Wigton's coming, Nithsdale's coming,
Carnwarth's coming, Kenmure's coming,
Derwentwater and Foster's coming,
Withrington and Nairne's coming:
Little wot ye who's coming,
Blythe Cowhill, and a's coming.
_The Chevalier's Muster-roll._
The queen's health was now declining; and Lord Nithsdale, in common
with many others of his party, looked forward to the chance of a
peaceable restoration of the Stuarts.
His impartial judgment acknowledged that, under the rule of Anne,
England enjoyed a more than common measure of prosperity; and though
she was not the rightful heir, still it was Stuart blood which ran in
her veins. He augured, from her silence upon the address of both houses
of parliament, urging her to press the Duke of Lorraine and her other
allies to exclude the Pretender from their dominions, and from her open
disapprobation of the Elector's sitting in the house of peers, as Duke
of Cambridge, or even taking up his abode in England, that her secret
inclinations were in favour of her brother.
All these considerations combined to render Lord Nithsdale unwilling
to disturb the tranquillity of his native land; and it was with
satisfaction that he found month after month elapse without his being
called upon to sacrifice either the peace of his country, or the
principles of loyalty in which he had been brought up.
The moment, however, came at length, in which conflicting duties made
it difficult for the most conscientious to preserve a fame untarnished,
or so to conduct themselves as that their motives should not be liable
to misconstruction. If in times comparatively settled, when loyalty and
patriotism may and ought to go hand in hand, it is difficult for public
men to steer clear of suspicion, we should not be too severe on those
who were exposed to trials, and placed in difficulties, from which all
are now happily exempt.
Queen Anne died: and it might have afforded a lesson to both the
claimants to her throne, that she, under whom this country had ranked
higher in the scale of nations than at any previous period of its
history--under whom the British arms had been crowned with unexampled
success--under whom no British subject's blood had been shed for
treason--that "good Queen Anne," the mild and merciful, sank a victim
to mental anxiety, a martyr to the harassing dissensions of her
ministers and of her confidential friends and favourites. But when was
such a lesson of any avail? The prize was sought by both parties with
unabated ardour; and Lord Nithsdale's hopes that the title of King
James the Third might be acknowledged were quickly blasted.
The Duke of Montrose, true to the Protestant cause, hastened to
Edinburgh, there to assist in the proclamation of the Elector; and the
Jacobites lost no time in communicating with the Pretender.
Both pity and indignation had been roused in the Earl of Nithsdale's
bosom, when, upon the queen's death, the King of France intimated
to the Chevalier that it was expected he would immediately quit his
territories and return to Lorraine; and when, on the other hand, the
King of England refused an audience to the minister of Lorraine till
the unfortunate exile was removed from his master's dominions.
That the descendant of a long line of monarchs should thus be hunted
from country to country--that the lawful sovereign of one of the
fairest realms of Europe should not have where to lay his head,
over-came all other considerations; and it was with zealous passion
that he joined himself with the Earls of Mar, Carnwarth, Kenmure,
and the other most ardent Jacobites. It was the generous impulse of
compassion for the injured,--indignation, reckless of the consequences,
which prompted his conduct, rather than hope of seeing their efforts
crowned with success.
While others were elated at the unpopularity of the king, whose foreign
language, manners, and habits were not calculated to please the
multitude, and who, by the favour shown exclusively to the Whigs, had
indisposed the Tories, with whom lay the great mass of landed property;
Lord Nithsdale perceived that the new monarch was determined, spirited,
and active. While others relied on the secret assistance which Louis
the Fourteenth, notwithstanding his engagements with England, afforded
to the Chevalier; Lord Nithsdale was convinced, from the effectual
measures taken to defeat them, that the Chevalier's designs must be
by some means communicated to the government: and, in truth, the Earl
of Stair, the English ambassador at Paris, found means to discover,
and transmitted to his own court, all the plans and intentions of the
Pretender while yet in embryo.
Not many months after the king's accession, some tumults and riots
took place, which tended greatly to raise the spirits of the more
sanguine; and even to Lord Nithsdale himself seemed to augur well for
the ultimate result.
Those who celebrated the king's birth-day were insulted; while on the
following day, which was the anniversary of the Restoration, the whole
city was illuminated, and its streets re-echoed with the sounds of
mirth and rejoicing.
The government, aware that the spirit of disaffection was making
considerable progress, adopted measures of some severity towards the
Scottish Jacobites; they resolved that all who were in any degree
liable to suspicion should be summoned to appear at Edinburgh, and
there required to give bail for their peaceable behaviour.
The Earl and Countess of Nithsdale were one evening on the
bowling-green of their castle of Terreagles, watching the gambols
of their children; the little Lord Maxwell, a stout bold boy, was
exerting all his might to drag one of the garden-seats up the steep
grass bank. He had turned it upside down; had stuck in it a tall staff,
with a handkerchief for its streamer; and having christened it "his
gallant vessel the Royal James," had laden it with all the bowls and
bowling-pins he could find scattered upon the grass.
The parents for the moment forgot the disputed succession to the
throne, the claims of James the Third, the dangers which beset their
country, the perils which awaited themselves--lost in the pride and
delight of watching the eager spirited boy, whose sun-burned cheek was
flushed with the exertion, every muscle called into action, every sinew
strained, as by turns he pushed and dragged, and shoved his unwieldy
plaything.
"He is a brave boy, is he not, my lord?" exclaimed Lady Nithsdale,
looking into her husband's face, her eyes teaming with maternal pride;
"he will not bring disgrace upon the Maxwells! Methinks he may one day
fight as gallantly for his king and country as his ancestors have done
before him!"
"God bless him!" ejaculated the earl; and he turned half away, ashamed
of the emotion which suddenly surprised him.
At that moment a servant approached, and delivered to him the summons
issued by government, requiring his attendance at Edinburgh, there to
offer bail for his good behaviour, under pain of being denounced a
rebel.
"Winifred, my love, the decisive moment has arrived," said Lord
Nithsdale, turning to his lady with a sad, a serious, but a determined
air. "I am here ordered to Edinburgh--a summons I cannot and will not
obey. I am henceforward a rebel to the existing government. The die is
cast. Alas! alas! for this poor land! Let the event be what it may,
ruin and desolation must fall on many. Blood must flow!--the blood of
our countrymen! Winifred, it is an awful thing to take the first step
which must inevitably lead to civil war!"
"Nay, nay, my lord, if our gracious prince but sets foot upon his
native land, all loyal hearts will at once acknowledge him. Was not
his uncle's restoration bloodless? and was not the public mind less
prepared for such an event than at the present moment? Oh, think more
hopefully, my dear, dear lord! The 'rose of snow' will be triumphant
yet!"
The earl shook his head sorrowfully. "I cannot join in the sanguine
hopes of those who think this matter can be brought to a speedy
termination. I tremble, Winifred,--nay, do not look at me as though
you scarcely believed, and yet blamed me," he continued, with a smile,
in which there was little mirth,--"I tremble for my native land: God
knows I honestly and sincerely wish for its welfare. During the just
and mild reign of the late queen, it would have gone hard with me to
have assisted in any disturbance, for her people were happy; but now,
when a stranger and a foreigner persecutes my rightful sovereign--when
he is driven, like a hunted beast, from one land to another--when
all the persons of note in the country are prosecuted, banished, or
disgraced--when my honoured friend and cousin, the Duke of Ormond's
name and armorial bearings are razed from out the list of peers, his
achievement as Knight of the Garter taken down from St. George's
Chapel,--no, it is not in mortal man to sit down calmly under this
tyranny! I should disgrace my name, my ancestors! Let the success be
what it may, it shall never be said that William Maxwell, Earl of
Nithsdale, proved false to the cause of his king, through coward fear
of the event!"
Lady Nithsdale watched his kindling countenance with love and awe: the
colour flushed into his pale cheek; his eyes, so full of care, gleamed
from beneath the coal-black eye-brows.
"King James must succeed," she cried; "a few such spirits as my noble
lord's must carry victory with them. Let the king but set foot in
Scotland----"
"Yes, Winifred," he resumed, and an expression of care again stole over
his countenance; "let the king come in person, and come quickly!--but,
alas! he is in the hands of those who use him for their own purposes.
I fear--but I scarcely dare own the fear to myself--that he lacks that
decision, that boldness, that promptitude of action, which in such
an undertaking are so indispensably requisite! Why is he not here
even now? Why does not the Earl of Mar receive his commission? Yes,
Winifred, I tremble. Should we plunge our native land in strife, should
the 'rose of sna'' be indeed 'steeped deep in ruddie heart's bluid,'
and should we fail in our object, shall we not have much to answer for?"
At that moment the little Lord Maxwell came running to his parents,
breathless and exulting: "I have towed the Royal James safe to land,
father; there she is in port!"
"Oh, take this for a good omen, my lord!" said Lady Nithsdale, kissing
the boy. Lord Nithsdale shook his head; but bending over the boy, he
kissed him likewise.
"Winifred, do you not think your sister Lucy, the abbess, would let
them be pensioners in your old convent? I should engage in this
business with better heart, if I knew that my boy and poor little
Annie were safe in any other land. I would urge your accompanying
them,"--Lady Nithsdale started,--"but I know that it would be in vain."
"Vain indeed!" replied Lady Nithsdale. "In all things else I have been,
and I will be, a submissive wife; but do not ask me to leave you, my
lord,--I scarcely think I could obey."
"But the children?"
"Gain but a little time, and we will despatch them to Bruges."
"I will excuse myself from attending the summons to Edinburgh, will beg
the commissioners to take my bail here, at my own castle. This they
will refuse; but some days will thus be gained, and we will hope--" he
added with a sigh--"and we will hope his majesty will either arrive in
person, or we may be authorised from himself to set up his standard
openly."
In consequence of this resolution, the Earl of Nithsdale returned an
evasive answer, in which, under the plea of ill-health, (and indeed the
mental anxiety which he had of late undergone had somewhat affected his
health), he applied to those entrusted with the government in Scotland
for indulgence to have his bail received at Terreagles; and, in the
mean time, the children were despatched, under the care of trusty
and confidential attendants, to Bruges, and there placed under the
protection of their aunt, the Lady Lucy.
It may well be imagined that such a separation could not take place
without a bitter pang to both parents. With Lady Nithsdale it was the
instinctive tenderness of the mother which suffered at parting from the
objects of her love; but she looked forward with hope and reliance that
the long-desired moment had arrived, that they were at last on the eve
of seeing realised the expectation, which in her mind amounted to a
kind of religious trust. With her husband the feeling was different.
Lady Nithsdale wept as she bade her children adieu. Lord Nithsdale's
eyes were dry. The last sound of their voices, the last embrace, melted
away the heart of the mother. The father, silent and almost stern,
scarcely heard their parting words; but as he watched the carriage
which bore them from their paternal halls, pass under the archway and
emerge into the brighter light beyond, he felt that the heir of the
house of Maxwell had for ever quitted the tower of his ancestors; and
that he, by his own act and deed, was about to deprive his child of
his home, his heritage, his titles, and his country. Bitter were the
thoughts which struggled in his soul. He turned abruptly from the
portal, and strode with a hasty but firm step into the withdrawing-room
beyond the hall.
Lady Nithsdale followed with streaming eyes; and winding her arm within
her lord's, she spoke of the winning words of their boy, of the pretty
grief of the Lady Anne. For the first time Lord Nithsdale forgot to
soothe her sorrows, forgot to press the arm that clung to him for
support; but throwing himself into a chair, he hid his face with both
his hands, and remained for some seconds absorbed by emotions far more
painful in their intensity than the tender regret which drew tears from
the mother's eyes.
Those tears were, however, soon dried, for in the fearful grief of her
husband she found cause for alarm, which changed the current of her
thoughts. "My lord, my dear lord!" she said, "be not thus moved, the
children will do well. See! I have dried my woman's tears. They will
be well cared for by my good sister; and we shall see them soon again
bounding through the hall, we shall hear their gay voices prattling on
the stairs."
"Never, Winifred, never!" he replied, withdrawing his hands, and
looking at her with a sad and fixed countenance; "never! I have
banished my children; I have deprived my son of his lawful patrimony;
I have now driven him forth to beggary, exile, and dependence. No Earl
of Nithsdale will ever inhabit these halls again: I know it, I feel
it! The lands I inherited from my forefathers must pass to others.
Our castles will be desolate, our name extinct! But this is weakness
all. I knew I hazarded all earthly goods when I devoted myself to
the interests of my king. Alas! If I could but feel assured that I
was truly devoting myself to the interests of my king, _and_ also of
my country, I would not pause to think of my fair castle, my goodly
lands!" And his eye glanced quickly round the noble apartment, and
dwelt for a moment on the smiling prospect from the windows, where the
Nith danced along the valley through banks diversified with fields
of waving corn, and luxuriant copses, whose deep green contrasted
beautifully with the yellow harvest.
During this momentary silence the distant sound of the bagpipe came
fitfully on the ear, as its wild music cheered the reapers to their
toil. "Though," he added, "the descendant of a long line of ancestors
loves the halls where those ancestors have dwelt,--though the man
loves the spot where he has wandered a child,--though," he continued,
"a patriot loves the soil which gave him birth; yet," and his voice
strengthened, his eye flashed upwards,--"gladly, willingly, gallantly,
would I resign them all, were I certain that I indeed strove to secure
my country's good, when I seek the restoration of my king."
Neither the countess nor her lord had ever contemplated the possibility
of their deserting the Jacobite party; but they viewed the probable
result of the enterprise, in which both deemed it equally indispensable
to join, with very different eyes.
Even the success of his schemes did not to him hold out a prospect of
certain good. Though a strict Catholic, he was no bigot; and he could
not blind himself to the inexpediency of giving a Catholic king to a
Protestant people.
To Lady Nithsdale, on the contrary, the peaceful restoration of the
Stuarts appeared to be the universal panacea; and she devoutly
believed that if that object could be accomplished without effusion of
blood, all orders of British subjects must be good and happy. Little
used, however, to join in political discussions, little accustomed
indeed to hear them, she did not venture to urge any arguments of her
own; yet she could not remain silent when she saw her lord thus moved,
and timidly suggested--
"You are a true patriot, my lord; and that you yourself could not be
content under the rule of a stranger and a heretic, is surely proof
enough that neither could others, who have noble souls, be happy under
his dominion. Does England boast any man whose name is fairer, whose
character is more unblemished, than the kind, good, generous Earl of
Derwentwater? he whose purse is open to the poor, whose hand is ever
ready to assist the unfortunate? Must not he seek his country's good?
Is not the Viscount Kenmure's name a noble and an honourable one? would
he sacrifice his country? But why should I seek other names than my own
dear lord's? The Earl of Nithsdale's is in itself a justification, and
a sanction, of any cause he espouses!" she continued with warmth. Lord
Nithsdale shook his head. "Our noble friend, the Duke of Ormond too! he
has joined his majesty at Havre."
"Ah, Winifred! now you have touched the chord to which my soul
vibrates. Such flagrant injustice must rouse the spirit in all
honest hearts! Ormond's name must be restored! Ormond's banner must
be replaced! Yes, we are driven to the course we are pursuing: we
must proceed. Let us think no more; but blindly follow where honour,
loyalty, friendship, consistency lead us, without anticipating
what may be the event! To-morrow we shall receive the answer from
Edinburgh--to-morrow I am a denounced rebel; I must join the other
lords who are already seeking the Earl of Mar. But oh! Winifred!
would any other general were appointed to the undertaking! That man
has not the head, the heart, nor the character fitting for such a
situation. He has zeal, but that is all. The honour--the undoubted, the
unquestionable honour is wanting. Was he not one of the first to make
protestations of loyalty to the Elector? and now----But there is no use
in retrospection; we must on--on--on! To-morrow, my love, I leave you:
how, when, where to meet, is in the hands of Providence."
Lady Nithsdale's eyes were cast to Heaven, and her hands involuntarily
clasped themselves in prayer. "And now, dearest wife," he continued,
"we must to business. You are safe here at present. I shall take
but four men with me. The inmates of the castle, and the dependants
immediately around, are more than sufficient to defend you from any
ministers of the law who might seek to make you answerable for the
actions of your husband. But, before I go, I must commit to your care
the title-deeds to the estates, and the other papers, which may secure
to us and to our children some property in case of the worst."
Lord Nithsdale then entered into all necessary details concerning his
wishes and intentions, with a firm, methodical coolness, which proved
how little he expected ever to return to the happy home of his youth
and manhood.