Chapter M: S.271 (5)

After appealing to his surrender in extenuation of his sentence, and beseeching the intercession of the Lords with his Majesty, Lord Kilmarnock concluded--"It is by Britons only that I pray to be recommended to a British monarch. But if justice allow not of mercy, my lords, I will lay down my life with patience and resignation; my last breath shall be employed in the most fervent prayers for the preservation and prosperity of his Majesty, and to beg his forgiveness, and the forgiveness of my country." He concluded, amid the tears and commiseration of a great majority of those who heard his address.

The Earl of Cromartie was then called upon to speak in arrest of judgment. His defence is said to have been a masterly piece of eloquence. It ended with a pathetic appeal, which fell powerless on those who heard him.[368]

"But, after all, if my safety shall be found inconsistent with that of the public, and nothing but my blood be thought necessary to atone for my unhappy crimes; if the sacrifice of my life, my fortune, and family, are judged indispensable for stopping the loud demands of public justice; if, notwithstanding all the allegations that can be urged in my favour, the bitter cup is not to pass from me, not mine, but thy will, O God, be done."[369]

Balmerino then arose to answer the accustomed question. He produced a paper, which was read for him at the bar, by the clerk of the court. It was a plea which had been sent by the House of Lords that morning to the prisoners, and which, it was hoped, would save all of these unfortunate men. It contained an objection to the indictments, stating that the act for regulating the trials of rebels, and empowering his Majesty to remove such as are taken in arms from one county to another, where they might be tried by the common courts of peers, did not take effect till after the facts, implying treason, had been committed by the prisoners.[370] The two Earls had not made use of this plea, but Lord Balmerino availed himself of it, and demanded counsel on it. Upon the treatment which he then encountered, the following remark is made by one who viewed the scene, and whose commiseration for the Jacobites forms one of the few amiable traits of his character.[371]

"The High Steward," relates Horace Walpole, "almost in a passion, told him, that when he had been offered counsel, he did not accept it;--but do think on the ridicule of sending them the plea, and then denying them counsel on it."[372] A discussion among the Lords then took place; and the Duke of Newcastle, who, as the same writer truly remarks, "never lost an opportunity of being absurd," took it up as a ministerial point "in defence of his creature, the Chancellor." Lord Granville, however, moved, according to order, to return to the Chamber of Parliament, where the Duke of Bedford and many others spoke warmly for their "having counsel," and that privilege was granted. "I said _their_," observes Walpole, "because the plea would have saved them all, and affected nine rebels who had been hanged that very morning."

The Lords having returned to the Hall, and the prisoners being again called to the bar, Lord Balmerino was desired to choose his counsel. He named Mr. Forester, and Mr. Wilbraham, the latter being a very able lawyer in the House of Commons. Lord Hardwicke is said to have remarked privately, that Wilbraham, he was sure, "would as soon be hanged as plead such a cause." But he was mistaken: the conclusion of the trial was again deferred until the following day, Friday, August the first, when Mr. Wilbraham, accompanied by Mr. Forester, appeared in court as counsel for the prisoners. Previously, however, to the proceedings of the last day, Lord Balmerino was informed that his only hope was ill-founded; the plea was deemed invalid by the counsel; and the straw which had, with the kindest and most laudable intentions, been thrown on the stream to arrest his fate, was insufficient to save him. He bore this disappointment with that fortitude which has raised the character of his countrymen: when he appeared on that last day, in Westminster Hall, with his brother prisoners, he submitted, in the following brief and simple words, to his destiny. "As your lordships have been pleased to allow me counsel, I have advised with them; and my counsel tell me, there is nothing in that paper which I delivered in on Wednesday last, that will be of any use to me; so I will not give your lordships any more trouble."

When again asked, according to the usual form, as well as the other prisoners, whether he had anything more to say in arrest of judgment, Lord Balmerino replied; "No, my Lords, I only desire to be heard for a moment." Expressing his regret that he should have taken up so much of their lordships' time, he assured them that the plea had not been put in to gain time, but because he had believed there was something in the objection that would do him good. He afterwards added these few words, which one might have wished unsaid: "My lords, I acknowledge my crime, and I beg your lordships will intercede with his Majesty for me."

The Serjeant-at-Arms was then distinctly heard proclaiming silence; and the Lord High Steward delivered what Horace Walpole has termed, "his very long, and very poor speech, with only one or two good passages in it." On this, there may be, doubtless, contending opinions. Those who looked upon the prisoners, and saw men in the full vigour of life, condemned to death, for acting upon acknowledged, though misapplied principles, could scarcely listen to that protracted harangue with an unbiassed judgment. The tenour of the Lord High Steward's address had, throughout, one marked feature; it presented no hope of mercy; it left no apology nor plea upon which the unhappy prisoners might expect it. It amplified every view of their crime, and pointed out, in strong and able language, its effect upon every relation of society.

In conclusion, Lord Hardwicke said, "I will add no more: it has been his Majesty's justice to bring your lordships to a legal trial; and it has been his wisdom to show, that as a small part of his national forces was sufficient to subdue the rebel army in the field, so the ordinary course of his law is strong enough to bring even their chiefs to justice.

"What remains for me, is a very painful, though a very necessary part. It is to pronounce that sentence which the law has provided for crimes of this magnitude--a sentence full of horror! Such as the wisdom of our ancestors has ordained, as one guard about the sacred person of the king, and as a fence about this excellent constitution, to be a terror to evil doers, and a security to them that do well."

And then was heard, thrilling every tender heart with horror, the sentence of hanging, first to be put into execution, and followed by decapitation. The horrible particularities were added--"_of being hanged by the neck,--but not till you are dead--for you must be cut down alive;_"--the rest of this sentence, since it has long ago been suffered to fall into oblivion, may, for the sake of our English feelings, rest there. By those to whom it was addressed, it was heard in the full conviction that it might be carried out on them: since that very morning, nine prisoners of gentle birth had suffered the extreme penalties of that barbarous law.[373]

Of the calm manner in which his doom was heard by one of the state prisoners, Horace Walpole has left the following striking anecdote:

"Old Balmerino keeps up his spirits to the same pitch of gaiety: in the cell at Westminster, he showed Lord Kilmarnock how he must lay his head; bid him not wince, lest the strokes should cut his head or his shoulders; and advised him to bite his lips. As they were to return, he begged they might have another bottle together, as they should never meet any more till--he pointed to his neck. At getting into his coach, he said to the gaoler, 'Take care, or you will break my shins with this d----d axe.'"[374]

The English populace could not forbear delighting in the composure of Balmerino, who, on returning from Westminster Hall after his sentence, could stop the coach in which he was about to be conducted to the Tower to buy gooseberries; or, as he expressed it in his national phrase, _honey-blobs_.[375]

That night, not contented with saying publicly at his levee, that Lord Kilmarnock had proposed murdering the English prisoners, the Duke of Cumberland proposed giving his mistress a ball; but the notion was abandoned, lest it should have been regarded as an insult to the prisoners, and _not_ because a particle of highminded regret for the sufferers could ever enter that hard and depraved heart. Too well did the citizens of London understand the Duke of Cumberland's merits, when, it being proposed to present him with the freedom of some company, one of the aldermen cried aloud, "Then let it be of the Butchers'!"[376]

The commission was dissolved in the usual forms: "all manner of persons here present were desired to depart in the fear of God, and of our sovereign Lord the King." The white staff of office was broken by the Lord High Steward; the Lords adjourned to the Chamber of Parliament; the prisoners returned to the Tower.[377]

Three weeks elapsed, after the trial, before the execution of Lord Kilmarnock and Lord Balmerino. During that interval, hope sometimes visited the prisoners in their cells, great intercession being made for them by persons of the highest rank. But it was in vain, for the counsels of the Duke of Cumberland influenced the heart of his royal father, who it is generally believed, would otherwise have been disposed to compassion. During this interval, the sorrows of the prisoners were aggravated by frequent rumours that their beloved Prince was taken; but he was safe among his Highlanders, and defied the power even of an armed force to surprise him in his singular and various retreats.

The Earl of Cromartie was the only one of the three prisoners to whom royal mercy was extended. This nobleman had been considered, before the Insurrection, as the only branch of the Mackenzies who could be relied upon. He had been backward in joining the Jacobite army, and had never shared the confidence of Charles Edward. He had been disgusted with the preference shown to Murray and to Sullivan, to the prejudice of more powerful adherents of the cause: and it was reported, had rather surrendered himself to the Earl of Sutherland's followers, than resisted when they apprehended him.[378]

Amiable in private life, affable in manner, and exempt from the pride of a Highland chieftain, this nobleman had been beloved by his neighbours of inferior rank; to the poor he had been a kind benefactor. The domestic relations of life he had fulfilled irreproachably. Every heart bled for him; and the case of his son, Lord Macleod, who had espoused the same cause, excited universal commiseration.

On the Sunday following the trial, Lady Cromartie presented her petition to the King: he gave her no hopes; and the unhappy woman fainted when he left her.

It is pleasing to rest upon one action of clemency, before returning to the horrors of capital punishment. To the intercession of Frederick Prince of Wales, Lord Cromartie eventually owed his life; that intercession is believed to have been procured by the merits and the attractions of Lady Cromartie, who was indefatigable in her exertions.

This Lady, the daughter of Sir William Gordon of Dalfolly, is said to have possessed every quality that could render a husband happy. Beautiful and intellectual, she manifested a degree of spirit and perseverance when called upon to act in behalf of her husband and children, that raised her character to that of a heroine. She was then the mother of nine children, and about to give birth to a tenth. During the period of suspense, her conduct presented that just medium between stoicism and excess of feeling, which so few persons in grief can command.[379]

At last, a reprieve for Lord Cromartie arrived on the eleventh of August; it was not, however, followed by a release, nor even by a free pardon. During two years, Lord Cromartie was detained a prisoner in the Tower, there, being condemned to witness the departure of his generous friends, Kilmarnock and Balmerino, to the scaffold. On February the eighteenth, 1748, he was permitted to leave his prison, and to lodge in the house of a messenger. In the following August he went into Devonshire, where he was desired to remain. A pardon passed the Great Seal for his Lordship on the twentieth of October, 1749, with a condition that he should remain in any place directed by the King. He died in Poland-street in London, on the twenty-eighth of September, 1766.[380]

On Thursday, the seventh of August, the Reverend James Foster, a Presbyterian minister, was allowed access to Lord Kilmarnock, to prepare him for a fate which now seemed inevitable. Great intercession had been made for the ill-fated prisoner, by his kinsman, James, sixth Duke of Hamilton, and husband of the celebrated beauty, Miss Gunning; but the friendly efforts of that nobleman were thought rather to have "hurried him to the block."[381] When a report reached him that one of the prisoners would be spared, Lord Kilmarnock had desired, with the utmost nobleness of soul, that Cromartie should be preferred to himself. Balmerino lamented that he had not been taken with Lord Lovat; "for then," he remarked, "we might have been sacrificed, and these two brave men have been spared." But these regrets were unavailing, and Lord Kilmarnock and his friend prepared to meet their doom.

Mr. Foster, on conversing with Lord Kilmarnock, found him humbled, but not crushed by his misfortunes; contrite for a life characterized by many errors, but trustful of the Infinite mercy, to which we fondly turn from the stern justice of unforgiving man. And the reverend gentleman on whom the solemn responsibility of preparing a soul for judgment was devolved, appears to have discharged his task with a due sense of its delicacy, with fidelity and kindness.

Having introduced himself to Lord Kilmarnock with the premises that his Lordship would allow him to deal freely with him; that he did not expect to be flattered, nor to have the malignity of his crimes disguised or softened;--Mr. Foster told him, "that in his opinion, the wound of his mind, occasioned by his private and public vices, must be probed and searched to the bottom, before it could be capable of receiving a remedy." "If he disapproved of this plan," Mr. Foster thought "he could be of no use to him, and therefore declined attendance." To this Lord Kilmarnock replied that, "whilst he thought it was not Mr. Foster's province to interfere in things remote from his office, yet it was now no time to prevaricate with him, nor to play the hypocrite with God, before whose tribunal he should shortly appear."

This point being settled, the minister of the Gospel deemed it necessary to persuade the Earl, that he was not to be amused with vain delusive hopes of a reprieve; that he must view his sentence as inevitable; otherwise that his mind might be distracted between hope and fear; and that true temper of penitence which alone could recommend him to Divine mercy would be unattainable.

The unfortunate Earl touchingly answered, that indeed, when he consulted his reason, and argued calmly with himself, he could see no ground of mercy; yet still the hope of life would intrude itself. He was afraid, he said, that buoyed up by this delusive hope, when the warrant for his execution came down, he should have not only the terror of his sentence to contend with, but the fond delusions of his own heart:--to overcome the bitter disappointment--the impossibility of submission. He therefore assured Mr. Foster, that he would do all in his own power to repel that visionary enemy, and to fix his thoughts on the important task of perfecting his repentance, and of preparing for death and eternity.

In regard to the part which Lord Kilmarnock had taken in recent events, there seemed no difficulty in impressing his mind with a deep sense of the responsibility which he had incurred in helping to diffuse terror and consternation through the land, in the depredation and ruin of his country: and in convincing him that he ought to consider himself accessory to innumerable private oppressions and murders. "Yes," replied Lord Kilmarnock, with deep emotion "and murders of the innocent too," And frequently he acknowledged this charge with tears, and offered up short petitions to God for mercy.

But when Mr. Foster mentioned to him that the consequences of the "Rebellion and its natural tendency was to the subversion of our excellent free constitution, to extirpate our holy religion, and to introduce the monstrous superstitions and cruelties of Popery," Lord Kilmarnock hesitated; and owned, at length, that he did not contemplate such mischiefs as the result of the contest; that he did not believe that the young Chevalier would run the risk of defeating his main design by introducing Popery; nor would so entirely forget the warnings which the history of his family offered, so far as to make any attacks upon the liberties and constitution of the country. His entering into the Rebellion was occasioned, as he then declared, by the errors and vices of his previous life; and was a kind of desperate scheme to extricate him from his difficulties. Humbled and penetrated by the remembrance of former levity, Lord Kilmarnock remarked, that not only was Providence wise and righteous, but to him, gracious; and that he regarded it as an unspeakable mercy to his soul, that he had not fallen at the battle of Culloden, impenitent and unreflecting; for that, if the Rebellion had been successful, he should have gone on in his errors, without ever entertaining any serious thought of amendment. "Often," added the contrite and chastened man, "have I made use of these words of Christ, 'Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.'" But he had checked himself by the reflection, that it was not for him who had been so great a sinner, to address himself to God in the same language with his blessed Saviour, who was perfectly innocent and holy.

In time, aided by the representations of his spiritual attendant, the deepest remorse for a life not untainted by impurity of conduct, was succeeded by religious peace. It was then that the prisoner turned to that Bread of Life which Christ hath left for those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. But the Minister who led him into the fold of the Great Shepherd, would not consent to administer to him the Holy Sacrament without a full confession made in the presence of the gentleman gaoler, of his past offences, and of his contrition for them. At that solemn moment, when the heart was laid open to human witnesses, Lord Kilmarnock professed the deepest penitence for his concurrence in the Rebellion, and for the irregularities of his private life: he declared his conviction that the Holy Sacrament would be of no benefit to him whatsoever, if his remorse and contrition were not sincere. This assurance was, in other words, yet, in substance the same, emphatically repeated. During the conversations held with Lord Kilmarnock, Mr. Foster perceived that the confessions of the penitent were free and ingenuous; that he examined his own heart with a searching and scrupulous care, sternly challenging memory to the aid of conscience. At last, he declared that he should rather prefer the speedy execution of his sentence to a longer life, if he were sure that he should again be entangled by the snares and temptations of the world. This was a few days before his death.

Gradually, but effectually, the spirit that had so much in it of a heavenly temper; the heart, so framed to be beloved, was purified and elevated; so that, a beautiful and holy calm, a heavenly disinterestedness, a patience worthy of him who bore the name of Christian, were manifested in one whom it were henceforth wrong to call unhappy. When Lord Cromartie's reprieve became known to Mr. Foster, he dreaded, lest this subdued, yet fortified mind, should be disturbed by the jealousies to which our worldly condition is prone: he trembled lest the sorrow of separation from a world which Lord Kilmarnock had loved too fondly, should be revived by the pardon of his friend. "Therefore," relates Mr. Foster, "in the morning before I waited upon him, I prepared myself to quiet and mollify his mind. But one of the first things he said to me was, that he was extremely glad that the King's mercy had been shown to Lord Cromartie." "My Lord," inquired Mr. Foster, "I hope you do not think you have any injustice shown you?" Lord Kilmarnock's answer was, "Not in the least; I have pleaded guilty: I entirely acquiesce in the justice of my sentence; and if mercy be extended to another, I can have no reason to complain, when nothing but justice is done to me."

With regard to some points upon which the public odium was directed to the young Chevalier and his party, Lord Kilmarnock was very explicit in his last conversations with Mr. Foster. We have already seen how far he was enabled to clear himself concerning his conduct to the prisoners at Inverness. A report having been industriously circulated, probably with a view to excuse the barbarities of the Duke of Cumberland, that an order had been issued in the Pretender's council at Inverness, to destroy the prisoners who might be taken at the battle of Culloden, Mr. Foster put the question to Lord Kilmarnock, Whether that statement were true? "I can most sincerely and freely answer, No," was the satisfactory reply; and a similar contradiction was given by the dying man to every accusation of a similar tendency.[382]

On Monday the eleventh of August, General Williamson desired Mr. Foster, "in the gentlest terms that he could use, to apprize Lord Kilmarnock, that he had received the order for his, and for Lord Balmerino's execution." Mr. Foster at first refused to undertake this office. "I was so shocked at it," writes the good man "that I could not think of delivering the message myself, but would endeavour to prepare the unfortunate Lord for it, by divesting him, as far as I could, of all hope of life." Such, indeed, had been the continual aim of all the reverend minister's counsels; and he had hoped to entrust the last mournful task of informing him of the order to other hands. On finding Lord Kilmarnock in a very resigned and calm state of mind, he ventured, however, to hint to him how necessary was that diligent and constant preparation for death which he had endeavoured to impress upon his mind. This was sufficient: the ill-fated prisoner immediately inquired, "whether the warrant for his execution was come down?" "I told him that it was," relates Mr. Foster, "and that the day fixed upon was the following Monday."

Lord Kilmarnock received this intimation with a solemn consciousness of the awful nature of its import; but no signs of terror nor of anxiety added to the sorrows of that hour. In the course of conversation, he observed to Mr. Foster, that "he was chiefly concerned about the consequences of death, in comparison of which he considered the 'thing itself' a trifle: with regard to the manner of his death he had, he thought, no great reason to be terrified, for that the stroke appeared to be scarcely so much as the drawing of a tooth, or the first shock of a cold bath upon a weak and fearful temper." At the last hour, nevertheless, the crowd,--the scaffold,--the doom, upset that sublime and heavenly resignation,--the weakness of the flesh prevailed, although only for an instant.

In the silence and solitude of his prison, Lord Kilmarnock's recollection reverted to those whom human nature were shortly to be left to buffet with the storms of their hard fate. It reverted also to those who might, in any way, have suffered at his hands. The following touching epistle, addressed to his factor, Mr. Robert Paterson, written two days only before his execution, shows how tender was his affection for his unhappy wife: in how Christian a spirit towards others he died. His consideration for the poor shoemakers of Elgin is one of those beautiful traits of character which mark a conscientious mind. The original of this letter is still in existence, and is in the possession of the great-grandson of him to whom it was addressed.[383]

"Sir,

"I have commended to your care the inclosed packet, to be delivered
to my wife in the manner your good sense shall dictate to you, will
be least shocking to her. Let her be prepared for it as much by
degrees, and with great tenderness, as the nature of the thing will
admit of. The entire dependance I have all my life had the most just
reason to have on your integrity and friendship to my wife and
family, as well as to myself, make me desire that the inclosed
papers may come to my wife through your hands, in confidence; but
you will take all the pains to comfort her, and relieve the grief I
know she will be in, that you and her friends can. She is what I
leave dearest behind me in the world; and the greatest service you
can do to your dead friend, is to contribute as much as possible to
her happiness in mind, and in her affairs.

"You will peruse the State[384] before you deliver it to her, and
you will observe that there is a fund of hers (I don't mention that
of five hundred Scots a-year); as the interest of my mother-in-law's
portion in the Countess of Errol's hands, with, I believe, a
considerable arrear upon it; which, as I have ordered a copy of all
these papers to that Countess, I did not care to put in. There is
another thing of a good deal of moment, which I mention only to you,
because if it could be taken away without noise it would be better;
but if it is pushed it will be necessary to defend it. That is, a
bond which you know Mr. Kerr, Director to the Chancery, has of me
for a considerable sum of money, with many years interest on it,
which was almost all play debt. I don't think I ever had fifty
pounds, or the half of it, of Mr. Kerr's money, and I am sure I
never had a hundred; which however I have put it to, in the inclosed
declaration, that my mind may be entirely at ease. My intention with
respect to that sum was to wait till I had some money, and then buy
it off, by a composition of three hundred pounds, and if that was
not accepted of, to defend it; in which I neither saw, nor now see
anything unjust; and now I leave it on my successors to do what they
find most prudent in it. Beside my personal debt mentioned in
general and particular in the State,[385] there is one for which I
am liable in justice, if it is not paid, owing to poor people, who
gave their work for it by my orders; it was at Elgin in Murray; the
regiment I commanded wanted shoes. I commissioned something about
seventy pair of shoes and brogues, which might come to about three
shillings, or three and sixpence each, one with another. The
magistrates divided them among the shoemakers of the town and
country, and each shoemaker furnished his proportion. I drew on the
town for the price out of the composition laid on them, but I was
told afterwards at Inverness, that it was believed the composition
was otherwise applied, and the poor shoemakers not paid. As these
poor people wrought by my orders, it will be a great ease to my
heart to think they are not to lose by me, as too many have done in
the course of that year; but had I lived, I might have made some
enquiry after it; but now it is impossible, as their hardships in
loss of horses, and such things which happened through my soldiers,
are so interwoven with what was done by other people, that it would
be very hard, if not impossible, to separate them. If you will write
to Mr. Jones of Dalkinty, at Elgin, (with whom I was quartered when
I lay there,) he will send you an account of the shoes, and if they
were paid to the shoemakers or no; and if they are not, I beg you'll
get my wife, or my successors, to pay them when they can.

"Receive a letter to me from Mrs. Boyd, my cousin Malcomb's widow; I
shall desire her to write to you for an answer.

"Accept of my sincere thanks for your friendship and good services
to me. Continue them to my wife and children.

"My best wishes are to you and yours, and for the happiness and
prosperity of the good town of Kilmarnock, and I am, sir, your
humble servant,

"KILMARNOCK."

Tower of London, August 16th, 1746.

On the Saturday previous to the execution of Lord Kilmarnock, General Williamson gave his prisoners a minute account of all the circumstances of solemnity, and outward terror, which would accompany it. Lord Kilmarnock heard it much with the same expression of concern as a man of a compassionate disposition would read it, in relation to others. After suggesting a trifling alteration in the arrangements after the execution, he expressed his regret that the headsman should be, as General Williamson informed him, a "good sort of man;" remarking, that one of a rougher nature and harder heart, would be more likely to do his work quickly. He then requested that four persons might be appointed to receive the head when it was severed from the body, in a red cloth; that it might not, as he had heard was the case at other executions, "roll about the scaffold and be mangled and disfigured." "For I would not," he added, "though it may be but a trifling matter, that my remains should appear with any needless indecency after the just sentence of the law is satisfied." He spoke calmly and easily on all these particulars, nor did he even shrink when told that his head would be held up and exhibited to the multitude as that of a traitor. "He knew," he said, "that it was usual, and it did not affect him." During these singular conversations, his spiritual attendant and the General, could hardly have been more precise in their descriptions had they been portraying the festive ceremonials of a coming bridal, than they were in the fearful minutiæ of the approaching execution. It was thought by them that such recitals would accustom the mind of the prisoner to the apparatus and formalities that would attend his death, and that these would lose their influence over his mind. "He allowed with me," observes Mr. Foster, "that such circumstances were not so melancholy as dying after a lingering disorder, in a darkened room, with weeping friends around one, and whilst the shattered frame sank under slow exhaustion." But experience and human feelings contradict this observation of the resigned and unhappy sufferer; we look to death, under such an aspect, as the approach of rest; but human nature shrinks from the violent struggle, the momentary but fierce convulsion, plunging us, as it were, into the abyss of the grave.

At this moment of his existence, when it was certain ruin at Court and in the army, to befriend the Jacobite prisoner, a friend, the friend of his youth, came nobly forward to attend Lord Kilmarnock in his dying moments. This was John Walkinshaw Craufurd, of Craufurdland in the county of Ayr, between whose family and that of the House of Boyd, a long and intimate friendship of several centuries had existed; "so much so," observes a member of the present family of Craufurd,[386] "that a subterranean passage is said to exist between our old castles, of which we _fancy_ proofs; but these are fire-side legends."

"The family of Craufurd," observes Mr. Burke, "is one of antiquity and eminence in a part of the empire where ancestry and exploit have ever been held in enthusiastic admiration." By marriage, in the thirteenth century, it is allied anciently with the existing house of Loudon; and its connection and friendship with the House of Boyd was cemented by the death of one of its heads, Robert Craufurd, in 1487, in consequence of a wound received at the Wyllielee, from attending James Boyd, Earl of Arran, in a duel with the Earl of Eglintoun. In the days of Charles the First and Second, the Craufurds had been Covenanters, as appears in the history of that time: and in the year 1745, they were stanch Whigs; and Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd had, when called upon to pay a mournful proof of respect to Lord Kilmarnock, attained the rank of Colonel in the British army. Besides the ancient friendship of the family, there had been several intermarriages; and the father of Colonel Craufurd had espoused, after the death of Miss Walkinshaw, Elenora, the widow of the Honorable Thomas Boyd, the brother of Lord Kilmarnock.

Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd was a fine specimen of the true Scottish gentleman, and of the British officer. He was a very handsome, stately man, of high-bred manners, and portly figure, whom his tenantry both feared and honoured. He lived almost continually in the highest circles in London, except when in service, and also at the Court, visiting his Castle in Ayrshire only in the hunting season, for he kept a pack of hounds. To such a man the sacrifice of public opinion, then all against the Jacobites,--the sure loss of Court favour,--the risk of losing all military promotion, were no small considerations; yet he cast them all to the winds, and came nobly forward to pay the last respect to his kinsman and friend.

Already had he distinguished himself at the battle of Dettingen and Fontenoy; and he might reasonably expect the highest military honours: yet he incurred the risk of attending Lord Kilmarnock on the scaffold, and performing that office for him which that nobleman required. I almost blush to write the sequel; for _this_ act, Colonel Craufurd was, immediately after the last scene was over, put down to the very bottom of the army list.[387] Such was the petty and vindictive policy of the British Government, influenced, it may be presumed, by the same dark mind that visited upon the faithful Highlanders the horrors of military law, in punishment of their fidelity and heroism. "The King," observes Horace Walpole, referring to these and other acts, "is much inclined to mercy; but the Duke of Cumberland, who has not so much of Cæsar after a victory, as in gaining it, is for the utmost severity."[388]

Whilst the mind of Lord Kilmarnock was thus gradually prepared for death, Lord Balmerino passed cheerfully the hours which were so soon to terminate in his doom. Fondly attached to his young wife, Balmerino obtained the boon of her society in his prison. So much were the people attracted by the hardihood and humour of this brave old man, that it was found necessary by the authorities to stop up the windows of his prison-chamber in the Tower, in order to prevent his talking to the populace out of the window. One only was left unclosed, with characteristic cruelty: it commanded a view of the scaffolding erected for his execution.[389] One day the Lieutenant of the Tower brought in the warrant for his death: Lady Balmerino fainted. "Lieutenant," said Lord Balmerino, "with your d----d warrant you have spoiled my Lady's dinner."

Lord Balmerino is said to have written to the Duke of Cumberland a "very sensible letter," requesting his intercession with the King; but this seems to have been unavailing, from the well-known exclamation of George the Second, when solicited for the other prisoners, "Will no one speak a word to me for poor Balmerino?"

The day appointed for the execution was the eighteenth of August, at eight in the morning. Mr. Foster visited Lord Kilmarnock, and found him in a calm and happy temper, without any disturbance of that serenity which had of late blessed his days of imprisonment. He affected not to brave death, but viewed it in the awful aspect in which even the best of men, and the most hopeful Christians, must consider that solemn change. He expressed his belief, that a man who had led a dissolute life, and who yet believed the consequences of death, to affect indifference at that hour, showed himself either to be very impious, or very stupid. One apprehension still clung to his mind, proving how sensitive had been that conscience which strove in vain to satisfy itself. He told Mr. Foster "he could not be sure that his repentance was sincere, because it had never been tried by the temptation of returning to society."

Lord Kilmarnock continued in a composed state of mind during the whole morning. After a short prayer, offered up by Mr. Foster, at his desire, he was informed that the sheriffs waited for the prisoners. He heard this announcement calmly; and said to General Williamson, with his wonted grace, "General, I am ready to follow you." He then quitted his prison, and descended the stairs. As he was going down, he met Lord Balmerino; and the friends embraced. "My Lord," said the noble Balmerino, "I am heartily sorry to have your company in this expedition."[390]

The prisoners then proceeded to the outward gate of the Tower, where the Sheriffs, who had walked there in procession, received them: this was about ten o'clock in the morning of the eighteenth of August. The bodies of the two noblemen having been delivered with the usual formalities to the Sheriffs, they proceeded to the late Transport Office, a building near the scaffold. Two Presbyterian ministers, Mr. Foster and Mr. Home, accompanied Lord Kilmarnock, whilst the Chaplain of the Tower and another clergyman, attended Lord Balmerino. Three rooms, hung with black, were prepared; one for each of the condemned noblemen; another, fronting the scaffold, for spectators. Here, those who were so soon to suffer, had a short conference with each other, chiefly relating to the order, said to have been issued at Culloden, to give no quarter. This was a subject, not only of importance to Lord Kilmarnock's memory, but to the character of the Jacobite party generally.

"Did you, my Lord," said the generous Balmerino, still anxious, even at the last hour, to justify his friends, "see or know of any order, signed by the Prince, to give no quarter at the battle of Culloden?"

"No, my Lord," replied Kilmarnock.

"Nor I neither," rejoined Balmerino; "and therefore it seems to be an invention to justify their own murderous scheme."

To this Lord Kilmarnock answered, "No, my Lord, I do not think it can be an invention, because, while I was a prisoner at Inverness, I was told by several officers that there was such an order, signed 'George Murray,' and that it was in the Duke of Cumberland's custody." To this statement, (which was wholly erroneous) Lord Balmerino exclaimed, "Lord George Murray! Why then, they should not charge it on the Prince." After this explanation, he bade Kilmarnock a last farewell: as he embraced him, he said, in the same noble spirit, that he had ever shown, "My dear Lord Kilmarnock, I am only sorry I cannot pay all this reckoning alone: once more, farewell for ever."

Lord Kilmarnock was then left with the sheriffs, and his spiritual advisers. In their presence, he solemnly declared himself to be a Protestant, and said that he was thoroughly satisfied of the legality of the King's claim to the throne. He had been educated in these principles, and he now thoroughly repented having ever engaged in the Rebellion. He afterwards stated to his friends that he had within this week taken the sacrament twice in evidence of the truth of his repentance.

The hour of noon was now fast approaching, when the last act of relentless justice was to be performed. Mr. Foster, after permitting the Earl a few moments to compose himself, suggested that he should engage with him in prayer, and afterwards proceed to the scaffold. The minister then addressed himself to all who were present, urging them to join with him in this last solemn office, and in recommending the soul of an unhappy penitent to the mercy of God. Those who were engaged in this sad scene, sank on their knees, whilst, after a petition relating to the prisoner, a prayer was offered up "for King George, for our holy religion, for our inestimable British liberties." This prayer, for the royal family, Lord Kilmarnock had often protested he would, at the latest moment, offer up to the throne of God.

After this solemn duty had been performed, Lord Kilmarnock bade an affectionate farewell to the gentlemen who had accompanied him, and here Mr. Foster's office ceased, the Rev. Mr. Home, a young clergyman, and a personal friend of Lord Kilmarnock, succeeding him in attendance upon the prisoner. Many reports prevailed of Lord Kilmarnock's fear of death, and of the weakness of his resolution; and Balmerino, it is said, apprehended that he would not "behave well," an expression used, perhaps, in reference to his opinions, perhaps in anticipation of a failure of courage. As leaning upon the arm of his friend Mr. Home, Lord Kilmarnock saw, for the first time, that outward apparatus of death to which he had taken such pains to familiarise himself; "nature still recurred upon him;"--for an instant, the home of peace, to which he was hastening, was forgotten;--"the multitude, the block, the coffin, the executioner, the instrument of death," appalled one, whose character was amiable, rather than exalted. He turned to his attendant, and exclaimed, "Home, this is terrible!" Yet his countenance, even as he uttered these words, was unchanged, and in a few moments, he regained the composure of one whose hope was in the mercy of his Creator. What else could sustain him in the agonies of that moment? "His whole behaviour," writes Mr. Foster, "was so humble and resigned, that not only his friends, but every spectator, was deeply moved; the executioner burst into tears, and was obliged to use artificial spirits to support and strengthen him." As the man kneeled down, after the usual custom, to pray for forgiveness, Lord Kilmarnock desired him to have courage, and placing a purse of gold in his hand, told him that the dropping of a handkerchief should be the signal for the blow.

Mr. Foster having rejoined Lord Kilmarnock on the scaffold, a long conversation, in a low voice, took place between them; for Lord Kilmarnock made no speech. "I wish," said Mr. Foster, "I had a voice loud enough to tell the multitude with what sentiments your Lordship quits the world." Again, the unfortunate nobleman embraced his friends; and bade Mr. Foster, who quitted the scaffold a few minutes before his execution, a last farewell. During all this time, which was more than half an hour, he took no notice of the multitude below: except, observing that the green baize over the wall obstructed the view, he desired that it might be lifted up that the crowd might see the spectacle of his execution.

A delay now took place, attributed by some to Lord Kilmarnock's "unwillingness to depart:"[391] but owing to a few trivial circumstances which, as Mr. Foster remarks, "are unnecessary to be mentioned in order to vindicate the noble penitent from the imputation of fear in the critical moment." To the last, a scrupulous attention to decorum, and nicety in dress characterized Lord Kilmarnock. At his trial, he was described as having been a little too precise, and his hair "too exactly dressed for a person in his situation." On the scaffold the same care was manifested. He appeared in a mourning suit, and his hair, which was unpowdered, was dressed according to the fashion of the day, in a bag, which it took some time to undo, in order to replace the bag by a cap. Even then, the cap being large, and the hair long, his lordship was apprehensive that some of the hair might escape, and intercept the stroke of the axe. He therefore requested a gentleman near him, to tie the cap round his head, that he might bind up the hair more closely. As this office was performed, the person to whom he had applied, wished his lordship a continuance of his resolution until he should meet with eternal happiness. "I thank you," returned Lord Kilmarnock, with his usual courtesy and sweetness; "I find myself perfectly easy and resigned."

There was also another impediment,--the tucking of his shirt under his waistcoat was next adjusted. Then Lord Kilmarnock, taking out a paper containing the heads of his last devotions, advanced to the utmost stage of the scaffold, and kneeled down at the block, on which, in praying, he placed his hands, until the executioner remonstrated, begging of him to let his hands fall down, lest they should be mangled, or should intercept the blow. He was also told that the neck of his waistcoat was in the way; he therefore arose, and with the help of Colonel Walkinshaw Craufurd, had it taken off. Near him were standing those who held the cloth ready to receive his head; among these Mr. Home's servant heard Lord Kilmarnock tell the executioner, that in two minutes he would give the signal. A few moments were spent in fervent devotion; then the sign was given, and the head was severed from the body by one stroke. It was not exposed to view according to custom: but was deposited in a coffin with the body, and delivered to his Lordship's friends. One peculiarity attended this execution. It is not required by law that the head of a person decapitated should be exposed; but is a custom adopted in order to satisfy the multitude that the execution has been accomplished. Since, by Lord Kilmarnock's dying request, this practice was omitted, the Sheriffs ordered that all the attendants on the scaffold should kneel down, so that the view of the execution might not be impeded[392] to those who were below.

The scaffold was immediately cleared, and put in order for another victim; and Mr. Ford, the Under-Sheriff, who had attended the first execution, went into the room in the Transport Office where Balmerino awaited his doom. "I suppose," inquired the undaunted Balmerino, "that my Lord Kilmarnock is no more." And having asked how he died, and being told the account, he said: "It is well done, and now, gentlemen, I will no longer detain you, for I desire not to protract my life." He spoke calmly, and even cheerfully; Lord Kilmarnock had shed tears as he bade his friends farewell, but Balmerino, whilst others wept, was even cheerful, and hastened to the scaffold. His deportment, when in the room where he awaited the summons to death, was graceful and yet simple, without either any ostentation of bravery, or indications of indifference to his fate. He did not defy the terror, he rose above it. He conversed freely with his friends, and refreshed himself twice with wine and bread, desiring the company to drink to him, as he expressed it in his Scottish phrase, "ain degrae ta haiven;" but above all, he prayed often and fervently for support, and support was given.

True to the last to his professions, Lord Balmerino was dressed in what was called by a contemporary, "his Rebellious Regimentals," such as he had worn at Culloden; they were of blue cloth, turned up with red; underneath them was a flannel waistcoat and a shroud. He ascended the scaffold, "treading," as an observer expressed it, "with the air of a General," and surveying the spectators, bowed to them; he walked round it, and read the inscription on his coffin, "Arthurus Dominus de Balmerino, decollatus, 18^o die August. 1746, ætatis suæ 58^o;" observed "that it was right," and with apparent pleasure looked at the block saying, it was his "pillow of rest." Lord Balmerino then pulling out his spectacles, read a paper to those who stood around him, and delivered it to the Sheriff to do with it as he thought proper. It was subsequently printed in a garbled form, much of it being deemed too treasonable for publication, and in that form is preserved in the State Trials.[393] It is now given as it was really spoken.

"I was bred in the anti-revolution principles, which I have ever persevered in, from a sincere persuasion that the restoration of the Royal Family, and the good of my native country, are inseparable. The action of my life which now stares me most in the face, is my having accepted a commission in the army from the late Princess Anne, who I knew had no more right to the crown than her predecessor, the Prince of Orange, whom I always considered as an infamous usurper.

"In the year 1715, as soon as the King landed in Scotland, I thought it my indispensable duty to join his standard, though his affairs were then in a desperate situation.

"I was in Switzerland in the year 1734, where I received a letter from my father acquainting me that he had procured me remission, and desiring me to return home. Not thinking myself at liberty to comply with my father's desire without the King's approbation, I wrote to Rome to know his Majesty's pleasure, and was directed by him to return home; and at the same time I received a letter of credit upon his banker at Paris, who furnished me with money to defray the expense of my journey, and put me in repair. I think myself bound, upon this occasion, to contradict a report which has been industriously spread, and which I never heard of till I was prisoner; that orders were given to the Prince's army to give no quarter at the battle of Culloden. With my eye upon the block, which will soon bring me unto the highest of all tribunals, I do declare that it is without any manner of foundation, both because it is impossible it could have escaped the knowledge of me, who was captain of the Prince's Life Guards, or of Lord Kilmarnock, who was colonel of his own regiment; but still more so, as it is entirely inconsistent with the mild and generous nature of that brave Prince, whose patience, fortitude, intrepidity, and humanity, I must declare upon this solemn occasion, are qualities in which he excels all men I ever knew, and which it ever was his desire to employ for the relief and preservation of his father's subjects. I believe rather, that this report was spread to palliate and excuse the murders they themselves committed in cold blood after the battle of Culloden.

"I think it my duty to return my sincere acknowledgments to Major White and Mr. Fowler, for their humane and complaisant behaviour to me during my confinement. I wish I could pay the same compliment to General Williamson, who used me with the greatest inhumanity and cruelty; but having taken the sacrament this day, I forgive him, as I do all my enemies.

"I die in the religion of the Church of England, which I look upon as the same with the Episcopal Church of Scotland, in which I was brought up."

After delivering this speech, Lord Balmerino laid his head upon the block, and said, "God reward my friends, and forgive my enemies: bless and restore the King; preserve the Prince, and the Duke of York,--and receive my soul."

The executioner then being called for, and kneeling to ask forgiveness, Lord Balmerino interrupted him. "Friend, you need not ask my forgiveness; the execution of your duty is commendable." He then gave the headsman three guineas, saying, "this is all I have; I can only add to it my coat and waistcoat," which, accordingly, he took off, laying them on the coffin for the executioner. After putting on a flannel jacket made for the occasion, and a plaid cap, he went to the block in order to show the executioner the signal. He then returned to his friends. "I am afraid," he said, addressing them, "that there are some here who may think my behaviour bold: remember, sir," he added, addressing a gentleman near him, "what I tell you; it arises from a just confidence in God, and a clear conscience." Memorable, and beautiful words, distinguishing between the presumption of indifference, and the security of a living faith. When he laid his head on the block to try it, he said, "if I had a thousand lives I would lay them all down in the same cause."