On Monday the eleventh of August, General Williamson desired Mr. Foster, "in the gentlest terms that he could use, to apprize Lord Kilmarnock, that he had received the order for his, and for Lord Balmerino's execution." Mr. Foster at first refused to undertake this office. "I was so shocked at it," writes the good man "that I could not think of delivering the message myself, but would endeavour to prepare the unfortunate Lord for it, by divesting him, as far as I could, of all hope of life." Such, indeed, had been the continual aim of all the reverend minister's counsels; and he had hoped to entrust the last mournful task of informing him of the order to other hands. On finding Lord Kilmarnock in a very resigned and calm state of mind, he ventured, however, to hint to him how necessary was that diligent and constant preparation for death which he had endeavoured to impress upon his mind. This was sufficient: the ill-fated prisoner immediately inquired, "whether the warrant for hisexecution was come down?" "I told him that it was," relates Mr. Foster, "and that the day fixed upon was the following Monday."
Lord Kilmarnock received this intimation with a solemn consciousness of the awful nature of its import; but no signs of terror nor of anxiety added to the sorrows of that hour. In the course of conversation, he observed to Mr. Foster, that "he was chiefly concerned about the consequences of death, in comparison of which he considered the 'thing itself' a trifle: with regard to the manner of his death he had, he thought, no great reason to be terrified, for that the stroke appeared to be scarcely so much as the drawing of a tooth, or the first shock of a cold bath upon a weak and fearful temper." At the last hour, nevertheless, the crowd,—the scaffold,—the doom, upset that sublime and heavenly resignation,—the weakness of the flesh prevailed, although only for an instant.
In the silence and solitude of his prison, Lord Kilmarnock's recollection reverted to those whom human nature were shortly to be left to buffet with the storms of their hard fate. It reverted also to those who might, in any way, have suffered at his hands. The following touching epistle, addressed to his factor, Mr. Robert Paterson, written two days only before his execution, shows how tender was his affection for his unhappy wife: in how Christian a spirit towards others he died. His consideration for the poor shoemakers of Elgin is one of those beautiful traits of character which mark a conscientious mind. The original of this letter is still in existence, and is in the possession of the great-grandson of him to whom it was addressed.[383]
"Sir,"I have commended to your care the inclosed packet, to be delivered to my wife in the manner your good sense shall dictate to you, will be least shocking to her. Let her be prepared for it as much by degrees, and with great tenderness, as the nature of the thing will admit of. The entire dependance I have all my life had the most just reason to have on your integrity and friendship to my wife and family, as well as to myself, make me desire that the inclosed papers may come to my wife through your hands, in confidence; but you will take all the pains to comfort her, and relieve the grief I know she will be in, that you and her friends can. She is what I leave dearest behind me in the world; and the greatest service you can do to your dead friend, is to contribute as much as possible to her happiness in mind, and in her affairs."You will peruse the State[384]before you deliver it to her, and you will observe that there is a fund of hers (I don't mention that of five hundred Scots a-year); as the interest of my mother-in-law's portion in the Countess of Errol's hands, with, I believe, a considerable arrear upon it; which, as I have ordered a copy of all these papers to that Countess, I did not care to put in. There is another thing of a good deal of moment, which I mention only to you, because if it could be taken away without noise it would be better; but if it is pushed it will be necessary to defend it.That is, a bond which you know Mr. Kerr, Director to the Chancery, has of me for a considerable sum of money, with many years interest on it, which was almost all play debt. I don't think I ever had fifty pounds, or the half of it, of Mr. Kerr's money, and I am sure I never had a hundred; which however I have put it to, in the inclosed declaration, that my mind may be entirely at ease. My intention with respect to that sum was to wait till I had some money, and then buy it off, by a composition of three hundred pounds, and if that was not accepted of, to defend it; in which I neither saw, nor now see anything unjust; and now I leave it on my successors to do what they find most prudent in it. Beside my personal debt mentioned in general and particular in the State,[385]there is one for which I am liable in justice, if it is not paid, owing to poor people, who gave their work for it by my orders; it was at Elgin in Murray; the regiment I commanded wanted shoes. I commissioned something about seventy pair of shoes and brogues, which might come to about three shillings, or three and sixpence each, one with another. The magistrates divided them among the shoemakers of the town and country, and each shoemaker furnished his proportion. I drew on the town for the price out of the composition laid on them, but I was told afterwards at Inverness, that it was believed the composition was otherwise applied, and the poor shoemakers not paid. As these poor people wrought by my orders, it will be a great ease to my heart to think they are not to lose by me, as too many have done in the course of that year; but had I lived, I might have made some enquiry after it; but now it is impossible, as their hardships in loss of horses, and such things which happened through my soldiers, are so interwoven with what was done by other people, that it would be very hard, if not impossible, to separate them. If you will write to Mr. Jones of Dalkinty, at Elgin, (with whom I was quartered when I lay there,) he will send you an account of the shoes, and if they were paid to the shoemakers or no; and if they are not, I beg you'll get my wife, or my successors, to pay them when they can."Receive a letter to me from Mrs. Boyd, my cousin Malcomb's widow; I shall desire her to write to you for an answer."Accept of my sincere thanks for your friendship and good services to me. Continue them to my wife and children."My best wishes are to you and yours, and for the happiness and prosperity of the good town of Kilmarnock, and I am, sir, your humble servant,"Kilmarnock."Tower of London, August 16th, 1746.
"Sir,
"I have commended to your care the inclosed packet, to be delivered to my wife in the manner your good sense shall dictate to you, will be least shocking to her. Let her be prepared for it as much by degrees, and with great tenderness, as the nature of the thing will admit of. The entire dependance I have all my life had the most just reason to have on your integrity and friendship to my wife and family, as well as to myself, make me desire that the inclosed papers may come to my wife through your hands, in confidence; but you will take all the pains to comfort her, and relieve the grief I know she will be in, that you and her friends can. She is what I leave dearest behind me in the world; and the greatest service you can do to your dead friend, is to contribute as much as possible to her happiness in mind, and in her affairs.
"You will peruse the State[384]before you deliver it to her, and you will observe that there is a fund of hers (I don't mention that of five hundred Scots a-year); as the interest of my mother-in-law's portion in the Countess of Errol's hands, with, I believe, a considerable arrear upon it; which, as I have ordered a copy of all these papers to that Countess, I did not care to put in. There is another thing of a good deal of moment, which I mention only to you, because if it could be taken away without noise it would be better; but if it is pushed it will be necessary to defend it.That is, a bond which you know Mr. Kerr, Director to the Chancery, has of me for a considerable sum of money, with many years interest on it, which was almost all play debt. I don't think I ever had fifty pounds, or the half of it, of Mr. Kerr's money, and I am sure I never had a hundred; which however I have put it to, in the inclosed declaration, that my mind may be entirely at ease. My intention with respect to that sum was to wait till I had some money, and then buy it off, by a composition of three hundred pounds, and if that was not accepted of, to defend it; in which I neither saw, nor now see anything unjust; and now I leave it on my successors to do what they find most prudent in it. Beside my personal debt mentioned in general and particular in the State,[385]there is one for which I am liable in justice, if it is not paid, owing to poor people, who gave their work for it by my orders; it was at Elgin in Murray; the regiment I commanded wanted shoes. I commissioned something about seventy pair of shoes and brogues, which might come to about three shillings, or three and sixpence each, one with another. The magistrates divided them among the shoemakers of the town and country, and each shoemaker furnished his proportion. I drew on the town for the price out of the composition laid on them, but I was told afterwards at Inverness, that it was believed the composition was otherwise applied, and the poor shoemakers not paid. As these poor people wrought by my orders, it will be a great ease to my heart to think they are not to lose by me, as too many have done in the course of that year; but had I lived, I might have made some enquiry after it; but now it is impossible, as their hardships in loss of horses, and such things which happened through my soldiers, are so interwoven with what was done by other people, that it would be very hard, if not impossible, to separate them. If you will write to Mr. Jones of Dalkinty, at Elgin, (with whom I was quartered when I lay there,) he will send you an account of the shoes, and if they were paid to the shoemakers or no; and if they are not, I beg you'll get my wife, or my successors, to pay them when they can.
"Receive a letter to me from Mrs. Boyd, my cousin Malcomb's widow; I shall desire her to write to you for an answer.
"Accept of my sincere thanks for your friendship and good services to me. Continue them to my wife and children.
"My best wishes are to you and yours, and for the happiness and prosperity of the good town of Kilmarnock, and I am, sir, your humble servant,
"Kilmarnock."
Tower of London, August 16th, 1746.
On the Saturday previous to the execution of Lord Kilmarnock, General Williamson gave his prisoners a minute account of all the circumstances of solemnity, and outward terror, which would accompany it. Lord Kilmarnock heard it much with the same expression of concern as a man of a compassionate disposition would read it, in relation to others. After suggesting a trifling alteration in the arrangements after the execution, he expressed his regret that the headsman should be, as General Williamson informed him, a "good sort of man;" remarking, that one of a roughernature and harder heart, would be more likely to do his work quickly. He then requested that four persons might be appointed to receive the head when it was severed from the body, in a red cloth; that it might not, as he had heard was the case at other executions, "roll about the scaffold and be mangled and disfigured." "For I would not," he added, "though it may be but a trifling matter, that my remains should appear with any needless indecency after the just sentence of the law is satisfied." He spoke calmly and easily on all these particulars, nor did he even shrink when told that his head would be held up and exhibited to the multitude as that of a traitor. "He knew," he said, "that it was usual, and it did not affect him." During these singular conversations, his spiritual attendant and the General, could hardly have been more precise in their descriptions had they been portraying the festive ceremonials of a coming bridal, than they were in the fearful minutiæ of the approaching execution. It was thought by them that such recitals would accustom the mind of the prisoner to the apparatus and formalities that would attend his death, and that these would lose their influence over his mind. "He allowed with me," observes Mr. Foster, "that such circumstances were not so melancholy as dying after a lingering disorder, in a darkened room, with weeping friends around one, and whilst the shattered frame sank under slow exhaustion." But experience and human feelings contradict this observation of the resigned and unhappy sufferer; we look to death, under such an aspect, as the approach of rest; but human nature shrinks from the violent struggle, the momentarybut fierce convulsion, plunging us, as it were, into the abyss of the grave.
At this moment of his existence, when it was certain ruin at Court and in the army, to befriend the Jacobite prisoner, a friend, the friend of his youth, came nobly forward to attend Lord Kilmarnock in his dying moments. This was John Walkinshaw Craufurd, of Craufurdland in the county of Ayr, between whose family and that of the House of Boyd, a long and intimate friendship of several centuries had existed; "so much so," observes a member of the present family of Craufurd,[386]"that a subterranean passage is said to exist between our old castles, of which wefancyproofs; but these are fire-side legends."
"The family of Craufurd," observes Mr. Burke, "is one of antiquity and eminence in a part of the empire where ancestry and exploit have ever been held in enthusiastic admiration." By marriage, in the thirteenth century, it is allied anciently with the existing house of Loudon; and its connection and friendship with the House of Boyd was cemented by the death of one of its heads, Robert Craufurd, in 1487, in consequence of a wound received at the Wyllielee, from attending James Boyd, Earl of Arran, in a duel with the Earl of Eglintoun. In the days of Charles the First and Second, the Craufurds had been Covenanters, as appears in the history of that time: and in the year 1745, they were stanch Whigs; and Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd had, when called upon to pay a mournful proof of respect to Lord Kilmarnock, attained the rank of Colonel in the British army. Besides the ancient friendship of the family, there had been several intermarriages; and the father of Colonel Craufurd had espoused, after the death of Miss Walkinshaw, Elenora, the widow of the Honorable Thomas Boyd, the brother of Lord Kilmarnock.
Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd was a fine specimen of the true Scottish gentleman, and of the British officer. He was a very handsome, stately man, of high-bred manners, and portly figure, whom his tenantry both feared and honoured. He lived almost continually in the highest circles in London, except when in service, and also at the Court, visiting his Castle inAyrshire only in the hunting season, for he kept a pack of hounds. To such a man the sacrifice of public opinion, then all against the Jacobites,—the sure loss of Court favour,—the risk of losing all military promotion, were no small considerations; yet he cast them all to the winds, and came nobly forward to pay the last respect to his kinsman and friend.
Already had he distinguished himself at the battle of Dettingen and Fontenoy; and he might reasonably expect the highest military honours: yet he incurred the risk of attending Lord Kilmarnock on the scaffold, and performing that office for him which that nobleman required. I almost blush to write the sequel; forthisact, Colonel Craufurd was, immediately after the last scene was over, put down to the very bottom of the army list.[387]Such was the petty and vindictive policy of the British Government, influenced, it may be presumed, by the same dark mind that visited upon the faithful Highlanders the horrors of military law, in punishment of their fidelity and heroism. "The King," observes Horace Walpole, referring to these and other acts, "is much inclined to mercy; but the Duke of Cumberland, who has not so much of Cæsar after a victory, as in gaining it, is for the utmost severity."[388]
Whilst the mind of Lord Kilmarnock was thus gradually prepared for death, Lord Balmerino passed cheerfully the hours which were so soon to terminate in his doom. Fondly attached to his young wife, Balmerino obtained the boon of her society in his prison. So much were the people attracted by the hardihood and humour of this brave old man, that it was found necessary by the authorities to stop up the windows of his prison-chamber in the Tower, in order to prevent his talking to the populace out of the window. One only was left unclosed, with characteristic cruelty: it commanded a view of the scaffolding erected for his execution.[389]One day the Lieutenant of the Tower brought in the warrant for his death: Lady Balmerino fainted. "Lieutenant," said Lord Balmerino, "with your d——d warrant you have spoiled my Lady's dinner."
Lord Balmerino is said to have written to the Duke of Cumberland a "very sensible letter," requesting his intercession with the King; but this seems to have been unavailing, from the well-known exclamation of George the Second, when solicited for the other prisoners, "Will no one speak a word to me for poor Balmerino?"
The day appointed for the execution was the eighteenth of August, at eight in the morning. Mr. Foster visited Lord Kilmarnock, and found him in a calm and happy temper, without any disturbance of that serenity which had of late blessed his days of imprisonment. He affected not to brave death, but viewed it in the awful aspect in which even the best of men, and the most hopeful Christians, must consider that solemn change. He expressed his belief, that a man who had led a dissolute life, and who yet believed the consequences of death, to affect indifference at that hour, showed himselfeither to be very impious, or very stupid. One apprehension still clung to his mind, proving how sensitive had been that conscience which strove in vain to satisfy itself. He told Mr. Foster "he could not be sure that his repentance was sincere, because it had never been tried by the temptation of returning to society."
Lord Kilmarnock continued in a composed state of mind during the whole morning. After a short prayer, offered up by Mr. Foster, at his desire, he was informed that the sheriffs waited for the prisoners. He heard this announcement calmly; and said to General Williamson, with his wonted grace, "General, I am ready to follow you." He then quitted his prison, and descended the stairs. As he was going down, he met Lord Balmerino; and the friends embraced. "My Lord," said the noble Balmerino, "I am heartily sorry to have your company in this expedition."[390]
The prisoners then proceeded to the outward gate of the Tower, where the Sheriffs, who had walked there in procession, received them: this was about ten o'clock in the morning of the eighteenth of August. The bodies of the two noblemen having been delivered with the usual formalities to the Sheriffs, they proceeded to the late Transport Office, a building near the scaffold. Two Presbyterian ministers, Mr. Foster and Mr. Home, accompanied Lord Kilmarnock, whilst the Chaplain of the Tower and another clergyman, attended Lord Balmerino. Three rooms, hung with black, were prepared; one for each of the condemned noblemen; another, fronting the scaffold, for spectators. Here, those who were so soon to suffer, had a short conference with each other, chiefly relating to the order, said to have been issued at Culloden, to give no quarter. This was a subject, not only of importance to Lord Kilmarnock's memory, but to the character of the Jacobite party generally.
"Did you, my Lord," said the generous Balmerino, still anxious, even at the last hour, to justify his friends, "see or know of any order, signed by the Prince, to give no quarter at the battle of Culloden?"
"No, my Lord," replied Kilmarnock.
"Nor I neither," rejoined Balmerino; "and therefore it seems to be an invention to justify their own murderous scheme."
To this Lord Kilmarnock answered, "No, my Lord, I do not think it can be an invention, because, while I was a prisoner at Inverness, I was told by several officers that there was such an order, signed 'George Murray,' and that it was in the Duke of Cumberland's custody." To this statement, (which was wholly erroneous) Lord Balmerino exclaimed, "Lord George Murray! Why then, they should not charge it on the Prince." After this explanation, he bade Kilmarnock a last farewell: as he embraced him, he said, in the same noble spirit, that he had ever shown, "My dear Lord Kilmarnock, I am only sorry I cannot pay all this reckoning alone: once more, farewell for ever."
Lord Kilmarnock was then left with the sheriffs, and his spiritual advisers. In their presence, he solemnly declared himself to be a Protestant, and said that he was thoroughly satisfied of the legality of the King's claim to the throne. He had been educated inthese principles, and he now thoroughly repented having ever engaged in the Rebellion. He afterwards stated to his friends that he had within this week taken the sacrament twice in evidence of the truth of his repentance.
The hour of noon was now fast approaching, when the last act of relentless justice was to be performed. Mr. Foster, after permitting the Earl a few moments to compose himself, suggested that he should engage with him in prayer, and afterwards proceed to the scaffold. The minister then addressed himself to all who were present, urging them to join with him in this last solemn office, and in recommending the soul of an unhappy penitent to the mercy of God. Those who were engaged in this sad scene, sank on their knees, whilst, after a petition relating to the prisoner, a prayer was offered up "for King George, for our holy religion, for our inestimable British liberties." This prayer, for the royal family, Lord Kilmarnock had often protested he would, at the latest moment, offer up to the throne of God.
After this solemn duty had been performed, Lord Kilmarnock bade an affectionate farewell to the gentlemen who had accompanied him, and here Mr. Foster's office ceased, the Rev. Mr. Home, a young clergyman, and a personal friend of Lord Kilmarnock, succeeding him in attendance upon the prisoner. Many reports prevailed of Lord Kilmarnock's fear of death, and of the weakness of his resolution; and Balmerino, it is said, apprehended that he would not "behave well," an expression used, perhaps, in reference to his opinions, perhaps in anticipation of a failure of courage. Asleaning upon the arm of his friend Mr. Home, Lord Kilmarnock saw, for the first time, that outward apparatus of death to which he had taken such pains to familiarise himself; "nature still recurred upon him;"—for an instant, the home of peace, to which he was hastening, was forgotten;—"the multitude, the block, the coffin, the executioner, the instrument of death," appalled one, whose character was amiable, rather than exalted. He turned to his attendant, and exclaimed, "Home, this is terrible!" Yet his countenance, even as he uttered these words, was unchanged, and in a few moments, he regained the composure of one whose hope was in the mercy of his Creator. What else could sustain him in the agonies of that moment? "His whole behaviour," writes Mr. Foster, "was so humble and resigned, that not only his friends, but every spectator, was deeply moved; the executioner burst into tears, and was obliged to use artificial spirits to support and strengthen him." As the man kneeled down, after the usual custom, to pray for forgiveness, Lord Kilmarnock desired him to have courage, and placing a purse of gold in his hand, told him that the dropping of a handkerchief should be the signal for the blow.
Mr. Foster having rejoined Lord Kilmarnock on the scaffold, a long conversation, in a low voice, took place between them; for Lord Kilmarnock made no speech. "I wish," said Mr. Foster, "I had a voice loud enough to tell the multitude with what sentiments your Lordship quits the world." Again, the unfortunate nobleman embraced his friends; and bade Mr. Foster, who quitted the scaffold a few minutes before hisexecution, a last farewell. During all this time, which was more than half an hour, he took no notice of the multitude below: except, observing that the green baize over the wall obstructed the view, he desired that it might be lifted up that the crowd might see the spectacle of his execution.
A delay now took place, attributed by some to Lord Kilmarnock's "unwillingness to depart:"[391]but owing to a few trivial circumstances which, as Mr. Foster remarks, "are unnecessary to be mentioned in order to vindicate the noble penitent from the imputation of fear in the critical moment." To the last, a scrupulous attention to decorum, and nicety in dress characterized Lord Kilmarnock. At his trial, he was described as having been a little too precise, and his hair "too exactly dressed for a person in his situation." On the scaffold the same care was manifested. He appeared in a mourning suit, and his hair, which was unpowdered, was dressed according to the fashion of the day, in a bag, which it took some time to undo, in order to replace the bag by a cap. Even then, the cap being large, and the hair long, his lordship was apprehensive that some of the hair might escape, and intercept the stroke of the axe. He therefore requested a gentleman near him, to tie the cap round his head, that he might bind up the hair more closely. As this office was performed, the person to whom he had applied, wished his lordship a continuance of his resolution until he should meet with eternal happiness. "I thank you," returned Lord Kilmarnock, with his usual courtesy and sweetness; "I find myself perfectly easy and resigned."
There was also another impediment,—the tucking of his shirt under his waistcoat was next adjusted. Then Lord Kilmarnock, taking out a paper containing the heads of his last devotions, advanced to the utmost stage of the scaffold, and kneeled down at the block, on which, in praying, he placed his hands, until the executioner remonstrated, begging of him to let his hands fall down, lest they should be mangled, or should intercept the blow. He was also told that the neck of his waistcoat was in the way; he therefore arose, and with the help of Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd, had it taken off. Near him were standing those who held the cloth ready to receive his head; among these Mr. Home's servant heard Lord Kilmarnock tell the executioner, that in two minutes he would give the signal. A few moments were spent in fervent devotion; then the sign was given, and the head was severed from the body by one stroke. It was not exposed to view according to custom: but was deposited in a coffin with the body, and delivered to his Lordship's friends. One peculiarity attended this execution. It is not required by law that the head of a person decapitated should be exposed; but is a custom adopted in order to satisfy the multitude that the execution has been accomplished. Since, by Lord Kilmarnock's dying request, this practice was omitted, the Sheriffs ordered that all the attendants on the scaffold should kneel down, so that the view of the execution might not be impeded[392]to those who were below.
The scaffold was immediately cleared, and put in order for another victim; and Mr. Ford, the Under-Sheriff, who had attended the first execution, went into the room in the Transport Office where Balmerino awaited his doom. "I suppose," inquired the undaunted Balmerino, "that my Lord Kilmarnock is no more." And having asked how he died, and being told the account, he said: "It is well done, and now, gentlemen, I will no longer detain you, for I desire not to protract my life." He spoke calmly, and even cheerfully; Lord Kilmarnock had shed tears as he bade his friends farewell, but Balmerino, whilst others wept, was even cheerful, and hastened to the scaffold. His deportment, when in the room where he awaited the summons to death, was graceful and yet simple, without either any ostentation of bravery, or indications of indifference to his fate. He did not defy the terror, he rose above it. He conversed freely with his friends, and refreshed himself twice with wine and bread, desiring the company to drink to him, as he expressed it in his Scottish phrase, "ain degrae ta haiven;" but above all, he prayed often and fervently for support, and support was given.
True to the last to his professions, Lord Balmerino was dressed in what was called by a contemporary, "his Rebellious Regimentals," such as he had worn at Culloden; they were of blue cloth, turned up with red; underneath them was a flannel waistcoat and a shroud. He ascended the scaffold, "treading," as an observer expressed it, "with the air of a General," and surveying the spectators, bowed to them; he walked round it, and read the inscription on his coffin, "Arthurus Dominus de Balmerino, decollatus, 18odie August. 1746, ætatis suæ 58o;" observed "thatit was right," and with apparent pleasure looked at the block saying, it was his "pillow of rest." Lord Balmerino then pulling out his spectacles, read a paper to those who stood around him, and delivered it to the Sheriff to do with it as he thought proper. It was subsequently printed in a garbled form, much of it being deemed too treasonable for publication, and in that form is preserved in the State Trials.[393]It is now given as it was really spoken.
"I was bred in the anti-revolution principles, which I have ever persevered in, from a sincere persuasionthat the restoration of the Royal Family, and the good of my native country, are inseparable. The action of my life which now stares me most in the face, is my having accepted a commission in the army from the late Princess Anne, who I knew had no more right to the crown than her predecessor, the Prince of Orange, whom I always considered as an infamous usurper.
"In the year 1715, as soon as the King landed in Scotland, I thought it my indispensable duty to join his standard, though his affairs were then in a desperate situation.
"I was in Switzerland in the year 1734, where I received a letter from my father acquainting me that he had procured me remission, and desiring me to return home. Not thinking myself at liberty to comply with my father's desire without the King's approbation, I wrote to Rome to know his Majesty's pleasure, and was directed by him to return home; and at the same time I received a letter of credit upon his banker at Paris, who furnished me with money to defray the expense of my journey, and put me in repair. I think myself bound, upon this occasion, to contradict a report which has been industriously spread, and which I never heard of till I was prisoner; that orders were given to the Prince's army to give no quarter at the battle of Culloden. With my eye upon the block, which will soon bring me unto the highest of all tribunals, I do declare that it is without any manner of foundation, both because it is impossible it could have escaped the knowledge of me, who was captain of the Prince's Life Guards, or of Lord Kilmarnock, who was colonel of his own regiment; but still more so, as it is entirely inconsistent with the mild and generous nature of that brave Prince, whosepatience, fortitude, intrepidity, and humanity, I must declare upon this solemn occasion, are qualities in which he excels all men I ever knew, and which it ever was his desire to employ for the relief and preservation of his father's subjects. I believe rather, that this report was spread to palliate and excuse the murders they themselves committed in cold blood after the battle of Culloden.
"I think it my duty to return my sincere acknowledgments to Major White and Mr. Fowler, for their humane and complaisant behaviour to me during my confinement. I wish I could pay the same compliment to General Williamson, who used me with the greatest inhumanity and cruelty; but having taken the sacrament this day, I forgive him, as I do all my enemies.
"I die in the religion of the Church of England, which I look upon as the same with the Episcopal Church of Scotland, in which I was brought up."
After delivering this speech, Lord Balmerino laid his head upon the block, and said, "God reward my friends, and forgive my enemies: bless and restore the King; preserve the Prince, and the Duke of York,—and receive my soul."
The executioner then being called for, and kneeling to ask forgiveness, Lord Balmerino interrupted him. "Friend, you need not ask my forgiveness; the execution of your duty is commendable." He then gave the headsman three guineas, saying, "this is all I have; I can only add to it my coat and waistcoat," which, accordingly, he took off, laying them on the coffin for the executioner. After putting on a flannel jacket made for the occasion, and a plaid cap, he went tothe block in order to show the executioner the signal. He then returned to his friends. "I am afraid," he said, addressing them, "that there are some here who may think my behaviour bold: remember, sir," he added, addressing a gentleman near him, "what I tell you; it arises from a just confidence in God, and a clear conscience." Memorable, and beautiful words, distinguishing between the presumption of indifference, and the security of a living faith. When he laid his head on the block to try it, he said, "if I had a thousand lives I would lay them all down in the same cause."
Lord Balmerino then showed the Executioner where to strike the blow; he examined the edge of the axe, and bade the man to strike with resolution; "for inthat, friend," he said, as he replaced the axe in the hand of the man, "will consist your mercy." He asked how many strokes had been given to Lord Kilmarnock. Two clergymen coming up at that moment, he said, "no, gentlemen, I believe you have already done me all the service you can." He called loudly to the warder, and gave him his perriwig; and instantly laid down his head upon the block, but being told that he was on the wrong side, he vaulted round, and extending his arms uttered this short prayer: "O Lord, reward my friends, forgive my enemies:"—he uttered, it has been stated, another ejaculation for king James; but that petition was suppressed in the printed accounts of his death: then, pronouncing these words, "receive my soul," he gave the signal by throwing up his arm, as if he were giving the signal for battle. His intrepidity, and the suddenness of that last sign terrifiedthe executioner, whose arm became almost powerless; the affrighted man struck the blow on the part directed, but though, it is hoped, it destroyed all sensation, the head was not severed, but fell back on the shoulders, exhibiting a ghastly sight. Two more strokes of the axe were requisite to complete the work. Then, the head having been received in a piece of scarlet cloth, the lifeless remains of the true, and noble hearted soldier were deposited in a coffin, and delivered to his friends.
A vast multitude viewed this spectacle, so execrable in its cruelty, so great in the deportment of the sufferers. Even on the masts of ships, in the calm river, were the spectators piled; all classes of society were interested in this memorable scene; and, for a few short weeks, the fashionable circles were diverted by the humours of Lady Townshend, and the witticisms of George Selwyn. During the imprisonment of Kilmarnock, it had been the fancy of the former to station herself under the window of his chamber in one of the dismal towers in which he was detained; to send messages to him, and to obtain his dog and snuff-box. But even this show of affected feeling failed to make compassion fashionable in the regions of St. James's. Calumny was busy at the grave of the beheaded Jacobites; and the accounts of those who attended them in their last hours were attacked by anonymous pamphleteers. It was said, among other things, that Balmerino uttered no prayer at the last moment; and his behaviour was contrasted with that of Kilmarnock. On this allegation, Mr. Ford, the Under-Sheriff, who was on the scaffold, observes, "the authors of these attacks being concealedare unworthy of other notice, since nothing is easier to an ingenious and unprejudiced mind, than to distinguish between the subject and the man: my Lord Kilmarnock was happily educated in right principles, which he deviated from, and repented; whereas, the great, though unhappy Balmerino, was unfortunate in his,—but, as he lived, he died."[394]
The characters of these two noblemen, who, in life, held a very dissimilar course, until they coöperated in arms, are strongly contrasted. To Kilmarnock belonged the gentle qualities which enhance the pleasures of society, but often, too, increase its perils: the susceptible, affectionate nature, not fortified by self-controul; the compassionate disposition, acting rather from impulse than principle. Infirm in principle, his rash alliance with a party who were opposed to all that he had learned to respect in childhood; and whom he joined, from the stimulus of a misdirected ambition, cannot be justified. To this, it was generally believed, he was greatly incited by the persuasions of his mother-in-law, the Countess of Errol.
Whilst we bestow our cordial approbation on those who engaged in civil strife from a sense of duty, andfrom notions of allegiance, which had never been exterminated from their moral code, we condemn such as, attaching themselves to the Jacobite party, outraged their secret convictions, betrayed the trusts of Government, and violated the promise of their youth. Such a course must spring either from selfishness, or weakness, or from a melancholy union of both. In Lord Kilmarnock it was far more the result of weakness than of self-interest: his fortunes were desperate, and his mind was embittered towards the ruling government: his admiration was attracted by the gallantry and resolution of those who adhered to the Chevalier: his sense of what was due to his rank, and the consciousness of high descent, coupled with empty honours and real poverty, stimulated him to take that course which seemed the most likely to regain a position, without ever enjoying which a man may be happy, but which few can bear to lose. This was his original error; he joined the standard of Charles Edward,—but he was no Jacobite. He fought against his own convictions, the hereditary and ineffaceable prepossessions implanted in the heart by a parent.
From henceforth, until immured in the Tower, all in the career of Lord Kilmarnock was turbulence; and, it must be acknowledged, crime. For nothing can justify a resistance of sovereign power, save a belief in its illegality. "I engaged in the rebellion," was Lord Kilmarnock's confession, "in opposition to my own principles, and to those of my family; in contradiction to the whole tenor of my conduct." Such were his expressions at that hour when no earthly considerations had power to seduce him into falsehood.
By those historians who espouse the Jacobite cause, this avowal has been severely censured; and Lord Kilmarnock has been regarded as deserting the party which he had espoused. But, with his conviction, such a line of conduct as that which he pursued in prison, could alone be honest, and therefore alone consistent with his religious hopes, before he quitted life. Such censure has been well answered in Lord Kilmarnock's own words, "I am in little pain for the reflections which the inconsiderate or prejudiced part of my countrymen, (if there are any such whom my suffering the just sentence of the law has not mollified,) may cast upon me for this confession. The wiser or more ingenious will, I hope, approve my conduct, and allow with me, that next to doing right is to have the courage and integrity to avow that I have done wrong." These sentiments were not, be it observed, made public until after his death.
If, in early life, the career of Lord Kilmarnock were tainted by dissolute conduct, his deep contrition, his sincere confession of his errors, his endeavours to amend them, redeem those very errors in the eyes of human judgment, as they will probably plead for him, with One who is more merciful than man. In his prison, his patience in suspense, his forbearance to those who had urged on his death, his generous sentiments towards his companions in misfortune,—his care for others, his trust in the mercy of his Saviour, present as instructive a lesson as mortals can glean from the errors and the penitence of others.
Contrasted with the gentle, unfortunate Kilmarnock, the gallant bearing of Balmerino rises to heroism.One cannot, for the sake of his party, help regretting that he had not taken a more prominent part in the councils of the young Chevalier, or held a more distinguished position in the field. His integrity, his strong sense, and moral courage might have had an advantageous influence over the wavering, and confirmed the indecisive. In the field, his would have been the desperate valour which suits a desperate cause; but his resources were few, and his influence proportionately small.
The soldier of fortune, driven at an early age from home, sent from country to country, serving, with little hope of advancement, under various generals, Balmerino had learned to view life almost as a matter of indifference, compared with the honest satisfaction of preserving consistency. His existence had been one of trial, and of banishment from all domestic pleasures, and in the perils of his youthful days, he had learned to view it as so precarious, that his final doom came not to him as a surprise, but seemed merely a natural conclusion of a career of danger and adventure. His heroism may excite less admiration even than the resignation of those who had more to lose; but his intrepidity, his courageous sincerity, his contempt of all display, his carelessness of himself, and the tender concern which he evinced for others, are qualities which we should not beEnglishnot to appreciate and venerate. His were the finest attributes of the soldier and the Jacobite: the firm, unflinching adherence; the enthusiastic loyalty; the utter repugnance to all compromising; and the lofty disregard of opinion, which extorted, even from those who endeavoured to ridicule, a reluctant respect.
For the relentless pretext of what was called justice, which sent this brave man to his doom, there is no possibility of accounting, except in the deep party hatred of the Government. Lord Kilmarnock is believed to have owed his death to the false report industriously spread of his having treated the English prisoners with cruelty; but no such plea could injure Balmerino. One dark influence, at that time all powerful at court, all powerful among the people, denied them mercy;—and the crowds which witnessed the death of Kilmarnock and of Balmerino, hastened to do homage to the Duke of Cumberland. Nothing can, in fact, more plainly show the effect of frequent executions upon the character of a people than the details of the year 1746. With the inhabitants of London, like the French at the time of the Revolution, the value of life was lowered; the indifference to scenes of horror formed a shocking feature in their conduct. In the great world, jests, and witticisms delighted the Satellites of power. It was the barbarous fashion to visit Temple Bar for the purpose of viewing the heads exhibited there; spying glasses being let out for the ghastly spectacle. And the coarse, unfeeling invectives of the press prove the general state of the public mind, in those days, more effectually than any other fact could do:—in the present times, the cruelty which pursues its victim to the grave would not be tolerated.
In his latest hours, the chief concern of Lord Kilmarnock seems to have been for his eldest son, to whom he addressed the following beautiful letter.
"Dated, Tower, 17th of August, 1746."Dear Boyd,"I must take this way to bid you farewell, and I pray God may ever bless you and guide you in this world, and bring you to a happy immortality in the world to come. I must, likewise, give you my last advice. Seek God in your youth, and when you are old He will not depart from you. Be at pains to acquire good habits now, that they may grow up, and become strong in you. Love mankind, and do justice to all men. Do good to as many as you can, and neither shut your ears nor your purse to those in distress, whom it is in your power to relieve. Believe me, you will find more joy in one beneficent action; and in your cool moments you will be more happy with the reflection of having made any person so, who without your assistance would have been miserable, than in the enjoyment of all the pleasures of sense (which pall in the using), and of all the pomps and gaudy show of the world. Live within your circumstances, by which means you will have it in your power to do good to others. Above all things, continue in your loyalty to his present Majesty, and the succession to the crown as by law established. Look on that as the basis of the civil and religious liberty and property of every individual in the nation. Prefer the public interests to your own, wherever they interfere. Love your family and your children, whenyou have any; but never let your regard to them drive you on the rock I split upon; when, on that account, I departed from my principles, and brought the guilt of rebellion, and civil and particular desolation on my head, for which I am now under the sentence justly due to my Prince. Use all your interest to get your brother pardoned and brought home as soon as possible, that his circumstances, and bad influence of those he is among, may not induce him to accept of foreign service, and lose him both to his country and his family. If money can be found to support him, I wish you would advise him to go to Geneva, where his principles of religion and liberty will be confirmed, and where he may stay till you see if a pardon can be procured him. As soon as Commodore Burnet comes home, inquire for your brother Billie, and take care of him on my account. I must again recommend your unhappy mother to you. Comfort her, and take all the care you can of your brothers: and may God of His infinite mercy, preserve, guide, and comfort you and them through all the vicissitudes of this life, and after it bring you to the habitations of the just, and make you happy in the enjoyment of Himself to all eternity!"
"Dated, Tower, 17th of August, 1746.
"Dear Boyd,
"I must take this way to bid you farewell, and I pray God may ever bless you and guide you in this world, and bring you to a happy immortality in the world to come. I must, likewise, give you my last advice. Seek God in your youth, and when you are old He will not depart from you. Be at pains to acquire good habits now, that they may grow up, and become strong in you. Love mankind, and do justice to all men. Do good to as many as you can, and neither shut your ears nor your purse to those in distress, whom it is in your power to relieve. Believe me, you will find more joy in one beneficent action; and in your cool moments you will be more happy with the reflection of having made any person so, who without your assistance would have been miserable, than in the enjoyment of all the pleasures of sense (which pall in the using), and of all the pomps and gaudy show of the world. Live within your circumstances, by which means you will have it in your power to do good to others. Above all things, continue in your loyalty to his present Majesty, and the succession to the crown as by law established. Look on that as the basis of the civil and religious liberty and property of every individual in the nation. Prefer the public interests to your own, wherever they interfere. Love your family and your children, whenyou have any; but never let your regard to them drive you on the rock I split upon; when, on that account, I departed from my principles, and brought the guilt of rebellion, and civil and particular desolation on my head, for which I am now under the sentence justly due to my Prince. Use all your interest to get your brother pardoned and brought home as soon as possible, that his circumstances, and bad influence of those he is among, may not induce him to accept of foreign service, and lose him both to his country and his family. If money can be found to support him, I wish you would advise him to go to Geneva, where his principles of religion and liberty will be confirmed, and where he may stay till you see if a pardon can be procured him. As soon as Commodore Burnet comes home, inquire for your brother Billie, and take care of him on my account. I must again recommend your unhappy mother to you. Comfort her, and take all the care you can of your brothers: and may God of His infinite mercy, preserve, guide, and comfort you and them through all the vicissitudes of this life, and after it bring you to the habitations of the just, and make you happy in the enjoyment of Himself to all eternity!"
"Sunday, 17th of August, 1746."As it would be a vain attempt in me to speak distinctly to that great concourse of people, who willprobably be present at my execution, I chose to leave this behind me, as my last solemn declaration, appealing for my integrity to God, who knows my heart."I bless God I have little fear of temporal death, though attended with many outward circumstances of terror; the greatest sting I feel in death is that I have deserved it."Lord Balmerino, my fellow-sufferer, to do justice, dies in a professed adherence to the mistaken principles he had imbibed from his cradle. But I engaged in the Rebellion in opposition to my own principles, and to those of my family; in contradiction to the whole tenour of my conduct, till within these few months that I was wickedly induced to renounce my allegiance, which ever before I had preserved and held inviolable. I am in little pain for the reflection which the inconsiderate or prejudiced part of my countrymen (if there are any such, whom my suffering the just sentence of the law has not mollified,) may cast upon me for this confession."The wiser, or more ingenious, will, I hope, approve my conduct, and allow with me that, next to doing right, is to have the courage and integrity to own that I have done wrong."Groundless accusations of cruelty have been raised and propagated concerning me; and charges spread among the people of my having solicited for, nay, even actually signed orders of general savage destruction, seldom issued among the most barbarous nations, and which my soul abhors. And that the general temper of my mind was ever averse from, and shocked at grossinstances of inhumanity, I appeal to all my friends and acquaintance who have known me most intimately, and even to those prisoners of the King's troops to whom I had access, and whom I ever had it in my power to relieve; I appeal, in particular, for my justification as to this justly detested and horrid crime of cruelty, to Captain Master, of Ross, Captain-Lieutenant Luon, and Lieutenant George Cuming of Alter."These gentlemen will, I am persuaded, as far as relates to themselves, and as far as has fallen within their knowledge as credible information, do me justice; and then, surely my countrymen will not load a person, already too guilty and unfortunate, with undeserved infamy, which may not only fix itself on his own character, but reflect dishonour on his family."I have no more to say, but that I am persuaded, if reasons of state, and the demands of public justice had permitted his Majesty to follow the dictates of his own royal heart, my sentence might have been mitigated. Had it pleased God to prolong my life, the remainder of it should have been faithfully employed in the service of my justly offended sovereign, and in constant endeavours to wipe away the very remembrance of my crime."I now, with my dying breath, beseech Almighty God to bless my rightful sovereign, King George, and preserve him from the attacks of public and private enemies."May his Majesty, and his illustrious descendants, be so guided by the Divine Providence as ever to govern with that wisdom, and that care for the public good, as will preserve to them the love of their subjects, and secure their right to reign over a free and happy people to the latest posterity."
"Sunday, 17th of August, 1746.
"As it would be a vain attempt in me to speak distinctly to that great concourse of people, who willprobably be present at my execution, I chose to leave this behind me, as my last solemn declaration, appealing for my integrity to God, who knows my heart.
"I bless God I have little fear of temporal death, though attended with many outward circumstances of terror; the greatest sting I feel in death is that I have deserved it.
"Lord Balmerino, my fellow-sufferer, to do justice, dies in a professed adherence to the mistaken principles he had imbibed from his cradle. But I engaged in the Rebellion in opposition to my own principles, and to those of my family; in contradiction to the whole tenour of my conduct, till within these few months that I was wickedly induced to renounce my allegiance, which ever before I had preserved and held inviolable. I am in little pain for the reflection which the inconsiderate or prejudiced part of my countrymen (if there are any such, whom my suffering the just sentence of the law has not mollified,) may cast upon me for this confession.
"The wiser, or more ingenious, will, I hope, approve my conduct, and allow with me that, next to doing right, is to have the courage and integrity to own that I have done wrong.
"Groundless accusations of cruelty have been raised and propagated concerning me; and charges spread among the people of my having solicited for, nay, even actually signed orders of general savage destruction, seldom issued among the most barbarous nations, and which my soul abhors. And that the general temper of my mind was ever averse from, and shocked at grossinstances of inhumanity, I appeal to all my friends and acquaintance who have known me most intimately, and even to those prisoners of the King's troops to whom I had access, and whom I ever had it in my power to relieve; I appeal, in particular, for my justification as to this justly detested and horrid crime of cruelty, to Captain Master, of Ross, Captain-Lieutenant Luon, and Lieutenant George Cuming of Alter.
"These gentlemen will, I am persuaded, as far as relates to themselves, and as far as has fallen within their knowledge as credible information, do me justice; and then, surely my countrymen will not load a person, already too guilty and unfortunate, with undeserved infamy, which may not only fix itself on his own character, but reflect dishonour on his family.
"I have no more to say, but that I am persuaded, if reasons of state, and the demands of public justice had permitted his Majesty to follow the dictates of his own royal heart, my sentence might have been mitigated. Had it pleased God to prolong my life, the remainder of it should have been faithfully employed in the service of my justly offended sovereign, and in constant endeavours to wipe away the very remembrance of my crime.
"I now, with my dying breath, beseech Almighty God to bless my rightful sovereign, King George, and preserve him from the attacks of public and private enemies.
"May his Majesty, and his illustrious descendants, be so guided by the Divine Providence as ever to govern with that wisdom, and that care for the public good, as will preserve to them the love of their subjects, and secure their right to reign over a free and happy people to the latest posterity."
That Lord Boyd reciprocated the affection of his father appears from the following letter, which he addressed, a few days after the execution of Lord Kilmarnock, to Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd, who was then at Scarborough.