John Murray, of Broughton, in Peeblesshire, was born in 1715, being descended from a cadet of the house of Murray of Philiphaugh. His father, Sir David Murray, was out in the Fifteen, but afterwards lived peacefully, developed the lead mines of Strontian, and died before the Forty-five. His son, educated at Edinburgh and Leyden Universities, visited Rome in 1737-8, carried thither his ancestral politics, and inflamed them at the light of Prince Charles’s eyes, ‘the finest I ever saw.’[34] He found Charles ‘the most surprizingly handsome person of the age,’ a description not borne out by the miniature in enamel which he gave to his admirer in a diamond snuff-box.[35] Here we see ‘the complection that has in it somewhat of an uncommon delicacy;’ we see large brown eyes, an oval face, and the bright hair hanging down below the perruque, that hair which is treasured in a hundred rings, sleeve-links, and lockets. But genuine portraits of the Prince do not account for his epithet of ‘bonnie,’ and for his almost involuntary successes with women. He had ‘an air,’ and was, indeed, a good-looking boy enough; but he was no Adonis, the lower part of his face tending early to overfulness. However, he won Murray’s heart, and he never lost it.
Returning, in 1738, to Broughton, on the Tweed, Murray found himself a near neighbour of Lord Traquair, then residing in his ancient château, which lent its bears to Tully Veolan. The house has a legend of an avenue gate never to be opened till the King comes again; but Lord Traquair, a Jacobite from vanity, did nothing to promote a Restoration. He feebly caballed, and at Traquair Murray may have drunk loyal healths enough to float a ship. Inclined for more active measures, he succeeded old Colonel Urquhart as Scottish correspondent of Edgar, the King’s secretary in Rome. The appointment was approved of by the Duke of Hamilton, who, dying in 1743, left the Garter, the gift of King George, and the Thistle, the gift of King James! The new Duke was Jacobite enough to subscribe 1,500l. to the Cause and to accept James’s commission just before the Prince landed, but he held aloof from the Rising.
Murray went into his business as Jacobite organiser with a cool and clear head. He knew the value of documentary evidence, and when he could he secured the signatures of adherents. In 1741 the ‘Association’ was formed, by Traquair, Lovat, Macgregor or Drummond of Balhaldie (described in the essay on the Earl Marischal), the bankrupt Campbell of Auchenbreck, father-in-law of Lochiel, and Lochiel himself, the only honest man of the cabal. In March 1741, Murray was introduced to Balhaldie. That chief promised mountains and marvels, including 20,000 stand of arms already stocked. Visionary weapons were these, as the swords which fell from heaven into Clydesdale in 1684. Murray was invited to trust Lovat, which he was disinclined to do, having heard from Lochiel and from general rumour of that rogue’s unfathomable and capricious treachery. Murray yielded, however, and the Association was launched. First came the question of supplies. The Scots were loyal, but, as a rule, would not part with a bawbee. Hay of Drumelzier kept a good grip of the gear; Lockhart of Carnwath had no money by him; the Duke of Hamilton evaded the question; and Lovat and Balhaldie opposed the recruiting of new associates, who, if brought in, would have rebelled against such incompetent or treacherous managers.
Nothing occurred till, in December 1742, Balhaldie sent some of his Ossianic prophecies of a French invasion to Traquair. Murray did not believe in the predictions, and only the feeblest attempts at organising the country into districts were made. Auchenbreck was to manage Argyllshire, Traquair was responsible for Scotland south of Forth. Neither brought in an adherent. Weapons were lacking, and Balhaldie gave no information about a plan of campaign. It was absolutely necessary to know what France really intended, and, at the end of 1712, Murray himself set out for Paris. In London he heard of the death of Cardinal Fleury—a great blow to the cause. He found in Paris that Balhaldie was beguiling France with exaggerated accounts of what the stingy and disorganised Scots were prepared to do. Murray was merely mocked by Cardinal Tencin, and from Amelot got only vague expressions of goodwill, and the warning that ‘such enterprizes were dangerous and precarious.’ Yet Balhaldie seemed much elated, and returned to England with Murray to put heart into the English adherents. In England Murray found Colonel Cecil as little satisfied with Balhaldie as himself, but the Celt hurried about with a great air of business, and sent for Traquair to come to town.
Traquair did go to town, carrying a letter of Murray’s, to be forwarded to the Earl Marischal. By the advice of Balhaldie (who was the last man that ought to have seen the letter) Traquair burned it. This was a new offence, and, in brief, the feud between Murray and Balhaldie became inveterate.
In London Traquair did nothing. He never wrote to the party in Scotland, and he brought back nothing but the names of the English leaders, the Duke of Beaufort, Lord Orrery, Lord Barrymore, Sir John Hinde Cotton, and Sir Watkin Williams Wynne. When Murray, in turning informer, divulged these names, except that of Beaufort, he told Government nothing which every man who cared did not know. But the English were thrown ‘into a mortal fright,’ as Balhaldie found so late as 1749. They were always in a mortal fright, always insisted that their Scottish allies should not even know who they were. Thus concerted movements were made impossible. Murray was dashed by the discovery that the English party was a mere set of five or six nominum umbræ. Doubtless there were plenty of Squire Westerns, who were ready to drink healths.
Were our glasses turned into swords,
Or our actions half as great as our words,
Were our enemies turned to quarts,