Part 33

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, aetatis suae 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."

Lord Balmerino then showed the Executioner where to strike the blow; he examined the edge of the axe, and bade the man to strike with resolution; "for in _that_, friend," he said, as he replaced the axe in the hand of the man, "will consist your mercy." He asked how many strokes had been given to Lord Kilmarnock. Two clergymen coming up at that moment, he said, "no, gentlemen, I believe you have already done me all the service you can." He called loudly to the warder, and gave him his perriwig; and instantly laid down his head upon the block, but being told that he was on the wrong side, he vaulted round, and extending his arms uttered this short prayer: "O Lord, reward my friends, forgive my enemies:"--he uttered, it has been stated, another ejaculation for king James; but that petition was suppressed in the printed accounts of his death: then, pronouncing these words, "receive my soul," he gave the signal by throwing up his arm, as if he were giving the signal for battle. His intrepidity, and the suddenness of that last sign terrified the executioner, whose arm became almost powerless; the affrighted man struck the blow on the part directed, but though, it is hoped, it destroyed all sensation, the head was not severed, but fell back on the shoulders, exhibiting a ghastly sight. Two more strokes of the axe were requisite to complete the work. Then, the head having been received in a piece of scarlet cloth, the lifeless remains of the true, and noble hearted soldier were deposited in a coffin, and delivered to his friends.

A vast multitude viewed this spectacle, so execrable in its cruelty, so great in the deportment of the sufferers. Even on the masts of ships, in the calm river, were the spectators piled; all classes of society were interested in this memorable scene; and, for a few short weeks, the fashionable circles were diverted by the humours of Lady Townshend, and the witticisms of George Selwyn. During the imprisonment of Kilmarnock, it had been the fancy of the former to station herself under the window of his chamber in one of the dismal towers in which he was detained; to send messages to him, and to obtain his dog and snuff-box. But even this show of affected feeling failed to make compassion fashionable in the regions of St. James's. Calumny was busy at the grave of the beheaded Jacobites; and the accounts of those who attended them in their last hours were attacked by anonymous pamphleteers. It was said, among other things, that Balmerino uttered no prayer at the last moment; and his behaviour was contrasted with that of Kilmarnock. On this allegation, Mr. Ford, the Under-Sheriff, who was on the scaffold, observes, "the authors of these attacks being concealed are unworthy of other notice, since nothing is easier to an ingenious and unprejudiced mind, than to distinguish between the subject and the man: my Lord Kilmarnock was happily educated in right principles, which he deviated from, and repented; whereas, the great, though unhappy Balmerino, was unfortunate in his,--but, as he lived, he died."[394]

The characters of these two noblemen, who, in life, held a very dissimilar course, until they cooeperated in arms, are strongly contrasted. To Kilmarnock belonged the gentle qualities which enhance the pleasures of society, but often, too, increase its perils: the susceptible, affectionate nature, not fortified by self-controul; the compassionate disposition, acting rather from impulse than principle. Infirm in principle, his rash alliance with a party who were opposed to all that he had learned to respect in childhood; and whom he joined, from the stimulus of a misdirected ambition, cannot be justified. To this, it was generally believed, he was greatly incited by the persuasions of his mother-in-law, the Countess of Errol.

Whilst we bestow our cordial approbation on those who engaged in civil strife from a sense of duty, and from notions of allegiance, which had never been exterminated from their moral code, we condemn such as, attaching themselves to the Jacobite party, outraged their secret convictions, betrayed the trusts of Government, and violated the promise of their youth. Such a course must spring either from selfishness, or weakness, or from a melancholy union of both. In Lord Kilmarnock it was far more the result of weakness than of self-interest: his fortunes were desperate, and his mind was embittered towards the ruling government: his admiration was attracted by the gallantry and resolution of those who adhered to the Chevalier: his sense of what was due to his rank, and the consciousness of high descent, coupled with empty honours and real poverty, stimulated him to take that course which seemed the most likely to regain a position, without ever enjoying which a man may be happy, but which few can bear to lose. This was his original error; he joined the standard of Charles Edward,--but he was no Jacobite. He fought against his own convictions, the hereditary and ineffaceable prepossessions implanted in the heart by a parent.

From henceforth, until immured in the Tower, all in the career of Lord Kilmarnock was turbulence; and, it must be acknowledged, crime. For nothing can justify a resistance of sovereign power, save a belief in its illegality. "I engaged in the rebellion," was Lord Kilmarnock's confession, "in opposition to my own principles, and to those of my family; in contradiction to the whole tenor of my conduct." Such were his expressions at that hour when no earthly considerations had power to seduce him into falsehood.

By those historians who espouse the Jacobite cause, this avowal has been severely censured; and Lord Kilmarnock has been regarded as deserting the party which he had espoused. But, with his conviction, such a line of conduct as that which he pursued in prison, could alone be honest, and therefore alone consistent with his religious hopes, before he quitted life. Such censure has been well answered in Lord Kilmarnock's own words, "I am in little pain for the reflections which the inconsiderate or prejudiced part of my countrymen, (if there are any such whom my suffering the just sentence of the law has not mollified,) may cast upon me for this confession. The wiser or more ingenious will, I hope, approve my conduct, and allow with me, that next to doing right is to have the courage and integrity to avow that I have done wrong." These sentiments were not, be it observed, made public until after his death.