TELLS OF THE COMING OF THE KING TO PERTH, AND WHAT ENSUED THEREAFTER
It will be well for me now to give you shortly some account of the
proceedings at Perth, which I learned from Mr. Fleming’s own lips some
time after, though it would, I know, be easy for you to gather the
facts from the history-books written about that period. And because
I fear I am becoming tedious in my narrative, I will pass over many
details and give you the bare outline of what took place, in order to
carry on the story of my dear friends at Alva in a way that you will
understand.
When Captain Anthony Fleming, upon his return to Perth, sought out the
Master of Sinclair in order to deliver to him my lady’s letter, and
give him news of the family, he found to his dismay that he was gone.
Seaforth, as we know, had hurried north after Sheriffmuir, and, as was
the custom of the Highlanders after a battle, many of them had returned
home. Now my Lord of Huntly was gone to save his estates from the
Earl of Sutherland, and to get back the town of Inverness, so it was
said; but we know that nobleman had decided to play his cards another
way, for he made a truce with my Lord Sutherland, and later sent in
his submission to Argyle, asking for pardon or protection from the
Government. The Master of Sinclair, shortly after he left, had followed
him, saying as his excuse that “having given so much umbrage to certain
people in Perth, he could be of no more use to the Cause, which now
was not only desperate, but sunk.” And so he deserted the foundering
ship, thinking most of his own danger and the necessity of saving his
precious skin. Mr. Fleming, like all other loyal gentlemen, had his own
opinion of such conduct, but though bitterly disappointed in the man
who had ever been friendly to him, and to whom he felt he owed so much,
he refrained from commenting upon it till long years after.
In the midst of so much that was discouraging, an express one day
arrived with the joyful news that the King was at hand, for a ship
had appeared in the offing about the Height of Montrose, which had
made _the signals_, viz., the raising and lowering of a white flag on
the topmasthead, and, being answered from the shore, had passed on
northwards. At once the Earl of Mar began his preparations for going
to receive his Majesty, and great joy ran through the entire community
from the highest officers to the common soldiers, for all were weary
of the delay, and looked forward to large reinforcements, and a speedy
meeting with the enemy. A few days later a young gentleman, Lieutenant
Cameron by name, who had accompanied the King from France, rode into
Perth with the acceptable tidings that our long-looked for Sovereign
had landed at Peterhead, and was awaiting an interview with the Earl
of Mar and his companions. By great good fortune my lord commanded Mr.
Fleming to ride with him in the capacity of Captain of his Guard of
Horse, and the same day he, with my Lord Marischal, General Hamilton,
and about thirty other gentlemen of quality, set out to go and attend
him. The King, having lodged one night at Peterhead, and another at
Newburgh House, had passed _incognito_ through Aberdeen, and was now at
Fetteresso, the principal seat of my Lord Marischal, and thither the
party from Perth hastened, full of ardour and loyalty. I will give you
Mr. Fleming’s own words as to his impressions upon first beholding his
Majesty.
“After having received the Earls of Mar and Marischal and the other
noblemen within the castle, and conversed with them for some time, his
Majesty expressed a desire to inspect the soldiers of the guard, who
were drawn up in front of the house. You may imagine that, on being
hurriedly prepared for this honour by General Hamilton, we sat our
horses in great excitement, only restrained by discipline. For my own
part my heart beat high in my bosom, and all the loyal and chivalrous
sentiments that had been nurtured in my mind from childhood rose up
to welcome my rightful and much injured King. When he appeared at the
door, looking pale and young and very weary, there came into my throat
something that caught my breath--a spasm of love and yearning that the
sight of no other man on earth could possibly bring--and at the moment
when I brought my sword to the salute I knew I would gladly lay down my
life for King James. A few minutes after I heard the voice of my Lord
Mar loudly proclaiming him at the gate of the house, and, following
my impulse, I waved my sword above my head, and shouted with all my
strength, ‘God save the King!’--a shout in which both my soldiers and
all others present willingly joined. His Majesty bowed, and a faint
smile came to his lips, but oddly enough, and quite beyond my own
volition, I found myself, as I watched him, repeating some dreary
words, ‘_A stranger in a strange land_!’ He did not look glad to be
among us; there was no response in his eyes to the welcome we gave him.
He came to his own, and though they received him joyfully, it was as
though he knew them not.”
Was this, I have often wondered, the reason of it all--of the
disappointment, the disillusion, the tragedy of his coming? My heart
aches still to think of it. He was worn out with hardships and anxiety
(those who knew what his life had been for the last three months know
that), the weather was bitterly cold, his country--our country--lay in
the inhospitable grasp of winter, and he had a price set upon his head.
He felt ill in body, for on the next day he was taken with an aguish
distemper which kept him from moving for several days, and uneasy in
mind, for already he had doubts of the wisdom of his undertaking. We
know that he was not born “under a dancing star” as Mr. Shakespeare’s
“Beatrice” hath it, and for that reason much is to be forgiven him;
but oh! we in Scotland need to be melted by a merry smile, or a kindly
word, or a genial manner, or we may be taken by storm by something
more forcible than these; but let our coldness be met by coldness,
our shyness by a greater shyness, or our enthusiasm by indifference,
then the icy crust that covers our fire grows harder and harder, and
the dour pride that oft makes the Scot a trouble to himself, as well
as to others, forbids the breaking down of the barrier for ever. He
lacked something, our poor King, that vital something which his uncle,
King Charles II., and, as I understand, his son Prince Charles Edward
(neither of them so just or so virtuous as himself), possessed to the
full--the power to draw all hearts to him, to persuade the reluctant,
to confirm the wavering, to inspire the doubtful with confidence--the
personal human charm, without which no leader of men can achieve great
things.
Upon the recovery of his Majesty, he and his attendants came south by
slow degrees to Brechin, to Kinnaird, to Glamis, and then to Dundee.
At this place he was received with great enthusiasm by the populace,
and sat for about an hour on horseback in the market-place, while the
eager people flocked to kiss his hand. From Dundee he went to Fingask,
the seat of Sir David Threipland, where he lay that Saturday night, and
next day being Sunday he arrived at Scone, within two miles of Perth.
Now, if the joy had been great at the news of the safe arrival of the
King, with whom you must remember it was supposed were thousands of
troops and much treasure, the disappointment and chagrin on learning
that he came almost alone were great in proportion. And when it was
discovered that neither he nor the Earl of Mar were moving actively
in the matter of defending the town, or taking steps to meet the
enemy, much discontent arose, and the whole place was in a state of
dissatisfaction. My Lord Mar attempted to pacify them by spreading a
fresh report of help coming from France; the presence of the young
Lord Tinmouth, the Duke of Berwick’s son, was pointed to as a proof
that the Regent was now inclined to the Cause; General Hamilton was
again in Paris urging our necessity, and the Duke of Argyle’s men
were wavering and deserting, it was said, day by day. The weather and
the state of the roads were also given as a reason for inaction, and
there was much talk of the coming Coronation at Scone. But all this
availed little, and when it transpired on the arrival of one of our
spies from Stirling, that Argyle was reconnoitring the roads, and
making preparations for having them cleared of the snow, with a view
to laying siege to Perth, the excitement rose to fever-heat while
the dissatisfaction gave place to joy. Was it conceivable that they
should remain, they said, to be slaughtered like badgers in their holes
without making a fight for it? No, it was impossible; they could remain
no longer inactive, and at once preparations were begun for defending
the town, planting guns, digging trenches, throwing up breast-works and
the like, which gave the impatient people something to occupy their
thoughts, though, as you know, the work was quite ineffectual, for
the town would have been very easily taken had the Government troops
advanced upon it.
And now comes one of the saddest incidents in all this sad history;
an instance of the cruelty of war upon the innocent, who must often
suffer, though guiltless of either crime or provocation. I know not in
whose brain the unhappy thought first had birth, and indeed, as Sir
Anthony now tells me, the idea itself, from a strategic point of view,
was not altogether a mistake. But to us it came as a shock so grievous
that for a long time we could scarce bear to talk of it, and in that
way, perhaps, we did both the thought and the action injustice.
Upon a second attempt of the Duke of Argyle to view the roads from
Dunblane to Auchterarder, which he made accompanied by General Cadogan,
who we heard had been sent down from London for the very purpose of
hastening the Duke’s movements, the leaders at Perth became so alarmed,
having thought themselves secure while the severe weather lasted, that
an order was given out, signed alas! by the King, for the burning of
the villages of Auchterarder, Crieff, Blackford, Dunning and Muthill,
with all corn and forage which could not be carried off, so as to lay
waste the country between Stirling and Perth, in order to embarrass the
Government troops.
Now to my mind, and to many others at the time, this cruel order was
resultant of nothing but misery to those who had no right to suffer,
for although it gave to Argyle’s men the inconvenience and discomfort
of camping for two nights on the bare ground, it neither detained them
in their progress, nor disordered their arrangements, seeing that on
so short a march ’twas possible to carry both forage and vivers with
them. We know that the King was most reluctant to sign the order, and
that two days after he writ a letter to the Duke, begging him to employ
a certain sum of money to be paid out of his own scant treasury, for
compensating the unfortunate people so harshly deprived of their homes.
The letter was, I am told, suppressed, but of the King’s regret and
of his kind intentions I have never entertained the slightest doubt.
Indeed, the Earl of Mar let it be widely known that his Majesty wished
it given out, that if any of the poor folk pleased to come to Perth,
they should be maintained and all care taken of them. Howbeit the deed
was done, and many a long day would pass ere the memory of it should
die away.
And now in Perth the Council sat all night deliberating what should
be done, and messengers were posting constantly between that place
and Scone, for the great men could not come to an agreement. On one
side was the military party, who, knowing the minds of the soldiers
on the matter, were all for fighting and that at once. On the other
side were the Earl of Mar and some of his friends, who said they were
not willing thus to risk the safety of the King. It was suggested to
the latter that the King’s presence was not necessary in a battle, and
that if he were placed in security, his faithful adherents would prove
their loyalty by fighting for him to the death. They were ready, they
said, to die for him; but not to turn their backs like scoundrels and
poltroons without striking a blow for him who had come so far to trust
his person and his fortunes in their hands. Words ran high, and some
of the Highlanders _ruffled_ the great men in the open streets, and
told them in plain terms that they were betraying the King rather than
helping him. One who was thus accosted, a friend of my Lord Mar’s,
stopped to answer them, and Mr. Fleming heard this conversation pass
between them.
“Why, what would you have us do?” said the gentleman. “Do!” says the
other. “What did you call us to arms for? Was it to run away? What did
the King come hither for? Was it to see his people butchered by the
hangman, and not strike a stroke for their lives? Let us die like men
and not like dogs!” “What can we do?” cries the nobleman to these brave
words. “Let us,” says the Highlander, “have a council of war, and let
all the General Officers speak their minds freely, the King himself
being present, and if it be agreed there not to fight, we must submit.”
Some went further than this, for one bold chief threatened them,
that the loyal clans would take the King from them, and then if he
were willing to die like a Prince he should find that there were ten
thousand gentlemen in Scotland who were not afraid to die with him.
As some said one thing and some another, the tumult and disorder
increased, till at last some of the wiser among the officers quieted
the soldiers by assuring them there would be a council held that night,
that the King begged them as his good friends to abide by what was then
decided, as he was resolved himself to do: either to put it to the
hazard and take his fate with them, or if otherwise advised to abide by
that.
Accordingly, the Grand Council met, and much was said on this side
and much on that, but from what I was told by Mr. Fleming, it seemed
that all the talk was only for show, for the meeting was adjourned
without any decision having been come to. Next morning, however, a
select number having been called together, the Earl of Mar confided to
them in secret, that owing to many circumstances which he considered
it inconvenient to divulge, he found it advisable not only to beat a
retreat from Perth, but to put an end to their design for the time
being. ’Twas whispered, he said, that there were traitors in the camp,
men of high standing, who were already conspiring to seize upon the
person of the King and deliver him up to the Duke of Argyle. It was
almost incredible, said the Earl, that such a thing could be; but with
a free pardon and £100,000, even an honest Scotsman might be tempted.
Finally, as the Duke was now within a few miles of Perth, it was
absolutely necessary that we should evacuate the town.
After this, said my informant, there was nothing more left but to
acquiesce in the decision, though by many it was done with a very bad
grace. That the King himself was sorely grieved, I make no doubt, and
it was with a heavy heart, I trow, that he consented to leave Scone,
and to follow his army across the Tay. That river being frozen hard
they were able, horse and foot, to pass over as if upon dry land, and
quickly as they had acted they were but just in time, for, expresses
having carried the news of the retreat to the enemy, a body of dragoons
entered the town the very next day. To the majority of our officers
no further instructions had been issued than that the army was to
retire upon Aberdeen, so that what followed after came upon them as a
cruel surprise, and by many of them, I feel sure, ’twas never either
understood or forgiven.
And now, if you please, I must leave Head-quarters, and return to Alva
to let you know how things were going there.