The rest of the force dispersed, and made their way to Hexham; and Lord Montague marching upon them from Newcastle, a sharp engagement took place on the Levels, near the Linnels Bridge, with the result, as we have seen, of the defeat and death of Somerset, and the overthrow of Queen Margaret’s hopes in the north, where she had had a strong following.
The historical interest centred on Dilston Castle brings us to much later times, and enshrines a story which possesses a pathetic interest beyond that of any other place in Northumberland. Originally the home of the family of D’Eivill, later Dyvelstone (which explains the name “Devil’s Water”) Dilston Castle came into the possession of the Radcliffes by marriage, and in the days of the Commonwealth the Radcliffe of the day forfeited his estates on account of his loyalty to the house of Stuart. Charles II. restored them, and the close attachment between the houses of Stuart and Radcliffe continued until the fortunes of both were quenched in disaster and gloom. The figure of the young and gallant James Radcliffe, last Earl of Derwentwater, holds the imagination no less than the heart as it moves across the page of history for a brief space to its tragic end. Though born in London, in June 1689, young Radcliffe passed his childhood and youth in France in the closest companionship with James Stuart, son of the exiled James II. At the age of twenty-one he returned to his home in Northumbria, and took up his residence there, his charming manners, kind heart, and openhanded hospitality speedily endearing him to all classes. His servants and tenants, in particular, were passionately devoted to him. In the words of the old ballad of “Derwentwater”—
“O, Derwentwater’s a bonnie lord,
And golden is his hair,
And glintin’ is his hawkin’ e’e
Wi’ kind love dwelling there.”
On his marriage in 1712, the young bride and bridegroom remained for two years at the home of the bride’s father, and preparations were made for restoring the glories of Dilston on an extensive scale. On Derwentwater’s return to his beautiful Northumbrian seat in 1714, the death of Queen Anne had excited the hopes of all the friends of the house of Stuart, and plots and secret meetings were being planned throughout Scotland and the north of England, the objective being the restoration of the exiled Stuarts to the throne. Derwentwater took little part in these attempts to organise rebellion for some time, but at length was drawn into the dangerous game, as he was too valuable an asset to be passed over by the Jacobite party.
At last rumours of the projected rising reached London, and a warrant was issued for the arrest of Derwentwater, even before it was known whether he had actually joined the plotters, his well-known friendship with the exiled Prince making it almost certain that he would be an important figure in any movement on their behalf. For the next few weeks the young Earl found himself obliged to remain in hiding, finding safety in the cottages of his tenants, and in the houses of friends and neighbours. Finally, though his good sense warned him that he was embarking on an almost hopeless enterprise, he decided to throw in his lot with the Jacobites.
Tradition has it that his decision was brought about by the taunts of his Countess, who, like the rest of the Jacobite ladies, was more enthusiastic than the men. Throwing down her fan, she scornfully offered that to her husband as a weapon, and demanded his sword in exchange. The immediate result was seen on that October morning when Derwentwater and his little band of followers rode over the bridge at Corbridge with drawn swords, on their way to Beaufront, which was their first rendezvous; and from there proceeded to Greenrigg, near the great Wall, which had been appointed as a general meeting-place.
There they were joined by Mr. Forster, of Bamburgh, with his contingent, and a few from the surrounding district. Rothbury next saw the little army, which was joined on Felton Bridge by seventy Scots; and thereafter Warkworth, Alnwick, and Morpeth heard James Stuart proclaimed King under the title of James III.
Newcastle was to have been their next objective, but, hearing that the city had closed its gates, and intended to hold out for King George, the Jacobite force, after some indecision, returned northward to Rothbury, where they were joined by a large company of Scottish Jacobites under Lord Kenmure. Northward again they marched to Kelso, where more than a thousand Scots joined forces with them.
The little army numbered now almost 2,000, and a council was held to determine what their next step should be. On its being resolved to enter England, some hundreds of the Highlanders returned home, leaving an army of about 1,500 to march southwards to Lancashire. On their way they put to flight at Penrith a motley force which was raised to oppose them; and, elated with a first success, moved forward to Preston, grievously disappointed on the way at the failure of the people of Lancashire to rise with them, for they had been given to understand that thousands in that county were only awaiting an opportunity to declare for “King James.”
At Preston they barricaded the principal streets, and repulsed General Willis; but the arrival of General Carpenter from Newcastle changed the face of affairs. Young Derwentwater had fought valiantly and worked arduously at the barricades, but Forster—whose appointment as General had been made in the hope of attracting other Protestant gentry to the Jacobite cause—offered to submit to General Carpenter under certain conditions. Carpenter’s reply was a demand for unconditional surrender, and the hopeless little tragi-comedy was played out. The last scene took place on Tower Hill three months later, when the gallant young Earl, then only twenty-six years old, laid down the life which, after all, had been spent in the service of others, with no selfish purpose in view, and which was offered him, together with wealth and freedom, if he would forsake his faith and throw aside his allegiance to the house of Stuart. Refusing to purchase life at such a price, he was condemned, and executed on Tower Hill on February 24th, 1716.