The Duke of Perth had now irrevocably pledged himself to engage in the cause, which required a very different character of mind to that which he seems to have possessed. Like the unfortunate Lord Derwentwater, he was calculated to adorn a smooth and prosperous course; but not to contend with fiery spirits, nor to act in concert with overbearing tempers. Averse to interference, and retiring in his disposition, the Duke was conceived, by those who mistook arrogance for talent, to have been possessed of only limited abilities. The friend or relative who composed the epitaph to his memory inscribed on the Duke's tomb at Antwerp, has borne testimony to the strength of his understanding. All have coincided in commending the honour and faith which procured him the respect of all parties, and the chivalric bravery which won him the affection of the soldiery.
It is a melancholy task to trace the career of one so high-minded, so gentle, and so formed to adorn the peaceful tenour of a country life, through scenes of turmoil, disaster, and dismay; and, during the continuance of arduous exertions, to recall the slow and certain progress of a fatal disease, which progressed during hardships too severe for the delicate frame of this amiable young man to sustain without danger.
The younger brother of the Duke, Lord John Drummond, was constituted of different materials. Courteous, honourable, and high-minded, like his brother, he added to those attributes of the gentleman a strong capacity for military affairs, to which he had applied himself from his earliest youth. Intrepid and resolute, the roughness of the soldier was softened in this fine martial character by an elegance and ease of manner which sprang from a kind and gentle temper. The energy of Lord John Drummond's mind was shown by the enlistment of the Scottish Legion, under the protection of Louis the Fifteenth. In him the soldiers always knew that they had a sure, and firm friend: like his brother, when on the conquering side, clemency and humanity were never, even in the heat of victory, forgotten by the young general. Individuals like these lamented and unfortunate brothers give a mournful interest to the history of the Jacobites.
The Duke of Perth was one of the most sanguine of those who desired to see Charles Edward land on the coast of Scotland. Of the representations which induced the Prince to take that step, and especially of the part taken in the affair by the well-known Murray of Broughton, various accounts have been given. From Mr. Home we learn, that Mr. Murray used every argument in his power to deter the Prince from invading Scotland without a regular force to support him. This account was doubtless the version which the Secretary himself gave of his part in the business. The statement of Lord Elcho differs greatly from that of Mr. Home.[220]
"Mr. Murray," says Lord Elcho, "in the beginning of the year 1745, sent one young Glengarry to the Prince with a state of his affairs in Scotland, in which it is believed he represented everybody that had ever spoke warmly of the Stuart family, as people that would join him if he came."[221] After Mr. Murray's own visit to France, he had an interview with all the members of the Association, and there detailed to them the conference he had had with the Prince. The Duke of Perth was the only person who did not, in that council, expressly declare against the Prince's coming to Scotland without assistance from France.
The battle of Fontenoy, on the eleventh of May 1745, in which the British army was cut to pieces, encouraged, nevertheless, the ardent spirit of Charles to proceed in his enterprise. The number of regular troops in Scotland he well knew, was at that time inconsiderable; and he had, as he conceived, from the representations of Murray, no other opponents than the British army. He was, probably, wholly ignorant of the powerful enemies who afterwards co-operated against him in the south-western parts of Scotland.[222]
The Duke of Perth had already, in the beginning of the year, received, as well as others, his commission. He was appointed General of the forces in the north of Scotland, and was therefore one of the most important personages for Government to seize. The Duke was at that time at Drummond Castle, a place only exceeded in beauty and splendour, in the Highlands, by Dunkeld and Blair. The aspect of this commanding edifice is one which recalls the association of ancient power and princely wealth. Beneath its walls is an expanse of a magnificent and varied country, combining all those features which characterize lands long held in peace by opulent and liberal possessors. "Noble avenues, profuse woods," thus speaks one of unerring accuracy, "a waste of lawn and pasture, an unrestrained scope, everything bespeaks the carelessness of liberality and extensive possessions; while the ancient castle, its earliest part belonging to the year 1500, stamps on it that air of high and distant opulence which adds so deep a moral interest to the rural features of baronial Britain."[223]
From the castle it was now attempted to make the Duke of Perth a prisoner; but since it would have been impossible to detain a Chief, prisoner in his own halls, and among his own retainers, a stratagem, peculiarly revolting to the Highland code of honour, was adopted to ensnare the young nobleman.
Two Highland officers, Sir Patrick Murray and Mr. Campbell of Inverary, were employed in this transaction, and a warrant was given to them to apprehend the Duke of Perth. This they knew to be impossible without a large force; they therefore condescended to lower the character of Scotchmen, by violating the first principles which regulate the intercourse of gentlemen. They were base enough to abuse the hospitality of the kind and ready host who had often welcomed them to Drummond Castle.
One day, these gentlemen sent the Duke word that they should dine with him; he returned, in answer, that he should be proud to see them. On the twenty-sixth of July, 1745, they went, and were entertained at dinner with the liberal courtesy which always shone forth under that roof. One of the Duke's footmen, meantime, having espied an armed force about the house, called his Grace to the door of the room, and begged him to take care of himself. This caution was even repeated more than once; but the Duke, trusting that others were like himself, only smiled, and said he did not think that any gentleman "could be guilty of so dirty an action." But he found that he was mistaken. After dinner, when the officers had drunk a little, they took courage to inform the Duke of their errand; and, to confirm their statement, one of them drew the warrant out of his pocket. The Duke behaved with great presence of mind; he received their summons calmly, but begged permission to retire to a closet in the room where they were sitting, to get himself ready. This was assented to: the Duke went into the closet, in which, however, there was a door; he opened it and, slipping down a flight of stairs, escaped to a wood adjacent to his Castle. This wood was already surrounded by an armed force, and he was obliged to crawl on his hands and feet to avoid being observed by the sentinels. In such a situation he was hindered and wounded by briers and thorns, and at last was obliged to hide himself in a dry ditch from his pursuers. They were, indeed, misled by the servants at the Castle, who, upon their inquiring for the fugitive, declared that he had gone away on horseback. The officers however on their return to Crieff, where they were quartered, passed so near the place where he lay, that he heard what they were saying. When all the soldiers were out of sight, he sprang up; and seeing a countryman with a pony, having no bridle, but only a halter about its neck, he begged to have the use of it, and his request was granted. After this, he first rode to the house of Mr. Murray of Abercairney, and afterwards to that of Mr. Drummond of Logie. Here he was saved by one of those presentiments of evil which one can neither explain nor deny. In the dead of night he was awakened by his host, who begged the Duke to take refuge elsewhere; for fears, which he could not account for, haunted his mind. The fugitive arose from his bed, and set off elsewhere. Shortly afterwards the house was invaded by a party of armed men, who came to search for him, but retired disappointed. His next meeting with his faithless guest, Sir Patrick Murray, was on the field of Gladsmuir, when the treacherous officer was made prisoner. The Duke then took his revenge with characteristic good-humour; for, after saluting the captured officer, he said smilingly, "Sir Patie, I am to dine with you to-day."[224]