Chapter IX: The Highland Campaign 141 (5)

Still more convincing is it, that the Covenanting writers who record the incident, whilst bitter enough in their denunciations of Claverhouse’s inhumanity, are absolutely silent as to the lawlessness of his action. This difficulty has been met by the suggestion that there were probably other proceedings, of which the accounts omit to make mention; that Hislop was asked to take the oath, and, by refusing to do so, made himself amenable to the full penalty of the law. Such an assumption clears both Westerhall and Claverhouse of the actual guilt of murder. It does not free the latter from the charge of having acted with a weakness and a subserviency as unjustifiable in themselves as they seem foreign to his nature. Under the circumstances, the least that can be claimed for him is an open verdict. To convict him on such evidence as has been adduced, and to do so for the purpose of vindicating the veracity of writers who are not even in accord with each other would be palpably unjust.

Matthew Meiklewrath is another of the victims of this terrible time; and if the account of his death given by De Foe were as accurate as it is circumstantial, no term but that of murder could be applied to the outrage alleged to have been committed by Claverhouse. ‘At Comonel, in the County of Carrick,’ states the chronicler of his misdeeds, ‘he saw a man run hastily across the street before his troop, and as he might suppose did it to escape from or avoid them, though, as the people of the place related it, the poor man had no apprehensions of them, but as he took all occasions for his bloody designs, he commanded his men to shoot this person, without so much as examining him, or asking who he was.’ The refutation of this charge of wanton barbarity is to be found in the epitaph quoted in ‘The Cloud of Witnesses’ from a stone in the churchyard where Meiklewrath was interred:—

‘In this parish of Colmonel,
By bloody Claverhouse I fell,
Who did command that I should die,
For owning covenanting Presbytery.
My blood a witness still doth stand,
‘Gainst all defections in this land.’

The cases that have been cited do not exhaust the black list that might be drawn up from the accounts already referred to. They may suffice, however, to show, not indeed that Claverhouse performed the odious duties imposed upon him by his position otherwise than sternly and remorselessly, but, at least, that the most notorious of the instances which represent him as going far beyond even what the merciless laws required or authorised, as delighting in suffering and revelling in bloodshed, are demonstrably exaggerations, and that impartial investigation, whilst it may lead us to deplore the relentless severity with which he carried out the orders of the Government, does not justify us in holding him up to obloquy as a monster of cruelty.

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VII

UNDER KING JAMES

CHARLES II. died at the beginning of February 1685, and was succeeded by his brother. As Duke of York James had been Claverhouse’s chief patron; as King, one of his first actions was to express his disapproval of the conduct to which his favourite had been urged by a ‘high, proud and peremptory humour.’ This was the result of a quarrel with Queensberry, of which the origin, trifling in itself, went back to the beginning of the previous December. At a meeting of the Privy Council, held on the 11th of that month, there was read a complaint presented by some soldiers whom Queensberry’s brother, Colonel James Douglas had turned out of his regiment, and who alleged that their commanding officer ‘had taken the arrears of their pay, and clothed and shoed some of the rest of the soldiers therewith.’ The complainant’s cause was taken up by Claverhouse, on the ground that the treatment to which they had been submitted would discourage others from entering into his Majesty’s service. This the High Treasurer resented as reflecting on the manner in which his brother had done his duty; and thus, says Fountainhall, grew the difference between him and Claverhouse.

Whatever may have been the intrinsic merits of the case, and it is but fair to state that Douglas had otherwise shown himself a zealous and capable officer, there can be no doubt that Claverhouse had put himself in the wrong, by allowing his temper to get the better of him. This he himself admitted in a letter which he wrote to James, and in which he endeavoured ‘to excuse his warmth by saying he took what was said as levelled at him.’ But after reading this account and comparing it with that which he also received, not from Queensberry, but from ‘both the Chancellor and Lundy,’ the Duke was obliged to express his regret ‘that Claverhouse was so little master of himself the other day at Council,’ and promised that when he came to Scotland he would let the offender know that his behaviour was not approved of.

James’s accession prevented his leaving London at the time, as he had apparently intended to do. It was also the cause of Queensberry’s being summoned to Court. It may be assumed that during his stay the quarrel with Claverhouse formed the subject of conversation between him and the King; but there is nothing to show that he solicited further satisfaction than had already been given him by the appointment of Douglas to the command of the forces in the western shires, in supersession of Colonel Graham. When he returned to Scotland at the end of March as Lord High Commissioner to the Scottish Parliament, he does not appear to have known that it was the King’s intention to take further cognizance of the matter.

It was from Secretary Murray that he learnt Claverhouse’s exclusion from the Privy Council, ‘to show him and others that his Majesty would support his Minister, and not suffer any to do unfit or misbecoming things.’ The letter conveying the information was written on the 5th of April. Four days later a new Commission was produced at the Board, from which none of the former Privy Councillors but Claverhouse was omitted. Amongst the better informed, there was no doubt that this was ‘because of the discords between him and the High Treasurer and his brother,’ as Fountainhall asserts. But the same authority states the ‘pretence’ to have been ‘that having married into the Lord Dundonald’s fanatic family, it was not safe to commit the King’s secrets to him.’

While thus indicating his dissatisfaction with Claverhouse, James felt that the whole quarrel was too petty to justify him in punishing with lasting disgrace a faithful servant whose valuable help he had repeatedly acknowledged. He was at special pains to let him understand that if he tendered an apology to Queensberry he should be restored to place and favour. There is no direct evidence of submission on Claverhouse’s part; but, that his better sense, or, to put it at its lowest, a saner appreciation of his own interest soon prevailed over his pride may be gathered from the fact that a royal letter, dated the 11th of May, reinstated him as Privy Councillor.

Within a fortnight of his reappointment he received further proof of the value set on his services. About this time news had arrived of Argyle’s intended invasion of Scotland, and it would seem that Claverhouse had communicated some important information with regard to it, in a despatch to the Lord Commissioner. The document is not known to be extant; but its purport is indicated by the reply which it elicited from the Secret Committee of Council, and which was written on the 23rd of May. ‘If there be any danger by horse,’ he was told, ‘it must be from the Border’; and he was authorised to propose what he judged expedient with a view to meeting the emergency, and instructed to inform the Earl of Dumbarton, who had just received his commission as Commander-in-Chief, of the measures which he intended to adopt. He was also to keep in touch with Fielding the deputy-governor of Carlisle. This clearly shows that the danger which he apprehended and had pointed out threatened the disaffected western counties.

The discretionary powers with which the letter of the Council invested Claverhouse implied the recognition, not very willing, it may be assumed, on the part of all the ‘affectionate friends and servants’ who signed it, and at the head of whom Queensberry figured as Commissioner, of his special fitness to cope with it. But the most striking and interesting passage in the document consists of a couple of lines, thrown in almost casually, and curtly announcing his promotion. ‘The King has sent commissions to Colonel Douglas and you as Brigadiers, both of horse and foot. Douglas is prior in date.’ When it is remembered in what relation Claverhouse had stood to Queensberry and his brother, but a short time before, the ungracious tone of this communication becomes highly suggestive. The suspicions which it arouses are amply confirmed by a full statement of the case, as it is set forth by Secretary Murray in a confidential letter to Queensberry. There could be no more striking proof of the feelings of ill-will and of envy which Claverhouse had to contend against, on the part of the Government, or of the intrigues that were resorted to by his opponents:—

‘The King ordered two commissions to be drawn, for your brother and Claverhouse to be Brigadiers. We were ordered to see how such commissions had been here, and in Earl Middleton’s office we found the extract of one granted to Lord Churchill, another to Colonel Worden, the one for horse, the other for foot. So Lord Melfort told me the King had ordered him to draw one for your brother for the foot, and Claverhouse for the horse. I told him that could not be; for by that means Claverhouse would command your brother. To be short, we were very hot on the matter. He said he knew no reason why Colonel Douglas should have the precedency unless that he was your brother. I told him that was enough; but that there was a greater, and that was, that he was an officer of more experience and conduct, and that was the King’s design of appointing Brigadiers at this time. He said Claverhouse had served the King longer in Scotland. I told him that was yet wider from the purpose; for there were in the army that had served many years longer than Claverhouse, and of higher quality; and without disparagement to any, gallant in their personal courage. By this time I flung from him, and went straight to the King, and represented the case. He followed and came to us. But the King changed his mind, and ordered him to draw the commissions both for horse and foot, and your brother’s two days date before the other; by which his command is clear before the other. I saw the commissions signed this afternoon, and they are sent herewith by Lord Charles Murray. Now, I beseech your Grace, say nothing of this to any; nay, not even to your brother. For Lord Melfort said to Sir Andrew Forrester, that he was sure there would be a new storm on him. I could not, nor is it fit this should have been kept from you; but you will find it best for a while to know, or take little notice; for it gives him but ground of talking, and serves no other end.’

Even if Queensberry was as discreet as his correspondent advised him to be, there is no reason for supposing that Melfort considered himself bound to keep Claverhouse in ignorance of the stormy scene described by Murray. But although the newly-promoted Brigadier must have been well aware of the device by which his enemies had found means of coupling a slight with what was intended to be a mark of royal favour, he had the wisdom and the self-restraint to show no consciousness of it. A letter which he wrote to Queensberry on the 16th of June, bears testimony to his calm and self-respecting conduct, whilst, at the same time, it shows that the Lord Commissioner was as spitefully intent as ever on finding opportunities or excuses for annoying and humiliating him.

Documents for the reconstruction of the whole case are not available. All that can be ascertained is that, in carrying out the precautionary measures which his additional powers justified and which the emergency required, he had requisitioned the assistance of some of Queensberry’s tenants. This had been construed into an offence, and made the subject of a report to the commander-in-chief who had no course open to him but that of intimating the Duke’s displeasure to his subordinate. The reply, addressed to Queensberry himself was respectful but dignified. ‘I am sorry,’ he wrote, ‘that anything I have done should have given your Grace occasion to be dissatisfied with me, and to make complaints against me to the Earl of Dumbarton. I am convinced your Grace is ill informed; for after you have read what I wrote to you two days ago on that subject, I daresay I may refer myself to your own censure. That I had no design to make great search there anybody may judge. I came not from Ayr till after eleven in the forenoon, and went to Balagen, with forty heritors against night. The Sanquar is just in the road; and I used these men I met accidentally on the road better than ever I used any in these circumstances. And I may safely say, that, as I shall answer to God, if they had been living on my ground, I could not have forborne drawing my sword and knocking them down. However, I am glad I have received my Lord Dumbarton’s orders anent your Grace’s tenants, which I shall most punctually obey; though, I may say, they were safe as any in Scotland before.’

With this explanation, the matter appears to have been dismissed from Claverhouse’s mind; and the remainder of his letter is taken up with remarks concerning certain dispositions intended by the other commanders who, like himself, were watching the progress of the threatened invasion. His outspoken, but well-grounded criticism of them showed that the rebuke administered to him had not reduced him to a condition of cringing subserviency, and that the obedience which he was prepared to yield to those in authority above him did not include a readiness to bear responsibility for the result of measures which seemed to him ill-advised.

The extant correspondence between Claverhouse and Queensberry closes with a letter bearing date of the 3rd of July 1685. It is a report as to the manner in which an order from the Secret Committee with regard to the disposal of the moveables of rebels for the maintenance of the royal forces had been carried out. It is a straightforward and business-like statement, setting forth how the money already received had been laid out, and requesting instructions with respect to the sums still due.

Apart from the desire which every honourable man would feel, and with which Claverhouse may be credited, of placing himself above suspicion in all that concerned the management of the funds that came into his hands, he had special reason for exercising exceptional care in the matter in view of the humiliating treatment to which he had been subjected shortly before. In the preceding month of March, Queensberry, as High Treasurer had given orders to the cash-keeper to charge Claverhouse on a bond he had given to the Exchequer, for the fines of delinquents in Galloway. Claverhouse had replied that his brother, the Sheriff-depute, was gathering them in, and craved for delay, whereupon he was allowed five or six days’ grace. He objected that considering the distance, such a concession was as unreasonable as giving no time at all. To this the Treasurer had retorted, ‘Then you shall have none.’

Claverhouse had paid the money; but he was not content to remain under the imputation which Queensberry’s action towards him implied. He had repeatedly applied for leave to proceed to London, for the purpose of explaining his conduct to the King, both in this transaction and in other matters which had been made the grounds of complaints against him, and which had led to his temporary disgrace. He had been persistently refused, and it was not till the end of the year that he had an opportunity of pleading his cause before James. Then, however, he did it to good purpose. According to Fountainhall, ‘the King was so ill-satisfied with what the Treasurer had exacted of Claverhouse, that he ordered the Treasurer to repay it.’

On the 24th of December 1685, Claverhouse returned to Edinburgh in company with the Earl of Perth. The Chancellor had recently abjured Protestantism, and stood in high favour with the King. But if, as Halifax sarcastically remarked, his faith saved him at Court, it made him impossible in Scotland. Within a few weeks of his arrival, on Sunday, the 31st of January, there was a popular demonstration against the avowed and public meetings for the celebration of Mass and other acts of ‘Papish worship.’ The disorderly crowd, in which the apprentices of Edinburgh figured conspicuously, fell upon one of the priests, and compelled him, under threats of death, to renounce popery, and, on bended knees, to take the test oath. Others, as they came from church, were roughly treated and had mud thrown at them.

One of the victims of this popular violence was the Chancellor’s wife. The Earl was so incensed at the outrage that he caused some of the boys to be apprehended; and, next day, by order of the Council, one of them was taken to be whipped through the Canongate. But whilst the sentence was being carried out, the apprentices again mustered in large numbers, assaulted the executioner, and rescued their companion. Encouraged by their success, they became so riotous that the soldiers were called out. The crowd was fired upon, and three persons were killed. Next day further punishment was inflicted on the rioters. A woman and two men were flogged through the city; but the authorities had become so apprehensive of violence that the streets were lined with ‘two thick ranks and defiles of musketeers and pikemen.’

Even the military could not be depended upon. A grenadier was remitted to a court-martial for saying he would not fight in the quarrel against the Protestants; and a drummer having been denounced by some Catholics for drawing his sword and declaring that he could find it in his heart to run it through them was summarily shot. Later, a fencing-master was condemned to death and hanged for publicly giving expression to his approval of the tumult. Another man who was brought before the magistrates on a charge of speaking against the Papists, would perhaps have shared the same fate, had it not been proved on his behalf, that he was sometimes mad.

The protest of the street was taken up by the pulpit. A fortnight later, ‘Mr Canaires, lately Popish,’ but now minister at Selkirk, preached a violent sermon in the High Church of Edinburgh. In the course of it he gave utterance to the opinion ‘that no man, without renouncing his sense and reason,’ could embrace such doctrines as those of the Pope’s infallibility or of transubstantiation. At the next meeting of the Council, the Chancellor moved that notice should be taken of this seditious language. Fountainhall records that ‘Claverhouse backed the Chancellor in this. But, there being a deep silence in all the rest of the Councillors, it was passed over at this time.’

With this incident, which the unquestioned sincerity of his own religious belief makes it impossible to regard in any light but that of a protest against the insult offered to his sovereign, Claverhouse disappears for a time from the scene. There is no record of personal action on his part for a space of nearly three years. The only two events that have to be chronicled are his promotion, in 1686, to the rank of Major-General, still in subordination to his rival Douglas, and his appointment, in March 1688, to be Provost of Dundee, a dignity which, in conjunction with his Constable’s jurisdiction, made him absolute there.

Early in the month of September 1688, a royal messenger arrived in Edinburgh, bearing a letter in which James informed the Secret Committee of the Privy Council of the Prince of Orange’s designs on England. The news was wholly unexpected. So incredible did it at first seem, that suspicions of a device for raising money were aroused by it. The precautionary measures which the announcement made it incumbent on the Government to take for the security of the country, were nevertheless adopted without delay. On the 18th, a proclamation was issued, calling out the militia regiments and requiring all fencible men to hold themselves in readiness for active service as soon as they should see the light of the beacons that were to be kindled the moment a hostile fleet was sighted from the coast.

These preparations were nullified by a second despatch from London, which ordered all the regular troops to proceed at once to England, where they were to be under the orders of the Earl of Feversham, the commander-in-chief of the King’s forces. This new plan of action, suggested by James Stewart of Goodtrees, a notorious plotter who had actually been condemned to death for his connection with Argyle’s rebellion, and whose antecedents were not such as to justify the King’s confidence in him, was received with consternation in Edinburgh. The Council and Secret Committee, relying on the loyalty of the army, felt satisfied of their power to keep the nation in due respect; but they were fully alive to the danger which would arise if the country were denuded of troops. They accordingly sent a remonstrance to the King, at the same time that they submitted a feasible and efficient scheme of defence of their own. Its main features consisted in the retention of the regular forces in their several garrisons, for the maintenance of internal order, and in the protection of the Border by means of an army of thirteen thousand men, to be formed by a combination of the militia with the Highland clans.

This judicious advice was summarily rejected; and a further command was sent to the Council to carry out the former instructions. According to Balcarres, the order was positive and short, advised by Mr James Stewart at a supper, written upon the back of a plate, and immediately dispatched by an express. In the memoirs which the same writer addressed and presented to James in his exile, the sequel is thus narrated: ‘With a sorrowful heart to all your servants, your orders were obeyed, and about the beginning of October they began their march, three thousand effective young men, vigorous, well-disciplined and clothed, and to a man hearty in your cause, and willing out of principle as well as duty, to hazard their lives for the support of the Government, as then established, both in Church and State.’

Of the army that marched into England, Claverhouse led the cavalry, which consisted of his own regiment of six troops, of Livingstone’s troop of royal Horse Guards, and of Dunmore’s regiment of dragoons. The infantry was under the orders of Douglas, who, in virtue of his rank as Lieutenant-General, was also entrusted with the supreme command of the whole force. The arrangements for the march appear to have been as inadequate as the order for it had been ill-advised. Writing to Queensberry on the 7th of October, Douglas reported that he had reached Moffat the evening before, with considerable difficulty, owing to the bad state of the roads. He was unprovided with ammunition, and all he knew concerning his present business was, that horses for his baggage were to be furnished him in England, during forty days, and that it was the King’s wish that he should march to Preston and remain there till further orders.

At Aleson Bank, which he reached three days later, further cause for worry and annoyance awaited him. Conflicting instructions from the King and from Dumbarton left him in doubt whether he was to take the east or the west road to London. In any case, Claverhouse was to proceed to York with the cavalry; and Douglas’s comment on this was that he had never seen such a course adopted before, to send away all the horse, and leave two regiments of foot open to the insults of foreigners, who were expected to land horse and dragoons.

Fully a month had elapsed since the departure of Douglas and Claverhouse from Scotland before they reached London. After a few days’ halt they started for Salisbury, where James had assembled an army of twenty-four thousand men, to oppose the Prince of Orange, who had landed at Torbay, on the 5th of November, and was advancing towards the capital. It was whilst on his march to join his sovereign that Claverhouse received a further and final token of royal favour by being created Viscount Dundee. He had left London on the 10th, and the patent of his peerage bore the date of the 12th of November 1688.

Before setting out for the camp at Salisbury, James had summoned his principal officers to him—Churchill, lately promoted Lieutenant-General, Grafton, colonel of the First Guards, Kirke and Trelawny, colonels of the Tangier regiments—and had received from them assurances of fidelity. Before the end of the month they had all deserted to William. Amongst the officers of the Scottish contingent, there was one also whose loyalty was unequal to the strain which circumstances put upon it. This was Lieutenant-General Douglas. When he went to England with the army, he was ignorant of the treasonable designs of some of his English brother officers; but he had not conversed long with Churchill, Kirke, and the others before he grew ‘one of the hottest of the party.’

Balcarres, who brings the charge against him, asserts, on the authority of Dundee himself, that he proposed to his subordinate to betray the royal cause, and to take his regiment over with him. Before broaching the subject, however, he took the precaution of exacting an oath of secrecy. Though bound in honour to conceal his chief’s disloyal overtures, Dundee may be supposed to have imposed conditions which Douglas thought it prudent to accept, and in accordance with which he maintained a show of allegiance for some time longer. The Earl of Dumbarton was amongst the faithful few. In his sturdy loyalty he offered, with his single regiment of Scottish infantry to make a stand against the invading forces of William. A more practical suggestion was made by Dundee. With a generous confidence, says Dalrymple in his “Memoirs,” he advised his Majesty either to fight the Prince, or to go to him in person and demand his business in England. But James chose to adopt a more spiritless course, and retired from Salisbury. According to the account given by Creichton, who was serving at the time in Dunmore’s regiment of dragoons, Dundee was ordered to bring up the Scottish horse to Reading, where he joined Dumbarton with his forces, and remained for nine or ten days. ‘They were in all about ten thousand strong. General Douglas, with his regiment of Foot Guards, passing by Reading, lay at Maidenhead, from whence one of his battalions revolted to the Prince, under the conduct of a corporal whose name was Kemp. However, Douglas assured the King that this defection happened against his will; and yet when the officers were ready to fire upon the deserters, his compassion was such that he would not permit them.’ After this, continues the same narrator, the Earl of Dumbarton and Dundee, with all the officers who adhered to the King, were ordered to meet his Majesty at Uxbridge, where he intended to fight the Prince.

When the forces had assembled at the place appointed, each party sent an officer to the Earl of Feversham, to receive his commands. Creichton says that it was he who attended on the part of Dundee, and that he was ordered with the rest to wait till the King came to dinner, his Majesty being expected within half-an-hour. But matters took an unexpected turn. The Earl, to his great surprise, received a letter from the King, signifying that his Majesty had gone off, and had no further service for the army. When Creichton returned with this news, neither Dundee, nor Linlithgow, nor Dunmore could forbear bursting into tears. It is further stated that Dundee, acting upon a suggestion of which Creichton claims the credit, had resolved to make his way back to Scotland, when the townspeople, anxious to rid themselves as soon as possible of the military, raised the report that the Prince of Orange was approaching. After preparation to receive him had been hastily made, Creichton was again dispatched by Dundee, to discover whether the alarm were true. The orderly was met on the way by a messenger whom William had entrusted with a letter, of which the contents, quoted from memory, are said to have been as follows:—

‘MY LORD DUNDEE,—I understand you are now at Watford, and that you keep your men together. I desire you will stay there till further orders, and upon my honour, none in my army shall touch you.

‘W. H. PRINCE OF ORANGE.’

From this point, there is some doubt as to Dundee’s movements. He may, very probably, have gone on to London; and there is evidence of his having been there shortly after the King’s flight. He was one of those who attended a meeting of the Scottish Privy Councillors, which had been hastily summoned by Balcarres to consider the situation, but which effected nothing beyond affording Hamilton an opportunity of displaying his ‘usual vehemency.’ If an account quoted by Napier from ‘Carte’s Memorandum Book’ is to be credited, Dundee must, shortly after this, when the news of James’s arrest at Faversham reached the capital, have gone to meet his luckless master at Rochester, and there advised him to summon his disbanded army together again, undertaking to raise ten thousand men himself, and to march through all England with the royal standard at their head.

There is better evidence of a final interview with James after his return to London. Besides Dundee himself, Colin Earl of Balcarres was also present at it. The Earl had come for the purpose of making a last attempt to move the King to active resistance, promising that if he would but give the word, an army of twenty thousand men would be ready to receive his orders. The King, however, had rejected the proposal; and, as it was a fine morning, expressed a wish to take a walk. Balcarres and Dundee accompanied him, ‘When he was in the Mall, he stopped and looked at them, and asked how they could be with him, when all the world had forsaken him, and gone to the Prince of Orange. Colin said, their fidelity to so good a master would ever be the same, they had nothing to do with the Prince of Orange. Lord Dundee made the strongest professions of duty. “Will you two, as gentlemen, say you have still attachment to me?” “Sir, we do.” “Will you give me your hands upon it, as men of honour?” They did so. “Well, I see you are the men I always took you to be; you shall know all my intentions. I can no longer remain here but as a cypher, or be a prisoner to the Prince of Orange, and you know there is but a small distance between the prisons and the graves of Kings. Therefore, I go to France immediately; when there, you shall have my instructions. You, Lord Balcarres, shall have a commission to manage my civil affairs, and you, Lord Dundee, to command my troops in Scotland.”’

After the departure of James, both the noblemen remained in London for a time. It is stated by Dalrymple that both of them were asked by William to enter his service. ‘Dundee,’ he says, ‘refused without ceremony. Balcarres confessed the trust which had been put in him, and asked the King if, after that, he could enter the service of another. William generously answered, ‘I cannot say that you can;’ but added, ‘Take care that you fall not within the law, for otherwise I shall be forced, against my will, to let the law overtake you.’

Bishop Burnet puts a different complexion on the matter as regards Dundee; and it is his account that has led Macaulay to accuse the latter of having been less ingenuous than his friend Balcarres. The Bishop distinctly states that he himself had been employed by Dundee to carry messages from him to the King, to know what security he might expect, if he should go and live in Scotland without owning his government. ‘The King said, if he would live peaceably and at home, he would protect him: to this he answered that, unless he was forced to it, he would live quietly.’

It is not easy to believe that this is an absolutely accurate account of what actually took place. But the result, which scarcely amounts to a promise on the part of Dundee, as Macaulay interprets it, but rather appears in the light of a compromise on either side, is probably not far removed from the truth. It did not place Dundee in a special and exceptional position; it only put him on the same footing as all who were included in the general amnesty, not more generously than wisely, granted by William to the former adherents of the dethroned King. Of a personal interview between Dundee and William, there is no actual evidence.

By the beginning of 1689 there was no reason for further stay in England; and Dundee turned northwards again with Balcarres, and with the remnant of the cavalry at the head of which he had ridden to London in the autumn—a few troopers who had kept by their old chief even after their regiment was disbanded.

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VIII

BEFORE THE STRUGGLE

WHEN Dundee reached Edinburgh, in the last days of February, the disturbances that had broken out shortly before had been quelled, owing mainly to the judicious and vigorous measures taken by the College of Justice; and to all outward appearance, at least, the capital was in a state of great tranquillity. But the excitement, though less demonstrative than it had been in the earlier weeks of the year, was still intense, and increased with the approach of the date fixed for the meeting of the Convention of the Estates, which was to determine whether England and Scotland were to be ruled by one sovereign, or whether there was to be a renewal between them of the hostilities of former centuries.

The Duke of Hamilton, the most influential of the Scottish noblemen who had offered their services to William, was making his arrangements in view of the coming crisis. He had brought in several companies of foot, which he billeted in the town. There seemed to be good reason to believe that before long he would be able to quarter them in the Castle. The command of the old fortress had been entrusted by James to the Duke of Gordon, ‘a man weak and wavering in courage, but bound by shame and religion.’ He had committed the almost inconceivable error of failing to provision the Castle, when he determined to hold it, and whilst the opportunity of procuring necessaries from the townspeople was still open to him. He had learnt that all the castles and forts in England had been given up, some of them, it was reported, by order of the exiled King himself; and no communication from any of his own party had brought him encouragement to further resistance. When, on the faith of a letter from William, he was offered indemnity and full assurance of protection, he agreed to what, under the circumstances, seemed to him to be an honourable capitulation. He was in the very act of evacuating the Castle, his furniture was actually being removed from it, when Dundee and Balcarres came to him. By representing to him the service which he might still render to the royal cause, and by appealing to his honour, they succeeded in persuading him to hold out until the Convention had given indications of its designs.

When the Estates met, on the 14th of March, Hamilton secured a first victory for his party by getting himself appointed President. At his suggestion, negotiations were again opened with Gordon, by the intermediary of the Earls of Lothian and Tweeddale. They were so far successful that the wavering Governor promised to surrender on the following day. But, when the time came, he again evaded his engagement by insisting upon terms which he knew could not be accorded him. It was Dundee who had again worked the change. He had gone to the Castle and assured Gordon that the King’s friends had resolved to desert the Edinburgh Convention, and to summon another at Stirling, in virtue of the powers given to the Archbishop of St Andrews, Balcarres, and himself by a royal warrant received from Ireland. It is asserted by Dalrymple that ‘Balcarres, but still more Dundee,’ then urged the Governor to fire upon the city, in order to dissolve the Convention. From the account given by Balcarres, however, it would appear that this advice was given by the King’s ‘friends’ immediately after Dundee had ridden off with his fifty troopers. For failing to keep his engagement with the Convention, Gordon was declared a traitor. As the heralds made their proclamation in due form, under the very walls of his fortress he spiritedly retorted that they ought in decency to have doffed the King’s livery before they proscribed the King’s governor.

It was true that, as Dundee had told Gordon, the adherents of James had determined to desert the Convention. Their resolution was the result of an incident that had taken place at a recent sitting of that Assembly. Two letters had been received, one from the new King William, the other from the late King James. The former was read and ‘answered in strains of gratitude and respect.’ The latter met with a different reception. The members of the Orange party were at first unwilling that its contents should be made known. They urged that the nation would be in a miserable condition if the despatch should prove to be an order for the dissolution of the Convention. Many of their opponents admitted this. But they were confident that James had written ‘in terms suitable to the bad situation of his affairs in England,’ and had given such full satisfaction in matters of religion and liberty as would induce even most of those who had declared against him to return to their duty; and they consequently pressed that the message should be heard. It was not, however, until a unanimous vote had declared the Convention to be a legal and free meeting, and, as such, not to be dissolved by any order the letter might contain, that permission was granted. To the consternation of the Jacobites, and the joy of their enemies, it was found that the despatch, in which the hand and style of the obnoxious Melfort were recognised, ‘was written in the terms of a conqueror and a priest, threatening the Convention with punishment in this world and damnation in the next.’ There could no longer be any doubt as to what the result of the Convention would be.

The futility of making any further attempt to influence the Estates in favour of James was not the only reason that made Dundee desire to leave Edinburgh. He had received information that a number of his old enemies, the Covenanters, had formed a plot to assassinate him and Sir George Mackenzie. There can be no doubt that George Hamilton of Barns had brought up four hundred armed citizens from Glasgow, and had lodged them about the Parliament House; but it is alleged that the object of this measure was merely to prevent Dundee himself from carrying out a design which he had formed of seizing certain members of the Convention. At the next meeting of the Estates he made known what he had learnt, offered to point out the very house in which his intending murderers were concealed, and demanded that they should be brought to justice. A majority of the House refused to take cognisance of what was slightingly described as a private matter, until affairs of greater moment had been dealt with; and Hamilton, who saw a welcome chance of getting rid of a troublesome adversary, cast sneering reflections upon the courage that could be alarmed by imaginary dangers.

This was on the eve of the day fixed upon by the Jacobite members for their departure from Edinburgh. In the meantime, however, the Marquis of Athole had pleaded for a further delay, and this had been agreed to at a meeting from which Dundee happened to be absent. When informed of the new arrangement, he refused to be bound by it. In vain Balcarres urged that his departure would give the alarm, and frustrate their designs. He replied that he had promised to meet a number of his friends outside the city, and that he did not wish to disappoint them. It was then that, going forth, he gathered his fifty troopers about him and galloped through the streets of Edinburgh. To a friend who called out to inquire where he was going, he is reported to have cried back, as he waved his hat, ‘Wherever the spirit of Montrose shall direct me.’

Dundee’s road to Stirling skirted the base of the Castle rock. As he approached he was recognised by the Duke of Gordon, who was ‘in a manner blocked up by the western rabble,’ and who signalled that he desired to speak with him. Equipped as he was, he performed the almost incredible feat of scrambling up the precipitous crag, as far as a postern gate, at which he held conference with the Governor. In the course of the conversation he urged the Duke to delegate the command of the stronghold to his subordinate Winrhame, an experienced and trustworthy soldier, and to retire into the Highlands for the purpose of raising his clansmen in support of King James. But Gordon’s timidity suggested a ready and plausible excuse. A soldier, he said, could not in honour quit the post that had been assigned to him.

Whilst the two noblemen were conferring together under such unusual circumstances, they were noticed from the city. The troopers who were waiting below for their adventurous leader were magnified into a great body of horse, and it was assumed that Dundee’s motive for braving the danger of such a climb, and defying the outlawry under which the Governor had been placed by the Convention, was to concert an attack in which he would be supported by the fire of the Castle batteries. The rumour spread and reached the ears of Hamilton. In all probability he knew it to be unfounded; but he also saw how he could avail himself of it to serve his own ends, and he did not neglect the opportunity which chance offered him. The Convention was sitting. With assumed indignation he exclaimed that it was high time they should look to themselves, since their enemies had the audacity to assemble in force, with hostile intent. Pretending to believe that there was danger within as well as without, he commanded the doors to be shut and the keys to be laid on the table before him, so that the traitors in their midst should be held in confinement until all danger from them was over. Then, by his orders, the drums were beat and the trumpets sounded through the city. At the signal, the armed men who had been brought in from the west, and hitherto kept concealed in garrets and cellars, swarmed out into the streets, where their fierce and sullen looks further increased the alarm of the townspeople, who gathered in great crowds about the Parliament House.

When the tumult and confusion had lasted for some hours, and long after the unconscious cause of it had resumed his ride, Hamilton, judging that the proper pitch had been reached, caused the doors to be thrown open again. As the members came out into the square, the Whigs ‘were received with the acclamations, and those of the opposite party, with the threats and curses of a prepared populace.’ The President had attained the object he had in view. As Dalrymple reports, ‘terrified by the prospect of future alarms, many of the adherents of James quitted the Convention and retired to the country; more of them changed sides; only a very few of the most resolute continued their attendance.’ The Whigs were left to themselves to settle the government of the country.

Whilst the Convention was still sitting with doors closed to prevent the egress of the Jacobite members, information was brought by Lord Montgomery, that Dundee had been seen going towards Queensferry after his defiant conference with the outlawed Duke of Gordon. Thereupon Major Buntin with a troop of horse was dispatched in pursuit. At the same time it was ordered that an express should be sent with a letter signed by the President, calling upon the deserter to return to the meeting by the following Friday. Whether it be true that the Major ‘never came within sight’ of the fugitive, or that he was scared by a threat of being sent back to his masters ‘in a pair of blankets,’ the result of his mission was the same.

The messenger may have found the means of delivering his letter at Linlithgow, where the Viscount made his first halt. It was possibly he who brought back the information which, on the next day, the 19th of March, caused the Convention to issue an order for the heritors and militia of Edinburgh and Linlithgow to assemble and ‘dislodge’ Lord Dundee. To give legal justification to these proceedings, an official proclamation was made by herald, charging both Dundee and Livingstone who accompanied him, to return to the Convention, within twenty-four hours, under pain of treason. Next day, a further report was received in Edinburgh, in consequence of which the Magistrates of Stirling were called upon to take suitable measures for seizing on the Viscount, who was understood to be in their neighbourhood. He had, in reality, ridden straight through to Dunblane, where he had an interview with Drummond of Balhaldy, who, as Lochiel’s son-in-law, was doubtless able to give him useful information as to the condition of the Highlands, and where he also wrote to the Duke of Hamilton, as President of the Convention, a letter which has not been preserved, and which may never have reached its destination. About the end of that eventful week, he reached his own home, at Dudhope. But, even here, he was not out of reach of heralds and their proclamations. On the 27th of March it was duly notified to him, with official blast of trumpet, that he was to lay down his arms, under penalty of being dealt with as a rebel to the State. His reply was almost suggested by the terms of the herald’s summons. Dundee had no thought of accepting the new Government, and had never made a secret of his opposition to it. That he was fully prepared to take the field, if he saw a favourable opportunity of doing so, may be looked upon as the natural and necessary sequel to his acceptance of the trust verbally committed to him at his last meeting with James. But, so far, he had done nothing that justified the charge of having taken up arms. From that point of view, he had no difficulty in giving an explanation and a defence of his conduct. He did so in the following letter:—

DUDHOPE, _March 27, 1689_.

‘MAY IT PLEASE YOUR GRACE,—The coming of an herald and trumpeter, to summon a man to lay down arms that is living in peace at home seems to me a very extraordinary thing, and, I suppose, will do so to all that hears of it. While I attended the Convention at Edinburgh, I complained often of many people being in arms without authority, which was notoriously known to be true; even the wild hillmen; and no summons to lay down arms under the pain of treason being given them, I thought it unsafe for me to remain longer among them. And because a few of my friends did me the favour to convey me out of the reach of these murderers, and that my Lord Livingstone and several other officers took occasion to come away at the same time, this must be called being in arms. We did not exceed the number allowed by the Meeting of Estates. My Lord Livingstone and I might have had each of us ten; and four or five officers that were in company might have had a certain number allowed them; which being, it will be found we exceeded not. I am sure it is far short of the number my Lord Lorne was seen to march with. And though I had gone away with some more than ordinary, who can blame me, when designs of murdering me was made appear? Besides, it is known to everybody that, before we came within sixteen miles of this, my Lord Livingstone went off to his brother my Lord Strathmore’s house; and most of the officers, and several of the company, went to their respective homes or relations. And, if any of them did me the favour to come along with me, must that be called being in arms. Sure, when your Grace represents this to the Meeting of the States, they will discharge such a groundless pursuit, and think my appearance before them unnecessary. Besides, though it were necessary for me to go and attend the Meeting, I cannot come with freedom and safety; because I am informed there are men of war, and foreign troops in the passage; and, till I know what they are, and what are their orders, the Meeting cannot blame me for not coming. Then, my Lord, seeing the summons has proceeded on a groundless story, I hope the Meeting of States will think it unreasonable I should leave my wife in the condition she is in. If there be anybody that notwithstanding of all that is said, think I ought to appear, I beg the favour of a delay till my wife is brought to bed; and, in the meantime, I will either give security, or parole, not to disturb the peace. Seeing this pursuit is so groundless, and so reasonable things offered, and the Meeting composed of prudent men and men of honour, and your Grace presiding in it, I have no reason to fear further trouble.—I am, may it please your Grace, your most humble servant,

DUNDEE.’

‘I beg your Grace will cause read this to the Meeting because it is all the defence I have made. I sent another to your Grace from Dunblane, with the reasons of my leaving Edinburgh. I know not if it be come to your hands.’

It is hardly probable that Dundee seriously expected Hamilton and the Convention to be influenced in the course they were bent on adopting by a letter which, as regarded the past, contained little or nothing but what they had heard already, and which in respect to the future, bound the writer for a very limited period, in consideration of purely private and domestic, and not of political circumstances, except, perhaps, the circumstance that the instructions without which he was not to venture on any act of open hostility had not yet come from Ireland.

He cannot have been greatly surprised to learn that on the 30th of March he had formerly been declared a traitor.

Within less than a fortnight there occurred an incident which supplied Hamilton not only with a justification of the action he had taken, but also with a reason for adopting further measures against Dundee. The Viscount’s commissions as Lieutenant-General and Commander-in-Chief in Scotland had been dispatched from Ireland. They were accompanied with letters from Melfort to both Dundee and Balcarres. To the former he wrote, ‘You will ask, no doubt, how we shall be able to pay our armies: but can you ask such a question while our enemies, the rebels, have estates to be forfeited? We will begin with the great, and end with the small ones.’ The same sentiments were expressed in even stronger terms in his letter to the latter. ‘The estates of the rebels will recompense us. You know there were several Lords whom we marked out, when you and I were together, who deserved no better fates; these will serve as examples to others.’ According to Balcarres, he added the senseless threat, ‘when we get the power we will make these men hewers of wood and drawers of water.’ Whether by the folly or the knavery of the bearer of them, these compromising documents fell into the hands of Hamilton. He communicated them to the Convention. When they had been read, he rose and cried out in an impetuous voice, ‘You hear, you hear, my Lords and Gentlemen, our sentence pronounced. We must take our choice, to die, or to defend ourselves.’