protested his
innocence, and desired to be believed upon the faith of a dying man;
adding, in terms as natural as they are forcibly descriptive of a
conscious dignity of character, that he was too well known for any to
have had the imprudence to make such a proposition to him. He concluded
with plain, and apparently sincere, declarations of his undiminished
attachment to the principles of liberty, civil and religious; denied that
he was an enemy to monarchy, affirming, on the contrary, that he
considered it, when properly limited, as the most eligible form of
government; but that he never could believe that any man was born marked
by God above another, "for none comes into the world with a saddle on his
back, neither any booted and spurred to ride him."