Memoirs of the Jacobites of 1715 and 1745. Volume II.

by Mrs. A. T. Thomson

LETTER FROM MR. MAXWELL OF CARRUCHAN.

"October 13th.

"Dr. Willie,

"By accounts this day from Edinburgh, allmost everybody is going along with the stream, so that a short delay wou'd lose all the merit. This has determined me to do the thing so suddenly, that I have not time to send for you, unless it were to see me go off, which is impossible. I depend upon your protection for those I leave behind. What gives me the greatest concern is least some such creditors as have still my father's security, should molest him in my absence. I recommend particularly to you, that if you can hear of any, you'll endeavour to make them sensible that they are as safe as before, and tell the comissary that I expect the same piece of friendship from him, who lyes more in the way of hearing what passes of that kind. I believe there are three or four thousand French or Irish landed in Wales, with Lord John Drummond. The Highland army marches south the beginning of the week. Farewell dear Willie. God bless you! Ever your's

(Signed) Ja. Maxwell."

"Saturday.—I set out before daylight to-morrow."

From Mr. Maxwell of Carruchan, to Mr. Craik of Arbigland.

Since Lord Nithisdale's name did not appear in the list of the young Chevalier's officers, we must conclude that he did not persevere in his resolutions. There is no date to Mr. Craik's second letter, but it must have been written after Carlisle had surrendered to the Duke of Cumberland,—an event which took place on the thirtieth of December, 1745.

The Earl of Nithisdale, as he was styled, lived until the year 1776, and possibly in peace and prosperity, since the family estates were spared to him. He married his first cousin, Lady Catherine Stewart, daughter of the Earl of Traquhair by Lady Mary Maxwell, and left an only daughter.

This lady, named after her celebrated grandmother Winifred, was also, by courtesy, endowed with the honours of the forfeited rank, and styled Lady Winifred Maxwell. Her Ladyship would have inherited the Barony of Herries, of Terregles, but for the attainder of her grandfather. The estates of Lord Nithisdale were inherited by her son, Marmaduke William Constable, Esq., of Everingham Park, in the county of York; who, on the death of his mother, assumed, by royal licence, the surname of Maxwell. The title of Nithisdale, except for the attainder, would have descended upon the next heir, Mr. Maxwell of Carruchan.[36]

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WILLIAM GORDON, VISCOUNT KENMURE.

The origin of the distinguished surname of Gordon is not clearly ascertained: "some," says Douglass, "derive the Gordons from a city of Macedonia, named Gordonia; others from a manor in Normandy called Gordon, possessed by a family of that name. The territory of Gordon in Berwickshire was, according to another account, conferred by David the First upon an Anglo-Norman settler, who assumed from it the name of Gordon."

William Gordon, sixth Earl of Kenmure, was descended from a younger son of the ducal house of Gordon; in 1633 Sir John Gordon of Lochinvar was created Viscount Kenmure and Lord of Lochinvar; and the estates continued in an unbroken line until they descended to William, the sixth Viscount, who was the only Scottish peer in 1715 who suffered capital punishment.

This unfortunate nobleman succeeded his father in 1698; and possessed, up to the period of his taking the command of the army in the south, the estates belonging to his family in the Stuartry of Kirkcudbright. Kenmure Castle, still happily enjoyed by the family of Gordon, stands upon an eminence overlooking the meadows, at that point where the river Ken expands into a lake. The Castle was originally a single tower, to which various additions have been made according to the taste of different owners. The Castle Keep is now ruinous and unroofed, but the body of the house is in good repair. A fine prospect over the scenery of the Glenhens is commanded by the eminence on which the castle stands. An ancient avenue of lime-trees constitutes the approach to the fortress from the road.

In this abode dwelt the Viscount Kenmure until the summons of Lord Mar called him from the serene tenour of a course honoured by others, and peaceful from the tranquillity of the unhappy nobleman's own disposition; for his was not the restless ambition of Mar, nor the blind devotion of the Duke of Perth; nor the passion for fame and ascendancy which stimulated Lord George Murray in his exertions. Lord Kenmure was, it is true, well acquainted with public business, and an adept in the affairs of the political world, in which he had obtained that insight which long experience gives. His acquaintance with books and men was said to be considerable; he is allowed, even by one who had deserted the party which Lord Kenmure espoused, to be of a "very extraordinary knowledge."[37] But his calm, reflective mind, his experience, his resources of learning, rather indisposed than inclined this nobleman from rising when called upon to lend his aid to the perilous enterprise of James Stuart. Beloved in private life, of a singularly good temper, calm, mild, of simple habits, and plain in his attire, he was as it was generally observed, the last man whom one might have expected to rush into the schemes of the Jacobite party.

That one so skilled in human affairs should venture, even in a subordinate degree, to espouse so desperate a cause as that of James was generally reputed to be, might seem to prove that even the wise were sanguine, or that they were carried away by the enthusiasm of the hour. Neither of these circumstances appear to bear any considerable weight in revolving the conduct of Lord Kenmure.

A stronger influence, perhaps, than that of loyalty operated on the conduct of Viscount Kenmure. He was married: his wife, the spirited and energetic Mary Dalzell, was the only sister of Robert, sixth Earl of Carnwath. Her family were deeply imbued with the principles of hereditary right and of passive obedience; and Lady Kenmure cherished these sentiments, and bestowed the energies of her active mind on the promotion of that cause which she held sacred. The house of Dalzell had been sufferers in the service of the Stuarts. By her mother's side, Lady Kenmure was connected with Sir William Murray of Stanhope, and with his singular, and yet accomplished son, Sir Alexander Murray of Stanhope, who was taken prisoner at Preston, fighting for the Jacobites. The Earl of Carnwath, Lady Kenmure's brother, was one of those men whose virtues and acquirements successfully recommend a cause to all who are under the influence of such a character. Having been educated at Cambridge, he had imbibed an early affection for the liturgy of the Church of England; his gentle manners, his talents, and his natural eloquence, established him in the affections of his friends and acquaintance. This nobleman was, like his sister, ready to sacrifice everything for conscience sake: like her, he was a sufferer for that which he esteemed to be justice. He was afterwards taken prisoner at Preston, impeached before the House of Peers in 1716, and sentenced to be executed as a traitor, and his estate forfeited; but eventually he was respited and pardoned. He survived to be four times married.

Another of Lady Kenmure's brothers, John Dalzell, was, it is true, a captain in the army upon the breaking out of the Rebellion in 1715; but, at the summons of him whom he esteemed his lawful Sovereign, he threw up his commission, and engaged in the service of James.

When Lord Kenmure received a commission from the Earl of Mar to head the friends of the Chevalier in the South, he had ties which perhaps were among some of the considerations which led him to hesitate and to accept the proffered honour unwillingly. On his trial he referred to his wife and "four small children," as a plea for mercy. But Lady Kenmure, sanguine and resolute, did not view these little dependent beings as obstacles to a participation in the insurrection. If she might be considered to transgress her duty as a mother, in thus risking the fortunes of her children, she afterwards compensated by her energy and self-denial for her early error of judgment.

It had been arranged that the insurrection in Dumfriesshire was to break out in conjunction with that headed in Northumberland by Mr. Forster. To effect this end, numbers of disaffected, or, as the Jacobite writers call them, well-affected noblemen and gentlemen assembled in parties at the houses of their friends, moving about from place to place, in order to prepare for the event.

It was on the twelfth of October, 1715, that Viscount Kenmure set out in the intention of joining the Earl of Wintoun, who was on his road to Moffat, and who was accompanied by a party of Lothian gentlemen and their servants. It is said by the descendants of Viscount Kenmure, on hearsay, that his Lordship's horse three times refused to go forward on that eventful morning; nor could he be impelled to do so, until Lady Kenmure taking off her apron, and throwing it over the horse's eyes, the animal was led forward. The Earl of Carnwath had joined with Lord Kenmure, and rode forwards with him to the rencontre with Lord Wintoun. Lord Kenmure took with him three hundred men to the field.[38]

At the siege of Preston, in which those who fell dead upon the field were less to be compassionated than the survivors, Lord Kenmure was taken prisoner. His brother-in-law, the Earl of Carnwath, shared the same fate. They were sent with the principal state prisoners to London. The same circumstances, the same indignities, attended the removal of Lord Kenmure to his last earthly abode, as those which have been already related as disgracing the humanity of Englishmen, when the Earl of Derwentwater was carried to the Tower.

The subsequent sufferings of these brave men were aggravated by the abuses which then existed in the state prisons of England. The condition of these receptacles of woe, at that period, beggars all description. Corruption and extortion gave every advantage to those who could command money enough to purchase luxuries at an enormous cost. Oppression and an utter carelessness of the well-being of the captive, pressed hardly upon those who were poor. No annals can convey a more heartrending description of the sufferings of the prisoners confined in county gaols, than their own touching and heartfelt appeals, some of which are to be found in the State Paper Office.

In the Tower, especially, it appears from a diary kept by a gentleman who was confined there, that the greatest extortion was openly practised. Mr. Forster and a Mr. Anderton, who were allowed to live in the Governor's house, were charged the sum of five pounds a-week for their lodging and diet,—a demand which, more than a century ago, was deemed enormous. Several of the Highland chiefs, and among them the celebrated Brigadier Mackintosh, were "clapped up in places of less accommodation, for which, nevertheless, they were charged as much as would have almost paid the rent of the best houses in St. James's Square and Piccadilly." Mr. Forster, it must be added, was obliged to pay sixty guineas for his privilege of living in the governor's house; and Mr. Anderton to give a bribe of twenty-five guineas for having his irons off. A similar tax was made upon every one who entered, and who could pay, and they were thankful to proffer the sum of twenty guineas, the usual demand, to be free from irons. It was, indeed, not the mere freedom from chains for which they paid, but for the power of effecting their escape. Upon every one who did not choose to be turned over to the common side, a demand was made of ten guineas fee, besides two guineas weekly for lodging, although in some rooms men lay four in a bed. Presents were also given privately, so that in three or four months' time, three or four thousand pounds were paid by the prisoners to their jailers.

Many of the prisoners being men of fortune, their tables were of the most luxurious description; forty shillings was often paid for a dish of peas and beans, and thirty shillings for a dish of fish; and this fare, so unlike that of imprisonment, was accompanied by the richest French wines. The vicious excesses and indecorums which went on in the Tower, among the state prisoners, are said to have scandalized the graver lookers on.[39] The subsequent distress and misery which ensued may, of course, be traced, in part to this cause.

Lord Derwentwater, ever decorous and elevated in his deportment, was shocked at the wayward and reckless conduct of some of the Jacobites on their road to London, told one of the King's officers at Barnet that these prisoners "were only fit for Bedlam." To this it was remarked, that they were only fit for Bridewell. Whilst hopes of life continued, this rebuke still applied. The prisoners were aided in their excesses by the enthusiasm of the fair sex. The following extract from another obscure work, "The History of the Press-yard," is too curious to be omitted. "That while they [the prisoners] flattered themselves with hopes of life, which they were made to believe were the necessary consequences of a surrender at discretion, they did, without any retrospect to the crimes they were committed for, live in so profuse a manner, and fared so voluptuously, through the means of daily visitants and helps from abroad, that money circulated very plentifully; and while it was difficult to change a guinea almost at any house in the street, nothing was more easy than to have silver for gold to any quantity, and gold for silver, in the prison,—those of the fair sex, from persons of the first rank to tradesmen's wives and daughters, making a sacrifice of their husbands' and parents' rings, and other precious moveables, for the use of those prisoners; so that, till the trial of the condemned lords was over, and that the Earl of Derwentwater and Viscount Kenmure were beheaded, there was scarce anything to be seen amongst them but flaunting apparel, venison pasties, hams, chickens, and other costly meats, with plenty of wine."

Meantime the trial of the attainted lords took place, and checked, like the sudden appearance of a ghostly apparition, this horrible merriment,—with which, however, few names which one desires to cherish and to respect are connected. The same forms that attended the impeachment and trial of his companions, were carried on at the trial of Lord Kenmure. The unhappy nobleman replied in few and touching words, and, in a voice which could not be heard, pleaded guilty; an inconsistency, to express it in the mildest terms, of which he afterwards sincerely repented.

At the end of the trial, to the question "What have you to say for yourself why judgment should not be passed upon you according to law?" "My lords," replied Lord Kenmure, "I am truly sensible of my crime, and want words to express my repentance. God knows I never had any personal prejudice against his Majesty, nor was I ever accessory to any previous design against him. I humbly beg my noble Peers and the honourable House of Commons to intercede with the King for mercy to me, that I may live to show myself the dutifullest of his subjects, and to be the means to keep my wife and four small children from starving; the thoughts of which, with my crime, makes me the most unfortunate of all gentlemen."

After the trial, great intercessions were made for mercy, but without any avail, as far as Lord Derwentwater and Lord Kenmure were concerned. They were ordered for execution on the 24th of February, 1716.

The intelligence of the condemnation of these two lords, produced the greatest dismay among their fellow sufferers in the Tower; and the notion of escape, a project which was singularly successful in some instances, was resorted to, in the despair and anguish of the moment, by those who dreaded a cruel and ignominious death.

Lord Kenmure, meantime, prepared for death. A very short interval was, indeed, allowed for those momentous considerations which his situation induced. He was sentenced on the ninth of February, and in a fortnight afterwards was to suffer. Yet the execution of that sentence was, it seems, scarcely expected by the sufferer, even when the fatal day arrived.

The night before his execution, Lord Kenmure wrote a long and affecting letter to a nobleman who had visited him in prison a few days previously. There is something deeply mournful in the fate of one who had slowly and unwillingly taken up the command which had ensured to him the severest penalties of the law. There is an inexpressibly painful sentiment of compassion and regret, excited by the yearning to live—the allusion to a reprieve—the allusion to the case of Lord Carnwath as affording more of hope than his own—lastly, to what he cautiously calls "an act of indiscretion," the plea of guilty, which was wrung from this conscientious, but sorrowing man, by a fond value for life and for the living. So little did Lord Kenmure anticipate his doom, that, when he was summoned to the scaffold the following day, he had not even prepared a black suit,—a circumstance which he much regretted, since he "might be said to have died with more decency."

The following is the letter which he wrote, and which he addressed to a certain nobleman.

"My very good Lord,

"Your Lordship has interested yourself so far in mine, and the lords, my fellow prisoners' behalf, that I should be the greatest criminal now breathing, should I, whether the result of your generous intercession be life or death, be neglectful of paying my acknowledgments for that act of compassion.

"We have already discoursed of the motives that induced me to take arms against the Prince now in possession of the throne, when you did me the honour of a visit three days since in my prison here; I shall therefore wave that point, and lament my unhappiness for joining in the rest of the lords in pleading guilty, in the hopes of that mercy, which the Generals Wills and Carpenter will do us the justice to say was promised us by both of them. Mr. Piggot and Mr. Eyres, the two lawyers employed by us, advised us to this plea, the avoiding of which might have given us further time for looking after the concerns of another life, though it had ended in the same sentence of losing this which we now lie under. Thanks be to the Divine Majesty, to whose infinite mercy as King of Kings, I recommend myself in hopes of forgiveness, tho' it shall be my fate to fail of it here on earth. Had the House of Commons thought fit to have received our petition with the same candour as yours has done, and recommended us to the Prince, we might have entertained some hopes of life; but the answer from St. James's is such as to make us have little or no thoughts of it.

"Under these dismal apprehensions, then, of approaching dissolution, which, I thank my God for his holy guidance, I have made due preparation for, give me leave to tell you, that howsoever I have been censured on account of the family of the Gordons, which I am an unhappy branch of, that I have ever lived and will die in the profession of the Protestant religion, and that I abhor all king-killing doctrines that are taught by the church of Rome as dangerous and absurd. And though I have joined with some that have taken arms, of that persuasion, no other motive but that of exercising to the person called the Pretender, whom I firmly believe to be the son of the late King James the Second, and in defence of whose title I am now going to be a sacrifice, has induced me to it. Your Lordship will remember the papers I have left with you, and deliver them to my son. They may be of use to his future conduct in life, when these eyes of mine are closed in death, which I could have wished might have stolen upon me in the ordinary course of nature, and not by the hand of the executioner. But as my blessed Saviour and Redeemer suffered an ignominious and cruel death, and the Son of God, made flesh, did not disdain to have his feet nailed to the Cross for the sins of the world; so may I, poor miserable sinner, as far as human nature will allow, patiently bear with the hands of violence, that I expect suddenly to be stretched out against me.

"Your Lordship will also, provided there is no hopes of a reprieve this night, make me acquainted with it as soon as possible, that I may meet that fate with readiness which, in a state of uncertainty, I expect with uneasiness. I must also be pressing with your Lordship that if, in case of death, any paper under my name should come out as pretended to have been written by me, in the manner or form of a speech, you will not believe it to be genuine; for I, that am heartily sorry for disowning my principles in one spoken before your Lordship and the rest of my peers, will never add to that act of indiscretion by saying anything on the scaffold but my prayers for the forgiveness of my poor self and those that have brought me to be a spectacle to men and angels, especially since I must speak in my last moments according to the dictates of my conscience, and not prevaricate as I did before the Lords, for which I take shame to myself. And such a method of proceeding might do injury to my brother Carnwath, who, I am told, is in a much fairer way than I am of not being excluded from grace. I have nothing farther than to implore your Lordships to charge your memory with the recommendations I gave you to my wife and children, beseeching God that he will so sanctify their afflictions, that after the pains and terrors of this mortal life they may with me be translated to the regions of everlasting joy and happiness, to which blessed state of immortality your Lordship shall also, while I am living, be recommended in the prayers of, my very good Lord, your most affectionate kinsman,

Kenmure."

"From my prison, in the Tower of London, Feb. 23, 1715."

The following paper, the original of which is still in the hands of his descendants, was written by Lord Kenmure the night before his execution:—

"It having pleased the Almighty God to call me now to suffer a violent death, I adore the Divine Majesty, and cheerfully resign my soul and body to His hands, whose mercy is over all His works. It is my very great comfort that He has enabled me to hope, through the merits and by the blood of Jesus Christ, He will so purifie me how that I perish not eternally. I die a Protestant of the Church of England, and do from my heart forgive all my enemies. I thank God I cannot accuse my selfe of the sin of rebellion, however some people may by a mistaken notion think me guilty of it for all I did upon a laite occasione; and my only desire ever was to contribute my small endeavour towards the re-establishing my rightfull Sovereigne and the constitutione of my countrie to ther divine rights and loyall setlment; and by pleading guilty I meant no more then ane acknowledgment of my having been in armes, and (not being bred to the law) had no notion of my therby giving my assent to any other thing contained in that charge. I take God to wittnes, before whom I am very soon to apear, that I never had any desire to favour or to introduce Popery, and I have been all along fully satisfied that the King has given all the morall security for the Church of England that is possible for him in his circumstances. I owne I submitted myselfe to the Duck of Brunswick, justly expecting that humantity would have induced him to give me my life, which if he had done I was resolved for the future to have lived peaceably, and to have still reteaned a greatfull remembrance of so greatt a favour, and I am satisfied the King would never have desired me to have been in action for him after; but the caice is otherways. I pray God forgive those who thirst after blood. Had we been all putt to the sword immediatly upon our surrender, that might have born the construction of being don in the heatt and fury of passion; but now I am to die in cold blood, I pray God it be not imputed to them. May Almighty God restore injured right, and peace, and truth, and may He in mercy receave my soull.

Kenmure."[40]

It was decreed that the Earl of Derwentwater and the Viscount Kenmure should suffer on the same day. On the morning of the twenty-fourth of February, at ten o'clock, these noblemen were conducted to the Transport Office on Tower Hill, where they had separate rooms for their private devotions, and where such friends as desired to be admitted to them could take a last farewell. It had been settled that the Earl of Nithisdale should also suffer at the same time, but during the previous night he had escaped. Whether the condemned lords, who were so soon to exchange life for immortality, were made aware of that event or not, has not transpired. What must have been their emotions, supposing that they were conscious that one who had shared their prison, was likely to be restored to his liberty and to his family!

Lord Kenmure conducted himself with a manly composure and courage during this last trial of his submission and fortitude. His reserve, however, on the scaffold was remarkable. It proceeded from a fear, incidental to a conscientious mind, of saying anything inconsistent with his loyalty and principles; and from an apprehension, natural in the dying husband and father, of injuring the welfare of those whom he was to leave at the mercy of Government.

Lord Derwentwater suffered first: his last ejaculation, "Sweet Jesus be merciful unto me!" was cut short by the executioner severing his head from his body. Then, after the body and the head had been carried away, the scaffold was decently cleared, and fresh baize laid upon the block, and saw-dust strewed, that none of the blood might appear to shock the unhappy man who was to succeed the young and gallant Derwentwater in that tragic scene.

Lord Kenmure then advanced. He was formally delivered from the hands of one sheriff to those of the other, who had continued on the stage on which the scaffold was erected all the time, and who then addressed the condemned man. The first question related to the presence of clergy, and of other friends; and Lord Kenmure stated, in reply, that he had the assistance of two clergymen, and desired the presence of some friends who were below. These persons were then called up, and Lord Kenmure retired with his friends and the two clergymen to the south side of the stage, where they joined in penitential prayers, some of them written for the occasion, and others out of a printed book, not improbably the Book of Common Prayer, since Lord Kenmure was a Protestant and an Episcopalian. Lord Kenmure employed himself for some time in private supplications; and afterwards a clergyman, in a prayer, recommended the dying man to the mercy of God. A requiem completed the devotions of the unfortunate Kenmure.

Sir John Fryer, one of the sheriffs, then inquired if his Lordship had had sufficient time; and expressed his willingness to wait as long as Lord Kenmure wished. He also requested to know if Lord Kenmure had anything to say in private; to these questions a negative was returned.

The executioner now came forward. Lord Kenmure was accompanied by an undertaker, to whom the care of his body was to be entrusted; he was also attended by a surgeon, who directed the executioner how to perform his office, by drawing his finger over that part of the neck where the blow was to be given. Lord Kenmure then kissed the officers and gentlemen on the scaffold, some of them twice and thrice; and being again asked if he had anything to say, answered, "No." He had specified the Chevalier St. George in his prayers, and he now repeated his repentance for having pleaded guilty at his trial. He turned to the executioner, who, according to the usual form, asked forgiveness. "My Lord," said the man, "what I do, is to serve the nation; do you forgive me?" "I do," replied Lord Kenmure; and he placed the sum of eight guineas in the hands of the headsman. The final preparations were instantly made. Lord Kenmure pulled off, unassisted, his coat and waistcoat: one of his friends put a white linen cap on his head; and the executioner turned down the collar of his shirt, in order to avoid all obstacles to the fatal stroke. Then the executioner said, "My Lord, will you be pleased to try the block?" Lord Kenmure, in reply, laid down his head on the block, and spread forth his hands. The headsman instantly performed his office. The usual words, "This is the head of a traitor!" were heard as the executioner displayed the streaming and ghastly sight to the multitude.

The body of Lord Kenmure, after being first deposited at an undertaker's in Fleet Street, was carried to Scotland, and there buried among his ancestors. A letter was found in his pocket addressed to the Chevalier, recommending to him the care of his children; but it was suppressed.[41]

Thus died one of those men, whose honour, had his life been spared, might have been trusted never again to enter into any scheme injurious to the reigning Government; and whose death inspires, perhaps, more unmitigated regret than that of any of the Jacobite lords. Lord Kenmure's short-lived authority was sullied by no act of cruelty; and his last hours were those of a pious, resigned, courageous Christian. He was thrust into a situation as commander in the South, peculiarly unfitted for his mild, reserved, and modest disposition: and he was thus carried away from that private sphere which he was calculated to adorn.[42]

After her husband's death, the energies of Lady Kenmure were directed to secure the estates of Kenmure to her eldest son. She instantly posted down to Scotland, and reached Kenmure Castle in time to secure the most valuable papers. When the estates were put up for sale, she contrived, with the assistance of her friends, to raise money enough to purchase them; and lived so carefully as to be able to deliver them over to her son, clear of all debt, when he came of age. Four children were left dependent upon her exertions and maternal protection. Of these Robert, the eldest, died in 1741 unmarried, in his twenty-eighth year. James also died unmarried. Harriet, the only daughter, was married to her mother's cousin-german, Captain James Dalzell, uncle of Robert Earl of Carnwath. John Gordon, the second and only surviving son of Lord Kenmure, married, in 1744, the Lady Frances Mackenzie, daughter of the Earl of Seaforth; and from this marriage is descended the present Viscount Kenmure, to whom the estate was restored in 1824.

Lady Kenmure survived her husband sixty-one years. In 1747, she appears to have resided in Paris, where, after the commotions of 1745, she probably took refuge. Here, aged as she must have been, the spirit of justice, and the love of consistency were shewn in an anecdote related of her by Drummond of Bochaldy, who was mingled up in the cabals of the melancholy Court of St. Germains. It had become the fashion among Prince Charles's sycophants and favourites, to declare that it was not for the interest of the party that there should be any restoration while King James lived; this idea was diligently circulated by Kelly, a man described by Drummond as full of trick, falsehood, deceit, and imposition; and joined to these, having qualities that make up a thorough sycophant.

It was Kelly's fashion to toast the Prince in all companies first, and declare that the King could not last long. At one of the entertainments, which he daily frequented, at the house of Lady Redmond, the dinner, which usually took place at noon, being later than usual, Lady Kenmure, in making an afternoon's visit, came in before dinner was over. She was soon surprised and shocked to hear the company drinking the Prince's health without mentioning the King's. "Lady Kenmure," adds Drummond, "could not bear it, and said it was new to her to see people forget the duty due to the King." Kelly immediately answered, "Madam, you are old fashioned; these fashions are out of date." She said that she really was old fashioned, and hoped God would preserve her always sense and duty enough to continue so; on which she took a glass and said "God preserve our King, and grant him long life, and a happy reign over us!"[43]

Lady Kenmure died on the 16th of August, 1776, at Terregles, in Dumfriesshire, the seat of the Nithisdale family.

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WILLIAM MURRAY, MARQUIS OF TULLIBARDINE.

Among the nobility who hastened to the hunting-field of Braemar, was William Marquis of Tullibardine and eldest son of the first Duke of Athole.

The origin of the powerful family of Murray commences with Sir William De Moraira, who was Sheriff in Perth in 1222, in the beginning of the reign of King Alexander the Second. The lands of Tullibardine were obtained by the Knight in 1282, by his marriage with Adda, the daughter of Malise, Seneschal of Stratherio. After the death of William De Moraira, the name of this famous house merged into that of Murray, and its chieftains were for several centuries known by the appellation of Murray of Tullibardine. It was not until the seventeenth century that the family of Murray was ennobled, when James the Sixth created Sir John Murray Earl of Tullibardine.

The unfortunate subject of this memoir was the son of one of the most zealous promoters of the Revolution of 1688. His father, nearly connected in blood with William the Third, was appointed to the command of a regiment by that Monarch, and entrusted with several posts of great importance, which he retained in the time of Queen Anne, until a plot was formed to ruin him by Lord Lovat, who endeavoured to implicate the Duke in the affair commonly known by the name of the Queensbury plot. The Duke of Athole courted inquiry upon that occasion; but the business having been dropped without investigation, he resigned the office of Privy Seal, which he then held, and became a warm opponent of the Act of Union which was introduced into Parliament in 1705.

After this event the Duke of Athole retired to Perthshire, and there lived in great magnificence until, upon the Tories coming into power, he was chosen one of the representatives of the Scottish peerage in 1710, and afterwards a second time constituted Lord Privy Seal.

It is singular that, beholding his father thus cherished by Government, the Marquis of Tullibardine should have adopted the cause of the Chevalier: and not, as it appears, from a momentary caprice, but, if we take into consideration the conduct of his whole life, from a fixed and unalienable conviction. At the time of the first Rebellion, the Marquis was twenty-seven years of age; he may therefore be presumed to have been mature in judgment, and to have passed over the age of wild enthusiasm. The impulses of fanaticism had no influence in promoting the adoption of a party to which an Episcopalian as well as a Roman Catholic might probably be peculiarly disposed. Lord Tullibardine had been brought up a Presbyterian; his father was so firm and zealous in that faith, as to excite the doubts of the Tory party, to whom he latterly attached himself, of his sincerity in their cause. According to Lord Lovat, the arch-enemy of the Athole family, the Duke had not any considerable portion of that quality in his character, which Lord Lovat represents as one compound of meanness, treachery, and revenge, and attributes the hatred with which Athole persecuted the brave and unfortunate Duke of Argyle, to the circumstance of his having received a blow from that nobleman before the whole Court at Edinburgh, without having the spirit to return the insult.[44]

It appears, from the same authority, that the loyalty which the Duke of Athole professed towards King William was of a very questionable description. It becomes, indeed, very difficult to ascertain what were really the Duke of Athole's political tenets. Under these conflicting and unsettled opinions the young Marquis of Tullibardine was reared.

There seems little reason to doubt that his father, the Duke of Athole, continued to act a double part in the troublous days which followed the accession of George the First. It was, of course, of infinite importance to Government to secure the allegiance of so powerful a family as that of Murray, the head of whom was able to bring a body of six thousand men into the field. It nevertheless soon appeared that the young heir of the house of Athole had imbibed very different sentiments to those with which it was naturally supposed a nobleman, actually in office at that time, would suffer in his eldest son. The first act of the Marquis was to join the Earl of Mar with two thousand men, clansmen from the Highlands, and with fourteen hundred of the Duke of Athole's tenants;[45] his next, to proclaim the Chevalier King. Almost simultaneously, and whilst his tenantry were following their young leader to the field, the Duke of Athole was proclaiming King George at Perth.[46] The Duke was ordered, meantime, by the authorities, to remain at his Castle of Blair to secure the peace of the county, of which he was Lord-Lieutenant.

The Marquis of Tullibardine's name appears henceforth in most of the events of the Rebellion. There exists little to shew how he acquitted himself in the engagement of Sherriff Muir, where he led several battalions to the field; but he shewed his firmness and valour by remaining for some time at the head of his vassals, after the unhappy contest of 1715 was closed by the ignominious flight of the Chevalier. All hope of reviving the Jacobite party being then extinct for a time, the Marquis escaped to France, where he remained in tranquillity for a few years; but his persevering endeavours to aid the Stuart cause were only laid aside, and not abandoned.

During his absence, the fortunes of the house of Athole sustained no important change. The office of Privy Seal was, it is true, taken from the Duke and given to the Marquis of Annandale; but by the favour of Government the estates escaped forfeiture, and during the very year in which the Rebellion occurred, the honours and lands which belonged to the unfortunate Tullibardine were vested, by the intercession of his father, in a younger son, Lord James Murray. The effect of this may have been to render the Marquis still more determined in his adherence to the Stuart line. He was not, however, the only member of the house of Murray who participated in the Jacobite cause.

No less consistent in his opinions than the Marquis of Tullibardine, William, the second Lord Nairn, came forward to espouse the cause of the Stuarts. This nobleman was the uncle of Lord Tullibardine, and bore, before his marriage with Margaret, only daughter of the first Lord Nairn, the appellation of Lord William Murray. The title was, however, settled by patent upon him and his heirs; and this obligation, conferred by Charles the Second, was bestowed upon one whose gratitude and devotion to the line of Stuart ceased only with his life. Lord Nairn had been educated to the naval service, and had distinguished himself for bravery. He refused the oaths at the Revolution, and consequently did not take his seat in Parliament. His wife, Margaret, appears to have shared in her husband's enthusiasm, and to have resembled him in courage. In the Earl of Mar's correspondence frequent allusion is made to her under the name of Mrs. Mellor. "I wish," says the Earl on one occasion, "our men had her spirit." And the remembrances which he sends her, and his recurrence to her, show how important a personage Lady Nairn must have been. Aided by these two influential relations, the Marquis of Tullibardine had engaged in the dangerous game which cost Scotland so dear. Upon the close of the Rebellion, Lord Nairn was not so fortunate as to escape to France with his relation. He was taken prisoner, tried, and condemned to be executed. At his trial he pleaded guilty; but he was respited, and afterwards pardoned. His wife and children were eventually provided for out of the forfeited estate; but neither punishment nor favour prevented his sons from sharing in the Rebellion of 1745.

Another individual who participated in the Rebellion of 1715 was Lord Charles Murray, the fourth surviving son of the Duke of Athole, and one of those gallant, fine-tempered soldiers, whose graceful bearing and good qualities win upon the esteem even of their enemies. At the beginning of the Rebellion, Lord Charles was an officer on half-pay in the British service; he quickly joined the insurgent army, and obtained the command of a regiment. Such was his determination to share all dangers and difficulties with his troops, that he never could be prevailed upon to ride at the head of his regiment, but went in his Highland dress, on foot, throughout the marches. This young officer crossed the Forth with General Mackintosh, and joined the Northumbrian insurgents in the march to Preston. At the siege of that town Lord Charles defended one of the barriers, and repelled Colonel Dormer's brigade from the attack. He was afterwards made prisoner at the surrender, tried by a court-martial, and sentenced to be shot as a deserter from the British army. He was, however, subsequently reprieved, but died only five years afterwards.[47]

The Marquis of Tullibardine was not, however, the only Jacobite member of the family who had been spared after the Rebellion of 1715, to renew his efforts in the cause. His brother, the celebrated Lord George Murray, was also deeply engaged in the same interests. In 1719, the hopes of the party were revived by the war with Spain, and their invasion of Great Britain was quietly planned by the Duke of Ormond, who hastened to Madrid to hold conferences with Alberoni. Shortly afterwards the Chevalier was received in that capital, and treated as King of England. In March, 1719, the ill-fated expedition under the Duke of Ormond was formed, and a fleet, destined never to reach its appointed place of rendezvous, sailed from Cadiz.

The enterprise met with the usual fate of all the attempts formed in favour of the Stuarts. With the exception of two frigates, none of the ships proceeded farther than Cape Finisterre, where they were disabled by a storm. These two vessels reached the coast of Scotland, having on board of them the Earl of Seaforth, the Earl Marischal, the Marquis of Tullibardine,[48] three hundred Spaniards, and arms for two thousand men. They landed at the island of Lewes, but found the body of the Jacobite party resolved not to move until all the forces under Ormond should be assembled. During this interval of suspense, disputes between the Marquis of Tullibardine and the Lord Marischal, which should have the command, produced the usual effects among a divided and factious party, of checking exertion by diminishing confidence.

It appears, however, that the Marquis had a commission from the Chevalier to invade Scotland; in virtue of which he left the island of Lewes, whence he had for some time been carrying on a correspondence with the Highland chieftains, and landed with the three hundred Spaniards on the main land. The Ministers of George the First lost no time in repelling this attempt by a foreign power, and it is singular that they employed Dutch troops for the purpose; and that Scotland, for the first time, beheld her rights contested by soldiers speaking different languages, and natives of different continental regions. The Government had brought over two thousand Dutch soldiers, and six battalions of Imperial troops from the Austrian Netherlands, and these were now sent down to Inverness, where General Wightman was stationed. As soon as he was informed of the landing of the Spanish forces, that commander marched his troops to Glenshiel, a place between Fort Augustus and Benera. He attacked the invaders: the Highlanders were quickly repulsed and fled to their hills; the Spaniards were taken prisoners; but the Marquis of Tullibardine and the Earl of Seaforth escaped, and, retreating to the island of Lewes, again escaped to France.

During twenty-six years the Marquis of Tullibardine, against whom an act of attainder was passed, remained in exile. He appears to have avoided taking any active part in political affairs. "These seven or eight years," he says in a letter addressed to the Chevalier, "have sufficiently shewn me how unfit I am for meddling with the deep concerns of state."[49] He resided at Puteaux, a small town near Paris, until called imperatively from his retreat.

During the period of inaction, no measures were taken to reconcile those whom he had left, the more gallant portion of the Highlanders, to the English Government. "The state of arms," says Mr. Home, "was allowed to remain the same; the Highlanders lived under their chiefs, in arms; the people of England and the Lowlanders of Scotland lived, without arms, under their sheriffs and magistrates; so that every rebellion was a war carried on by the Highlanders against the standing army; and a declaration of war with France or Spain, which required the service of the troops abroad, was a signal for a rebellion at home. Strange as it may seem, it was actually so."[50]

During the interval between the two Rebellions of 1715 and 1745, the arts of peace were cultivated in England, and the national wealth augmented; but no portion of that wealth altered the habits of the Highland chieftains, who, looking continually for another rebellion, estimated their property by the number of men whom they could bring into the field. An anecdote, illustrative of this peculiarity, is told of Macdonald of Keppoch, who was killed at the battle of Culloden. Some low-country gentlemen were visiting him in 1740, and were entertained with the lavish hospitality of a Highland home. One of these guests ventured to ask of the landlord, what was the rent of his estate. "I can bring five hundred men into the field," was the reply. It was estimated, about this time, that the whole force which could be raised by the Highlanders amounted to no more than twelve thousand men; yet, with this inconsiderable number, the Jacobites could shake the British throne.

The danger which might arise to the Government, in case of a foreign war, from the Highlanders, was foreseen by Duncan Forbes of Culloden, and a scheme was formed by that good and great man, and communicated to Lord Hay, adapted to reconcile the chieftains to the sovereignty of the house of Hanover, and at the same time to preserve the peace of the country. This was, to raise four or five Highland regiments, appointing an English or Scotch officer of undoubted loyalty to King George, to be colonel of each regiment, and naming all the inferior officers from a list drawn up by President Forbes, and comprising all the chiefs and chieftains of the disaffected clans. Most unhappily this plan was rejected. Had it been adopted, the melancholy events of the last Rebellion might not have left an indelible stain upon our national character. The Highlanders, once enlisted in the cause of Government, would have been true to their engagements; and the fidelity of the officers, when serving abroad, would have been a guarantee for the good conduct of their relations at home. It was not, however, deemed practicable; and the energies of a determined and unemployed people were again brought into active force. It is said to have met with the decided approbation of Sir Robert Walpole, but it was negatived by the Cabinet.[51]

The year 1739 witnessed the revival of the Jacobite Association, which had been annihilated by the attainders and exiles of its members after the last Rebellion. The declaration of war between Spain and England, induced a belief that hostilities with France would follow; and accordingly, in 1740, seven persons of distinction met at Edinburgh, and signed an association, which was to be carried to the Chevalier St. George at Rome, together with a list of those chiefs and chieftains who were ready to join the association, if a body of French troops should land in Scotland. This was the commencement of the second Rebellion; and it was seconded with as pure a spirit of devotion to the cause, as exalted an enthusiasm, as if none had bled on the scaffold in the previous reign, or attainders and forfeitures had never visited with poverty and ruin the adherents of James Stuart.

The Marquis of Tullibardine was selected as one of the attendants of Charles Edward, in the perilous enterprise of the invasion. He was the person of the highest rank among those who accompanied the gallant and unfortunate adventurer in his voyage from the mouth of the Loire to Scotland, in a little vessel, La Doutelle, with its escort of a ship of seven hundred tons, the Elizabeth. During this voyage the strictest incognito was preserved by the Prince, who was dressed in the habit of the Scotch College, at Paris, and who suffered his beard to grow, in order still better to disguise himself. At night the ship sailed without a light, except that which proceeded from the compass, and which was closely covered, the more effectually to defy pursuit. As it tracked the ocean, with its guardian, the Elizabeth, the sight of a British man-of-war off Lizard Point excited the ardour of the youthful hero on board of La Doutelle. Captain D'Eau, the commander of the Elizabeth, determined to attack the English ship, and requested the aid of Mr. Walsh, who commanded the Doutelle. His request was denied, probably from the responsibility which would have been incurred by Walsh, if he had endangered the safety of the vessel in which the Prince sailed. The attack was therefore made by the brave D'Eau alone. It was succeeded by a fight of two hours, during which the Doutelle looked on, while the Prince vainly solicited Walsh to engage in the action. The commander refused, and threatened the royal youth to send him to his cabin if he persisted. Both ships were severely damaged in the encounter and La Doutelle was obliged to proceed on her way alone, the Elizabeth returning to France to refit.

On the twenty-first of July, La Doutelle approached the remote range of the Hebrides, comprehending Lewes, Uist, and Barra, often called, from being seen together, the Long Island. As the vessel neared the shore, a large Hebridean eagle hovered over the masts. The Marquis of Tullibardine observed it, and attributed to its appearance that importance to which the imagination of his countrymen gives to such incidents; yet, not wishing to appear superstitious, or to show what is called a "Highland freit," it was not until the bird had followed the ship's course for some time, that he drew the attention of the Prince to the circumstance. As they returned on deck after dinner, he pointed out the bird to Charles Edward, observing at the same time, "Sir, I hope this is a happy omen, and promises good things to us; the king of birds is come to welcome your Royal Highness, on your arrival in Scotland."

The Prince and his followers landed, on the twenty-third of July, at the island of Eriska, belonging to Clanranald, and situated between the Isles of Barra and of South Uist, their voyage having been accomplished in eighteen days. Here all the party landed, with the exception of the Marquis, who was laid up with the gout, and unable to move. His condition was supposed to be one of peril, for two ships had been espied, and the Prince and his associates hurried off, with all the expedition they could, to shore. The long boat was got out, and sent to procure a pilot, who was discovered in the person of the hereditary piper of Clanranald, who piloted the precious freight safely to shore. The two vessels which had produced so much alarm, proved afterwards to be only merchant-vessels.

In these "malignant regions," as Dr. Johnson describes them, referring to the severity of the climate and the poverty of the soil, Prince Charles and his adherents were lodged in a small country house, with a hole in the roof for a chimney, and a fire in the middle of the room. The young adventurer, reared among the delicacies of the palace at Albano, was often obliged to go to the door for fresh air. "What a plague is the matter with that fellow," exclaimed Angus Macdonald, the landlord, "that he can neither sit nor stand still, nor keep within nor without doors?" The night, it must be observed, was unusually wet and stormy, so that the Prince had no alternative between smoke and rain. The pride of the Scotch, in this remote region, was exemplified in another trifling occurrence: The Prince, who was less fatigued than the rest of the party, with that consideration for others, and disregard of his own personal comfort, which formed at this period so beautiful a part of his character, insisted that his attendants should retire to rest. He took a particular care of Sir Thomas Sheridan, his tutor, and examined closely the bed appropriated to him, in order to see that it was well aired. The landlord, indignant at this investigation, called out to him, "That the bed was so good, and the sheets were so good, that a prince might sleep in them."[52]

The farm-house in which this little incident took place, and which first received the Prince, who was destined to occupy so great a variety of dwellings in Scotland, was situated in Borrodale, a wild, mountainous tract of country, which forms a tongue of land between two bays. Borrodale, being difficult of access, was well-chosen as the landing-place of Charles; whilst around, in most directions, were the well-wishers to his cause.

The Marquis of Tullibardine accompanied Charles in his progress until the Prince landed at Glenfinnin,[53] which is situated about twenty miles from Fort William, and forms the outlet from Moidart to Lochaber; here the standard of Charles Edward was unfurled. The scene in which this ill-omened ceremonial took place is a deep and narrow valley, in which the river Finnin runs between high and craggy mountains, which are inaccessible to every species of carriage, and only to be surmounted by travellers on foot. At each end of the vale is a lake of about twelve miles in length, and behind the stern mountains which enclose the glen, are salt-water lakes, one of them an arm of the sea. The river Finnin empties itself into the Lake of Glenshiel, at the extremity of the glen. On the eighteenth of August Prince Charles crossed this lake, slept at Glensiarick, and on the nineteenth proceeded to Glenfinnin.

When Charles landed in the glen, he gazed around anxiously for Cameron of Lochiel, the younger, whom he expected to have joined him. He looked for some time in vain; that faithful adherent was not then in sight, nor was the glen, as the Prince had expected, peopled by any of the clansmen whose gathering he had expected. A few poor people from the little knot of hovels, which was called the village, alone greeted the ill-starred adventurer. Disconcerted, Prince Charles entered one of the hovels, which are still standing, and waited there for about two hours. At the end of that time, the notes of the pibroch were heard, and presently, descending from the summit of a hill, appeared the Camerons, advancing in two lines, each of them three men deep. Between the lines walked the prisoners of war, who had been taken some days previously near Loch Lochiel.

The Prince, exhilarated by the sight of six or seven hundred brave Highlanders, immediately gave orders for the standard to be unfurled.

The office of honour was entrusted to the Marquis of Tullibardine, on account of his high rank and importance to the cause. The spot chosen for the ceremony was a knoll in the centre of the vale. Upon this little eminence the Marquis stood, supported on either side by men, for his health was infirm, and what we should now call a premature old age was fast approaching. The banner which it was his lot to unfurl displayed no motto, nor was there inscribed upon it the coffin and the crown which the vulgar notion in England assigned to it. It was simply a large banner of red silk, with a white space in the middle. The Marquis held the staff until the Manifesto of the Chevalier and the Commission of Regency had been read. In a few hours the glen in which this solemnity had been performed, was filled not only with Highlanders, but with ladies and gentlemen to admire the spectacle. Among them was the celebrated Miss, or, more properly, Mrs. Jeanie Cameron, whose passionate attachment for the Prince rendered her so conspicuous in the troublous period of 1745. The description given of her in Bishop Forbes's Jacobite Memoirs destroys much of the romance of the story commonly related of her. "She is a widow," he declares, "nearer fifty than forty years of age. She is a genteel, well-looking, handsome woman, with a pair of pretty eyes, and hair black as jet. She is of a very sprightly genius, and is very agreeable in conversation. She was so far from accompanying the Prince's army, that she went off with the rest of the spectators as soon as the army marched; neither did she ever follow the camp, nor ever was with the Prince in private, except when he was in Edinburgh."[54]

Soon after the unfurling of the standard, we find the Marquis of Tullibardine writing to Mrs. Robertson of Lude, a daughter of Lord Nairn, and desiring her to put the Castle of Blair into some order, and to do honours of the place when the Prince should come there. The Marquis, it is here proper to mention, was regarded by all the Jacobites as still the head of his house, and uniformly styled by that party the "Duke of Athole," yet he seldom adopted the title himself; and in only one or two instances in his correspondence does the signature of Athole occur.[55]

On the thirty-first of August the Prince visited the famous Blair Athole, or Field of Athole, the word Blair signifying a pleasant land, and being descriptive of that beautiful vale situated in the midst of wild and mountainous scenery.

After riding along a black moor, in sight of vast mountains, the castle, a plain massive white house, appears in view. It is seated on an eminence above a plain watered by the Gary, called, by Pennant, "an outrageous stream, which laves and rushes along vast beds of gravel on the valley below."

The approach to Blair Castle winds up a very steep and high hill, and through a great birch wood, forming a most picturesque scene, from the pendent form of the boughs waving with the wind from the bottom to the utmost summits of the mountains. On attaining the top, a view of the beautiful little Straith, fertile and wooded, with the river in the middle, delights the beholder. The stream, after meandering in various circles, suddenly swells into a lake that fills the vale from side to side; this lake is about three miles long, and retains the name of the river.

When Prince Charles visited Blair, it was a fortified house, and capable of holding out a siege afterwards against his adherents. Its height was consequently lowered, but the inside has been finished with care by the ducal owner. The environs of this beautiful place are thus described by the graphic pen of Pennant,[56] whose description of them, having been written in 1769, is more likely to apply to the state in which it was when Prince Charles beheld it, than that of any more modern traveller.

"The Duke of Athoel's estate is very extensive, and the country populous; while vassalage existed, the chieftain could raise two or three thousand fighting-men, and leave sufficient at home to take care of the ground. The forests, or rather chases, (for they are quite naked,) are very extensive, and feed vast numbers of stags, which range at certain times of the year in herds of five hundred. Some grow to a great size. The hunting of these animals was formerly after the manner of an Eastern monarch. Thousands of vassals surrounded a great tract of country, and drove the deer to the spot where the chieftains were stationed, who shot them at their leisure.

"Near the house is a fine walk surrounding a very deep glen, finely wooded, but in dry weather deficient in water at the bottom; but on the side of the walk on the rock is a small crystalline fountain, inhabited at that time by a pair of Naiads, in the form of golden fish.

"In a spruce-fir was a hang-nest of some unknown bird, suspended at the four corners to the boughs; it was open at top an inch and a half in diameter, and two deep; the sides and bottom thick, the materials moss, worsted, and birch-bark, lined with hair and feathers. The stream affords the parr,[57] a small species of trout seldom exceeding eight inches in length, marked on the sides with nine large bluish spots, and on the lateral line with small red ones. No traveller should omit visiting Yorke Cascade, a magnificent cataract, amidst most suitable scenery, about a mile distant from the house. This country is very mountainous, has no natural woods, except of birch; but the vast plantations that begin to cloath the hills will amply supply these defects."[58]

With what sensations must the Marquis of Tullibardine have approached this beautiful and princely territory, from which he had been excluded, his vassals becoming the vassals of a younger brother, and he a proscribed and aged man, visiting as an alien the home of his youth!

Sanguine hopes, however, perhaps mitigated the bitterness of the reflections with which the faithful and disinterested Marquis of Tullibardine once more found himself within the precincts of his proud domain.

Several anecdotes are told of Prince Charles at Blair; among others, "that when the Prince was at the Castle, he went into the garden, and taking a walk upon the bowling-green, he said he had never seen a bowling-green before; upon which Mrs. Robertson of Lude called for some bowls that he might see them, but he told her that he had had a present of bowls sent him, as a curiosity, to Rome from England."[59]

On the second of September, the Prince left Blair and went to the house of Lude, where he was very cheerful, and took his share in several dances, such as minuets and Highland reels; the first reel the Prince called for was, "This is no' mine ain House;" he afterwards commanded a Strathspey minuet to be danced.

On the following day, while dining at Dunkeld, some of the company happened to observe what a thoughtful state his father would now be in from the consideration of those dangers and difficulties which he had to encounter, and remarked that upon this account he was much to be pitied, because his mind must be much upon the rack. The Prince replied, that he did not half so much pity his father as his brother;[60] "for," (he said) "the King has been inured to disappointments and distresses, and has learnt to bear up easily under the misfortunes of life; but, poor Harry!—his young and tender years make him much to be pitied, for few brothers love as we do."

On the fourth of September, Prince Charles entered Perth; the Marquis of Tullibardine, as it appears from several letters addressed to him by Lord George Murray, who wrote from Perth, remained at Blair, but only, as it is evident from the following extract from a letter by Lord George Murray, whilst awaiting the arrangement of active operations. On the twenty-second of September he received a commission from the Prince, constituting and appointing him Commander-in-Chief of the forces north of the Forth; the active duties of the post were, however, fulfilled by Lord George Murray, who writes in the character of a general:[61]

"Dear Brother,

"Things vary so much from time to time, that I can say nothing certain as yet, but refer you to the enclosed letter; but depend upon having another express from me with you before Monday night. But in the meantime you must resolve to be ready to march on Tuesday morning, by Keinacan and Tay Bridge, so as to be at Crieff on Wednesday, and even that way, if you do your best, you will be half a mark behind; but you will be able to make that up on Thursday, when I reckon we may meet at Dumblane, or Doun; but of this more fully in my next. It is believed for certain, that Cope will embark at Aberdeen.

"I hope the meal was with you this day, thirty-five bolls,—for it was at Invar last night. It shall be my study to have more meal with you on Monday night, for you must distribute a peck a man; and cost what it will, there must be frocks made to each man to contain a peck or two for the men to have always with them.

"Buy linen, yarn, or anything, for these frocks are of absolute necessity—nothing can be done without them. His Royal Highness desires you to acquaint Glenmoriston and Glenco, if they come your way of this intended march, so that they may go by Taybridge (if you please, with you), and what meal you can spare let them have. You may please tell your own people that there is a project to get arms for them. Yours. Adieu.

"George Murray."

From his age and infirmities, the Marquis was precluded from taking an active part in the long course of events which succeeded the unfurling of the standard at Glenfinnin. He appears to have exercised a gentle, but certain sway over the conduct of others, and especially to have possessed a control over the high-spirited Lord George Murray, whose conduct he did not always approve.[62]

Whilst at Blair, the Marquis was saluted as Duke of Athole by all who entered his house; but the honour was accompanied by some mortifications. His younger brother, the Duke of Athole, had taken care to carry away everything that could be conveyed, and to drive off every animal that could be driven from his territory. The Marquis had therefore great difficulty in providing even a moderate entertainment for the Prince; whilst the army, now grown numerous, were almost starving. "The priests," writes a contemptuous opponent, "never had a fitter opportunity to proclaim a general fast than the present. No bull of the Pope's would ever have been more certain of finding a most exact and punctual obedience."

After the battle of Culloden had sealed the fate of the Jacobites, the Marquis of Tullibardine was forced, a second time, to seek a place of refuge. He threw himself, unhappily, upon the mercy of one who little deserved the confidence which was reposed in his honour, or merited the privilege of succouring the unfortunate. The following are the particulars of his fate:—

About three weeks after the battle of Culloden the Marquis of Tullibardine traversed the moors and mountains through Strathane in search of a place of safety and repose: he had become a very infirm old man, and so unfit for travelling on horseback, that he had a saddle made on purpose, somewhat like a chair, in which he rode in the manner ladies usually do.

On arriving in the vicinity of Loch Lomond he was quite worn out, and recollecting that a daughter of the family of Polmain (who were connected with his own) was married to Buchanan of Drumakiln, who lived in a detached peninsula, running out into the lake, the fainting fugitive thought, on these accounts, that the place might be suitable for a temporary refuge. The Marquis was attended by a French secretary, two servants of that nation, and two or three Highlanders, who had guided him through the solitary passes of the mountains. Against the judgment of these faithful attendants, he bent his course to the Ross, for so the house of Drumakiln is called, where the Laird of Drumakiln was living with his son. The Marquis, after alighting, begged to have a private interview with his cousin, the wife of Drumakiln; he told this lady he was come to put his life into her hands, and what, in some sense, he valued more than life, a small casket,[63] which he delivered to her, intreating her, whatever became of him, that she would keep that carefully till demanded in his name, as it contained papers of consequence to the honour and safety of many other persons. Whilst he was thus talking, the younger Drumakiln rudely broke in upon him, and snatching away the casket, he said he would secure it in a safe place, and went out. Meantime the French secretary and the servants were watchful and alarmed at seeing the father and son walking in earnest consultation, and observing horses saddled and dispatched with an air of mystery, whilst every one appeared to regard them with compassion. All this time the Marquis was treated with seeming kindness; but his attendants suspected some snare. They burst into loud lamentations, and were described by some children, who observed them, to be 'greeting and roaring like women.' This incident the lady of Drumakiln (who was a person of some capacity) afterwards told her neighbours as a strange instance of effeminacy in these faithful adherents.

At night the secretary went secretly to his master's bedside, and assured him there was treachery. The Marquis answered he could believe no gentleman capable of such baseness, and at any rate he was incapable of escaping through such defiles as they had passed; he told him in that case it could only aggravate his sorrow to see him also betrayed; and advised him to go off immediately, which he did. Early in the morning a party from Dumbarton, summoned for that purpose, arrived to carry the Marquis away prisoner. He bore his fate with calm magnanimity. The fine horses which he brought with him were detained, and he and one attendant who remained were mounted on some horses belonging to Drumakiln. Such was the general sentiment of disgust with Drumakiln, that the officer who commanded the party taunted that gentleman in the bitterest manner, and the commander of Dumbarton Castle, who treated his noble prisoner with the utmost respect and compassion, regarded Drumakiln with the coldest disdain. The following anecdotes of the odium which Drumakiln incurred, are related by Mrs. Grant.[64]

"Very soon after the Marquis had departed, young Drumakiln mounted the Marquis's horse, (the servant riding another which had belonged to that nobleman,) and set out to a visit to his father-in-law Polmaise.

"When he alighted, he gave his horse to a groom who, knowing the Marquis well, recognised him—'Come in poor beast (said he); times are changed with you since you carried a noble Marquis, but you shall always be treated well here for his sake.' Drumakiln ran in to his father-in-law, complaining that his servant insulted him. Polmaise made no answer, but turning on his heel, rang the bell for the servant, saying, 'That gentleman's horses.'

"After this and several other rebuffs the father and son began to shrink from the infamy attached to this proceeding. There was at that time only one newspaper published at Edinburgh, conducted by the well-known Ruddiman; to this person the elder Drumakiln addressed a letter or paragraph to be inserted in his paper, bearing that on such a day the Marquis surrendered to him at his house. This was regularly dated at Ross: very soon after the father and son went together to Edinburgh, and waiting on the person appointed to make payments for affairs of this nature, demanded their reward. It should have been before observed, that the Government were at this time not at all desirous to apprehend the Marquis, though his name was the first inserted in the proclamation. This capture indeed greatly embarrassed them, as it would be cruel to punish, and partial to pardon him. The special officer desired Drumakiln to return the next day for the money. Meanwhile he sent privately to Ruddiman and examined him about the paragraph already mentioned. They found it on his file, in the old Laird's handwriting, and delivered it to the commissioner. The commissioner delivered the paragraph, in his own handwriting, up to the elder, saying, 'There is an order to the Treasury, which ought to satisfy you,' and turned away from him with marked contempt."

Soon after the younger laird was found dead in his bed, to which he had retired in usual health. Of five children which he left, it would shock humanity to relate the wretched lives, and singular, and untimely deaths, of whom, indeed, it might be said,

"On all the line a sudden vengeance waits,
And frequent hearses shall besiege their gates."

And they were literally considered by all the neighbourhood as caitiffs,

"Whose breasts the furies steel'd
And curst with hearts unknowing how to yield."—Pope.

The blasting influence of more than dramatic justice, or of corroding infamy, seemed to reach every branch of this devoted family. After the extinction of the direct male heirs, a brother, who was a captain in the army, came home to take possession of the property. He was a person well-respected in life, and possessed some talent, and much amenity of manners. The country gentlemen, however, shunned and disliked him, on account of the existing prejudice. This person, thus shunned and slighted, seemed to grow desperate, and plunged into the lowest and most abandoned profligacy. It is needless to enter into a detail of crimes which are hastening to desired oblivion. It is enough to observe that the signal miseries of this family have done more to impress the people of that district with a horror of treachery, and a sense of retributive justice, than volumes of the most eloquent instruction could effect. On the dark question relative to temporal judgments it becomes us not to decide. Yet it is of some consequence, in a moral view, to remark how much all generous emulation, all hope of future excellence, is quenched in the human mind by the dreadful blot of imputed infamy."[65]

This account of the retributive justice of public opinion which was visited upon Drumakiln, is confirmed by other authority.[66] It is consolatory to reflect that the Marquis of Tullibardine, after a life spent in an honest devotion to the cause which he believed to be just, was spared, by a merciful release, from the horrors of a public trial, and of a condemnation to the scaffold, which age and ill-health were not sufficient pleas to avert. After remaining some weeks in confinement at Dumbarton, he was carried to Edinburgh, where he remained until the thirteenth of May, 1746. He was then put on board the Eltham man-of-war, lying in the Leith Roads, bound for London. His health all this time was declining, yet he had the inconvenience of a long sea voyage to sustain, for the Eltham went north for other prisoners before it sailed for London. But at length the Marquis reached his last home, the Tower, where he arrived on the twenty-first of June. He survived only until the ninth of July.

Little is known of this unfortunate nobleman, except what is honourable, consistent, and amiable. He had almost ceased to be Scotch, except in his attachments, and could scarcely write his own language. He seems to have been generally respected; and he bore his reverses of fortune with calmness and fortitude. In his last moments he is said to have declared, that although he had been as much attached to the cause of James Stuart as any of his adherents, if he might now advise his countrymen, it should be never more to enter into rebellious measures, for, having failed in the last attempt, every future one would be hopeless.[68]

The Marquis died in the fifty-eighth year of his age, and was buried in the chapel in the Tower, which has received few more honest men, or public characters more true to the principles which they have professed.

The following letter, written in March, 1746, during the siege of Blair Castle, when it was commanded by a garrison under Sir Andrew Agnew, and addressed to Lord George Murray, shows the strong sense which the Marquis entertained of what was due to his country and his cause.

"Brother George,

"Since, contrary to the rules of right reason, you was pleased to tell me a sham story about the expedition to Blair, without further ceremony for me, you may now do what the gentlemen of the country think fit with the castle: I am in no concern about it. Our great-great-grandfather, grandfather, and father's pictures will be an irreparable loss on blowing up the house; but there is no comparison to be made with these faint images of our forefathers and the more necessary publick service, which requires we should sacrifice everything that can valuably contribute towards the country's safety, as well as materially advancing the royal cause. Pray give my kind service to all valuable friends, to which I can add nothing but that, in all events, you may be assured I shall ever be found with just regard, dear brother, your most affectionate brother and humble servant."

"Inverness,
"March 26, 1746."

"PS. At the upper end of the door of the old stable, there was formerly a gate which had a portcullis into the castle; it is half built up and boarded over on the stable side, large enough to hold a horse at hack and manger. People that don't know the place imagine it may be much easier dug through than any other part of the wall, so as to make a convenient passage into the vaulted room, which is called the servants' hall."

Of the fate of this princely territory, and upon the fortunes of the family of which the Marquis of Tullibardine was so respectable a member, much remains to be related; but it appertains more properly to the life of the warlike and ambitious brother of the Marquis, the celebrated Lord George Murray.

---

SIR JOHN MACLEAN.

The name Maclean, abbreviated from Mac Gillean, is derived from the founder of the clan, "Gillean n'a Tuaidh," Gillean of the Battle-axe, so called from his carrying with him as his ordinary weapon, a battle-axe. From this hero are descended the three principal families who compose the clan Maclean, who was also designated Gillean of Duart.

It is related of Gillean that, being one day engaged in a stag-hunt on the mountain of Bein't Sheala, and having wandered away from the rest of his party, the mountain became suddenly enveloped in a deep mist, and that he lost his track. For three days he wandered about; and, at length exhausted, threw himself under the shelter of a cranberry bush, previously fixing the handle of his battle-axe in the earth. He was discovered by his party, who had been vainly endeavouring to find him, insensible on the ground, with his arm round the handle of the battle-axe, whilst the head of the weapon rose above the bush. Hence, probably, the origin of the crest used by the clan Maclean, the battle-axe surrounded by a laurel-branch.[69]

To Gillean of the Battle-axe various origins have been ascribed; truly is it observed, that "there is little wisdom in attempting to thread the mazes of fanciful and traditionary genealogies."[70] Like other families of importance, in feudal times, the Macleans had their seneachie, or historian; and, by the last of these, Dr. John Beaton, the descent, in regular order, from Aonaglius Turmi Teanebrach, a powerful monarch of Ireland, to Fergus the First, of Scotland, is traced.

A tradition had indeed prevailed, that the founder, of the house of Maclean was a son of Fitzgerald, an Earl of Kildare,—a supposition which is contemptuously rejected by the historian of this ancient race. "In fact," he remarks, "from various sources, Gillean can be proved to have been in his grave, long before such a title as Earl of Kildare was known, and nearly two hundred years before the name of Fitzgerald existed."[71] It appears, indeed, undoubted, from ancient records and well-authenticated sources, that the origin of Gillean was derived from the source which has been stated.

When the lordship of the Isles was forfeited, the clan Maclean was divided into four branches, each of which held of the Lords of the Isles; these branches were the Macleans of Duart, the Macleans of Lochbuy, the Macleans of Coll, and the Macleans of Ardgour. Of these, the most important branch was the family of Duart, founded by Lachlan Maclean, surnamed Lubanich. This powerful chief obtained such an ascendant at the court of the Lord of the Isles, as to provoke the enmity of the Chief of Mackinnon, who, on the occasion of a stag-hunt, formed a plot to cut off Lachlan and his brother, Hector Maclean. But the conspiracy was discovered by its objects; Mackinnon suffered death at the hands of the two brothers for his design; and the Lord of the Isles, sailing in his galley towards his Castle of Ardtorinsh in Morven, was captured, and carried to Icolumb-kill, where he was obliged, sitting on the famous black rock of Iona, held sacred in those days, to swear that he would bestow in marriage upon Lachlan Lubanich his daughter Margaret, granddaughter, by her mother's side, of Robert the Second, King of Scotland: and with her, as a dowry, to give to the Lord of Duart, Eriska, with all its isles. The dowry demanded consisted of a towering rock, commanding an extensive view of the islands by which it is surrounded, and occupying a central situation among those tributaries.[72] From the bold and aspiring chief was Sir John Maclean of Duart descended. The marriage of Lachlan Lubanich with Margaret of the Isles took place in the year 1366.[73]

Between the time of Lachlan Lubanich and the birth of Sir John Maclean, the house of Duart encountered various reverses of fortune. It has been shown how the chief added the rock of Eriska to his possessions; in the course of the following century, a great part of the Isles of Mull and Tirey, with detached lands in Isla, Jura, Scarba, and in the districts of Morven, Lochaber, and Knapdale, were included in the estates of the chiefs of Duart, who rose, in the time of James the Sixth, to be among the most powerful of the families of the Hebrides. The principal seats of the chiefs of the Macleans were Duart and Aros Castles in Mull, Castle Gillean in Kerrara, on the coast of Lorn, and Ardtornish Castle in Morven. In 1632, on occasion of the visit of one of the chiefs, Lachlan, to the Court of Charles the First, he was created a Baronet of Nova Scotia, by the title of Sir Lachlan Maclean of Morven. But various circumstances, and more especially the enmity of the Argyle family, and the adherence of Maclean to the Stuarts, had contributed to the decline of their pre-eminence before the young chief, whose destiny it was to make his name known and feared at the court of England, had seen the light.

The family of Maclean in all its numerous and complicated branches, had been distinguished for loyalty and independence during the intervening centuries between the career of Gillean and the birth of that chieftain whose devotion to the Jacobite cause proved eventually the ruin of the house of Duart. Throughout the period of the Great Rebellion, and of the Protectorate, the chief of the Macleans had made immense sacrifices to support the interests of the King, and to bring his clan into the field. In the disgraceful transactions, by which it was agreed that Scotland should withdraw her troops from England upon the payment of four hundred thousand pounds, in full of all demands, the faithful Highland clans of the north and west, the Grahams, Macleans, Camerons, and many others, had no participation. One main actor in that bargain, by which a monarch was bought and sold, was the Marquis of Argyle, the enemy and terror of his Highland neighbours, the Macleans of Duart. Upon the suppression of the royal authority, domestic feuds were ripened into hostilities during the general anarchy; and few of the oppressed and harassed clans suffered more severely, or more permanently than the Macleans of Duart.

Archibald, the first Marquis of Argyle, fixed an indelible stain upon his memory by acts of unbridled licence and aggression, in relation to his Highland neighbours; the unfortunate Macleans of Duart especially experienced the effects of his wrath, and suffered from his manœuvres.[74]

In the time of Cromwell, Argyle having procured from the Lords of the Treasury, a grant of the tithes of Argyleshire, with a commission to collect several arrears of the feu-duty, cesses, taxation, and supply, and some new contributions laid on the subject by Parliament, under the names of ammunition and contribution money, the power which such an authority bestowed, in days when the standard of right was measured by the amount of force, may readily be conceived. On the part of Argyle, long-cherished views on the territories of his neighbour, Maclean of Duart, were now brought into co-operation with the most remorseless abuse of authority.

Sir Lachlan Maclean of Duart, the great-grandfather of Sir John Maclean, was then chief of the clan. The Marquis of Argyle directed that application should be made to this unfortunate man for his quota of these arrears, and also for some small sums for which he had himself been security for the chief. Sir Lachlan was in no condition to comply with this demand; for he had suffered more deeply in the royal cause than any of his predecessors. During the rule of Argyle and Leslie in Scotland, a rule which might aptly be denominated a reign of terror, the possessions of the chief in Mull had been ravaged by the parliamentary troops, without any resistance from the harmless inhabitants, who had been instructed by their lord to offer no retaliation that could furnish a plea for future oppression. The castle of Duart had been besieged, and surrendered to Argyle and Leslie, upon condition that the defenceless garrison, and eight Irish gentlemen, inmates of the hospitable Highlander's home, should be spared. Still more, the infant son of Sir Lachlan had been kidnapped from his school at Dumbarton by Argyle, and was paraded by the side of the Marquis to intimidate the chief, who was made to understand that any resistance from him would be fatal to his child,—"an instrument," observes the seneachie, "which the coward well knew might be used with greater effect upon the noble father of his captive, than all the Campbell swords the craven lord could muster." Under these circumstances, Sir Lachlan Maclean was neither in the temper nor the condition to comply with the exactions of those whom he also regarded as having usurped the sovereign authority. He refused; and his refusal was exactly what his enemy desired.

The next step which Argyle took was to claim the amount due to him from the chief, which, by buying up all the debts, public and private, of Maclean, he swelled to thirty thousand pounds, before a court of law. Such was the state of Scottish judicial proceedings in those days, that the process was ended before Sir Lachlan had even heard of its commencement. He hastened, when informed of it, to Edinburgh, in order to make known his case before the "Committee of Estates," then acting with sovereign authority in Scotland. But he was intercepted at Inverary, cast into prison upon a writ of attachment, issued and signed by Argyle himself, and immured in Argyle's castle of Carrick, for a debt due to Archibald, Marquis of Argyle. It was there required of him that he should grant a bond for fourteen thousand pounds Scots, and sign a doqueted account for sixteen thousand pounds more, bearing interest.

For a time the unhappy chief refused to sign the bond thus demanded; for a year he resisted the oppression of his enemy, and bore his imprisonment, with the aggravation of declining health. At last his friends, alarmed at his sinking condition, entreated him, as the only means of release, to comply with the demand of Argyle. Sir Lachlan signed the document, was set free, and returned to Duart, where he expired in April, 1649. To his family he bequeathed a legacy of contention and misfortune.

His successor, Sir Hector Maclean, the young hostage who had been kidnapped from Dumbarton, was a youth of a warlike and determined spirit, who resisted the depredations of the plundering clan of Campbells in Lorn and Ardnamuchan, and, on one occasion, hung up two of the invaders at his castle of Dunnin Morvern. Such, in spite of this summary mode of proceeding, were Sir Hector's ideas of honour, that, notwithstanding his doubts of the validity of the bond obtained from his father, he conceived that the superscription of his father's name to it rendered it his duty to comply with its conditions as he could. He is declared by one authority to have paid ten thousand pounds of the demand; by another that fact is doubted, since, when Sir John Maclean's guardians investigated it, no receipts for sums alleged to have been paid on account were to be found.[75] But this is again accounted for by the seneachie or family historian.

Sir Hector Maclean fell in the battle of Inverkeithing, where, out of eight hundred of his clan who fought against General Lambert, only forty escaped. He was succeeded by his brother Allan, a child, subject to the management of guardians. By their good care, a great portion of the debt to Argyle was paid, but there still remained sufficient to afford the insatiable enemy of his house a fair pretext of aggression. The case was again brought before the Scottish Council; it was even referred to Charles the Second; but, by the representations of the Duke of Lauderdale, the Argyle influence prevailed. The famous Marquis of Argyle was, indeed, no longer in existence; he had perished on the scaffold: but his son still grasped at the possessions of his neighbour; and, although King Charles desired that Lauderdale "should see that Maclean had justice," the Duke, who was then Scottish Lord Commissioner, on his return to Scotland, decided that the rents of the estates should be made payable to Argyle on account of the bond, a certain portion of them being reserved for the maintenance of the chief.

Sir Allan died a little more than a year after this decision had been made, ignorant of the decree; and left, to bear the buffeting of the storm, his son, Sir John Maclean, a child only four years of age, who succeeded his father in 1677.[76] His estates had been placed under the care of two of his nearest kinsmen, Lachlan Maclean of Brolas, and Lachlan Maclean of Torloisk, men of profound judgment and of firm character, from whose guardianship much was expected by the clan. But the minor possessed a friend as true as any kinsman could be, and one of undoubted influence and sagacity, in the celebrated Sir Ewan Cameron of Lochiel. Against his interest, in despite of Argyle, that brave and noble man espoused the cause of the weak and of the fatherless, notwithstanding that he was himself a debtor to Argyle, of whose power and will to injure he had shortly a proof. Finding that Lochiel was resolved to protect and assist the young Maclean, the Earl of Argyle[77] sent to demand from Sir Ewan the payment of the debt he owed, assuring him that it was his intention to follow out the law with the greatest rigour. Sir Ewan answered that he had not the money to pay, neither would he act against his friends. This threat, however, obliged Sir Ewan to continue in arms, contrary to proclamation, and also to obtain a protection from the Privy Council in Edinburgh, against the vengeance of Argyle.

But that which occasioned the greatest vexation to Sir Ewan, was an opportunity which he conceived that the tutors or guardians of the young Maclean had lost the power of emancipating their ward from the clutches of Argyle's power. This, he thought, might have been effected upon the forfeiture of the Marquis of Argyle to the Crown, when he considered that an opportunity might have been afforded to Maclean's guardians to release their ward from Argyle's hands, by a transaction with certain creditors of that nobleman, to whom the sum claimed by Argyle from Maclean had been promised, but never paid. Thus, by an unaccountable oversight, the power of the Argyle family over the fortunes of the Macleans was continued.

Under these adverse circumstances, Sir John Maclean succeeded to his inheritance. His principal guardian, although bearing a high reputation among the clan, was esteemed by Sir Ewan as "a person who seems to have been absolutely unfitt for manageing his affairs att such a juncture;"[78] and soon proved to be far too easy and credulous to contest with the crafty Campbells. Full of compassion for the helpless infant chief, Sir Ewan now resolved never to abandon the Macleans until matters were adjusted between them. He passed the winter of the year in Edinburgh, where he was, at one time, so much incensed against the Earl of Argyle for his cruelty to the Macleans, and so indignant at his conduct to himself, that the valiant chief of the Camerons was with difficulty restrained by his servant from shooting Argyle as he stepped into his coach to attend the council.[79]

Whilst the counsels of Sir Ewan Cameron prevailed with the guardians, the Macleans remained merely on the defensive; but when the insinuations of Lord Macdonald, who had much influence with one of the young heir's guardians, were listened to, the Macleans were incited to reprisals and plunder, to which it was at all times no difficult matter to stimulate Highlanders.

At length the powerful and mortal foe succeeded to his heart's content in his scheme of oppression. Argyle, in his capacity of Hereditary Justiciary of the Isles, summoned the clan Maclean to appear and stand their trials for treasonable convocations, garrisoning their houses and castles, &c.; the unfortunate clansmen, knowing their enemy to be both judge and evidence, did not obey. Immediately they were declared rebels and outlaws, and a commission of fire and sword was issued against them. All communication between them and the Privy Council, who might have redressed their wrongs, was cut off: those who happened to fall into the hands of the Campbells, were cruelly treated; and those who styled themselves Maclean were blockaded in the Islands, and almost starved for want of provisions. Reduced in strength by the battle of Inverkeithing, the clan was but ill-prepared to resist so formidable a foe as Argyle, whose men, therefore, landed without opposition, the people flying to their mountains as the enemy approached. The young chief was sent, for protection, first to the fortified island of Thernburg, and afterwards to Kintail, under the care of the Earl of Seaforth, who had, not long previously, acted as a sort of arbitrator in the affairs of the family.[80]

While Sir John Maclean was thus, probably, unconscious of his wrongs and dangers, secured from personal injury, the strong old Castle of Duart was taken possession of by Argyle, who, finding it garrisoned, was obliged to publish an indemnity, which he had obtained on purpose, remitting all crimes committed by the Macleans since the eighteenth of September, 1674, on condition that the castle should be delivered to him,—a demand with which the islanders were forced to comply. But in vain did Argyle endeavour to prevail upon the honest and simple clansmen to renounce their allegiance to their chief, and to become his vassals.[81] Every species of indignity and of plunder was inflicted upon these hapless, but faithful Highlanders in vain; a "monster," as he is termed, "bearing the stamp of human appearance, named Sir Neill Campbell," in vain chased the poor inhabitants to the hills, and there exhibited acts of cruelty too shocking to be related. A promise, however, of payment of rents was at last obtained by Argyle, and he left the island, after garrisoning the castles. But this tribute was never paid. The Macleans could neither bear to see the halls of Duart and of Aros Castle tenanted by their foes, nor would they submit to pay to them their rents. A league of defence was again formed; letters of fire and sword were, in consequence, issued; but Argyle was baffled by a hurricane in his second invasion of Duart. Nature conspired with the injured in their protection; and, after some time, the guardians of Sir John Maclean, accompanied by Lord Macdonald, proceeded to London in order to appeal to the Privy Council. The appeal thus made was prolonged until the year 1680, when it was at last settled by the Scottish Council; and the island of Tyrie was given to the Earl of Argyle, in full payment of his claim upon the estates of Sir John Maclean.

The character of the young chief was, meantime, formed under the influence of these events, of which, when he grew up, whilst yet the storm raged, he could not be ignorant. One principle he inherited from his ancestors—a determined fidelity to the Stuart cause. When he was fifteen years of age, the death of his guardians threw the management of his affairs into his own hands; this was in the years 1686 and 1687, one of the most critical periods in English history. Having appointed certain gentlemen his agents, or factors, the young chief went, according to the fashion of his times, to travel. He first repaired to the Court of England, at that time under the sway of James the Second; he then crossed to France, and returned not to the British dominions until he accompanied James into Ireland.

The character of Sir John Maclean, as he attained manhood, and entered into the active business of life, has been drawn with great felicity by the author of "The Memoirs of Lochiel."[82]

"He was," says this writer, "of a person and disposition more turned for the court and the camp, than for the business of a private life. There was a natural vivacity and politeness in his manner, which he afterwards much improved by a courtly education; and, as his person was well-made and gracefull, so he took care to sett it off by all the ornaments and luxury of dress. He was of a sweet temper, and good-natured. His witt lively and sparkeling, and his humour pleasant and facetious. He loved books, and acquired the languages with great facility, whereby he cultivated and enriched his understanding with all manner of learning, but especially the belles lettres; add to this, a natural elegancy of expression, and ane inexhaustible fancy, which, on all occasions, furnished him with such a copious variety of matter, as rendered his conversation allways new and entertaining. But with all these shining qualitys, the natural indolence of his temper, and ane immoderate love of pleasure, made him unsuiteable to the circumstances of his family. No persons talked of affairs, private or publick, with a better grace, or more to the purpose, but he could not prevail with himself to be att the least trouble in the execution. He seemed to know everything, and from the smallest hint so penetrated into the circumstances of other people's buisiness, that he often did great services by his excellent advice; and he was of a temper so kind and obligeing, that he was fond of every occasion or doeing good to his friends, while he neglected many inviteing opportunities of serveing himself."

The first hostilities between France and England, after the Revolution, broke out in Ireland, whence it was the design of James the Second to incite his English and Scottish subjects to his cause. And there was, apparently, ample grounds for hope; England was rent with factions, Lord Dundee was raising a civil war in Scotland, and half Europe was in contention with the other, whether the late King of England should be supported.

"I will recover my own dominions with my own subjects," was the boast of James, "or perish in the attempt." Unhappily, like his son, his magnanimity ended in expressions.

Sir John Maclean accompanied James when he landed, on the twelfth of March, 1689, in Ireland; after the siege of Derry, the chief returned to Scotland, accompanied by Sir Alexander Maclean of Otter, and there very soon showed his determination in favour of the insurrection raised by Dundee.

Sir John Maclean's first step was to send Maclean of Lochbuy as his lieutenant with three hundred men to join Dundee. His party encountered a major of General Mackay's army at Knockbreak in Badenoch; a conflict ensued, and Mackay's men were put to flight. This was the first blood that was shed for James the Second in Scotland.

Sir John Maclean soon afterwards joined Dundee in person, leaving his castle of Duart well defended. This fort, which had witnessed so many invasions, was besieged during the absence of the chief by Sir George Rooke, who cannonaded it several days without effect. Its owner, meantime, had joined Dundee, and was appointed to the command of the right wing of the army.

At the battle of Killicrankie, Sir John Maclean distinguished himself, as became the descendant of a brave and loyal race, at the head of his clan; he probably witnessed the death of Dundee. Few events in Scottish history could have affected those who followed a General to the field so severely. Lord Dundee had been foremost on foot during the action; he was foremost on horseback, when the enemy retreated, in the pursuit. He pressed on to the mouth of the Pass of Killicrankie to cut off the escape. In a short time he perceived that he had overrun his men: he stopped short: he waved his arm in the air to make them hasten their speed. Conspicuous in his person he was observed; a musket-ball was aimed at that extended arm; it struck him, and found entrance through an opening in his armour. The brave General was wounded in the arm-pit. He rode off the field, desiring that the mischance might not be disclosed, and fainting, dropped from his horse. As soon as he was revived, he desired to be raised, and looking towards the field of battle asked how things went. "Well," was the reply. "Then," he said, "I am well," and expired.

William the Third understood the merits of his brave opponent. An express was sent to Edinburgh with an account of the action. "Dundee," said the King (and the soldier spoke), "must be dead, or he would have been at Edinburgh before the express." When urged to send troops to Scotland, "It is needless," he answered; "the war ended with Dundee's life." And the observation was just: a peace was soon afterwards concluded.[83]

Sir John Maclean, nevertheless, continued in arms under the command of Colonel Cannon, and lost several brave officers by the incapacity of this commander. After the peace was signed, he returned to live upon his estates, until Argyle, having procured a commission from William to reduce the Macleans by fire or sword, invaded the island of Mull with two thousand five hundred men. Sir John being unprepared to resist him, after advising his vassals to accept protection from Argyle, again retired to the island of Thernburg, whence he captured several of King William's vessels which were going to supply the army in Ireland.[84]

The massacre of Glencoe operated in some respects favourably, after the tragedy had been completed, upon the circumstances of the Jacobites. Terrified at the odium incurred, a more lenient spirit was henceforth shown to them by Government. Many persons were exempted from taking the oaths, and were allowed to remain in their houses. Early in the year 1792, Sir John Maclean took advantage of this favourable turn of affairs, and, after obtaining permission through the influence of Argyle, and placing the castle of Duart under that nobleman's control, he went to England.

He soon became a favourite at the Court of one who, if we except the massacre of Glencoe, evinced few dispositions of cruelty to the Scottish Jacobites. King William is said, nevertheless, to have had a real antipathy to the Highlanders; and Queen Mary, whose heart turned to the adherents of her forefathers, was obliged to conceal her partiality for her Northern subjects. It had appeared, however, on several occasions, during the absence of her consort, and was now evinced in her good offices to the chief of the clan Maclean. That the chief was of a deportment to confirm the kind sentiments thus shown towards him, the character which has been given of him amply proves.

Sir John Maclean was, as the author of Sir Ewan Cameron's life relates, "the only person of his party that went to Court, which no doubt contributed much to his being so particularly observed by the Queen, who received him most graciously, honoured him frequently with her conversation, and said many kind and obliging things to him. Sir John on his part acquitted himself with so much politeness and address, that her Majesty soon began to esteem him. He took the proper occasions to inform her of the misfortunes of his family, and artfully insinuated that he and his predecessors had drawn them all upon themselves by the services they had rendered to her grandfather, father, and uncle. She answered, that the antiquity and merit of his family were no strangers to her ears; and that, though she had taken a resolution never to interpose betwixt her father's friends and the King her husband, yet, she would distinguish him so far as to recommend his services to his Majesty by a letter under her own hand; and that she doubted not but that it would have some influence, since it was the first favour of that nature which she had ever demanded."

Sir John is, however, declared by another authority to have declined the commission thus offered to him. Although he had received King James's permission to reconcile himself with the Government, he did not, it appears, choose to bear arms in its defence. Such is the statement of one historian.[86] By another it is said that "Sir John was much caressed while he continued in the army,"[87]—a sentence which certainly seems to imply that he had assented to King William's offer. At all events, he managed to engage the confidence of the King so far, that William "not only honoured him with his countenance, but told Argyle that he must part with Sir John's estate, and that he himself would be the purchaser."

The nobleman to whom William addressed this injunction was of a very different temper from his father and grandfather, who had both died on the scaffold. Archibald, afterwards created by William Duke of Argyle, had in 1685 become the head of that powerful family; he was of a frank, noble, and generous disposition. "He loved," says the same writer, "his pleasures, affected magnificence, and valued money no further than as it contributed to support the expence which the gallantry of his temper daily put him to. He several times offered very easy terms to Sir John; and particularly he made one overture of quitting all his pretentions to that estate, on condition of submitting to be the Earl's vassall for the greatest part of it, and paying him two thousand pounds sterling, which he had then by him in ready money; but the expensive gayety of Sir John's temper made him unwilling to part with the money, and the name of a vassall suited as ill with his vanity, which occasioned that and several other proposals to be refused. However, as the generous Earl was noways uneasy to part with the estate, so he, with his usewall frankness, answered King William that his Majesty might always command him and his fortunes; and that he submitted his claim upon Sir John's estate, as he did everything else, to his royal pleasure."

A tradition exists in the family, that when Argyle sent messengers with his proposals to the Castle of Duart, Sir John pushed away the boat, as it neared the shore, with his own hands. This was worthy the pride of a Highland chieftain.

To such a height, in short, did William's favour amount, and so far did he in this instance carry his usual policy of conciliating his enemies by courtesy and aid, that he ordered Maclean to go as a volunteer in his service, assuring him that he would see that no harm was done to his property in his absence. Sir John, previous to his intended departure from England, went to Scotland to put his affairs in order. On his return he was told by Queen Mary that there were reports to his prejudice; he denied them, and satisfied the Queen that all suspicions of his fidelity were unfounded. Upon the strength of this assurance the Queen wrote in Maclean's favour to the King, in Holland, whither Sir John then proceeded to join his Majesty. But this profession of fidelity to one monarch soon proved to be hollow. Maclean was truly one of the politicians of the day, swayed by every turn of fortune, and cherishing a deep regard for his own interest in his heart. To inspire dislike and distrust wherever he desired to secure allegiance was the lot of William, of whom it has been bitterly said, that in return for having delivered three kingdoms from popery and slavery, he was, before having been a year on the throne, repaid "with faction in one of them, with rebellion in the other, and with both in the third." How expressive was the exclamation wrung from him, "that he wished he had never been King of Scotland." Sir John Maclean was one of those who added another proof to the King's conviction, "that the flame of party once raised, it was in vain to expect that truth, justice, or public interest could extinguish it."[88]

On arriving at Bruges, Maclean heard of the battle of Landau, in which the French army had proved victorious against the Confederates; and at the same time a report prevailed that a counter revolution had taken place in England, and that William was already dethroned. Sir John changed his course upon this intelligence, and hastened to St. Germains, where he was, as might be expected, coldly received. He remained there until the death of William, and then he married the daughter of Sir Enæas Macpherson of Skye.

Upon the accession of Anne, Sir John took advantage of the general indemnity offered to those who had gone abroad with James the Second, and resolved to avail himself of this opportunity of returning home; but, unluckily, he was detained until a day after the act had specified, by the confinement of his wife, who was taken ill at Paris, and there, in November 1703, gave birth to a son, who afterwards succeeded to the baronetcy. Although there was some risk in proceeding, yet Sir John, trusting to the Queen's favourable disposition to the Jacobites, embarked, and with his wife and child reached London. There he was immediately committed to the Tower, but his imprisonment had a deeper source than the mere delay of a few weeks. The Queensbury plot at that time agitated the public, and produced considerable embarrassment in the counsels of state.[89]

It appears that Sir John Maclean had taken no part in this obscure transaction which could affect his honour, or impair his chance of favour from Queen Anne; for, so soon as he was liberated, she bestowed upon him a pension of five hundred pounds a-year, which he enjoyed during the remainder of his life.

For some years Sir John Maclean continued to divide his time between London and the Highlands, where he frequently visited his firm friend Sir Ewan Cameron of Lochiel, at his Castle of Achnacarry. His estates had not been materially benefited by the brief sunshine of King William's favour. Upon finding that Maclean had gone to St. Germains, that monarch had confirmed to the Duke of Argyle the former grant of the island of Tyrie, which the successors of the Duke have since uninterruptedly enjoyed until the present day. Its value was, at the time of its passing into the hands of the Campbells, about three hundred pounds sterling per annum.[90] The chief of the clan Maclean was certain never to escape the suspicions of the Government, after the death of Anne, during whose reign the Highlanders experienced an unwonted degree of tranquillity. Upon her demise the whole state of affairs was changed; and none experienced greater inconveniences from the vigilance of Government than Sir Ewan Cameron and his friend Maclean. Lochiel, as his biographer observes, "drank deeply of this bitter cup."[91]

It was during one of Maclean's visits to Achnacarry, when in company with his now venerable friend, that the Governor of Fort William attempted to take him and Sir Ewan prisoners, but they made their escape. During the night of their flight, however, Sir Maclean caught a severe cold, which ended afterwards fatally.

When the Earl of Mar raised the standard of the Chevalier in Scotland, Sir John joined him at Achterarder, some days before the battle of Sherriff Muir. In that engagement the clan Maclean distinguished themselves, and some of their brave chieftains were killed in the battle. After the day was over, Sir John retired to Keith, where he parted from his followers, never to rejoin them. A consumption, incurred from the cold caught in his escape, was then far advanced. He declined an offer made to receive him on board the Chevalier's ship, bound for France, and went to Gordon Castle, where, on the twelfth of March, 1716, he expired.

Thus ended a life characterized by no ordinary share of vicissitude and misfortune. If the fate of Sir John Maclean be less tragical than that of other distinguished Jacobites, it was, it must be acknowledged, one replete with anxiety and disappointment. He may be said to have been peculiarly "born to trouble." To our modern notions of honour and consistency, his conduct in becoming a courtier of William the Third, appears to betray that unsoundness and hollowness of political principle which, more or less, was the prevalent moral disease of the period, and which was attributable to some of the most celebrated men of the day. It undoubtedly forms an unfavourable contrast to the stern independence of Sir Ewan Cameron of Lochiel, and of other Highland chieftains, and too greatly resembles the code of politics adopted by the Earl of Mar. But those who knew Sir John Maclean intimately, considered him a man of straightforward integrity; they deemed him above dissimulation, and have placed his name among those who despised every worldly advantage for the sake of principle, and who loved the cause which he had espoused for its own sake. The broken towers of Duart and of Aros, the ruins of those once proud lords of the soil, attest the sacrifices which they made, and form a melancholy commentary upon their history.

The castle of Aros, in the Island of Mull, "is interesting," says Macculloch,[92] "from the picturesque object which it affords to the artist; the more so, as the country is so devoid of scenes on which his pencil can be exerted. Still more striking, from its greater magnitude and more elevated position, is Duart Castle, once the stronghold of the Macleans, and till lately garrisoned by a detachment from Fort William. It is fast falling into ruin since it was abandoned as a barrack. When a few years shall have passed, the almost roofless tenant will surrender his spacious apartments to the bat and the owl, and seek shelter, like his neighbours, in the thatched hovel which rises near him. But the walls, of formidable thickness, may long bid defiance even to the storms of this region; remaining to mark to future times the barbarous splendour of the ancient Highland chieftains, and, with the opposite fortress of Ardtornish, serving to throw a gleam of historical interest over the passage of the Sound of Mull."

Hitherto Iona had received the last remains of the Lords of Duart; but Sir John Maclean was not carried to the resting-place of his forefathers. He was buried in the church of Raffin in Bamffshire, in the family vault of the Gordons of Buckie. In Iona, that former "light of the western world," are the tombs of the brave and unfortunate Macleans. Their bones are interred in the vaults of the cathedral, which, after coasting the barren rocks of Mull, buffeted by the waves, the traveller beholds rising out of the sea, "giving," as it is finely expressed, "to this desolate region an air of civilization, and recalling the consciousness of that human society which, presenting elsewhere no visible traces, seems to have abandoned these rocky shores to the cormorant and the gull." On the tombs of the Highland warriors who repose within St. Mary's Church in Iona, are sculptured ships, swords, armorial bearings, appropriate memorials to the island lords, or, as the Chevalier not inaptly called them, "little kings;" and, undistinguishable from the graves of the chiefs, are the funereal allotments of the Kings of Scotland, Iceland, and Norway.[93]

Sir John Maclean left one son and six daughters. His son Hector was born in France, but brought to Scotland at the age of four, and placed under the care of his kinsman, Maclean of Coll, where he remained until he was eighteen years of age; when he repaired to Edinburgh, and in the college made considerable progress in the usual course of studies in that institution. After various journeys abroad, chiefly to Paris, Sir Hector Maclean returned in 1745 to Edinburgh, intending again to lead his clansmen to the standard of Prince Charles; but a temporary imprisonment, occasioned by the treachery of a man in whose house he lodged, prevented his appearance in the field. He was detained in confinement until released as a subject of the King of France. He died at Rome in the year 1758, in the forty-seventh year of his age. At his death the title of Baronet devolved upon Allan of Brolas, great-grandson of Donald, first Maclean of Brolas, and younger brother of the first baronet.

Although the chief was thus prevented from following Prince Charles to the field of Culloden, many of his clan distinguished themselves there; Charles Maclean of Drimnin appeared at the head of five hundred of the clan, and his regiment, which was under the command of the Duke of Perth, was among those that broke forward with drawn swords from the lines, and routed the left wing of the Duke of Cumberland's army. The whole of the front line of this gallant regiment was swept away as they presented themselves before their foes. They were afterwards overpowered by numbers, and obliged to retire. Their leader, as he retreated, inquired for one of his sons, who was missing. "I fear," said an attendant to whom the inquiry was addressed, "that he has fallen." The fate of the father is well told in these few words,[94] "If he has, it shall not be for naught," was his reply; and he rushed forward to avenge him.

Many of the clan fell in the massacre after the battle of Culloden Muir. Hundreds of the Highlanders who escaped the inhumanity of their conquerors, died of their wounds or of hunger, in the hills, at twelve or fourteen miles' distance from the field of battle. "Their misery," says a contemporary writer, "was inexpressible." While the cannon was sounding, and bells were pealing in the capital cities of England and Ireland, for the united events of the Duke of Cumberland's birth and the battle of Culloden Moor, fires were seen blazing in Morvern, in which numerous villages were burned by order of the victorious Cumberland. The Macleans who came from Mull, seem generally to have escaped; they made off in one of the long boats for their island, the night after the engagement, and were fortunate enough to carry with them a cargo of brandy and some money.[95]

A calmer, though less interesting career has, since 1745, been the fate of the chiefs of the clan Maclean.[96] Sir Allan, respected and beloved, became a colonel in the British army. He retired eventually to the sacred Isle of Inch Kenneth, in Mull, where he exercised the hospitality characteristic, in ancient times, of the Lords of Duart. Dr. Johnson has handed down the memory of the venerable chief, not only in a few descriptive pages of a Tour to the Hebrides, but in a Latin poem, translated by Sir Daniel Sandford.[97] In the lines he refers to Sir Allan in these terms.

"O'er glassy tides I thither flew,
The wonders of the spot to view;
In lowly cottage great Maclean
Held there his high ancestral reign."[98]

Sir Allan Maclean died in 1783: he was succeeded by his nearest male relation, Sir Hector Maclean, of the family of Brolas. The brother of Sir Hector, Sir Fitzroy Grafton Maclean, a distinguished officer, and formerly Governor of the island of St. Thomas, is now chief of the clan Maclean. Two sons continue the line. Of these, the eldest, Colonel Charles Fitzroy Maclean, has chosen, like his father, the profession of arms. He commands the eighty-first foot: and has, by his marriage with a daughter of the Hon. and Rev. Dr. Marsham, an heir to the ancestral honours of the house. The youngest son of Sir Fitzroy Maclean is Donald Maclean, of Witton Castle, Durham, the member for Oxford, married to Harriet, daughter of General Frederick Maitland, a descendant of the Duke of Lauderdale, whose former injustice to the clan Maclean has been noticed in this work. It is remarkable, that the same fidelity, the same loyalty, that sacrificed every possession to the cause of James Stuart, has been, since the extinction of that cause, worthily employed, with distinguished talent and success, in the service of Government. Such instances are not uncommon in the history of the Jacobites.

---

ROB ROY MACGREGOR CAMPBELL.

"The Clan Gregiour," according to an anonymous writer of the seventeenth century, "is a race of men so utterly infamous for thieving, depredation, and murder, that after many Acts of the Council of Scotland against them, at length in the reign of King Charles the First, the Parliament made a strict Act suppressing the very name." Upon the Restoration, when, as the same writer declares, "the reins were given to all licentiousness, and loyalty, as it was called, was thought sufficient to compound for all wickedness, the Act was rescinded. But, upon the late happy Revolution, when the nation began to recover her senses, some horrid barbarities having been committed by that execrable crew, under the leading of one Robert Roy Macgregiour, yet living, the Parliament under King William and Queen Mary annulled the said Act rescissory, and revived the former penal statute against them."[99]

Such is the summary account of one who is evidently adverse to the political creed, no less than to the daring violence, of the clan Macgregor. Little can, it is true, be offered in palliation for the extraordinary career of spoliation and outrage which the history of this race of Highlanders presents; and which terminated only with the existence of the clan itself.

The clan Gregor, anciently known by the name of clan Albin, dated their origin from the ninth century, and assumed to be the descendants of King Alpin, who flourished in the year 787: so great is its antiquity, that an old chronicle asserts, speaking of the clan Macarthur, "that none are older than that clan, except the hills, the rivers, and the clan Albin."

Among the conflicts which for centuries rendered the Highlands the theatre of perpetual strife, the clan Albin, or, as in process of time it was called, the clan Gregor, was marked as the most turbulent members of the state. It was never safe to dispute with them, and was deemed idle to inquire whether the lands which they occupied were theirs by legal titles, or by the right of the sword. Situate on the confines of Scotland, and protected by the inaccessible mountains which surrounded them, they could defy even their most powerful neighbours, who were always desirous of conciliating allies so dangerous in times of peace, so prompt in war. The boundaries which they occupied stretched along the wilds of the Trosaëhs and Balquhidder, to the northern and western heights of Mannach and Glenurely, comprehending portions of the counties of Argyle, Perth, Dumbarton, and Stirling, which regions obtained the name of the country of the Mac Gregors. A part of these domains being held by the coir à glaive, or right of the sword, exposed the clan Gregor to the enmity of their formidable neighbours, the Earls of Argyle and Breadalbane, who, obtaining royal grants of such lands, lost no opportunity of annoying and despoiling their neighbours, under legal pretexts. Hence many of the contests which procured for the Macgregors a character of ferocity, and brought upon them 'letters of fire and sword.' A commission was granted first in the reign of Queen Mary, in 1563, to the most powerful clansmen and nobles, to pursue, and exterminate the clan Gregor, and prohibiting, at the same time, that her Majesty's liege subjects should receive or assist any of the clan, or give them meat, drink, or clothes. The effect which such an edict was likely to produce upon a bold, determined, desperate people may readily be conceived. Hitherto the clan Gregor had been a loyal clan. From the house of Alpin had descended the royal family of Stewart, with whom the Macgregors claimed kindred, bearing upon their shields, in Gaelic, the words, 'My tribe is royal.' They had been also in favour with the early Scottish monarchs, one of whom had ennobled the Macgregors of Glenurely, who could cope with the most elevated families in Scotland, in possessions and importance. But, after the edict of Mary, a palpable decline in the fortunes of the clan Gregor was manifest, until it was for ever extinguished in modern days. Henceforth the Macgregors exhibited a contempt for those laws which had never afforded them protection. They became, in consequence of the cruel proclamation against them, dependent for subsistence upon their system of predatory warfare. They grew accustomed to bloodshed, and could easily be 'hounded out,' as Sir Walter Scott expresses it, to commit deeds of violence. Hence they were incessantly engaged in desperate feuds, in which the vengeance of an injured and persecuted people was poured out mercilessly upon the defenceless. Hence they became objects of hatred to the community, until the famous contest of Glenfruin, between the Macgregors and the Colquhouns of Luss, brought once more the royal displeasure upon them in the reign of James the Sixth.

The sequestered valley, which obtained, from the memorable and tragical events of the combat, the name of the Glen of Sorrow, is situated about six miles from Loch Lomond, and is watered by the river Fruin which empties itself into that lake. In the spring of the year 1603, Alexander of Glenstrae, chief of the Macgregors, went from the country of Lennox to Balquhidder, for the express purpose of conciliating the feuds which subsisted between his brother and Sir Humphrey Colquhoun of Luss. After a conference, apparently pacific, but well understood by the Macgregors to augur no friendly intentions, the assembled members of that clan prepared to return to their homes. They were followed by the Laird of Luss, who was resolved to surprise them on their route. But his treachery was secretly known by those whom he pursued.

The right bank of Loch Lomond is so steep and woody that before the formation of roads, the Highlanders found it impossible to pass that way. The way to Argyleshire, therefore, ran along the vale of Fruin in a circuitous direction to the head of Loch Long, and again turned eastward towards Loch Lomond. In the middle of the glen the Macgregors, who were peacefully returning home, were attacked by the Colquhouns. The assailants were four to one; but the valour of the Macgregors prevailed, and two hundred Colquhouns were left dead on the field. The very name of Colquhoun was nearly annihilated. The account of the battle was transmitted by the Laird of Luss to James the Sixth, at Edinburgh; and the message was accompanied by two hundred and twenty shirts, stained with blood, which were presented to the King by sixty women, widows of those slain in the Glen of Sorrow. These ladies rode on white poneys, and carried in their hands long poles, on which were extended the stained garments. But the shirts, it is said, were soiled by the way, and the widows were hireling mourners, who comforted themselves with the loved beverages of their country on their return, and were in many instances obliged to be carried to their homes.[100]

The indignation of James the Sixth, unmitigated by any friendly representations on behalf of the Macgregors, burst forth fatally for the clan. The Macgregors were formally outlawed by Act of Parliament; they were pursued with blood-hounds, and when seized, were put to death without trial. Their chief, the unfortunate Alexander of Glenstrae surrendered to his enemy the Earl of Argyle, with eighteen of his followers, on condition that he might be taken safely out of Scotland. But the severity of Government stopped not here. The very name of Gregor was blotted out, by an order in Council, from the names of Scotland. Those who had hitherto borne it were commanded to change it under pain of death, and were forbidden to retain the appellations which they had been accustomed from their infancy to cherish. Those who had been at Glenfruin were also deprived of their weapons, excepting a pointless knife to cut their victuals. They were never to assemble in any number exceeding four; and by an Act of Parliament passed in 1617, these laws were extended to the rising generation, lest as the children of the proscribed parents grew up, the strength of the clan should be restored.

For these severe acts, the only apology that can be offered is the unbridled fury and cruelty of the Macgregors, when irritated; of which it is necessary to mention one instance, as an example of the many left on record, of which the clan were convicted.

In the battle of Glenfruin, which James had visited so rigorously upon the Macgregors, the greater part of those who bore the name of Colquhoun were exterminated. Yet a still more savage act was perpetrated after the day was won.

The town of Dumbarton contained, at that time, a seminary famous for learning, where many of the Colquhouns, as well as the sons of the neighbouring gentry, were sent for education. Upon hearing of the encounter at Glenfruin, eighty of these high-spirited boys set off to join their relatives; but the Colquhouns, anxious for the safety of their young kinsfolk, would not permit them to join in the fight, but locked them up in a barn for safety. Here they remained, until the event of the day left the Macgregors masters of what might well be called "the Glen of Sorrow." The boys, growing impatient for their release, became noisy; when the Macgregors, discovering their hiding-place, and thirsting for vengeance, set fire to the barn, and the young inmates were consumed. According to another account, they were all put to the sword by one of the guard, a Macgregor, whose distinctive appellation was Ciar Mohr, "the mouse-coloured man." When the chief of the Macgregor's clan repaired to the barn, and, knowing that the boys were the sons of gentlemen, was desirous of ensuring their safety, he asked their guards where they were. When told of what had occurred, Macgregor broke out into the exclamation, that "his clan was ruined." The sad event was commemorated, until the year 1757, by an annual procession of the Dumbarton youths, to a field at some distance from their school, where they enacted the melancholy ceremonial of a mock funeral, over which they set up a loud lamentation. The site of the farm where this scene was enacted is still pointed out; and near it runs a rivulet, the Gaelic name of which signifies "the burn of the young ghosts:" so deep was the memory of this horrible deed.[101]

A fearful retribution followed the clan for years. They had no friend at Court to plead their cause; and the most cruel hardships became the lot of the innocent, as well as the guilty, of their clan. The country was filled with troops ready to destroy them, so that all who were able, were forced to fly to rocks, caverns, and to hide themselves among the woods. Few of the Macgregors, at this period of the Scottish history, were permitted to die a natural death.

As an inducement to the murder of these wretched people, a reward was offered for every head of a Macgregor that was conveyed to the Privy Council at Edinburgh. Those who died a natural death were buried in silence and secrecy by their kinsfolk, for the graves of the persecuted clan were not respected; the bodies of the dead being exhumed, and the heads cut off, to be sent to the Council. Never has there been, in the history of mankind, a more signal instance of national odium than that which pursued this brave, though violent race. The spirit in which they were denounced has in it little of the character of justice, and reminds us of the vengeance of the Jewish people upon the different hostile tribes to whom they were opposed.

In process of time, the last remnant of the lands pertaining to the Macgregors was bestowed upon Archibald, seventh Earl of Argyle, whose family had profited largely by the destruction of the clan: for every Macgregor whom they had destroyed, they had received a reward. In 1611, the Earl was commanded to root out this thievish and barbarous race; a commission which he executed remorselessly, dragging the parents to death, and leaving their offspring to misery and to revenge; for the deep consciousness of their wrongs grew up with the young, and prepared them for deeds of violence and vengeance.

Notwithstanding the severities of the Stuarts towards the Macgregors, the loyalty of the clan continued unimpeachable. It was appreciated by one who is not celebrated for remembering benefits. Charles the Second had, in 1663, the grace to remove the proscription from the Macgregors, by an Act which was passed in the first Scottish Parliament after his Restoration. He permitted them the use of their family name, and other privileges of his liege subjects, assigning as a reason for this act of favour, that the loyalty and affection of those who were once called Macgregors, during the late troubles, might justly wipe off all former reproach from their clan. This act of grace, according to the anonymous writer quoted in the commencement of this memoir, was to be accounted for by the prevalent licentiousness of that monarch's reign. It gave, indeed, but little satisfaction to the nonconforming Presbyterians, who saw with resentment that the penalties unjustly imposed upon themselves were relaxed in favour of the Macgregors. But this dissatisfaction was of short duration. After the Revolution, "an influence," says Sir Walter Scott, "inimical to this unfortunate clan, said to be the same with that which afterwards dictated the massacre of Glencoe, occasioned the reaction of the penal statutes against the Macgregors."[102] It is, however, consolatory to find that the proscription was not acted upon during the reign of William. The name of Macgregor was again heard in public halls, in parliament, and courts of justice. Still, however, whilst the statutes remained, it could not legally be borne. Attempts were made to restore the appellation of clan Alb, but nothing was decided; when, at length, all necessity for such an alteration was done away by an Act of Parliament abolishing forever the penal statutes against the clan.

Whilst the Macgregors were still a proscribed race, Robert Macgregor Campbell, or Robert Roy, so called among his kindred, in the adoption of a Celtic phrase, expressive of his ruddy complexion and red hair, appeared as their champion. At the time of his birth, to bear the name of Macgregor was felony; and the descendant of King Alpin adopted the maiden name of his mother, a daughter of Campbell of Fanieagle, in order to escape the penalty of disobedience. His father, Donald Macgregor of Glengyle, was a lieutenant-colonel in the King's service: his ancestry was deduced from Ciar Mohr, "the mouse-coloured man," who had slain the young students at the battle of Glenfruin.

After the death of Allaster Macgregor of Glenstrae, the last chieftain, the office of chief had ceased to be held by any representative of the scattered remnant of this hunted tribe. Various families had ranged themselves under the guidance of chieftains, which, among Highlanders, signifies the head of a branch of a tribe, in contradistinction to that of chief, who is the leader of the whole name.[103] The chieftain of Glengyle lived in the mountainous region between Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine; his right to his territories there might or might not be legal; it was far more convenient to his neighbours to waive the question with any member of this fierce race, than to inquire too rigidly into the tenure by which the lands were held.

Rob Roy, though he deduced his origin from a younger son of the Laird of Macgregor, was one of a family who had, within the preceding century, been of humble fortunes. His great-grandfather had been a cotter; from his grandfather he inherited the generous temper and the daring spirit which, more or less, characterized the clan. Callum, or Malcolm, had been outlawed for an attempt to carry off an heiress, but obtained his pardon for saving the life of his enemy, the Duke of Argyle. The date of Rob Roy's birth is uncertain, but is supposed to have taken place about the middle of the seventeenth century; consequently, after the period when his clan had endured every variety of fortune, from the cruel edicts of James the Sixth to the consolatory acts of Charles the Second.

The education of this extraordinary man was limited; and he is said not to have exhibited in his youth any striking traits of the intrepidity which distinguished him in after life. But he was endowed with a vigorous intellect, and with an enthusiasm which had been deepened by the peculiar circumstances of his clan and kinsfolk. It is impossible to comprehend the character of Rob Roy, unless we look into the history of his race, as we have briefly done, and consider how strong must have been the impressions which hereditary feuds, and wrongs visited upon father and child, had made upon a mind of no common order.

His youth was occupied in acquiring the rude accomplishments of the age. In the management of the broadsword the ardent and daring boy soon acquired proficiency; his frame was robust and muscular, and his arm of unusual length. At an early age he is said by tradition to have tried his powers in a predatory excursion, of which he was the leader. This was in the year 1691, and it was called the herdship, or devastation of Kippen, in the Lennox. No lives were sacrificed, but the marauding system was carried to its extent.

The young Macgregor was educated in the Presbyterian faith. "He was not," says his biographer,[104] "free from those superstitious notions so prevalent in his country; and, although few men possessed more strength of mind in resisting the operation of false and gloomy tenets, he was sometimes led away from the principles he had adopted, to a belief in supernatural appearances." Nor was it likely that it should be otherwise; for the wildest dreams of fancy were cherished in the seclusion of the region, then inconceivably retired and remote, in which Rob Roy is said to have passed days in silent admiration of Nature in her grandest aspects; for the man who afterwards appeared so stern and rugged to his enemies, was accessible to the tenderest feelings, and to the most generous sympathies.[105]

Although his father had succeeded in military life, Rob Roy was destined to a far more humble occupation. The discrepancy between the Scottish pride of ancestry and the lowly tracks which are occasionally chalked out for persons of the loftiest pretensions to origin, is manifest in the destination of Rob Roy. He became a dealer in cattle. It was, it is true, the custom for landed proprietors, as well as their tenantry, to deal in the trade of grazing and selling cattle. In those days, no Lowlanders, nor any English drovers, had the audacity to enter the Highlands.

"The cattle," says Sir Walter Scott, "which were the staple commodity of the mountains, were escorted down to fairs, on the borders of the Lowlands, by a party of Highlanders, with their arms rattling round them; and who dealt, however, in all faith and honour with their southern customers." After describing the nature of the affrays which were the result of such collision, Sir Walter remarks, "A slash or two, or a broken head, was easily accommodated, and as the trade was of benefit to both parties, trifling skirmishes were not allowed to interrupt its harmony."

For some time, the speculations in which Rob Roy engaged were profitable; he took a tract of land in Balquhidder for the purpose of grazing, and his success soon raised him in the estimation of the county. But his cattle were often carried away by hordes of big robbers from Inverness, Ross, and Sutherland, and he was obliged, in defence, to maintain a party of men to repel these incursions. Hence the warlike tastes which were afterwards more fully displayed.

The death of his father placed Rob Roy in an important situation in his county; he became, moreover, guardian to his nephew, Gregor of Macgregor of Glengyle,—a position which gave him great influence with the clan. He had now become the proprietor of Craig Royston; but his ordinary dwelling was at Inversnaid, from which place he took his appellation, Macgregor of Inversnaid. These estates were of considerable extent, but of small value: they extended from the head of Loch Lomond twelve miles along its eastern border, and stretched into the interior of the country, partly around the base of Ben Lomond. From these estates Rob Roy assumed sometimes the title of Craig Royston, sometimes that of Baron of Inversnaid,—a term long applied in Scotland to puisne lairds.[106]

The influence of an energetic and powerful mind was now plainly exhibited in the celebrity which Rob Roy soon acquired in the neighbouring counties. The Macgregors had a peculiar constitution in their clanship, which rendered them compact and formidable as a body. In all the forays so common at that period, Rob Roy took little or no part; yet the terror of his name caused him to receive all the credit of much that occurred in the vicinity.

Three great noblemen, bitter enemies, sought his alliance; of these one was James the first Duke of Montrose, and Archibald tenth Earl of Argyle, who were opposed to each other not only in political opinions, but from personal dislike. Montrose deemed it essential to conciliate Rob Roy as a matter of speculation, and entered into a sort of partnership with the far-famed drover in the buying and selling of cattle, of which Rob Roy was considered an excellent judge. Argyle, on the other hand, was conscious of the injuries which his ancestors had inflicted on the Macgregors, and was inclined to befriend Rob Roy from compassion, and a sense of justice. The Earl was also flattered by the Laird's having assumed the name of Campbell, which he regarded as a compliment to himself. But the overtures of Argyle were at first spurned by Rob Roy, whose alliance with the Marquis of Montrose increased his hatred of Argyle. He was afterwards won over to more moderate sentiments, and a lasting friendship was eventually formed between him and Argyle.

The friendship and patronage of Montrose were secure until money transactions, the usual source of alienations and bickerings, produced distrust on the one hand, and bitterness on the other. Montrose had advanced Rob Roy certain sums to carry on his speculations: they were successful until the defalcation of a third and inferior partner prevented Rob Roy from repaying the Marquis the money due to him. He was required to give up his lands to satisfy the demands upon him. For a time he refused, but ultimately he was compelled by a law-suit to mortgage his estates to Montrose with an understanding that they were to be restored to him whenever he could pay the money. Some time afterwards he made an attempt to recover his estate by the payment of his debts; but he was at first amused by excuses, and afterwards deprived of his property. Such is the simple statement of his partial biographer; but Sir Walter Scott gives the story a darker colouring. In his preface to Rob Roy he mentions that Rob Roy absconded, taking with him the sum of one thousand pounds which he had obtained from different gentlemen in Scotland for the purpose of buying cattle. In 1712 an advertisement to that effect was put into the daily papers repeatedly; but the active Highlander was beyond the reach of law. To this period we must assign a total change in the habits and characteristics of Rob Roy, who now began a lawless and marauding course of life. He went up into the Highlands where he was followed by one whose character has been variously represented—Mary Macgregor of Comar, his wife. According to one account, she was by no means the masculine and cruel being whom Scott has so powerfully described; yet, from several traits, it is obvious that she was one of the most determined of her sex, and that her natural boldness of spirit was exaggerated by an insult which was never forgiven, either by herself or by her husband. This was the forcible expulsion of herself and her family from their home at Inversnaid by Graham of Killearn, one of Montrose's agents; and the cruel act was accompanied by circumstances which nothing but death could blot from the memory of the outraged and injured Macgregor. The loss of property was nothing when compared with that one galling recollection.

The kind and once honourable Rob Roy was now driven to desperation. His natural capacity for warlike affairs had been improved in the collection of the black mail, or protection fees; a service of danger, in which many a bloody conflict with freebooters had shown the Macgregors of what materials their leader was composed. The black mail was a private contribution, often compulsatory, for the maintenance of the famous black watch, an independent corps of provincial militia, and so called from the colour of their dress, in contradistinction to the red soldiers, or leidar dearag. "From the time they were first embodied," writes General Stewart, "till they were regimented, the Highlanders continued to wear the dress of their country. This, as it consisted so much of the black, green, and blue tartan, gave them a dark and sombre appearance in comparison with the bright uniform of the regulars, who, at that time, had coats waistcoats, and breeches of scarlet cloth. Hence the term dhu, or black, as applied to this corps."[107]

In collecting both the imposts laid on for the maintenance of this corps, and in enforcing the black mail, Rob Roy had already gained the confidence of the better classes, whilst, by his exploits, he had taught the freebooter to tremble at his name. His journeys to England had not, either, been unprofitable to him in gaining friends. By a strict regard to his word, a true Highland quality, he had gained confidence; whilst his open and engaging demeanour had procured him friends.

Soon after his expulsion from his property, Rob Roy travelled into England to collect a sum of money which was due to him. On returning through Moffat, his generous indignation was aroused by seeing the penalty of the law inflicted upon a young girl for fanaticism: two of her kinsmen had already suffered. As a party of soldiers were preparing to carry the girl, bound hand and foot, to a river, Rob Roy interposed; and, receiving an insolent reply, he sprang upon the soldiers and in an instant released the young woman, by plunging eight of her guards into the water. He then drew his claymore, and cut the cords which bound the intended victim. A short skirmish left him master of the field.

Rob Roy now prepared to remove from his dwelling at Inversnaid, into one more remote, and protected by its natural position. This was Craig Royston, or, as it is sometimes spelt, Craigrostan, whither Rob Roy removed his furniture and other effects. A tract, entitled "The Highland Rogue," published during the lifetime of Rob Roy, contains a striking description of this almost inaccessible retreat. It is situated on the borders of Loch Lomond, and is surrounded with stupendous rocks and mountains. The passages along these heights are so narrow, that two men cannot walk abreast; "It is a place," adds the same writer, "of such strength and safety, that one person well acquainted with it, and supplied with ammunition, might easily destroy a considerable army if they came to attack him, and he, at the same time, need not so much as be seen by them." For this romantic scene, Rob Roy quitted Inversnaid; henceforth his occupation as a grazier and drover, and his character as a country gentleman, were lost in that of a freebooter. Many anecdotes have been related of his feats in the dangerous course which he henceforth adopted: but of these, some are so extraordinary, as to be incredible; others are perfectly consistent with the daring spirit of a man who had vowed to avenge his wrongs.

The Duke of Montrose was the first object of his wrath; accordingly, hearing that the tenantry of the Duke had notice to pay their rents, he mustered his men, and visiting these gentlemen, compelled them to pay him the money, giving them, nevertheless receipts, which discharged them of any future call from Montrose. This practice he carried on with impunity for several years, until a more flagrant outrage drew down the anger of his enemy.

This was no less than the abduction of the Duke's factor, Killearn, who had formerly expelled the family of Rob Roy from Inversnaid. Killearn had gone to Chapellaroch in Stirlingshire, for the purpose of collecting rents; he anticipated, on this occasion, no interruption to his office, because Rob Roy had caused it to be given out, by proclamation, some days before, that he had gone to Ireland. Towards evening, nevertheless, he made his appearance before the inn at Chapellaroch, his piper playing before him; his followers were stationed in a neighbouring wood. The rents had just been collected, when the sound of the bagpipes announced to Killearn the approach of his enemy. The factor sprang up, and threw the bags, full of money, into a loft. Rob Roy entered, with the usual salutations, laid down his sword, and sat down to partake of the entertainment. No sooner was the repast ended, than he desired his piper to strike up a tune. In a few minutes, by this signal, six armed men entered the room; when Rob Roy, taking hold of his sword, asked the factor, "How he had prospered in his collection of the rents?" "I have got nothing yet," replied the trembling Killearn; "I have not begun to collect." "No, no, Chamberlain," cried Rob Roy, "falsehood will not do for me. I demand your book." The book was produced, the money was found and delivered to Rob Roy, who gave his usual receipt. After this, the unfortunate factor was carried off to an island near the east of Loch Katrine, where he was confined a considerable time; and when he was released, was warned not to collect the rents of the country in future, as Rob Roy intended to do so himself,—the more especially as the lands had originally belonged to the Macgregors, and he was, therefore, only reclaiming his own.[108]

This predatory war against the Duke of Montrose was carried on for a considerable time. It was favoured by the nature of the country over which the freebooter ruled triumphant, and by the secret good wishes of the Highlanders who resided in the neighbourhood. No roads were at that time formed in this region of singular beauty. Narrow valleys, thinly inhabited, and surrounded by forests and wilds, and guarded by rocks, passes, and other features of natural strength, afforded to Rob Roy all those advantages which he, who knew every defence which Nature gave to marauders in those retired haunts, could well appreciate.

The habits of the Highlanders were also, at this time, essentially warlike. "The use of arms," to borrow a description from an anonymous writer, "formed their common occupation, and the affairs of war their ordinary pursuit. They appeared on all public occasions, at market, and even at church, with their broadswords and their dirks; and, more recently, when the use of fire-arms became general, they seldom travelled without a musket and pistol." The clan Macgregor possessed these military tastes in an inordinate degree; and the wars of the foregoing century had accustomed them to a degree of union and discipline not, at that period, common among the Highlanders, who were considered, in those respects, as superior to their Lowland brethren.[109] The vicinity of the rich districts of the Lowlands gave a rich stimulus to the appetite for plunder natural to a martial and impoverished people. Above all, their energies were inspired by an undying sense of ancient and present injuries, and the remembrance of their sufferings was never erased from their minds. At this time, the most disturbed districts in Scotland were those nearest to the Lowlands; the bitterness of political feelings was added to the sense of injustice, and the loss of lands. Rob Roy knew well how to avail himself of this additional incentive to violence; he avowed his determination to molest all who were not of Jacobite principles; and he put that resolution into active practice.

The character of the individual who exercised so singular a control over his followers, and over the district in which he lived, had changed since his early, dreamy days, or since the period of his honest exertions as a drover. Rob Roy had become in repute with Robin Hood of the Lowlands. His personal appearance added greatly to the impression of his singular qualities. The author of "the Highland Rogue" describes him as a man of prodigious strength, and of such uncommon stature as to approach almost to a gigantic size. He wore a beard above a foot long, and his face as well as his body was covered with dark red hair, from which his nick-name originated. The description given by Sir Walter Scott does not entirely correspond with this portraiture. "His stature," says that writer, "was not of the tallest, but his person was uncommonly strong and compact." The great peculiarity of his frame was the great length of his arms, owing to which he could, without stooping, tie the garters of his Highland hose, which are placed two inches below the knee. His countenance was sternly expressive in the hour of peril; but, at calmer moments, it wore that frank and kindly aspect which wins upon the affections of our species. His frame was so muscular, that his knee was described as resembling that of a Highland bull, evincing strength similar to that animal. His exercise of the broadsword was, even in those days, superlative; and his intimate knowledge of the wild country over which he may be said to have ruled, gave him as great an advantage as his personal prowess. To these qualifications may be added another, perhaps more important still,—that quick perception of character, and that penetration into human motives, without which no mind can obtain a mastery over another.

To these characteristics were added a fearless and generous spirit, a hatred of oppression, and compassion for the oppressed. Although descended from the dark murderer of the young students, Rob Roy had none of the ferocity of his race in his composition. He was never the cause of unnecessary bloodshed, nor the contriver of any act of cruel revenge. "Like Robin Hood," says Scott, "he was a kind and gentle robber, and while he took from the rich, he was liberal to the poor. This might in part be policy, but the universal tradition of the country speaks it to have arisen from a better motive. All whom I have conversed with, and I have in my youth seen some who knew Rob Roy personally, gave him the character of a benevolent, humane man, in his way."

That "way" was certainly not followed out on the most approved principles of morality, and he is well described as resembling in his code of morals an "Arab chief." But if ever man may be excused for a predatory course of life, the chieftain, as he was now called, of the Macgregors may be pardoned for actions which, in those who had suffered less from wrong and oppression, would be deemed unpardonable.

The revival of that latent affection for the Stuarts which ever existed in the Highlands, greatly favoured the success of Rob Roy in his unsettled and exciting career. Many of the chieftains were now arraying their people to follow them to the field upon a summons from their rightful Prince; and even the Duke of Argyle, who had at first attached himself to the Prince of Orange, was wavering in his resolutions, never having been restored to his property and jurisdiction since the attainder and death of his father. Under these circumstances the assistance of Rob Roy became of infinite importance to Argyle. The most deadly feuds raged between him and Montrose, who, upon hearing that Roy was on friendly terms with Argyle, had sent to offer to the freebooter not only that he would withdraw his claims on his estate, but also that he would give him a sum of money if he would go to Edinburgh and give information against Argyle for treasonable practices. But this base overture was indignantly rejected by Rob Roy, who deigned not even to reply to the letter, but contented himself with forwarding it to Argyle. Hence the bitter enmity of Montrose towards the Macgregors, during the whole course of his future life.[110]

From this time Rob Roy kept no measures with his enemies, and his incursions were so frequent and so dreaded, that in 1713 a garrison was established at Inversnaid to check the irruptions of his party. But Rob Roy was too subtle and too powerful for his enemies. He bribed an old woman of his clan, who lived within the garrison, to distribute whiskey to the soldiers. Whilst they were in a state of intoxication, he set fire to the fort. He was suspected of this outrage, but still it passed with impunity, for no one dared to attack him; the affair was passed over in silence, and the Government re-established the fort of Inversnaid.

Numbers of the desperate and vagrant part of his clansmen now crowded around Rob Roy at Craig Royston, and swore obedience to him as their chieftain. The country was kept in continual awe by these marauders, who broke into houses and carried off the inmates to Craig Royston, there to remain until heavy ransoms were paid. Their chieftain, meantime, laughed at justice, and defied even the great Montrose. He had spies in every direction, who brought him intelligence of all that was going on. No person could travel near the abode of this mountain bandit without risk of being captured and carried to Craig Royston. In many instances the treatment of the prisoners is said to have been harsh; in some it was tempered by the relentings of Rob Roy. On one occasion, having seized upon a gentleman whose means had been reduced by great losses, he not only set him at liberty, but gave him money to pay his travelling expenses, and sent him in one of his own boats as far as he could travel by water.

The incursions of this Scottish Robin Hood were contrived with the utmost caution and secrecy, and executed with almost incredible rapidity. No one knew when he would appear, nor in what direction he would turn his dreaded attention. He is even said to have threatened the Duke of Montrose in his own residence at Buchanan. His enterprises were, however, not always contrived for a serious end, but sometimes partook of the love of a practical joke, which is a feature in the Scottish character.

"The Highland Rogue" gives the following account of one of his exploits:—[111]

"Rob Roy's creditors now grew almost past hopes of recovering their money. They offered a large reward to any that should attempt it successfully; but not an officer could be found who was willing to run such a hazard of his life; till at length a bailiff, who had no small opinion of his own courage and conduct, undertook the affair.

"Having provided a good horse and equipt himself for the journey, he set out without any attendance, and in a few hours arrived at Craigroiston, where, meeting with some of Rob Roy's men, he told them he had business of great importance to deliver to their master in private. Rob Roy having notice of it, ordered them to give him admittance. As soon as he came in, the Captain demanded his business. 'Sir,' (says the other) 'tho' you have had misfortunes in the world, yet knowing you to be in your nature an honourable gentleman, I made bold to visit you upon account of a small debt, which I don't doubt but you will discharge if it lies in your power.' 'Honest friend,' (says M'Gregor) 'I am sorry that at present I cannot answer your demand; but if your affairs will permit you to lodge at my house to-night, I hope by to-morrow I shall be better provided.' The bailiff complied, and was overjoyed at the success he had met with. He was entertained with abundance of civility, and went to bed at a seasonable time.

"Rob Roy then ordered an old suit of clothes to be stuffed full of straw, not wholly unlike one of the Taffies that the mob dress up and expose upon the 1st of March, in ridicule of the Welshmen; only, instead of a hat with a leek in it, they bound his head with a napkin. The ghastly figure being completely formed, they hung it upon the arm of a tree directly opposite to the window where the officer lay: he rising in the morning and finding his door locked, steps back to the window and opens the casement, in expectation of finding some of the servants, when, to his great astonishment, he cast his eye upon the dreary object before him: he knew not what to make of it; he began to curse his enterprise, and wished himself safe in his own house again. In the midst of his consternation, he spied one of the servants, and calling to him, desired him to open the door. The fellow seemed surprised at finding it locked, begged his pardon, and protested it was done by mistake. As soon as the bailiff got out, 'Prithee friend,' (says he) 'what is it that hangs upon yonder tree?' 'O sir,' (says the other) ''tis a bailiff, a cursed rogue that has the impudence to come hither to my master, and dun him for an old debt; and therefore he ordered him to be hanged there for a warning to all his fraternity. I think the impudent dog deserved it, and in troth, we have been commended by all his neighbours for so doing.' The catchpole was strangely terrified at this account, but hoping that the servant did not know him to be one of the same profession, he walked away with a seeming carelessness, till he thought himself out of sight, and then looking round and finding the way clear, he threw off his coat and ran for his life, not resting, nor so much as looking behind him, till he came to a village about three or four miles off; where, when he had recovered breath, he told the story of his danger and escape, just as he apprehended it to be. Rob Roy was so pleased with the success of his frolic, that the next day he sent home the bailiff's coat and horse, and withal let his neighbours know that it was only a contrivance to frighten him away; by which means the poor rogue became the common subject of the people's diversion."

This adventure was immediately recounted to the Governor of Stirling Castle by the messenger, who hastened to that fortress. A party of soldiers was ordered out to seize Rob Roy; but the chieftain gained intelligence of their approach, and Rob Roy retreated to the hills; whilst the country of the Macgregors was roused, and put into a state of defence. The soldiers, meantime, worn out with their search among the hills, took possession of an empty house and filled it with heath for beds. The Macgregors, always active and watchful, set fire to the house, and drove their enemies from their post. Thus Rob Roy escaped the pursuit of justice, the troopers being obliged to return to Stirling Castle. He was not always so fortunate as to avoid imminent danger; yet he had a faithful friend who watched over his safety, and who would have willingly sacrificed his life for that of Macgregor. This was the chieftain's lieutenant, Fletcher, or Macanaleister, "the Little John of his band," and an excellent marksman. "It happened," writes Sir W. Scott, "that MacGregor and his party had been surprised and dispersed by a superior force of horse and foot, and the word was given to 'split and squander.' Jack shifted for himself; but a bold dragoon attached himself to pursuit of Rob Roy, and overtaking him, struck at him with his broadsword. A plate of iron in his bonnet saved Mac Gregor from being cut down to the teeth; but the blow was heavy enough to bear him to the ground, crying as he fell, 'O Macanaleister, there is naething in her,' (i.e. in the gun:) the trooper at the same time exclaiming, 'D—n ye, your mother never brought your nightcap;' had his arm raised for a second blow, when Macanaleister fired, and the ball pierced the dragoon."

His feats had, however, in most instances, the character of an unwarrantable oppression, notwithstanding that they were sometimes accompanied by traits of a generous and chivalric spirit. Very few of those who lived in his neighbourhood could depend upon an hour's security, without paying the tax of black mail, which he audaciously demanded; and the licentiousness of his reckless troop was the theme of just reprobation, and the cause of terror to many innocent and peaceable inhabitants in the west of Perth and Stirlingshire. On one occasion Campbell, of Abernchile, who had found it convenient to submit to the assessment of the black mail, neglected the regular payment of the tax. Rob Roy, angry at his disobedience, rode up to his house, knocked at the door, and demanded admittance. A party of friends was at dinner with the host, and the door was closed against Macgregor. Rob Roy sounded his horn; instantly his followers appeared in view. Rob Roy ordered them to drive off the cattle from the estate: Abernchile was forced to make an humble apology in order to avert his wrath, and to pay the exaction.

Another enterprise of Rob Roy's was directed to the welfare of his ward and relative, Macgregor of Glengyle. The estates of Glengyle were pledged, or, as it is called in Scotland, "under a contract of wadset." The creditor was a man of influence and fortune; but, like most other Scottish proprietors who were enabled to take advantage of the wadset rights, he was grasping and merciless. It was not uncommon, in those times, for men to whom estates had been pledged, to take the most unfair advantages of small and needy proprietors; and from the great superiority which a superior claimed over his vassals, it became almost impossible for his inferiors to resist his rapacity, or to defeat his cunning.

Some months before the period of redemption had expired, Rob Roy, aware of the danger to which his ward was exposed, raised a sum of money in order to redeem the pledge. It was pretended by the creditor, that the bond securing the power of redemption was lost; and since a few months only of the period remained, a plan was formed by him for protracting the settlement of the affair. Rob Roy, unhappily, was elsewhere occupied: the period expired; the young Macgregor ceased, therefore, to be the proprietor of his estate; he was ordered to leave it, and to remove his attendants, cattle, and tenants within eight days. "But law," as Dr. Johnson observes, "is nothing without power." Before those eight days had elapsed, Rob Roy had assembled his gillies, had followed his creditor into Argyleshire, had met him, nevertheless, in Strathfillan, and had carried him prisoner to an inn. There the unjust creditor was desired to give up the bond, and told to send for it from his castle. The affrighted man promised all that could be required of him; Rob Roy would not trust him, but sent two of his followers for the bond, which was brought at the end of two days. When it was delivered to Macgregor, he refused to pay the sum of redemption, telling the creditor that the money was too small a fine for the wrong which he had inflicted; and that he might be thankful to escape as well as he might.

Against all acts of oppression, except those which he thought proper to commit himself, Rob Roy waged war. He was the avenger of the injured, and the protector of the humble; and lest his own resources should prove insufficient for these purposes, a contract was entered into with several neighbouring proprietors to combine, for the purposes of defence, and protection to others.

The Duke of Montrose and his agent, Graham of Killearn, were still the especial objects of Macgregor's hatred. When a widow was persecuted by the merciless factor, and distrained for rent, Rob Roy intercepted the officers who went out against her, and gave them a severe chastisement; and a similar excursion was made in favour of any poor man who was obliged to pay a sum of money for rent. The collectors of the rent were disarmed, and obliged to refund what they had received. Upon the same principle of might against right, Rob Roy supported his family and retainers upon the contents of a meal-store which Montrose kept at a place called Moulin; and when any poor family in the neighbourhood were in want of meat, Rob Roy went to the store-keeper, ordered the quantity which he wanted, and directed the tenants to carry it away. There was no power either of resistance or complaint. If the parks of Montrose were cleared of their cattle, the Duke was obliged to bear the loss in silence. At length, harassed by constant depredations, Montrose applied to the Privy Council for redress, and obtained the power of pursuing and repressing robbers, and of recovering the goods stolen by them. But, in this act, such was the dread of Rob Roy's power, that his name was intentionally omitted in the order in Council.

The retreat into which Rob Roy retired, in times of danger, was a cave at the base of Ben Lomond, and on the borders of the Loch. The entrance to this celebrated recess is extremely difficult from the precipitous heights which surround it. Mighty fragments of rock, partially overgrown with brushwood and heather, guard the approach. Here Robert de Bruce sheltered himself from his enemies; and here Rob Roy, who had an enthusiastic veneration for that monarch, believed that he was securing to himself an appropriate retirement. It was, indeed, inaccessible to all but those who knew the rugged entrance; and here, had it not been for the projects which brought the Chevalier St. George to England, Rob Roy might have defied, during his whole lifetime, the vengeance of Montrose. From this spot Macgregor could almost command the whole country around Loch Lomond; a passionate affection to the spot became the feeling, not only of his mind, but of that of his wife, who, upon being compelled to quit the banks of Loch Lomond, gave way to her grief in a strain which obtained the name of "Rob Roy's Lament."

Of the exquisite beauty, and of the grandeur and interest of the scene of Rob Roy's seclusion, thousands can now form an estimate. Dr. Johnson was no enthusiast when he thus coldly and briefly adverted to the characteristics of Loch Lomond. "Had Loch Lomond been in a happier climate, it would have been the boast of wealth and vanity to own one of the little spots which it incloses, and to have employed upon it all the arts of embellishment. But as it is, the islets which court the gazer at a distance, disgust him at his approach, when he finds instead of soft lawns and shady thickets, nothing more than uncultivated ruggedness."[112]

From this retreat Rob Roy frequently emerged upon some mission of destruction, or some errand of redress. His name was a terror to all who had ever incurred his wrath; his depredations were soon extended to the Lowlands. One night a report prevailed in Dumbarton, that Rob Roy intended to surprise the militia and to fire the town. It was resolved to anticipate this attack, and accordingly the militia made their way to Craig Royston; and having secured the boats on Loch Lomond, which belonged to the Macgregors, they proceeded to seek for Rob Roy. But the chieftain had collected his followers, and, retreating into his cave, he laughed at his enemies, who were forced to retire without encountering him, the object of their search.

It is indeed remarkable, that outrages so audacious, and a power so imperative as that of Rob Roy, should have defied all control within forty miles of the city of Glasgow, an important and commercial city. "Thus," as Sir Walter Scott observes, "a character like his, blending the wild virtues, the subtle policy, and unconstrained licence of an American Indian, was flourishing in Scotland during the Augustan age of Queen Anne and George the First. Addison, it is probable, and Pope, would have been considerably surprised if they had known that there existed, in the same island with them, a personage of Rob Roy's peculiar habits and profession."

To the various other traits in the character of Rob Roy, there was added that tenacity of purpose, that obstinate and indefatigable hatred, which were common to the Highlanders. Their feuds were, it is true, hereditary, and were implanted in their minds before the reason could calm the passions. The fierce, implacable temper of the Macgregors had been aggravated by long-standing injuries and insults; among those who might be considered the chief foes of their race were the heads of the house of Athole. An uncontrolled, vehement spirit of revenge against that family burned in the breast of Rob Roy Macgregor; nor did he lose any opportunity of proving the sincerity of his professions of hatred.

Hitherto the wild feats of the marauder had met with continual success; no reverse had lessened his control over his followers, nor lowered his individual pride. But at length his enemy, the Earl of Athole, had a brief, but signal triumph over the dreaded chief. The circumstances under which it occurred are the following:—

Emboldened by his continued success, Rob Roy had descended into the plains, and headed an enterprise which was attended with the direst consequences: so desolating were its effects, that it is known by the name of the "Herriship of Kilrane." The outrage was severely taken up by Government, and a reward was offered for the head of the freebooter. It was even resolved to explore his cave. One day, when on the banks of Lochearn, attended by two of his followers, Rob Roy encountered seven men, who required him to surrender; but the freebooter darted from their view, and climbed a neighbouring hill, whence he shot three of the troopers, and dispersed the rest. This occurrence drove him, for some time, from his stronghold on Loch Lomond.

The Earl of Athole had deeply felt the insults of Rob Roy, and he now took advantage of this temporary change of fortune to ensnare him. On a former occasion he had made an ineffectual attempt to overcome Macgregor. The scene had taken place on the day of the funeral of Rob Roy's mother. This was at Balquhidder: when Rob Roy had beheld the party of the Earl's friends approaching, he grasped his sword, yet met the Earl with a smile, and affected to thank him for the honour of his company. The Earl replied, that his was not a visit of compliment: and that Rob Roy must accompany him to Perth. Remonstrance was vain, and Rob Roy pretended compliance; but, whilst his friends looked on indignant and amazed, Macgregor drew his sword; the Earl instantly discharged a pistol at him: it missed its mark, and, during a momentary pause, the sister of Rob Roy, and the wife of Glenfalloch, grasped Athole by the throat and brought him to the ground. The clan meantime assembled in numbers, and the Earl was thankful to be released from the fierce amazon who held him, and to retire from the country of the Macgregors.

The Earl of Athole now judged force to be unavailing, and he resolved to try stratagem. After wandering, in consequence of the proclamation of Government, from place to place, Rob Roy was greeted by a friendly message from the Earl of Athole, inviting him to Blair Athole. Macgregor had not forgotten the day of his mother's funeral. He acted, on this occasion, with the frankness of an honest and unsuspecting nature. He doubted the Earl's sincerity; and he wrote to him, freely stating that he did so. He was answered by the most solemn assurances of protection, notwithstanding that all this time Athole was employed by Government to bring Rob Roy to justice. Macgregor was, however, deceived: he rode to Blair, attended only by one servant, and was received with the utmost professions of regard, but was requested to lay aside his dirk and sword, as the Countess of Athole would not suffer any armed man to enter the castle. Rob Roy complied with Lord Athole's entreaty. What was his surprise when the first remark made by Lady Athole was her surprise at his appearing unarmed; Rob Roy then felt that he was betrayed. Angry words, followed by a scuffle, ensued: the freebooter was overpowered; for sixty men, armed, entered before he could strike a blow.

Rob Roy was carried towards Edinburgh. He had proceeded as far as Logierait, under a strong guard, when he contrived, with his usual address and good luck, to make his escape. But the dangers which attended his eventful career were not at an end. He was surprised as he retired to the farm of Portnellan, near the head of Loch Katrine, by his old enemy, the factor of Montrose, with a party of men, who surrounded the house in which Rob Roy slept before he was out of bed; yet, the moment that he appeared, sword in hand, they fled in dismay. These, and many other incidents, rest so much upon tradition, and are so little supported by authority, that they belong rather to romance than to history. It is with the part which Rob Roy took in the actual concerns of his country that his biographer has most concern.

This brave but reckless individual was exactly the man to adopt a dangerous cause, and to play a desperate game. Proscribed, hunted, surrounded by enemies, burning under the consciousness of wrong, and unable to retrace his path to a peaceable mode of life, Rob Roy was a ready partisan of the Jacobite cause.

In 1713, he had transactions with two emissaries of the house of Stuart, and was called to account for that negotiation before the commander-in-chief in Edinburgh. He escaped punishment; and prepared, in 1715, to lead his clans to the field, headed by Macgregor of Glengyle, his nephew.[113] Upon Michaelmas day, having made themselves masters of the boats in Loch Lomond, seventy of the Macgregors possessed themselves of Inch-murrain, a large island on the lake. About midnight they went ashore at Bonhill, about three miles above Dumbarton. Meantime the alarm was spread over the country; bells were rung, and cannon fired from Dumbarton Castle. The Macgregors, therefore, thought fit to scamper away to their boats, and to return to the island. Here they indulged themselves in their usual marauding practices, "carrying off deer, slaughtering cows, and other depredations." Soon afterwards they all hurried away to the Earl of Mar's encampment at Perth; here they did not long remain, but returned to Loch Lomond on the tenth of October.[114]

They now mustered their forces. Such was the terror of their name, that both parties appear to have been afraid of the Macgregors, and to think "it would be their wisdom to part peaceably with them, because, if they should make any resistance, and shed the blood of so much as one Macgregiour, they would set no bounds to their fury, but burn and slay without mercy." This was the opinion held by some; by others resistance was thought the more discreet as well as the more honourable part. A body of volunteers was brought from Paisley, and it was resolved, if possible, to retake the boats captured by the Macgregors, who could now make a descent wherever they pleased. A singular spectacle was beheld on the bosom of Loch Lomond: four pinnaces and seven boats, which had been drawn by the strength of horses up the river Levin, which, next to the Spey, is the most rapid stream in Scotland, were beheld, their sails spread, cleaving the dark waters which reflected in their mirror a sight of armed men, who were marching along the side of the loch, in order to scour the coast. Never had anything been seen of the kind on Loch Lomond before. "The men on the shore," writes an eyewitness, "marched with the greatest ardour and alacrity. The pinnaces on the water discharging their patararoes, and the men their small arms, made so very dreadful a noise thro' the multiply'd rebounding echoes of the vast mountains on both sides the loch, that perhaps there never was a more lively resemblance of thunder." This little fleet was joined in the evening by the enemy of the Macgregors, Sir Humphrey Colquhoun of Luss, followed by "fourty or fifty stately fellows, in their short hose and belted plaids, armed each of 'em with a well-fixed gun on his shoulder." At Luss a report prevailed that the Macgregors were reinforced by Macdonald of Glengarry, and had amounted to fifteen hundred strong: but this proved to be an idle rumour; their numbers were only four hundred.

This falsehood did not dishearten the men of Paisley. "They knew," says the chronicler of their feats, "that the Macgregiours and the devil are to be dealt with after the same way; and that if they be resisted, they will flee."

On the following morning the party from Paisley went on their expedition, and arrived at Inversnaid. Here, in order to "arouse those thieves and rebels from their dens," they fired a gun through the roof of a house on the declivity of a mountain; upon which an old woman or two came crawling out, and scrambled up the hill; but no other persons appeared. "Whereupon," adds the narrator,[115] "the Paisley men, under the command of Captain Finlason, assisted by Captain Scot, a half-pay officer, of late a lieutenant of Colonel Kerr's regiment of dragoons, who is indeed an officer, wise, stout, and honest; the Dumbarton men, under the command of David Colquhoun and James Duncanson, of Garshark, magistrates of the burgh, with several of the other companies, to the number of an hundred men in all, with the greatest intrepidity leapt on shore, got up to the top of the mountain, and drew up in order, and stood about an hour, their drums beating all the while: but no enemie appearing, they thereupon went in quest of the boats which the rebels had seized; and having casually lighted on some ropes, anchors, and oars hid among the shrubs, at length they found the boats drawn up a good way on the land, which they hurled down to the loch. Such of them as were not damaged, they carried off with them; and such as were, they sunk or hewed in pieces. And that same night they return'd to Luss, and thence next day, without the loss or hurt of so much as one man, to Dumbarton, whence they had first set out altogether, bringing along with them the whole boats they found in their way on either side the loch, and in creeks of the isles, and moored them under the cannon of the castle. And thus in a short time, and with little expense, the M'Greigours were towed, and a way pointed how the Government might easily keep them in awe."

The historian remarks, as a good augury, that a violent storm had raged for three days before. In the morning, notwithstanding this much magnified triumph on the part of his enemies, neither Rob Roy nor his followers were in the least daunted, but went about "proclaiming the Pretender," and carrying off plunder. "Yesternight,[116] about seven," writes the same historian, "we had ane accountt from one of our townsmen, who had been five miles in the country, in the paroch of Baldernock, that three or four hundred of the clans, forerunners of the body coming, had at Drummen, near Dunkeld, proclaimed the Pretender; but no accountt to us from these places, nor from Sterling. Our magistrates sent fitt men at eight yesternight for information, and can hardly return till afternoon, if they have access to the three garrisons, of which they are I hear ordered to goe to to-day. I hear by report, without sufficient authority, that it's the M'Grigors come with a party, proclaimed the Pretender, tore the exciseman's book, and went away.

H. E."

---

In a letter from Leslie, dated the twentieth of January, 1716, it is stated that the country did not oppose the incursions of Rob Roy, being mostly in his interest, or indifferent. Emboldened by this passive conduct, Rob Roy marched to Falkland on the fourth of January, 1716, and took possession of the palace for a garrison. He afterwards joined the Earl of Mar's forces at Perth, yet, whether from indolence or caution, took but little share in the signal events of the day. He hovered sometimes in the Lowlands, uncertain whether to proclaim peace, or to embark with his Macgregors in the war: some said he declined fighting under Lord Mar, from the fear of offending the Duke of Argyle; at all events he had the wiliness to make the belligerent powers each conceive him as of their respective parties.

At the battle of Sherriff Muir, Macgregor had the address to make both the Jacobites and Hanoverians conceive, that, had he joined them, the glory of the day would have been secured.

The inhabitants of Leslie, who had heard, with dismay, the news of the burning of Auchterarder and Blackford, were now affrighted by a rumour that Rob Roy had a commission to burn Leslie, and all between that place and Perth. But, whilst the burgesses of Leslie were daily looking for this dreaded event, Rob Roy was forced to retreat to Dundee, by the approach of the King's troops. He left behind him a character of reckless rapacity, and of a determined will, notwithstanding some generous and humane actions. He was, nevertheless, esteemed to be among the fairest and discreetest of the party to whom he was attached, notwithstanding his favourite speech, "that he desired no better breakfast than to see a Whig's house burning." The people could not, indeed, trust any man's assurances after the recent and cruel devastation at Auchterarder.

When the fortune of the battle was decided, he was heard to say, in answer to demands that he should send his forces to the attack, "If they cannot do it without me, they cannot do it with me," and he immediately left the field. Such is the popular account of his conduct on that occasion.

The partizans of Rob Roy have, however, given a very different version of his conduct. The Duke of Argyle was the patron and friend of Macgregor; and he could neither, therefore, openly adopt a course which the Duke disapproved, nor would he altogether retire from a cause to which he was disposed to be favourable. With the true Gaelic caution Rob Roy waited to see which side prevailed, and then hastened to avail himself of an opportunity of that which had become the darling pursuit of his existence—plunder.

He retired from Sherriff Muir to Falkland, carrying terror wherever he passed.

---

The following letter, descriptive of his progress affords a curious picture of the state of that harassed and wretched country:—

"D. B.

"I received yours this evening, but I find you have been quit mistaken about our condition. You datt our freedom and libertie from the rebels long befor its commencement, and for profe take the folowing accompt of what past heir these last ten days. Upon the fourth instant Rob Roey, with one hundred and fifty men, com to Falkland, and took possession of the place for a garrison, from which they came through the countrey side and robs and plunder, taking cloaths and victuals, and every thing that maks for them, nor to oposs them till this day eight days. The sixth instant there coms thirty-two Highland men (I had almost said devils) to Leslie; we saw them at Formand Hills and resolved to resist, and so man, wife, and child drew out.

"The men went to the east end of the town, and met them in the green with drawn swords in the hands, and we askt them what they were for; they said they wanted cloaths and money; we answeared they should get neither of them heir, at which they stormed and swore terribly, and we told them if they were come for mischeif they should have thee fill of it; at which ther were some blows. But they seeing us so bold, they began to feear that we should fall upon them, and so they askt libertie to march through the town, which we granted, but withall told them if they went upon the least house in the town, ther should never a man go back to Fackland to tell the news, though we should die on the spot, and so they marsht through the town and got not so much as the rise of a cap. And they were so afraid that they did not return, but went down over the Hank Hill, and east to the minister's land; and their they faced about and fired twenty shots in upon the peple that were looking at them, but, glory to God, without doing the least hurt. And so they went off to the Formand Hils, and plundred all the could carry or drive, and threatned dreadfully they should be avenged on Leslie and burn it."

The pursuit of plunder was considered by Rob Roy as a far more venial offence than if he had fought against Lord Mar, or offended Argyle, with whom he continued on such convenient terms, that he did not leave Perth until after the arrival of that General. He then retired with the spoils he had acquired, and continued for some years in the practice of the same marauding incursions which had already proved so troublesome and distressing to his neighbours.

In the subsequent indemnity, or free pardon, the tribe of Macgregor was specially excepted; and their leader, Robert Campbell, alias Macgregor, commonly called Robert Roy, was attainted.

The severities which followed the Rebellion of 1715, drove Rob Roy to a remote retreat in the Highlands, where he lived in a solitary hut, half covered with copsewood, and seated under the brow of a barren mountain. Here he resided in poverty, and what was worse to his restless spirit, in idleness. Here he was in frequent dread of pursuit from the agents of the law; and several anecdotes are told with what veracity it is difficult to judge, of his dexterity in evading justice. Attainted, disappointed, aged, and poor, he had one grievous addition to his sorrows, which it required a cheerful and energetic mind to sustain,—that of a family devoid of principle.

Among the five sons of Macgregor, Coll, James, Robert, Duncan, and Ronald, four were known to be but too worthy of the name given by the enemies of the Macgregors to the individuals of that tribe—"devils." Of Coll, the eldest, little is ascertained. Robert, or Robbiq, or the younger, as the Gaelic word signifies, inherited all the fierceness, without the generosity, of his race. At sixteen years of age, he deliberately shot at a man of the name of Maclaren, and wounded him so severely that he died. His brothers were implicated in this murder. On their trials, they were charged with being not only murderers, but notorious thieves and receivers of stolen goods. Robert was proved to have boasted of having drawn the first blood of the Maclarens; and the brothers were all accused of having followed this murder by houghing and killing forty head of young cattle belonging to a kinsman of the deceased.

Robert Roy, the principal party in the crime, did not appear before the High Court of Justiciary, to which he was summoned: he was therefore outlawed. The other brothers were tried, and the prosecution was conducted by the celebrated Duncan Forbes, of Culloden. The prisoners were acquitted of being accessory to the murder of Maclaren; but the jury were unanimous in thinking that the charge of being reputed thieves was made out, and they were ordered to find caution for their good behaviour.

Robert Roy was advised to retire to France: his brother James remained in Scotland, and took an active part in the Rebellion of 1745; when, with the assistance of his cousin Glengyle, he surprised the fort of Inversnaid; he afterwards led to the battle of Preston Pans six companies of his clan. His thigh-bone was broken in that battle; yet he appeared again at Culloden, and was subsequently attainted.

The life of James Macgregor was spared only to present a tissue of guilty schemes, and to end in infamy and exile. That of Rob Roy was dyed yet deeper in crimes, of which a second trial and an ignominious death were the dreadful result. He was hung in the Grass Market in Edinburgh, in the year 1754. James, his brother, being reduced to the most humiliating condition, died in France, after exhibiting in his conduct, whilst in Scotland, if possible, almost a deeper shade of depravity than that displayed by his brother.

Their father was, however, released from his existence before these desperate men had sullied the name which he transmitted to them by their transgressions.

As he declined in strength, Rob Roy became more peaceable in disposition; and his nephew, the head of the clan, renounced the enmity which had subsisted between the Macgregors and the Duke of Montrose. The time of this celebrated freebooter's death is uncertain, but is generally supposed to have occurred after the year 1738. "When he found himself approaching his final change," says Sir Walter Scott, "he expressed some contrition for particular parts of his life. His wife laughed at these scruples of conscience, and exhorted him to die like a man, as he had lived. In reply, he rebuked her for her violent passions and the counsels she had given him. "You have put strife," he said, "betwixt me and the best men of my country, and now you would place enmity between me and my God.""

Although he had been educated in the Protestant faith, Rob Roy had become a Catholic long before his death. "It was a convenient religion," he used to say, "which for a little money could put asleep the conscience, and clear the soul from sin." The time and causes of his conversion are only surmised; but when he had resolved on this important step, the freebooter left his lovely residence in the Highlands, and repairing to Drummond Castle, in Perthshire, sought an old Catholic priest, by name Alexander Drummond. His confessions were stated by himself to have been received by groans from the aged man to whom he unburthened his heart, and who frequently crossed himself whilst listening to the recital.

Even after this manifestation of penitence, Rob Roy returned to his old practices, and accompanying his nephew to the Northern Highlands, he is stated to have so greatly enriched himself, that he returned to the Braes of Balquhidder, and began farming.

He is said in the decline of life to have visited London, and to have been pointed out to George the Second by the Duke of Argyle, whilst walking in the front of St. James's Palace. He still had an imposing and youthful appearance, and the King is said to have declared that he had never seen a handsomer man in the Highland garb.[117] But this, and other anecdotes, rest on no better authority than tradition. His strength, always prodigious, continued until a very late period; but at last it was extinguished even before the spirit which had stimulated it had died away. He is acknowledged, even by his partial biographer, to have declined one duel, and to have been worsted in another; but impaired eyesight, and decayed faculties are pleaded in defence of a weakness which cast dishonour on Macgregor.

His deathbed was in character with his life: when confined to bed, a person with whom he was at enmity proposed to visit him. "Raise me up," said Rob Roy to his attendants, "dress me in my best clothes, tie on my arms, place me in my chair. It shall never be said that Rob Roy Macgregor was seen defenceless and unarmed by an enemy." His wishes were executed; and he received his guest with haughty courtesy. When he had departed, the dying chief exclaimed: "It is all over now—put me to bed—call in the piper; let him play 'Ha til mi tulidh' (we return no more) as long as I breathe." He was obeyed,—he died, it is said, before the dirge was finished. His tempestuous life was closed at the farm of Inverlochlarigbeg, (the scene, afterwards, of his son's frightful crimes,) in the Braes of Balquhidder. He died in 1735, and his remains repose in the parish churchyard, beneath a stone upon which some admirer of this extraordinary man has carved a sword. His funeral is said to have been attended by all ranks of people, and a deep regret was expressed for one whose character had much to recommend it to the regard of Highlanders.

He left behind him the memory of a character by nature singularly noble, humane, and honourable, but corrupted by the indulgence of predatory habits. That he had ever very deep religious impressions is doubted; and his conversion to popery has been conjectured to have succeeded a wavering and unsettled faith. When dying, he showed that he entertained a sense of the practical part of Christianity, very consistent with his Highland notions. He was exhorted by the clergyman who attended him to forgive his enemies; and that clause in the Lord's prayer which enjoins such a state of mind was quoted. Rob Roy replied: "Ay, now ye hae gien me baith law and gospel for it. It's a hard law, but I ken it's gospel." "Rob," he said, turning to his son, "my sword and dirk lie there: never draw them without reason, nor put them up without honour. I forgive my enemies; but see you to them,—or may"—the words died away, and he expired.

Reason may disapprove of such a character as that of Rob Roy, but the imagination and the feelings are carried away by so much generosity, such dauntless exertion in behalf of the friendless, as were displayed by the outlawed and attainted freebooter. He was true to his word, faithful to his friends, and honourable in the fulfilment of his pecuniary obligations. How many are there, who abide in the sunshine of the world's good opinion, who have little claim to similar virtues!

---

SIMON FRASER, LORD LOVAT.

Le Clare, pinxt.

Cook, sculpt.

The memoirs of Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat, have been written in various forms, and with a great diversity of opinions. Some have composed accounts of this singular, depraved, and unfortunate man, with the evident determination to give to every action the darkest possible tinge; others have waived all discussion on his demerits by insisting largely upon the fame and antiquity of his family. He has himself bequeathed to posterity an apology for his life, and from his word we are bound to take so much, but only so much, as may accord with the statements of others in mitigation of the heinous facts which blast his memory with eternal opprobrium.

As far as the researches into the remote antiquity of Scotland may be relied upon, it appears that the name of Fraser was amongst the first of those which Scotland derived from Normandy, and the origin of this name has been referred to the remote age of Charles the Simple. A nobleman of Bourbon—such is the fable,—presented that monarch with a dish of strawberries. The loyal subject, who bore the name of Julius De Berry, was knighted on the spot, and the sirname of Fraize was given him in lieu of that which he had borne. Hence the ancient armorial bearing of the Frasers, a field azure, semé with strawberries: and hence the widely-spreading connection of the Frasers with the noble family of Frezeau, or Frezel, in France, a race connected with many of the royal families in Europe. For a considerable period after the elevation of Julius de Berry, the name was written Frezeau, or Frisil.

The period at which the Frasers left Normandy for Scotland has been assigned to the days of Malcolm Canmore, where John, the eldest of three brothers of the house, founded the fortunes of the Frasers of Oliver Castle in Tweedale, by marrying Eupheme Sloan, heiress of Tweedale: whilst another brother settled beyond the Forth, and became possessed of the lands of Inverkeithing. Eventually those members of this Norman race who had at first settled in Tweedale, branched off to Aberdeenshire, and to Inverness-shire;[118] and it was in this latter county, at Beaufort, a property which had been long held by his family, that the famous Lord Lovat was born.

Such is the account generally received. According to others, the family of Fraser is of Scandinavian origin. When the Scandinavians invaded the eastern coast of Britain, and the northern coast of France, one branch of the family of Frizell, or Fryzell, settled in Scotland; another in Normandy, where the name has retained its original pronunciation.[119]

The castle of Beaufort, anciently a royal fortress, had been bestowed upon the Frasers, in the year 1367. It is situated in the beautiful neighbourhood of Inverness, in the district of the Aird; it was besieged by the army of Edward the First during the invasion of Scotland by the usual method of throwing stones from catapultæ, at a distance of seven hundred yards. A subsidiary fortress, Lovat, heretofore inhabited by one of the constables of the Crown, whom the lawlessness of the wild inhabitants and the turbulence of their chieftains had rendered it necessary to establish in the west of Scotland, also fell into the possession of the Frasers.

The present seat of the family of Lovat, still called Beaufort, is built on a part of the ground originally occupied by a fortress. It lies on a beautiful eminence near the Beauly, and is surrounded by extensive plantations.

The race, thus engrafted upon a Scottish stock, continued to acquire from time to time fresh honours. It was distinguished by bravery and fidelity. When Edward the First determined to subdue Scotland, he found three Powers refuse to acknowledge his pretensions. These were, Sir William Wallace, Sir Simon Fraser, commonly called the Patriot, and the garrison of Stirling. When Bruce, with an inconsiderable force fought the English army at Methven, near Perth, and was thrice dismounted, Sir Simon Fraser thrice replaced him on his saddle; he was himself taken prisoner and ordered to be executed. And then might be witnessed one of those romantic instances of Highland devotion, which appear almost incredible to the calmer notions of a modern era. A rumour went abroad that the stay of the country, the gallant Fraser, was to suffer for his fidelity to his country's interests. Herbert de Norham, one of his followers, and Thomas de Boys, his armour-bearer, swore, that if the report were true, they would not survive their master. They died voluntarily on the day of his execution.

In 1431, the Frasers were ennobled; the head of the house was created a Lord of Parliament by James the First, and the title was preserved in regular succession, until, by the death of Hugh, the eleventh Lord Lovat, it reverted, together with all the family estates, now of considerable value and extent, to Thomas Fraser, of Beaufort, great uncle of the last nobleman. This destination of the property and honours was settled by a deed, executed by Hugh, Lord Lovat, in order to preserve the male succession in the family. It was the cause of endless heart-burnings and feuds. Hugh had married the Lady Emelia Murray, daughter of John, Marquis of Athole, and had daughters by that marriage. He had, in the first instance, settled upon the eldest of them the succession, on condition of her marrying a gentleman of the name of Fraser. But this arrangement agreed ill with the Highland pride; and upon a plea of his having been prevailed on to give this bond, contrary to the old rights and investments of the family, he being of an easy temper, having been imposed on to grant this bond, he set it aside by a subsequent will in favour of his great uncle, dated March 26th, 1696.[120]

The families of Murray and Fraser were, at the time that the title of Lovat descended upon Thomas Fraser, united in what outwardly appeared to be an alliance of friendship. Their politics, indeed, at times differed. The late Lord Lovat had persisted in his adherence to James the Second of England after his abdication, and had marshalled his own troops under the banners of the brave Dundee. The Marquis of Athole, then Lord Tullibardine, on the other hand, had adopted the principles of the Revolution, and had received a commission of Colonel from William the Third, to raise a regiment of infantry for the reigning monarch.[121] Thus were the seeds of estrangement between these families, so nearly united in blood, sown; and they were aggravated by private and jarring interests, and by manœuvres and intrigues, of which Lord Lovat, who has left a recital of them, was, from his own innate taste for cabals, and aptitude to dissimulation, calculated to be an incomparable judge.

Of the character of Thomas of Beaufort, the father of Simon, little idea can be formed, except that he seems to have been chiefly guided by the subtle spirit of his son Simon. The loss of an elder son, Alexander, after whose death Simon was considered as the acknowledged heir of the Frasers, may have increased the influence which a young, ardent temper naturally exercises over a parent advanced in years. Of his father, Simon, in his various memoirs and letters, always speaks with respect; and he refers with pride and pleasure to his mother's lineage.

"His mother," he remarks, writing in the third person, "was Dame Sybilla Macleod, daughter of the chief of the clan of the Macleods, so famous for its inviolable loyalty to its princes."[122]

During his life-time his great nephew, Thomas Fraser of Beaufort, had borne the title of Laird of Beaufort. "He now took possession," says his biographer, "without opposition, of the honours and titles which had descended to him, and enjoyed them until his death." According to other authorities, however, Thomas Fraser never assumed the rank of a nobleman, but retired to the Isle of Sky, where he died in 1699, three years after his accession to the disputed honours and estates.

The family of Thomas of Beaufort was numerous. Of fourteen children, six died in infancy; of the eight who survived, Simon Fraser only mentions two,—his elder brother, Alexander, and his younger, John. Alexander, who died in 1692, was of a violent and daring temper. A determined adherent of James the Second, he joined Viscount Dundee in 1689, when the standard was raised in favour of the abdicated monarch. During a funeral which had assembled at Beauly, near Inverness, Alexander received some affront, which, in a fit of passion, he avenged. He killed his antagonist, and instantly fled to Wales, in order to escape the effects of his crime. He died in Wales, without issue. John became a brigadier in the Dutch service, and was known by the name of Le Chevalier Fraser. He died in 1716, "when," says his brother, Lord Lovat, in his Memoirs, "I lost my only brother, a fine young fellow."[123]

Simon Fraser, afterwards Lord Lovat, was born at Inverness,—according to some accounts in 1668, to others in 1670: he fixes the date himself at 1676. He was educated at the University of Aberdeen, where he distinguished himself, and took the degree of Master of Arts. During his boyhood he shewed his hereditary affection to the Stuarts,—an affection which was probably sincere at that early age: and he was even imprisoned for his open avowal of that cause, at the time when his elder brother repaired to the standard of Dundee. Deserting the study of the civil law, to which he had been originally destined, Simon Fraser entered a company in the regiment of Lord Tullibardine, his relation; nevertheless, he twice attempted to benefit the Jacobite cause,—once, by joining the insurrection promoted by General Buchan, and a second time by forming a plan, which was rendered abortive by the famous victory at La Hogue, for surprising the Castle of Edinburgh, and proclaiming King James in that capital.

This plot escaped detection; and the young soldier pursued his military duties, until the death of Hugh Lord Lovat drew him from the routine of his daily life into intrigues which better suited his restless and dauntless character.

Although his father, it is clearly understood, never bore the title of Lord Lovat, Simon, immediately upon the death of Lord Hugh, took upon himself the dignity and the offices of Master of Lovat. He seems, indeed, to have assumed all the importance, and to have exercised all the authority, which properly belonged to Lord Lovat. He was at this time nearly thirty years of age, and he had passed his life, not in mere amusement, but in acquiring a knowledge of the world in prosecuting his own interests. It is true, his leisure hours might have been more innocently bestowed even in the most desultory pursuits, than in the debasing schemes and scandalous society in which his existence was passed: it is true, that in studying his own interests, he forgot his true interest, and failed lamentably; still, he had not been idle in his vocation.

He is said, on tradition, to have been one of the most frightful men ever seen; and the portrait which Hogarth took of him, corroborates that report. He inherited the courage natural to his family, and his character, in that single respect, shone out at the last with a radiancy that one almost regrets, since it seemed so inconsistent that a career of the blackest vice and perfidy should close with something little less than dignity of virtue. He seems to have been endowed with a capacity worthy of a better employment than waiting upon a noble and wealthy relative, or inflaming discords between Highland clans. If we may adduce the Latin quotations which Lovat parades in his Memoirs, and which he uttered during his last hours, we must allow him to have cultivated the classics. His letters are skilful, even masterly, cajoling, yet characteristic. It is affirmed that in spite of a physiognomy vulgar in feature, and coarse and malignant in expression, he could, like Richard of Gloucester, obliterate the impression produced by his countenance, and charm those whom it was his interest to please. His effrontery was unconquerable: whilst conscious of the most venal motives, and even after he had displayed to the world a shameless tergiversation, he had the assurance always to claim for himself the merit of patriotism. "For my part," he said on one occasion, in conversation with his friends, "I die a martyr to my country."[124]

In after life, Lovat is described by a contemporary writer, "to have had a fine comely head to grace Temple Bar." He was a man of lofty stature, and large proportion; and in the later portion of his life, he grew so corpulent, that "I imagined," says the same writer, "the doors of the Tower must be altered to get him in."[125]

"Lord Lovat," says another writer, "makes an odd figure, being generally more loaded with clothes than a Dutchman: he is tall, walks very upright, considering his great age, and is tolerably well shaped; he has a large mouth and short nose, with eyes very much contracted and down-looking; a very small forehead, covered with a large periwig,—this gives him a grim aspect, but on addressing any one, he puts on a smiling countenance: he is near-sighted, and affects to be much more so than he really is."

"His natural abilities," remarks the editor of the Culloden Papers, "were excellent, and his address, accomplishments, and learning far above the usual lot of his countrymen, even of equal rank. With the civilized, he was the modern perfect fine gentleman; and in the North, among his people, the feudal baron of the tenth century."[126]

It seems absurd to talk of the religious principles of a man who violated every principle which religion inculcates; yet the mind is naturally curious to know whether any bonds of faith, or suggestion of conscience ever checked, even for an instant, the career of this base, unprincipled man. After much deception, much shuffling, and perhaps much self-delusion, Lord Lovat was, by his own declaration, a Roman Catholic: his sincerity, even in this avowal, has been questioned. In politics, he was in heart (if he had a heart) a Jacobite; and yet, on his trial, he insisted strongly upon his affection for the reigning family.

Such were the characteristics of Simon Fraser, when, by the death of Hugh Lord Lovat, his father and himself were raised from the subservience of clansmen to the dignity of chieftains. To these traits may be added a virtue rare in those days, and, until a long time afterwards, rare in Highland districts;—he was temperate: when others lost themselves by excesses, he preserved the superiority of sobriety; and perhaps his crafty character, his never-ending designs, his remorseless selfishness, were rendered more fatal and potent by this singular feature in his deportment. There was another circumstance, less rare in his country, the advantage of an admirable constitution. It was this, coupled with his original want of feeling, which sustained him in the imprisonment in the Tower, and enabled him to display, at eighty, the elasticity of youth. Lord Lovat was never known to have had the headache, and to the hour of his death he read without spectacles. A very short time after the death of Hugh Lord Lovat elapsed, before those relatives to whom he had bequeathed his estates were involved in the deadliest quarrel with the family of Lord Tullibardine.

The family of Lord Tullibardine, at that time called Lord Murray, furnish one of those numerous instances which occur in the reign of William the Third, of an open avowal of Whig principles, joined to a secret inclination to favour the Jacobite party. The Marquis of Athole, the father of Lord Tullibardine, had been a powerful Royalist in the time of Charles the First; but had, nevertheless, promoted the Revolution, and had hastened, in 1689, to court the favour of the Prince of Orange, with whom his lady claimed kindred.

Disappointed in his hopes of distinction, the Marquis returned to his former views upon the subject of legitimacy; and finally retired into private life, leaving the pursuit of fortune to his son, Lord John, afterwards Earl Tullibardine, and Marquis of Athole. The disgust of the old Marquis towards the government of William the Third, and the evident determination which his son soon manifested to ingratiate himself with that monarch, had, at the time when the death of Hugh Lord Lovat took place, completely alienated the Marquis from his son, and produced an entire separation of their interests.[127]

In his zeal for the King's service, Lord Tullibardine had endeavoured to raise a regiment of infantry; and it happened, that at this time Simon Fraser, as he expresses it, "by a most extraordinary stroke of Providence, held a commission in that regiment." This commission had been procured for him by his cousin, Lord Lovat, who looked upon it as the best means of "bringing him out in the world," as he expressed himself. The mode in which Simon was induced by Lord Murray to accept of this commission, and the manner in which he was, according to his own statement, induced to support a scheme which was adverse to the interests of King James, is narrated in his own Memoirs. If we may believe his account, he opposed the formation of this regiment by every exertion in his power: he aided the Stewarts and Robinsons of Athole, devoted Jacobites, and determined opposers of Lord Murray, whose claims on them as their chieftain they refused to admit; and when Lord Murray, on being appointed one of the Secretaries of State, resolved to give up the colonelcy of the troop, he tried every means in his power to dissuade his cousin, Hugh Lord Lovat, to whom it was offered, from accepting the honour which it was inconsistent with his principles to bear. This conduct, according to the hero of the tale, was highly applauded by the old Marquis of Athole, who even engaged his young relative, Simon, to pass the winter in the city of Perth with the younger son of the Marquis, Lord Mungo Murray, in order that they might there prosecute together the study of mathematics.

Simon accepted the invitation; and whilst he was at Perth, he was, according to his own statement, cajoled by Lord Murray into accepting the commission, which "he held by a stroke of Providence;" and which was represented by Lord Murray, as Simon affirms, to be actually a regiment intended for the service of King James, who, it was expected, would make a descent into Scotland in the following summer. And it was observed that since the Laird of Beaufort was so zealous in his service, he could not do his Majesty a greater benefit than in accepting this commission.

Influenced by these declarations, Simon had not only accepted the commission, but had used his influence to make up a complete company from his own clan: nevertheless, the command of the company was long delayed. His pride as a Highlander and a soldier was aggrieved by being obliged to sit down content, for some time, as a lieutenant of grenadiers; and, at last, the company was only given upon the payment of a sum of money to the captain, who made room for the Laird of Beaufort. Nor was this all; for upon the Lord Murray being made one of the Secretaries of State, he insisted upon the regiment taking oath of abjuration, which had never before been tendered to the Scottish army.[128]

Such had been the state of affairs when Hugh Lord Lovat was taken ill, and died at Perth. The manner in which Simon Fraser represents this event, is far more characteristic of his own malignant temper, than derogating to the family upon whom he wreaks all the luxury of vengeance that words could give. Simon, it appears, had persuaded Lord Lovat to go to Dunkeld, to meet his wife, the daughter of the Marquis of Athole, in order to conduct her to Lovat. Lord Lovat, disgusted by the treachery of the Earl of Tullibardine in respect to the regiment, had refused to have anything more to do with "this savage family of Athole," as he called them, "who would certainly kill him."[129] According to an account more to be relied on than that of the scheming and perfidious Simon, the aversion which Lord Lovat imbibed during his latter days to his wife's kindred, was implanted in his mind by Simon Fraser, in order to gain his weak-minded relative over to that plot which he had formed in order to secure the estates of Lovat to his own branch of the house.[130] This, however, is the account given by Fraser of his kinsman's last illness:—

"In reality he had been only two days at Dunkeld, when he fell sick, and the Atholes, not willing to be troubled with the care of an invalid, or for some other reasons, sent him to an inn in the city of Perth, hard by the house of Dr. James Murray, a physician, the relation or creature of the Marquis of Athole, upon whom the care of Lord Lovat's person was devolved.

"The moment the Laird of Beaufort heard the news that Lord Lovat had been conducted, very ill, to the town of Perth, he set out to his assistance. But before his arrival, in consequence of the violent remedies that had been administered to him, he lost the use of his reason, and lay in his bed in a manner incapable of motion,—abandoned by his wife and the whole family of Athole, who waited for his dissolution in great tranquillity, at the house of Dr. Murray, their relation."

Lord Lovat, however, recollected his cousin, and embracing him said, "Did not I tell you, my dear Simon, that these devils would certainly kill me? See in what a condition I am!" Simon could not refrain from tears at this melancholy spectacle. He threw himself on the bed beside Lord Lovat, and did not quit him till he died the next morning in his arms. Meanwhile, not an individual of the Athole family entered his apartment after having once seen him in the desperate condition in which he had been found by the Laird of Beaufort.

Such was the state of family discord when Lord Lovat died; and it was discovered, to the consternation of the Marquis of Athole and his sons, that he had made a will in favour of his relation Thomas of Beaufort, and to the exclusion of his own daughter.

The right of Thomas of Beaufort was deemed incontestable; and not a man, it was presumed, dreamed of disputing it. Yet it was soon obvious that the Earl of Tullibardine, who had now acquired the title of Viceroy of Scotland, was determined to support a claim in behalf of the daughter of Lord Lovat, and to have her declared heiress to her father. This scheme was coupled with a design of marrying the young lady also to one of Lord Tullibardine's own sons,[131] of whom he had five, and, according to Simon Fraser, without fortune to bestow on any of his children.

The Master of Lovat, Simon Fraser, as he rightfully was now, communicated this scheme to his father, and entreated him to resist this claim. Recourse was had to several of the most able lawyers of the kingdom, and their opinion unanimously was, that Lord Tullibardine had no more right to make his "niece heiress of Lovat than to put her in possession of the throne of Scotland: that the right of Thomas of Beaufort to those honours and estates was incontrovertible, and that the King himself would not deprive him of them, except for high treason." It appears that Lord Tullibardine was satisfied of the justice of the opinion as far as the title was concerned, but he still considered that the property of the last Lord Lovat ought to descend to his daughter and heiress. The point was warmly viewed between the Earl and the Master of Lovat; but the conference ended with no farther satisfaction to either of the gentlemen than that of having each a full opportunity of reviling the other: such, at least, is the account given by one of the parties; no reasonable person will venture wholly to vouch for its accuracy, yet the dialogue does not appear improbable. This firmness and spirit threw the Lord Commissioner into a violent passion; he exclaimed in a furious tone, "I have always known you for an obstinate, insolent rascal; I don't know what should hinder me from cutting off your ears, or from throwing you into a dungeon, and bringing you to the gallows, as your treasons against the Government so richly deserve." Simon, having never before been accustomed to such language, immediately stuck his hat on his head, and laying his hand upon the hilt of his sword, was upon the point of drawing it, when he observed that Lord Tullibardine had no sword: upon this he addressed him in the following manner.

"I do not know what hinders me, knave and coward as you are, from running my sword through your body. You are well known for a poltroon, and if you had one grain of courage, you would never have chosen your ground in the midst of your guards, to insult a gentleman of a better house, and of a more honourable birth than your own; but I shall one day have my revenge. As for the paltry company that I hold in your regiment, and which I have bought dearer than ever any company was bought before,—it is the greatest disgrace to which I was ever subject, to be a moment under your command; and now, if you please, you may give it to your footman."[132]

Such was the beginning of a long course of hostilities which were thenceforth carried on between the Murrays and the clan of Fraser, and which was productive of the deepest crimes on the part of the Master of Lovat. That he was fully prepared to enter into any schemes, however desperate, to ensure the succession of the estates of Lovat, cannot be doubted. He prosecuted his designs without remorse or shame. The matter of surprise must be, that he found partisans and followers willing to aid him in crime, and that he possessed an influence over his followers little short, on their part, of infatuation.

The first suggestion that occurred to the mind of this bold and reckless man was, perhaps, a natural and certainly an innocent method of securing tranquillity to the enjoyment of his inheritance. He resolved to engage the affections of the young daughter of the late Lord Lovat, and, by an union with that lady, to satisfy himself that no doubt could arise as to his title to the estates, nor with regard to any children whom he might have in that marriage; nor was the hand of the Master of Lovat, if we put aside the important point of character, a proffer to be despised. The estate of Beaufort had long been in the possession of his father, as an appanage of a younger son; and had only been lent as a residence to Hugh Lord Lovat, on account of the ruinous state of the castle of Lovat. Downie Castle, another important fortress, also accrued to the father of Simon Lovat; and the estate of Lovat itself was one of the finest and best situated in Scotland.[133] In addition to these, the family owned the large domain of Sthratheric, which stretches along the western banks of the Ness, and comprises almost the whole circumference of that extensive and beautiful lake. The pretensions of the Master were, therefore, by no means contemptible; and as he was young, although, according to dates, ten years older than he states himself to be, in his Memoir of his life, he had every reason to augur success.

For a time, this scheme seemed to prosper. The young lady, Amelia Fraser, was not averse to receive the Master of Lovat as her suitor; and the intermediate party, Fraser, of Tenechiel, who acted as interpreter to the wishes of the Master, actually succeeded in persuading the young creature to elope with him, and to fix the very day of her marriage with the Master, to whom Fraser promised to conduct her. But either she repented of this clandestine step, or Fraser of Tenechiel, dreading the power of the Athole family, drew back; for he reconducted her back to her mother at Castle Downie, even after her assurance had been given that she would marry her cousin.[134]

The circumstances of this elopement are obscurely stated by Lord Lovat in his account of the affair; and he does not refer to the treachery or remorse of his emissary Fraser of Tenechiel, nor does he dwell upon a disappointment which must have gratified his mortal enemies of the house of Athole. Yet it appears, from the long and early intimacy to which he alludes as having subsisted between himself and the Dowager Lady Lovat, that he may have had many opportunities of gaining the regard of the young daughter of that lady,—an idea which accounts, in some measure, for her readiness to engage in the scheme of the elopement. At all events, he expresses his rage and contempt, and makes no secret of his determined revenge on those who had, as he conceived, frustrated his project.

The young lady was at first placed under the protection of her mother at Castle Downie, the chief residence of the clan Fraser; but there it was not thought prudent to allow her to abide, and she was therefore carried, under an escort, to Dunkeld, the house of her uncle, the Marquis of Athole. And here another match was very soon provided for her, and again her consent was gained, and again the preliminaries of marriage were arranged for this passive individual. The nobleman whom her relations now proposed to her was William, afterwards eleventh Lord Salton, also a Fraser, whose father was a man of great wealth and influence, although referred to by the Master of Lovat as the "representative of an unconsiderable branch of the Frasers who had settled in the lowlands of the county of Aberdeen."[135] This match was suggested to the Athole family by one Robert Fraser "an apostate wretch," as the Master of Lovat calls him, a kinsman, and an advocate; and he advised the Marquis of Athole, not only to marry the young lady to the heir of Lord Salton, but also, by various schemes and manœuvres, to get Lord Salton declared head of the clan of Frasers. This plot was soon divulged; disappointment, rage, revenge were raised to the height in the breast of the Master of Lovat. His pride was as prominent a feature in this bold and vindictive man, as his duplicity. Throughout life, he could, it is true, bend for a purpose, as low as his designs required him to bend; but the fierce exclusiveness of a Highland chieftain never died away, but rankled in his heart to the last.

It must be admitted that he had just cause of irritation against the Murrays, first for disputing the claim of his father to the Lovat title and estates, a claim indisputably just; nor was their project for constituting Lord Salton the head of the clan Fraser, either a wise or an equitable scheme. It was heard with loud indignation in that part of the country where the original stock of this time-honoured race were, until their name was stained by the crimes of Simon Fraser, held in love and reverence. It was heard by the Master of Lovat perhaps with less expression of his feelings than by his followers; but the meditated affront was avenged, and avenged by a scheme which none but a demon could have devised. It was avenged; but it brought ruin on the head of the avenger.

Perhaps in no other country, at the same period, could the wrongs of an individual have been visited upon an aggressor with the same dispatch and ruthless determination as in the Highlands. Until the year 1748, when the spirit of clanship was broken, never to be restored, those "hereditary monarchies founded on custom, and allowed by general consent rather than established by laws,"[136] existed in their full vigour. The military ranks of the clans was fixed and continual during the rare intervals of local quiet, and every head of a family was captain of his own tribe.[137] The spirit of rivalry between the clans kept up a taste for hostility, and converted rapine into a service of honour. Revenge was considered as a duty, and superstition aided the dictates of a fiery and impetuous spirit. A people naturally humane, naturally forbearing, had thus, by the habits of ages immemorial, become remorseless plunderers and resolute avengers. When any affront was offered to a chieftain, the clan was instantly summoned. They came from their straths and their secluded valleys, wherein there was little intercourse with society in general to tame their native pride, or to weaken the predominant emotion of their hearts,—their pride in their chieftain. They came fearlessly, trusting, not only in the barriers which Nature had given them in their rocks and fastnesses, but in the unanimity of their purpose. Each clan had its stated place of meeting, and when it was summoned upon any emergency, the fiery cross, one end burning, the other wrapt in a piece of linen stained with blood, was sent among the aroused clansmen, traversing those wild moors, and penetrating into the secluded glens of those sublime regions. It was sent, by two messengers, throughout the country, and passed from hand to hand, these messengers shouting, as they went, the war-cry of the clan, which was echoed from rock to rock. And then arose the cry of the coronach, that wail, appropriate to the dead, but uttered also by women, as the fiery cross roused them from their peaceful occupations, and hurried from them their sons and their husbands.

Never was the fiery cross borne throughout the beautiful country of Invernessshire, never was the wail of the coronach heard on a more ignoble occasion, than on the summons of the Master of Lovat, in the September of the year 1698. After some fruitless negotiation, it is true, with Lord Salton, and after availing himself of the power of his father, as chieftain, to imprison Robert Fraser, and several other disaffected clansmen whom that person had seduced from their allegiance, the Master of Lovat prepared for action. The traitors to his cause had escaped death by flight, but the clan were otherwise perfectly faithful to their chieftain. Fear, as well as love, had a part in their allegiance; yet it has been conjectured that the hereditary devotion of the Highlanders must, originally, have had its origin in gratitude for services and for bounty, which it was the interest of every chieftain to bestow.

The Master of Lovat, or, as he was called by his people, the chieftain, first assembled his people at their accustomed place, to the number of sixty and seventy, and bade them be in readiness when called upon. He thanked them for their prompt attendance, and then dismissed them. During the next month, however, he was met, coming from Inverness, by Lord Salton and Lord Mungo Murray, who were returning from Castle Downie. Such was the preparation for the disgraceful scenes which quickly followed. As soon as the Master of Lovat and his father were informed of the flight of their treacherous clansmen, they wrote a letter to Lord Salton, and conjured him, in the name of the clan, to remain at home, and not to disturb their repose nor to interfere with the interests of their chief; and they assured him, that though a Fraser, he should, if he entered their country, pay for that act of audacity by his head. Such is Lord Lovat's account: it is not borne out by the statements of others; yet since the affair must have been generally discussed among the clan, it is probable, that he would not have given this version of it without foundation. Lord Salton, according to the same statement, at first received this letter in good part; and wrote to Lord Lovat and to the Master, giving his word that he would only interfere to make peace; and that, for this reason, he would proceed to the seat of the Dowager Lady Lovat, at Beaufort.[138] Upon afterwards discovering that this courtesy was a mere feint, and that this new claimant to the honours of chief was in close correspondence with the Murrays, who were with him and the Dowager at Beaufort, the Master of Lovat wrote to his father, who was at Sthratheric, to meet him at Lovat, which was only three miles' distance from Beaufort, whilst he should himself proceed to the same place by way of Inverness, where he trusted that Lord Salton would grant him an interview for the purpose of explaining their mutual differences.[139]

No sooner had the Master arrived at Inverness, than he found, as he declares, so much reason to distrust the assurances of Lord Salton, that he wrote him a letter, sent, as he says, "with all diligence by a gentleman of his train, to adhere to his word passed to his father and himself, and to meet him the next day at two in the afternoon, three miles from Beaufort, either like a friend, or with sword and pistol, as he pleased."[140]

Such is the account transmitted by Lord Lovat, and intended to give the air of an "affair of honour" to a desperate and lawless attack upon Fraser of Salton, and on those friends who supported his pretensions to the hand of the heiress of Lovat.

The real facts of the case were, that Fraser of Salton was to pass through Inverness on his way to Dunkeld, where the espousals between him and the heiress of Lovat were to be celebrated. Whether Simon Fraser purposed merely to prevent the accomplishment of this marriage, or whether he had fully matured another scheme:—whether he was incited by disappointment to rush into unpremeditated deeds of violence, or whether his design had been fostered in the recesses of his own dark mind, cannot be fully ascertained. In some measure his revenge was gratified. He was enabled, by the events which followed, to delay the marriage of Fraser of Salton, and to retard the nuptials,—which, indeed, never took place. "This wild enterprise," observes Arnot, in his Collection of Criminal Trials in Scotland, "was to be accomplished by such deeds, that the stern contriver of the principal action is less shocking than the abject submission of his accomplices."[141]

Lord Salton dispatched an answer, saying, that he would meet the Master of Lovat at the appointed time, as his "good friend and servant." But the bearer of that message distrusted the reply, and informed the Master that he believed it was Fraser of Salton's intention to set out and to pass through Inverness early in the morning, in order to escape the interview. Measures were taken accordingly, by the Master of Lovat. At a very early hour he was seen passing over the bridge of Inverness, attended by six gentlemen, as he himself relates, and two servants, completely armed. This is the Master's statement; but on his subsequent trial, it appeared that the fiery cross and the coronach had been sent throughout all the country; that a body of four or five hundred men in arms were in attendance, and that they had met in the house of one of the clansmen, Fraser of Strichen, where the Master took their oaths of fidelity, and where they swore on their dirks to be faithful to him in his enterprise.[142] "The inhabitants of Inverness," says Lord Lovat, "observing their alert and spirited appearance, lifted up their hands to heaven, and prayed God to prosper their enterprise." These simple and deluded people, doubtless, but partially understood the nature of that undertaking which they thus called on Heaven to bless.

The Master of Lovat and his party had not proceeded more than four or five miles from Inverness, than they observed a large party of "runners issuing out of the wood of Bonshrive, which is crossed by the high road." "It is a custom," adds Lord Lovat, "in the north of Scotland, for almost every gentleman to have a servant in livery, who runs before his horse, and who is always at his stirrup when he wishes to mount or to alight; and however swift any horse may be, a good runner is always able to match him."

The gentlemen who attended the Master of Lovat, were soon able to perceive that Lord Salton was one of the leaders of the party who was quitting the Wood of Bonshrive, and emerging into the high road; and that his Lordship was accompanied by Lord Mungo Murray, a younger son of the Marquis of Athole, and, as the Master of Lovat intimates, an early friend of his own. The account which Lord Lovat's narrative henceforth presents, of that which ensued, is so totally at variance with the evidence on his trial, that it must be disregarded and rejected as unworthy of credit, as well as the boast with which he concludes it, of having generously saved the lives of Lord Salton, and of his own kinsman, Lord Mungo. It appeared afterwards, that his followers had orders to seize them, dead or alive.

These two young noblemen were, it seems, almost instantly overpowered by numbers, notwithstanding the attendance of the "runners," on whom Lord Lovat so much insists. Lord Mungo was taken prisoner by the Master himself. They were then deprived of their horses, and being mounted on poneys, were conducted to Fanellan, guards surrounding them, with their muskets loaded, and dirks drawn, to a house belonging to Lord Lovat, where they were kept in close confinement, guarded by a hundred clansmen. Gibbets were erected under the windows of the house, to intimidate the prisoners; and at the end of a week they were marched off to Castle Downie,—the Master of Lovat going there in warlike array, with a pair of colours and a body of five hundred men. From Castle Downie, Lord Salton and Lord Mungo were led away into the islands and mountains, and were treated with great indignity.

These adversaries being thus disposed of, the Master of Lovat invested the castle of Downie with an armed force, and soon took possession of a fortress, tenanted only by a defenceless woman, the Dowager Lady Lovat. But that lady was a Murray; one of a resolute family, and descended on her mother's side from a Stanley. She was the grand-daughter of Charlotte de la Tremouille, who defended Latham House against the Parliamentary forces in 1644. Notwithstanding that armed men were placed in the different apartments of the castle, she was undaunted. Attempts were made by the Master of Lovat to compel her to sign certain deeds, securing to him that certainty of the right to the estates, for which he was ready to plunge in the deepest of crimes. She was firm—she refused to subscribe her name. Her refusal was the signal, or the incentive, for the completion of another plot, of a last resource,—a compulsory marriage between the Master of Lovat and herself.

The awful and almost incredible details of that last act of infuriated villany, prove Lady Lovat to have been a woman of strong resolution, and of a deep sensibility. The ceremony of marriage was pronounced by Robert Monro, Minister of Abertaaffe. The unhappy Lady Lovat's resistance and prayers were heard in the very court-yard below, although the sound of bagpipes were intended to drown her screams. Morning found the poor wretched being, to make use of one of the expressions used by an eye-witness, "out of her judgment; she spoke none, but gave the deponent a broad stare." For several days reason was not restored to her, until, greeted by one of her friends with the epithet "Madam," she answered, "Call me not Madam, but the most miserable wretch alive." The scene of this act of diabolical wickedness[143] is razed to the ground: Castle Downie was burned by the royal troops, in the presence of him who had committed such crimes within its walls, and of three hundred of his clansmen, shortly after the battle of Culloden.

It appears from a letter written by Thomas Lovat, the father of the Master, to the Duke of Argyle, that he and his son were shortly "impeached for a convocation," and for making prisoners of Lord Salton and Lord Mungo Murray, for which they were charged before him, were fined, discharged their fines, and "gave security to keep the peace."[144] So lightly was that gross invasion of the liberty that threatened the lives of others at first treated! "We have many advertisements," adds Thomas Lovat, "that Athole is coming here in person, with all the armed men he is able to make, to compel us to duty, and that without delay. If he come, so we are resolved to defend ourselves; the laws of God, of nature, and the laws of all nations, not only allowing, but obliging all men, vim vi repellere. And I should wish from my heart, if it were consistent with divine and human laws, that the estates of Athole and Lovat were laid as a prize, depending on the result of a fair day betwixt him and me."[145] It was, perhaps, an endeavour to avert the impending ruin and devastation that followed, that the Master of Lovat gave their liberty to Lord Saltoun and Lord Mungo Murray, although not until he had threatened them both with hanging for interfering with his inheritance, and compelling Lord Saltoun to promise that he would, on arriving at Inverness, send a formal obligation for eight thousand pounds, never more to concern himself with the affairs of the Lovat estate, and that neither he nor the Marquis of Athole would ever prosecute either Lord Lovat or his son, or their clan in general, for the disgrace they had received in having been made prisoners, for any of the transactions of this affair.[146]

But it was evident that, in spite of this concession, the vengeance of the Marquis of Athole never slept; and that he was resolved to wreak it upon the head of the wretch who had for ever blasted the happiness of his sister.

The Master of Lovat was shortly aware that it would no longer be prudent to remain with his victim in the castle of Downie. His wife, as it was then his pleasure to call her, remained in a condition of the deepest despair. She would neither eat nor drink whilst she was in his power; and her health appears to have suffered greatly from distress and fear. In the dead of night she was summoned to leave Castle Downie, to be removed to a more remote and a wilder region, where the unhappy creature might naturally expect, from the desperate character of her pretended husband, no mitigation of her sorrows. Since rumours were daily increasing of the approach of Lord Athole's troops, the clan of Fraser was again, when Lady Lovat was conveyed from the scene of her anguish, called forth to assist their leader, and the wail of the coronach was again heard in that dismal and portentous night: for portentous it was. This crime, the first signal offence of Simon Fraser, stamped his destiny. Its effects followed him through life: it entailed others: it was the commencement of a catalogue of iniquities almost unprecedented in the career of one man's existence.

Crushed, broken-spirited, afraid of returning to her kindred, whose high fame she seems to have thought would be sullied by her misfortunes, Lady Lovat was conducted by Fraser to the Island of Aigas. They stole thither on horseback, attended by a single servant, and arriving at the sea-shore, they there took a boat, and were carried to the obscure island which Fraser had chosen for his retreat. Thomas Fraser of Beaufort, the father of Simon, thus writes to the Duke of Argyle respecting this singular and revolting union.

"We have gained a considerable advantage by my eldest son's being married to the Dowager of Lovat; and if it please God they live together some years, our circumstances will be very good. Our enemies are so galled at it, that there is nothing malice or cruelty can invent but they design and practice against us; so that we are forced to take to the hills, and keep spies at all parts; by which, among many other difficulties, the greatest is this,—that my daughter-in-law, being a tender creature, fatigue and fear of bloodshed may put an end to her, which would make our condition worse than ever."[147]

And now there took place, in the mind of Lady Lovat, one of those singular revulsions which experience teaches us to explain rather than induces us to believe as neither impossible nor uncommon. Lady Lovat, it is said upon the grave authority of a reverend biographer, became attached to the bonds which held her. "Here," says Mr. Arbuthnot, in his Life of Lord Lovat,[148] "he continued a month or six weeks, and by this time the captain had found means to work himself so effectually into the good graces of the lady, that, as he reported, 'she doated on him, and was always unhappy at his absence.'" However true or however false this representation may be, the marriage service was again, as it was said, solemnized, at the suggestion of the Master of Lovat, and with the free consent of Lady Lovat.[149] On the twenty-sixth of October, 1697, we find Simon Fraser writing in the following terms to the Laird of Culloden. The answer is not given in the Culloden Papers, but it not improbably contained a recommendation to repeat the marriage ceremonials:—

"Beaufort, the 26th of Oct., 1797.

"Dear Sir,

"Thir Lords att Inverness, with the rest of my implacable enemies, does so confound my wife, that she is uneasy till she see them. I am afraid that they are so madd with this disapointment, that they will propose something to her that is dangerous, her brother having such power with her; so that really, till things be perfectly accommodatt, I do nott desire they should see her, and I know not how to manage her. So I hope you will send all the advice you can to your oblidged humble servant,

Sim. Fraser."

"I hope you will excuse me for not going your lenth, since I have such a hard task at home."