These preparations were completed about half-past ten, when the sheriffs, accompanied by their officers, went to the Tower, and, knocking at the door, demanded “The bodies of William, Earl of Kilmarnock, and Arthur, Lord Balmerino.” General Williamson thereupon went to inform the prisoners that the sheriffs were in attendance. When told that he was wanted, Lord Kilmarnock, who had just been engaged in prayer with Mr. Foster, betrayed no fear, but said, with great composure, “General, I am ready; I’ll follow you.” On leaving the Tower, Kilmarnock and Balmerino met at the foot of the stair. They embraced each other, and Balmerino said, “I am heartily sorry to have your company in this expedition.” The ill-fated noblemen were then brought to the Tower-gate, and delivered over to the sheriffs. When the prisoners were leaving the Tower, the deputy-lieutenant, according to an ancient usage, cried, “God bless King George!” to which Kilmarnock assented by a bow, but Balmerino emphatically exclaimed, “God bless King James!” The prisoners were then conducted to the house fitted up for their reception, and, being put into separate apartments, their friends were admitted to see them. When the prisoners arrived at the door of the house, some persons among the crowd were heard asking others, “Which is Lord Balmerino?” His lordship, overhearing the question, turned a little about, and, with a smile, said, “I am Balmerino, gentlemen, at your service.”
About eleven o’clock Lord Balmerino sent a message to Lord Kilmarnock requesting an interview, which being consented to, Balmerino was brought into Kilmarnock’s apartment. The following dialogue, as reported by Mr. Foster, then ensued. Balmerino—“My lord, I beg leave to ask your lordship one question.” Kilmarnock—“To any question, my lord, that you shall think proper to ask, I believe I shall see no reason to decline giving an answer.” B. “Why then, my lord, did you ever see or know of any order signed by the prince, to give no quarter at Culloden?” K. “No, my lord.” B. “Nor I neither; and therefore it seems to be an invention to justify their own murders.” K. “No, my lord, I do not think that inference can be drawn from it; because, while I was at Inverness, I was informed by several officers that there was such an order, signed ‘George Murray;’ and that it was in the duke’s custody.” B. “Lord George Murray! Why, then, they should not charge it upon the prince.” After this conversation the prisoners tenderly saluted each other, and Balmerino, after bidding his friend in affliction an eternal and happy adieu, added, with a countenance beaming with benignity, “My dear lord, I wish I could alone pay the reckoning and suffer for us both.”
Lord Kilmarnock appeared to be most anxious to impress upon the minds of those who were with him the sincerity of his repentance for the crime for which he was about to suffer. He declared himself fully satisfied with the legality of King George’s title to the crown, and stated that his attachment to the reigning family, which had suffered a slight interruption, was then as strong as ever. He spent a considerable time in devotion with Mr. Foster, till he got a hint from the sheriffs that the time was far advanced, his rank as an earl giving him a melancholy priority on the scaffold. After Mr. Foster had said a short prayer, his lordship took a tender farewell of the persons who attended him, and, preceded by the sheriffs, left the room followed by his friends. Notwithstanding the great trouble he had taken, in accordance with the wish of Mr. Foster, to familiarise his mind with the outward apparatus of death, he was appalled when he stepped upon the scaffold at beholding the dreadful scene around him, and, turning round about to one of the clergymen, said, “Home, this is terrible!” He was attired in a suit of black clothes, and, though his countenance was composed, he had a melancholy air about him, which indicated great mental suffering. Many of the spectators near the scaffold were so much affected by his appearance that they could not refrain from tears, and even the executioner was so overcome that he was obliged to drink several glasses of spirits to enable him to perform his dreadful duty.
Mr. Foster, who had accompanied his lordship to the scaffold, remained on it a short time in earnest conversation, and having quitted it, the executioner came forward and asked his lordship’s forgiveness in executing the very painful task he had to perform. The unhappy nobleman informed the executioner that he readily forgave him, and presenting him a purse containing five guineas, desired him to have courage. His lordship then took off his upper clothes, turned down the neck of his shirt under his vest, and undoing his long dressed hair from the bag which contained it, tied it round his head in a damask cloth in the form of a cap. He then informed the executioner that he would drop a handkerchief as a signal for the stroke about two minutes after he had laid his head down upon the block. Either to support himself, or as a more convenient posture for devotion, he laid his hands upon the block. On observing this the executioner begged his lordship to let his hands fall down, lest they should be mangled or break the blow. Being told that the neck of his waistcoat was in the way, he rose up, and with the help of Colonel Craufurd, one of his friends, had it taken off. The neck being now made completely bare to the shoulders, the earl again knelt down as before. This occurrence did not in the least discompose him, and Mr. Home’s servant, who held the cloth to receive his head, heard him, after laying down his head the second time, put the executioner in mind that in two minutes he would give the signal. He spent this short time in fervent devotion. Then, fixing his neck upon the block, he gave the fatal signal; his body remained without the least motion till the stroke of the axe, which at the first blow almost severed the head from the body. A small piece of skin which still united them was cut through by another stroke. The head, which was received into a scarlet cloth, was not exposed, in consequence, it is said, of the earl’s own request, but along with the body, was deposited in the coffin, which was delivered to his friends, and placed by them in the hearse. The scaffold was then strewed over with fresh sawdust, and the executioner, who was dressed in white, changed such of his clothes as were stained with blood.
The first act of this bloody tragedy being now over, the under-sheriff went to Balmerino’s apartments to give him notice that his time was come. “I suppose,” said his lordship on seeing this functionary enter, “my Lord Kilmarnock is no more.” Being answered in the affirmative, he asked the under-sheriff how the executioner had performed his duty, and upon receiving the account, he said, “then it was well done, and now, gentlemen, (continued the inflexible Balmerino, turning to his friends,) I will detain you no longer, for I desire not to protract my life.” During the time spent in Kilmarnock’s execution Balmerino had conversed cheerfully with his friends, and twice refreshed himself with a bit of bread and a glass of wine, desiring the company to drink him “a degree to heaven.” Saluting each of his friends in the most affectionate manner, he bade them all adieu, and leaving them bathed in tears, he hastened to the scaffold, which he mounted with a firm step.
The strong feeling of pity with which the spectators had beheld the handsome though emaciated figure of the gentle Kilmarnock gave place to sensations of another kind, when they beheld the bold and strongly-built personage who now stood on the stage before them. Attired in the same regimentals of blue turned up with red which he had worn at the battle of Culloden, and treading the scaffold with a firm step and an undaunted air, he gloried in the cause for which he suffered, and forced the assembled multitude to pay an unwilling tribute of admiration to his greatness of soul. His friends, on beholding the apparatus of death, expressed great concern; but his lordship reproved their anxiety. His lordship walked round the scaffold, and bowed to the people. He then went to the coffin, and reading the inscription, said it was correct. With great composure he examined the block, which he called his “pillow of rest.” He then put on his spectacles, and, pulling a paper from his pocket, read it to the few persons about him, in which he declared his firm attachment to the house of Stuart, and stated that the only fault he had ever committed deserving his present fate, and for which he expressed his sincere regret, was in having served in the armies of the enemies of that house, Queen Anne and George I. He complained that he had not been well used by the lieutenant of the Tower, but that having received the sacrament the day before, and read several of the Psalms of David, he had forgiven him, and said that he now died in charity with all men.
Calling at last for the executioner, that functionary stepped forward to ask his forgiveness, but Balmerino interrupted him, and said, “Friend, you need not ask my forgiveness; the execution of your duty is commendable.” Then, presenting him with three guineas, his lordship added, “Friend, I never had much money; this is all I have, I wish it was more for your sake, and I am sorry I can add nothing else to it but my coat and waistcoat.” These he instantly took off, and laid them down on the coffin. He then put on the flannel waistcoat which he had provided, and a tartan cap on his head, to signify, as he said, that he died a Scotchman; and going to the block, placed his head upon it in order to show the executioner the signal for the blow, which was by dropping his arms. Returning then to his friends, he took an affectionate farewell of them, and, surveying the vast number of spectators, said, “I am afraid there are some who may think my behaviour bold; but,” addressing a gentleman near him, he added, “remember, Sir, what I tell you; it arises from a confidence in God, and a clear conscience.”
Observing at this moment the executioner with the axe in his hand, he went up, and, taking it from him, felt the edge. On returning the fatal instrument, Balmerino showed him where to strike the blow, and encouraged him to do it with resolution, “for in that, friend,” said he, “will consist your mercy.” His lordship, then, with a countenance beaming with joy, knelt down at the block, and extending his arms, said the following prayer:—“O Lord, reward my friends, forgive my enemies, bless the prince and the duke, and receive my soul.” He then instantly dropt his arms. The executioner, taken unawares by the suddenness of the signal, hurriedly raised the axe, and missing his aim, struck the ill-fated lord between the shoulders, a blow which, it has been said, deprived the unfortunate nobleman of sensation; but it has been averred by some of the spectators, that Balmerino turned his head a little round upon the block, gnashed his teeth, and gave the executioner a ghastly stare. Taking immediately a better aim, the executioner gave a second blow, which almost severed the head from the body, and deprived the noble victim of life. The body having fallen from the block, it was instantly replaced, and the executioner, once more raising the fatal weapon, finished his task. The head was received in a piece of red cloth, and deposited along with the body in the coffin, and being put into a hearse, was carried to the chapel of the Tower, and buried with that of Lord Kilmarnock, near the remains of Lord Tullibardine. Mr. Humphreys, curate of the chapel, read the funeral service, and when he came to the words, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” two gentlemen, friends of the deceased, took up the spades and performed the office of the grave-diggers.
For a time the unhappy fate of the two lords almost exclusively engaged the attention of the public; and in private circles, as well as in the periodicals of the day, the conduct and bearing of the unfortunate noblemen were viewed and commented upon according to the partialities and feelings of the parties. By the whigs, and generally by all persons of a real or affected seriousness of mind, Kilmarnock was regarded as a perfect model of the dying Christian, who, though he had been guilty of base ingratitude to the government, and had told a falsehood at his trial, had fully atoned for his offences by his contrition; whilst his companion in suffering was looked upon as an incorrigible rebel, who had braved death with an unbecoming levity. The Jacobites, however, and even some of the friends of the revolution settlement, whilst they could not but admire the calm resignation of Kilmarnock, heartily despised the cringing pusillanimity which he displayed to soften the resentment of the government. Balmerino was viewed by them in a very different light. Whilst the Jacobites looked upon him as an illustrious martyr, who had added a lustre to their cause by his inflexible intrepidity and the open avowal of his sentiments, the other section of his admirers applauded his courage, and paid a just tribute to his honesty. The more dispassionate judgment of posterity has done ample justice to the rectitude and magnanimity of this unfortunate nobleman.
The next victims to the offended laws were Donald Macdonald, of the Keppoch family, who had served as a captain in the regiment of that chief, Walter Ogilvy, a young man of good family in Banffshire, a lieutenant in Lord Lewis Gordon’s regiment, and James Nicolson, who had kept a coffee-house in Leith. These three, with one Alexander Macgrowther, who also held a commission in the Highland army, were taken at Carlisle. When brought to the bar of the court at St. Margaret’s-hill, the three first pleaded guilty, and begged for mercy; but Macgrowther attempted to defend himself on the ground that he was forced into the insurrection by the Duke of Perth against his will, having as a vassal no power to withstand the commands of his superior.[1288] This defence, corresponding in very many cases with reality, and which was also made by many of the Scotch prisoners, was overruled. On the 2d of August these four persons were condemned, and Macgrowther having been afterwards reprieved; the remainder suffered on Kennington-common, on the 22d of the same month. Macdonald and Nicolson were executed in their Highland dress. The same revolting process of disembowelling, &c., practised upon the bodies of Townley and his companions, was gone through; but the spectators were spared the revolting spectacle, which was witnessed on that occasion, of cutting down the prisoners whilst alive.