In his progress to the capital, Montrose had to endure all those indignities which vulgar minds, instigated by malevolence and fanaticism, could suggest; but he bore every insult with perfect composure. At a short interview which he had with two of his children at the house of the Earl of South Esk, his father-in-law, on his way to Edinburgh, he exhibited the same composure, for “neither at meeting nor parting could any change of his former countenance be discerned, or the least expression heard which was not suitable to the greatness of his spirit, and the fame of his former actions. His behaviour was, during the whole journey, such as became a great man; his countenance was serene and cheerful, as one who was superior to all those reproaches which they had prepared the people to pour out upon him in all the places through which he was to pass.”[399]
Castle of Ardvraick.
At Dundee, which had particularly suffered from his army, a very different feeling was shown by the inhabitants, who displayed a generosity of feeling and a sympathy for fallen greatness, which did them immortal honour. Instead of insulting the fallen hero in his distress, they commiserated his misfortunes, and prevailed upon his guards to permit him to exchange the rustic and mean apparel in which he had been apprehended, and which, to excite the derision of the mob, they had compelled him to wear, for a more becoming dress which had been provided for him by the people of Dundee. The sensibilities of the inhabitants had probably been awakened by a bold and ineffectual attempt to rescue Montrose, made by the lady of the laird of Grange, at whose house, in the neighbourhood of Dundee, he had passed the previous night. The author of the Memoirs of the Somervilles gives the following characteristic account of this affair:—
“It was at this ladye’s house that that party of the Covenanters their standing armie, that gairded in the Marques of Montrose, efter his forces was beat and himself betrayed in the north, lodged him, whom this excellent lady designed to sett at libertie, by procureing his escape from her house; in order to this, soe soon as ther quarters was settled, and that she had observed the way and manner of the placeing of the guairds, and what officers commanded them, she not only ordered her butlers to let the souldiers want for noe drink, but she herself, out of respect and kyndnesse, as she pretended, plyed hard the officers and souldiers of the main-guaird, (which was keeped in her owne hall) with the strongest ale and acquavite, that before midnight, all of them, (being for the most part Highlandmen of Lawer’s regiment) became starke drunke. If her stewarts and other servants had obeyed her directions in giving out what drinke the out-gairds should have called for, undoubtedly the business had been effectuat; but unhappily, when the marques had passed the first and second centinells that was sleeping upon their musquets, and likewayes through the main-gaird, that was lying in the hall lyke swyne on a midding, he was challenged a little without the outmost guaird by a wretched trouper of Strachan’s troupe, that had been present at his taking. This fellow was none of the guaird that night, but being quartered hard by, was come rammelling in for his bellieful of drinke, when he made this unluckie discovery, which being done, the marques was presently seized upon, and with much rudenesse (being in the ladye’s cloaths which he had put on for a disguize) turned back to his prisone chamber. The lady, her old husband, with the wholl servants of the house, were made prisoners for that night, and the morrow efter, when they came to be challenged before these that had the command of this party, and some members of that wretched Committee of Estates, that satt allways at Edinbrough (for mischief to the royall interest,) which they had sent for the more security, to be still with this party, fearing the great friends and weill-wishers this noble heroe had upon the way he was to come, should either by force or stratageme, be taken from them. The ladie, as she had been the only contryver of Montrose’s escape, soe did she avow the same before them all; testifying she was heartily sorry it had not taken effect according to her wished desyre. This confidence of hers, as it bred some admiratione in her accusors, soe it freed her husband and the servants from being farder challenged; only they took security of the laird for his ladye’s appearing before the Committie of Estates when called, which she never was. Ther worships gott something else to thinke upon, then to conveen soe excellent a lady before them upon such ane account, as tended greatly to her honour and ther oune shame.”
The parliament, which had been adjourned till the 15th of May, met on the appointed day, and named a committee to devise the mode of his reception into the capital and the manner of his death. In terms of the committee’s report an act was passed on the 17th of May, ordaining “James Graham” to be conveyed bareheaded from the Water Gate (the eastern extremity of the city) on a cart, to which he was to be tied with a rope, and drawn by the hangman in his livery, with his hat on, to the jail of Edinburgh, and thence to be brought to the parliament house, and there on his knees to receive sentence of death. It was resolved that he should be hanged on a gibbet at the cross of Edinburgh, with the book which contained the history of his wars and the declaration which he had issued, tied to his neck, and after hanging for the space of three hours, that his body should be cut down by the hangman, his head severed from his body, fixed on an iron spike, and placed on the pinnacle on the west end of the prison; that his hands and legs should also be cut off, the former to be placed over the gates of Perth and Stirling, and the latter over those of Aberdeen and Glasgow; that if at his death he showed any signs of repentance, and should in consequence be relieved from the sentence of excommunication which the kirk had pronounced against him, that the trunk of his body should be interred by “pioneers” in the Gray Friars’ churchyard; but otherwise, that it should be buried by the hangman’s assistants, under the scaffold on the Boroughmuir, the usual place of execution.[400]
The minds of the populace had, at this time, been wrought up to the highest pitch of hatred at Montrose by the ministers, who, during a fast which had lately been held in thanksgiving for his apprehension, had launched the most dreadful and bloody invectives against him, and to this circumstance perhaps is to be attributed the ignominious plan devised for his reception.
On the day following the passing of the act, Montrose was brought up from Leith, mounted on an outworn horse, to the Water Gate, along with 23 of his officers, his fellow-prisoners, where he was met about four o’clock, P.M., by the magistrates of the city in their robes, followed by the “town guard,” and the common executioner. Having been delivered by his guards to the civic authorities, whose duty it now was to take charge of his person, Montrose was, for the first time, made acquainted with the fate which awaited him, by one of the magistrates putting a copy of the sentence into his hands. He perused the paper with composure, and after he had read it he informed the magistrates that he was ready to submit to his fate, and only regretted, “that through him the king’s majesty, whose person he represented, should be so much dishonoured.”[401]