Part 42

"Old Balmerino keeps up his spirits to the same pitch of gaiety: in the cell at Westminster, he showed Lord Kilmarnock how he must lay his head; bid him not wince, lest the strokes should cut his head or his shoulders; and advised him to bite his lips. As they were to return, he begged they might have another bottle together, as they should never meet any more till--he pointed to his neck. At getting into his coach, he said to the gaoler, 'Take care, or you will break my shins with this d----d axe.'"

The English populace could not forbear delighting in the composure of Balmerino, who, on returning from Westminster Hall after his sentence, could stop the coach in which he was about to be conducted to the Tower to buy gooseberries; or, as he expressed it in his national phrase, honey-blobs.

That night, not contented with saying publicly at his levee, that Lord Kilmarnock had proposed murdering the English prisoners, the Duke of Cumberland proposed giving his mistress a ball; but the notion was abandoned, lest it should have been regarded as an insult to the prisoners, and not because a particle of highminded regret for the sufferers could ever enter that hard and depraved heart. Too well did the citizens of London understand the Duke of Cumberland's merits, when, it being proposed to present him with the freedom of some company, one of the aldermen cried aloud, "Then let it be of the Butchers'!"

The commission was dissolved in the usual forms: "all manner of persons here present were desired to depart in the fear of God, and of our sovereign Lord the King." The white staff of office was broken by the Lord High Steward; the Lords adjourned to the Chamber of Parliament; the prisoners returned to the Tower.

Three weeks elapsed, after the trial, before the execution of Lord Kilmarnock and Lord Balmerino. During that interval, hope sometimes visited the prisoners in their cells, great intercession being made for them by persons of the highest rank. But it was in vain, for the counsels of the Duke of Cumberland influenced the heart of his royal father, who it is generally believed, would otherwise have been disposed to compassion. During this interval, the sorrows of the prisoners were aggravated by frequent rumours that their beloved Prince was taken; but he was safe among his Highlanders, and defied the power even of an armed force to surprise him in his singular and various retreats.

The Earl of Cromartie was the only one of the three prisoners to whom royal mercy was extended. This nobleman had been considered, before the Insurrection, as the only branch of the Mackenzies who could be relied upon. He had been backward in joining the Jacobite army, and had never shared the confidence of Charles Edward. He had been disgusted with the preference shown to Murray and to Sullivan, to the prejudice of more powerful adherents of the cause: and it was reported, had rather surrendered himself to the Earl of Sutherland's followers, than resisted when they apprehended him.

Amiable in private life, affable in manner, and exempt from the pride of a Highland chieftain, this nobleman had been beloved by his neighbours of inferior rank; to the poor he had been a kind benefactor. The domestic relations of life he had fulfilled irreproachably. Every heart bled for him; and the case of his son, Lord Macleod, who had espoused the same cause, excited universal commiseration.

On the Sunday following the trial, Lady Cromartie presented her petition to the King: he gave her no hopes; and the unhappy woman fainted when he left her.

It is pleasing to rest upon one action of clemency, before returning to the horrors of capital punishment. To the intercession of Frederick Prince of Wales, Lord Cromartie eventually owed his life; that intercession is believed to have been procured by the merits and the attractions of Lady Cromartie, who was indefatigable in her exertions.

This Lady, the daughter of Sir William Gordon of Dalfolly, is said to have possessed every quality that could render a husband happy. Beautiful and intellectual, she manifested a degree of spirit and perseverance when called upon to act in behalf of her husband and children, that raised her character to that of a heroine. She was then the mother of nine children, and about to give birth to a tenth. During the period of suspense, her conduct presented that just medium between stoicism and excess of feeling, which so few persons in grief can command.

At last, a reprieve for Lord Cromartie arrived on the eleventh of August; it was not, however, followed by a release, nor even by a free pardon. During two years, Lord Cromartie was detained a prisoner in the Tower, there, being condemned to witness the departure of his generous friends, Kilmarnock and Balmerino, to the scaffold. On February the eighteenth, 1748, he was permitted to leave his prison, and to lodge in the house of a messenger. In the following August he went into Devonshire, where he was desired to remain. A pardon passed the Great Seal for his Lordship on the twentieth of October, 1749, with a condition that he should remain in any place directed by the King. He died in Poland-street in London, on the twenty-eighth of September, 1766.

On Thursday, the seventh of August, the Reverend James Foster, a Presbyterian minister, was allowed access to Lord Kilmarnock, to prepare him for a fate which now seemed inevitable. Great intercession had been made for the ill-fated prisoner, by his kinsman, James, sixth Duke of Hamilton, and husband of the celebrated beauty, Miss Gunning; but the friendly efforts of that nobleman were thought rather to have "hurried him to the block." When a report reached him that one of the prisoners would be spared, Lord Kilmarnock had desired, with the utmost nobleness of soul, that Cromartie should be preferred to himself. Balmerino lamented that he had not been taken with Lord Lovat; "for then," he remarked, "we might have been sacrificed, and these two brave men have been spared." But these regrets were unavailing, and Lord Kilmarnock and his friend prepared to meet their doom.

Mr. Foster, on conversing with Lord Kilmarnock, found him humbled, but not crushed by his misfortunes; contrite for a life characterized by many errors, but trustful of the Infinite mercy, to which we fondly turn from the stern justice of unforgiving man. And the reverend gentleman on whom the solemn responsibility of preparing a soul for judgment was devolved, appears to have discharged his task with a due sense of its delicacy, with fidelity and kindness.

Having introduced himself to Lord Kilmarnock with the premises that his Lordship would allow him to deal freely with him; that he did not expect to be flattered, nor to have the malignity of his crimes disguised or softened;--Mr. Foster told him, "that in his opinion, the wound of his mind, occasioned by his private and public vices, must be probed and searched to the bottom, before it could be capable of receiving a remedy." "If he disapproved of this plan," Mr. Foster thought "he could be of no use to him, and therefore declined attendance." To this Lord Kilmarnock replied that, "whilst he thought it was not Mr. Foster's province to interfere in things remote from his office, yet it was now no time to prevaricate with him, nor to play the hypocrite with God, before whose tribunal he should shortly appear."

This point being settled, the minister of the Gospel deemed it necessary to persuade the Earl, that he was not to be amused with vain delusive hopes of a reprieve; that he must view his sentence as inevitable; otherwise that his mind might be distracted between hope and fear; and that true temper of penitence which alone could recommend him to Divine mercy would be unattainable.

The unfortunate Earl touchingly answered, that indeed, when he consulted his reason, and argued calmly with himself, he could see no ground of mercy; yet still the hope of life would intrude itself. He was afraid, he said, that buoyed up by this delusive hope, when the warrant for his execution came down, he should have not only the terror of his sentence to contend with, but the fond delusions of his own heart:--to overcome the bitter disappointment--the impossibility of submission. He therefore assured Mr. Foster, that he would do all in his own power to repel that visionary enemy, and to fix his thoughts on the important task of perfecting his repentance, and of preparing for death and eternity.

In regard to the part which Lord Kilmarnock had taken in recent events, there seemed no difficulty in impressing his mind with a deep sense of the responsibility which he had incurred in helping to diffuse terror and consternation through the land, in the depredation and ruin of his country: and in convincing him that he ought to consider himself accessory to innumerable private oppressions and murders. "Yes," replied Lord Kilmarnock, with deep emotion "and murders of the innocent too," And frequently he acknowledged this charge with tears, and offered up short petitions to God for mercy.

But when Mr. Foster mentioned to him that the consequences of the "Rebellion and its natural tendency was to the subversion of our excellent free constitution, to extirpate our holy religion, and to introduce the monstrous superstitions and cruelties of Popery," Lord Kilmarnock hesitated; and owned, at length, that he did not contemplate such mischiefs as the result of the contest; that he did not believe that the young Chevalier would run the risk of defeating his main design by introducing Popery; nor would so entirely forget the warnings which the history of his family offered, so far as to make any attacks upon the liberties and constitution of the country. His entering into the Rebellion was occasioned, as he then declared, by the errors and vices of his previous life; and was a kind of desperate scheme to extricate him from his difficulties. Humbled and penetrated by the remembrance of former levity, Lord Kilmarnock remarked, that not only was Providence wise and righteous, but to him, gracious; and that he regarded it as an unspeakable mercy to his soul, that he had not fallen at the battle of Culloden, impenitent and unreflecting; for that, if the Rebellion had been successful, he should have gone on in his errors, without ever entertaining any serious thought of amendment. "Often," added the contrite and chastened man, "have I made use of these words of Christ, 'Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.'" But he had checked himself by the reflection, that it was not for him who had been so great a sinner, to address himself to God in the same language with his blessed Saviour, who was perfectly innocent and holy.

In time, aided by the representations of his spiritual attendant, the deepest remorse for a life not untainted by impurity of conduct, was succeeded by religious peace. It was then that the prisoner turned to that Bread of Life which Christ hath left for those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. But the Minister who led him into the fold of the Great Shepherd, would not consent to administer to him the Holy Sacrament without a full confession made in the presence of the gentleman gaoler, of his past offences, and of his contrition for them. At that solemn moment, when the heart was laid open to human witnesses, Lord Kilmarnock professed the deepest penitence for his concurrence in the Rebellion, and for the irregularities of his private life: he declared his conviction that the Holy Sacrament would be of no benefit to him whatsoever, if his remorse and contrition were not sincere. This assurance was, in other words, yet, in substance the same, emphatically repeated. During the conversations held with Lord Kilmarnock, Mr. Foster perceived that the confessions of the penitent were free and ingenuous; that he examined his own heart with a searching and scrupulous care, sternly challenging memory to the aid of conscience. At last, he declared that he should rather prefer the speedy execution of his sentence to a longer life, if he were sure that he should again be entangled by the snares and temptations of the world. This was a few days before his death.

Gradually, but effectually, the spirit that had so much in it of a heavenly temper; the heart, so framed to be beloved, was purified and elevated; so that, a beautiful and holy calm, a heavenly disinterestedness, a patience worthy of him who bore the name of Christian, were manifested in one whom it were henceforth wrong to call unhappy. When Lord Cromartie's reprieve became known to Mr. Foster, he dreaded, lest this subdued, yet fortified mind, should be disturbed by the jealousies to which our worldly condition is prone: he trembled lest the sorrow of separation from a world which Lord Kilmarnock had loved too fondly, should be revived by the pardon of his friend. "Therefore," relates Mr. Foster, "in the morning before I waited upon him, I prepared myself to quiet and mollify his mind. But one of the first things he said to me was, that he was extremely glad that the King's mercy had been shown to Lord Cromartie." "My Lord," inquired Mr. Foster, "I hope you do not think you have any injustice shown you?" Lord Kilmarnock's answer was, "Not in the least; I have pleaded guilty: I entirely acquiesce in the justice of my sentence; and if mercy be extended to another, I can have no reason to complain, when nothing but justice is done to me."

With regard to some points upon which the public odium was directed to the young Chevalier and his party, Lord Kilmarnock was very explicit in his last conversations with Mr. Foster. We have already seen how far he was enabled to clear himself concerning his conduct to the prisoners at Inverness. A report having been industriously circulated, probably with a view to excuse the barbarities of the Duke of Cumberland, that an order had been issued in the Pretender's council at Inverness, to destroy the prisoners who might be taken at the battle of Culloden, Mr. Foster put the question to Lord Kilmarnock, Whether that statement were true? "I can most sincerely and freely answer, No," was the satisfactory reply; and a similar contradiction was given by the dying man to every accusation of a similar tendency.

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 his execution 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.

"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 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, 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.