Among the many Scottish nobles who had determined to share the fortunes of Prince Charles Edward, none could compare in personal appearance and deportment with James Lord Drummond, third titular Duke of Perth. The duke's courtesy, refined manners, and unfailing good temper, rendered him popular with all. Though not so thorough a soldier as Lord George Murray, he was equally brave, and in brilliant qualities far surpassed him.
Between these two distinguished personages a great rivalry existed. No member of the council possessed so much influence with the prince as the Duke of Perth, and the favour shown his rival often caused great umbrage to Lord George Murray, who did not care to conceal his resentment.
The duke had warm friends in Secretary Murray and Sir Thomas Sheridan, so that his position as first favourite was unassailable, certainly by Lord George.
The duke, who was in the very prime of manhood, being only just turned thirty, was grandson of the Earl of Perth, created duke by James the Second on his retirement to France.
Nothing could be more striking than the effect produced by these clan regiments as they marched through Salford on that morning, the different hues of the plaids worn by each corps giving variety and colour to the picture, while the sinewy frames, fierce countenances, and active movements of the men inspired a certain feeling akin to fear among the beholders, which the war-like notes of the bagpipe did not tend to diminish.
The front ranks of each regiment were composed of gentlemen, whose arms and equipments were superior to those of the others, causing them to look like officers; but they had no rank. All the men were in good spirits, and seemed as if victory lay before them.
Regiment after regiment marched over the bridge, with the sun shining brightly on their picturesque dresses, and glittering on their firelocks and arms—with their colours and pipes playing—bells pealing, and spectators shouting loudly, producing a most extraordinarily animating effect.
Scarcely less striking was it as the Highlanders marched through the town and drew up in St. Ann's Square.
Completely filled by these clan regiments, the large area presented a picture such as it has never since exhibited.
But a scene of a very different kind was being enacted at the same time. While these armed men were gathering in front of the church, a sad ceremonial took place in the churchyard.