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SCION
of a leading Scottish family was sent in 1637 to Prussia to learn
German. He gave his tutor the slip to go a-soldiering in Poland; but,
disappointed in this, he returned to Scotland, where he found his
parents dead and his patrimony confiscated by creditors. Turning
freebooter, he was captured and imprisoned by peasants. He next went to
France, where he entered the army and underwent many dangers and
privations. He then joined Charles II. in Scotland, fought at Worcester,
and was sheltered by villagers till his wounds were healed, when he
effected his escape to the Continent. Agaiu in France, he commanded the
Scottish body-guard of Cardinal de Retz. Thrown into prison, he was well
nigh starved into abjuring Protestantism. Once more in the field, he was
captured by Croats. He next served German princes, one of whom sent him
to London to compliment Charles on the Restoration. He fought for
Austria against the Turks, combatted the French at Treves, and after the
peace of Nimegueu settled down as governor of a Hanoverian town. Yet
strange io say, his autobiography, published in French at Amsterdam in
1704, a second edition appearing in the following year, has never been
reprinted, nor translated into English. One reason of this is that the
author gives no pedigree, nor even his Christian name, information
unnecessary at the time but of importance to posterity, so that he is
indistinguishable among a host of homonyms; consequently the British
Museum catalogue leaves a blank for the Christian name, and an
exhaustive history of the family from which he sprang, while containing
a letter addressed to him, was unable to trace his relationship, or even
to identify him as the autobiographer.
When
these missing links are supplied, when we further find that this soldier
of fortune accompanied the future George I. on his first visit to
England, and when we see when and where he ended his days, the
Memoires de M. le Chevalier de Melvill
possesses a high degree of interest as depicting the life of a Scottish
free-lance in the seventeenth century.
It is
needless, after the
Leven and Melville Papers (1843) and Sir
William Fraser's
Melvilles of Melville and Leven (1890) to go
further back iu the history of the family than to Sir John Melville of
Raith, executed at Stirling in 1529.1
One, probably the youngest, of his nine sons was Captain David Melville
of Newmills, who married Mary, daughter of James Balfour, of the
Montquhonny family, by Margaret Balfour, heiress of Burghly. David was
one of the garrison of Edinburgh Castle in 1570. Despatched by his
nephew, Kirkaldy of the Grange, on an unsuccessful attempt to capture
the Earl of Morton at Dalkeith, he was mortally wounded, died in the
Castle, aud was probably buried iu St. Giles's churchyard, Kirkaldy
delivering a funeral oration. He left a son, James, who married Isabel,
daughter of John Dury by Marion Marjoribanks. James had a son John, who
married Janet, daughter of William Kelly by Barbara Lauder. John had two
sons. We do not even know the name of the elder, who as we shall see
fought at Worcester and was transported to the Colonies. The younger,
Andrew, our hero, was born in May 1621. This Newmills branch, which
Douglas's
Baronage does not take the trouble to trace,
must have been small lairds, yet, as we have seen, they intermarried
with good families. John's mother descended from the Lundys, and his
grandmother was a Balfour, while his wife descended from the Lauders,
and was related to the Douglasses. John seems to have hoped for Court
favour through her connections. Andrew, indeed, had an impression that,
'as long as there were Kings in Scotland, my ancestors filled important
posts, but when James VI. went to England, my family, not following the
Court, began to decline.' I cannot, however, discover that his
grandfather or greatgrandfather held any high office, and his father, he
tells us himself, was in 1624 living as a laird in easy circumstances.
The brother-in-law, Kelly, however, was Chamberlain—probably a
Sub-Chamberlain—to Charles I., and was unmarried, Janet being apparently
his only heir; yet his office, so far from being lucrative, involved
such expense that John Melville had repeatedly to assist him. Kelly died
in his prime, with great expectations not realised, so that Melville had
to satisfy the creditors partly out of his own means. He was glad,
therefore, to be relieved of the cost of bringing up his youngest son by
sending him, at thirteen years of age, to a kinswoman, who, after
keeping him a few mouths, despatched him to Konigsberg to master the
languages of Northern Europe. The knowledge of Dutch, German, and Polish
thus acquired, proved, as we shall see, of essential service to him.
Study, however, did not suit a lad already smitten with the love of
arms, and enlisted by an officer who was recruiting for the King of
Poland, Andrew gave his tutors the slip. But on reaching Poland he found
that peace had been concluded, and though Ladislas IV. would gladly have
accepted his services he resolved on returning to Scotland. Bad news
awaited him there. His parents were dead, and creditors had seized on
the property. His elder brother was already a Captain in Lord Gray's
regiment of dragoons, and Gray promised Andrew the first vacant cornetcy.
He was waiting for this when Charles I. gave himself up to the Scotch. '
Thereupon,' he says :—
'We
had orders to be in readiness to inarch against the English as soon as
hostilities could be commenced. I was preparing with alacrity when an
airur happened which upset all my plans, and
which 1 am
anxious to relate here in order that young
men by reading it may learn what precautions they should take in time of
war, especially when among people whom they have reason to distrust.
There were in our regiment several unattached officers who, like me,
were waiting for commissions. Their number being considerable, they were
formed into a company, of which I was cornet; but a-s no pay was
assigned us we helped ourselves wherever we were the strongest. The
license we thus took raised all the peasants against ns. Seeing that we
suspected nothing, they secretly assembled, surprised ns one night when
asleep, and having seized our arms and horses, took us as prisoners to a
castle three days journey from the spot where we were captured. We were
compelled to go on foot, but what especially annoyed was seeing these
peasants escorting us with our own arms and horses. What Ave felt in
such circumstances may easily be imagined. We remained two months in
that castle, exposed to all sorts of ill-usage,
and not being accustomed to this, I know not what would have become of
me if the hostess's chambermaid had not pitied my fate. There was
fortunately something in my appearance which pleased her and induced her
to pick me out from my comrades. She visited me every night as soon as
her mistress was in bed, and always brought me food, of which 1 stood in
great need. The girl was tall, a good figure, and very lively, and could
sing well. This was more than enough to please a man of my age [22], and
irrespective of my obligations to her it was not difficult for me to
show affection for her. This made her actually fancy that I might marry
her. She proposed this to me, promising me my liberty. Ardently as I
longed for this, the price put upon it by this girl seemed to me worse
than slavery. I did not think it well, however, to let her know my
feeling, for fear of making her my enemy, so without committing myself I
answered in such a way as to keep in her good graces. We were on these
terms when the governor was ordered to release his prisoners. I, like my
comrades, prepared to leave, but the girl objected, saying that I must
fulfil the promise to marry her. Honour did not allow me to agree to
what the girl demanded, but my conduct seemed very ungrateful. I stood
firm, however, and was released, a friend being surety for me.'
It
would be curious to know where this oue-sided courtship took place, but
Melville is as careless of names of places as of dates. Thus liberated,
he rejoined the army, but to his disappointment the time passed not in
fighting but in negotiating, and the King being at length given up to
the English, Melville's regiment was disbanded. In 1647 he and his
brother repaired to France. his brother, not liking the country or his
prospects in it, went on to Venice. Andrew joined the infantry as a
sergeant. He took part under Gassion, the pupil of Gustavus Adolphus, in
the siege of Lens, where he was severely wounded. Gassion being killed
in this siege, Melville next served under Rantzau at the siege of
Dixmude.
' I
cannot,' he says, ' describe what we had to suffer during this campaign.
Hunger and other privations did us more harm than the enemy whom we had
to face.' Melville frankly relates that an empty purse, for pay was very
irregular, drove him to an act of dishonesty. While he was roaming with
a comrade in the outskirts of Dixmude, an officer riding past dropped
his taffetas cloak trimmed with the silver lace then in fashion. They
could not resist appropriating it, and though the officer, quickly
discovering his loss, rode back and questioned them, they persisted that
they had not seen the cloak. He disbelieved them, but resigned himself
to the loss. ' Youth and penury are the only excuse, if they could
excuse this.' Melville next took part in the siege of Ypres, under the
famous Cond6. Here a Scottish captain, Meffer (?), took an interest in
him, promoted him to be ensign, and had he not himself been killed in
the siege would probably have done more for him. Without pay, having to
live by plunder, Melville and some comrades were captured on one of
their marauding expeditions by Croats of the garrison of Armentieres. To
save themselves the trouble of guarding their prisoners, the Croats
resolved on shooting them. Melville, knowing the language, heard their
deliberations and apprised his comrades of their fate. Such were the
hardships they had suffered that most of them accepted death without
regret. Stripped of all but their shirts they were ranged along the wall
of the house to which they had been taken. Each Croat had his appointed
victim, but the musket ot Melville's executioner missed fire. The Croat
in a rage knocked him down with the butt-end, and was reloading when
Melville, following the example of a comrade, leaped into a ditch or
canal, and though fired at, managed to reach the other side. Here he had
to force his way through a hawthorn hedge, which tore his shirt and
lacerated his skin ; but beyond the hedge was a wheatfield, and the corn
was high enough to screen him. He was not a little afraid, however, of
falling into the hands of the peasants,
who naturally killed stragglers in revenge for the depredations which
they experienced. But he walked on to a village which proved to be
deserted, entered a cottage, threw himself on some straw, had a
refreshing sleep, found a sack which served as a garment, and resumed
his march. He
was soon captured by some German soldiers,
but speaking their language well, was taken by them for a countryman
engaged on the opposite side, and was conducted to headquarters, where
Archduke Leopold ordered that he should be treated as a prisoner of war.
As such he had to march to Lille, but ou reaching the suburbs was so
exhausted that he sat clown by a wall and slept till evening. Admitted
after some demur into the town, he was directed to a hospital on the
ramparts, a building unutterably filthy and loathsome. The inmates,
however, told him of an Irish monastery which showed great kindness to
Irish soldiers. Next morning, accordingly, he repaired thither, enjoyed
a substantial meal, and then went on to the Spanish camp. There he found
an Irish regiment with a Scottish Colonel, Cascar, who knew of the
position of the Melvilles in Scotland, clothed him, and admitted him to
his table. Melville was pressed to join the Spanish army, but he was in
hopes of being ransomed by the French. Disappointed in this, he helped
to raise for the Duke of Lorraine a regiment which was to assist the
Prince of Wales, the future Charles II., in rescuing his father.
Melville gives a vivid picture of the insubordination of these
recruits—Scottish, Irish, German, and French. While on board a vessel
off Embden his life was in constant peril, and nothing but his nerve
saved him. He spent the summer of 1848 on the Isle of Borcom, drilling
his company,, mostly English and Irish. The execution of Charles I.
caused the abandonment of the expedition, and the Duke of Lorraine
thereupon offered the regiment to Spain, to be shipped for San
Sebastian, but the officers rebelled and landed at Ostend. The Duke, who
was at Brussels, had already received payment from Spain, but he could
not help himself, and kept the regiment in his service. Pay, however,
was in arrear, and Melville was despatched to Brussels to extract money.
But the Duke could not or would not pay up, and he at length handed over
the regiment to Archduke Leopold, under whom the officers were willing
to serve. By this time, desertions had reduced Melville's company to
thirty men, other companies being still smaller. He took part in the
unsuccessful siege of Guise, but in 1650, anxious to accompany Charles
II. to Scotland, he repaired to Breda, where he was well received. The
Archduke reluctantly released him from his engagement, writing to
Charles in his favour, as also did the Duke of Lorraine. Tired of
waiting at Ypres for an escort to Holland, especially as Charles was
already in Scotland, Melville went alone and on foot to Bruges. The
country was covered with soldiers and freebooters, but he went in a
coarse dress, with his money in a belt fastened round his left arm, as
though on account of a wound. He was searched, indeed, and his hat and
shoes were taken from him, but he managed to reach Bruges. There he
looked so destitute that lodgings were everywhere refused him, till an
old woman, after scrutinizing him closely, agreed to take him in. He
bespoke a good meal and bed, and, on her looking distrustful of his
ability to pay, he took off his belt and showed her some gold coins.
Next day he reached Rotterdam, where he joined a German Captain bound
like himself for Scotland. The English fleet was scouring the North Sea,
but a Scottish pilot engaged to make the passage, and enlisted a few
sailors.
After
eight days at sea they came in sight of the English fleet, but were
unobserved or at any rate unmolested, and on the twelfth day landed at
Montrose. Melville went to St. Johnstone [Perth], presented to Charles
his two letters of recommendation, and was promised a commission. After
waiting a fortnight he was sent to the Earl of Hamilton, who was raising
troops in the north. He stayed -five or six weeks and then went back to
Charles to report progress. On the way he had to cross a ferry, aud
unable to make the ferryman hear, he fired a pistol. Thereupon the man
came over, but told him he had killed his child. Melville could not
believe that a pistol could carry so far, but on reaching the other side
he saw the child dead in its mother's arms. He showed much concern, and
pacified the parents with money. He found Charles at Stirling, and
marched with him to Worcester. There lie was ordered to join the Earl of
Derby, who was to raise a regiment in the Isle of Man, but Cromwell's
army was closing in on Worcester, and he had to turn back to inform
Charles of their advance.
The
Battle of Worcester lasted from nine in the morning of the 3rd
September, 1(551, till eight at night. The Royalists had at first a
slight advantage, but lost it, Melville says, by their own fault, were
thrown into disorder, and were forced to retreat towards the town in a
fashion much resembling flight :—
' We
had sufficient reasons for believing that Cromwell would be satisfied
with this, and would not risk his already wearied troops in the night by
pursuing us into a town which sympathised with us. But we had to deal
with a man well aware of his advantage and knowing how to make the most
of it. He pursued us so hotly that confusion set in among our men, who
began openly to flee. He pursued them pell-mell into the town.2
I as yet knew nothing of it, for I had followed the King, who was among
the first who entered the town. On leaving him. I perceived what turn
things were taking, and instead of going to have a wound in the arm
dressed. I bade my
orderly fetch my clothes from my lodgings and join me in the street.
While waiting on horseback for him I heard a horseman order the
townspeople to put lights in their windows. I imagined that these men
were all of our side, and I began to shout like them. This made them
look at me, and seeing my white badge they exclaimed that I was a
royalist and advanced in order to capture me. I escaped into another
street, where I found a tr<Bp which I rushed into the midst of, shouting
"There is the enemy ! " But in trying to avoid a lesser evil I fell into
a greater. One of the officers of this troop, knowing that I was on the
King's side, came towards us. I suspected nothing, otherwise I could
easily have avoided him or else shot him with the pistol I had in my
hand. With a stroke of his sword he pierced my saddle girths and made me
fall from my horse. In a moment I was surrounded by several soldiers,
who, each tugging at me in a different direction, would soon have
stripped me, if a cornet, pitying me, had not come up and asked who I
was. I told him I was an officer, and begged him not to allow me to be
treated otherwise than as a prisoner of war. The good fellow, touched by
my appeal, began to drive the soldiers off, lmt one of them, indignant
at their prey being taken from them, exclaimed, "at any rate nobody
shall benefit by it," and fired his pistol at my breast. 1 fell,
weltering in my blood, which issued in streams from the wound, but I did
not lose consciousness, for on the cornet, aghast at being the innocent
cause of my misfortune, asking me whether I thought I could get over it,
I replied that I believed I could if taken care of. Thereupon lie made
his servant raise me, helped to place me on a horse, and in this way
took me out of the town to the foot of a hill, already in the enemy's
possession.3 When in sight of a
guard posted there, the cornet asked them to come down, as ho had a
prisoner to hand over to them. A sergeant then appeared. My generous
protector hesitated at giving me up to him, but nobody else coming, he
did so, and bidding him take good care of me, and promising to come and
see me next day, he went away. The sergeant, assisted by a private,
dragged me up the hill, and thought he had done enough by placing me on
a gun carriage, where I passed the night without any attentions. Mappilj7
they had laid me on the wounded side, so that the blood flowed freely
and did not coagulate. I was however parched with thirst, and nobody was
charitable enough to relieve it, though I repeatedly begged for water
and though there was a well quite near, from which I heard water at
times being drawn, which increased my longing for it.'
Bate,
in his Elenchus
Metauin, speaks in a few lines of Latin of
the scene in the town, of the victors striking, capturing, and
vociferating, of the vanquished fleeing and supplicating, of the
townspeople beseeching and lamenting, of the streets covered with the
killed and wounded, of the latter imploring help or drawing their last
breath ; but how much more vividly we realise this when we read what
befel a single man. .Melville goes on to say :—
' As
soon as it was daylight, the soldiers on guard came up to nie. Some
questioned me, but I was too weak to answer. Others stripped me of all
that remained to me from the previous day, so that I was left naked, but
one of those who had stripped me, touched with pity, covered me with a
bit of blanket which he found there. In rendering me this service he
noticed that my lips moved. This made him put his ear to my mouth, and I
begged him in God's name to let me speak to an officer. The soldier was
kind enough to go to the officer in command of the post, and the officer
was ....... enough to come. I stretched out my hand, and drawing him to
me as well as my weakness would allow, I thanked him for
coming to see me, told him that I was an
officer, and that being apparently at the point of death I was glad to
see a kind man, as he seemed to be, and that I had one request to make,
which was that he would send to a certain house in the town for a
portmanteau I had left there, that it contained money and clothes which
were quite at his service, but also papers which would be useless to him
and which I begged him to send to my relatives. The officer went away
without answering, but presently returned with some soldiers, who,
placing me on pikes, carried me to a neighbouring cottage. The officer's
attentions did not end there. He fetched a bed, on which he laid me, and
sent for a surgeon, but none could be found, and in short he treated me
like a beloved brother. I had not long, however, the good fortune of his
presence. An hour after rendering me these services he was ordered
elsewhere, and all he could do was to recommend me strongly to a poor
woman living in the house, after which he took leave of me with marks of
sincere regret. After he had gone the village was pillaged, my hostess's
cottage not escaping this misfortune. Even the bed on which I was lying
was taken from her, I being pitilessly dragged off and rolled into a
trench dug for the foundations of a house. My mishaps did not end there.
A dead man was thrown into the same spot, and his legs lying over me T
could not stir. How long I remained in this plight I cannot say, for I
soon fainted, but I doubt not it would have been for ever but for what I
am about to relate. My hostess and her two daughters had been stripped
by the soldiers, and while looking for some rags to cover them they
perceived me in the trend). They recognised me, and as I had been
strongly recommended to them they drew me out, and seeing some signs of
life carried me indoors, laid me on straw, and covered me as well as
they could. 1 do not know what restoratives these good women used, but
consciousness soon returned. After telling them what had happened to me,
and the result of the battle, I asked one of them to go to the town and
inquire whether General Douglas was not among the prisoners.4
"If you learn that he is there," I said, "try and speak with him and
inform him of my fate." The woman performed her mission cleverly. She
learned that General Douglas was a prisoner, and had lost an eye, and
discovering a means of speaking to him unobserved, she gave him my
message. Douglas was a near relation on my mother's side, and my true
friend. He was touched by my misfortunes, and secretly sent the same
night a surgeon who continued visiting me at night for four or five
weeks. One night he came with a countenance indicating what he had to
tell me. He told me he had come for the last time, but as my wound was
not yet healed he had brought me the wherewithal to dress it myself till
it was well, that he was forced to accompany his master, who was about
to be sent he knew not whither. As for the other prisoners, among whom
was my brother, they had been condemned to the sugar and tobacco
plantations of the West Indies.'
Melville remained more than three months in the cottage,
two of the women begging for him from door to
door, apparently in Worcester, while the third watched by him. One day
while they were away, one of Cromwell's soldiers, peeping into the
cottage, insisted on entering, and swore at him and his nurse; but on
Melville's confession of being a Royalist soldier, and of having been in
Holland, the man said he also had been there. They exchanged a few words
in Dutch, and were presently the best of friends :—
' He
began by telling me that at heart he was as good a Royalist as T, but
that soldiers took sides as best they could, without thinking of
anything but the pay, and that in proof of his sincerity he should be
glad to serve me. Thereupon he sent the woman to buy some beer, that we
might drink together, and he offered to divide his purse, containing
some halfpence, with me. After staying a couple of hours in the cottage
he left, promising to tell nobody of me.'
Could
anything be more natural or charming than this episode? Macaulay says of
Buuyan's swearing in boyhood, 'But a single admonition cured him of this
bad habit for life, and the cure must have been wrought early, for at
eighteen he was in the army of the Parliament, and if he had carried the
vice of profanenes into that service he would doubtless have received
something more than an admonition from Sergeant
Bind-their-kings-in-chains, or Captain Hew-Agag-in-pieces-before-the-Lord.'
But here we find a Cromwellian soldier swearing, and the mixture of
brutality and kindness among his comrades bears out what worthy Thomas
Fuller said at the time :—
'
Think not that the King's army is like Sodom, not ten righteous men in
it—no, not if righteous Lot himself be put into the number—and the other
army like Zion, consisting all of saints. No, there be drunkards on both
sides, and swearers on both sides, and whoremongers on both sides, pious
on both sides and profane on both sides. Like Jeremiah's figs, those
that are good are very good, and those that are bad are very bad, in
both parties.5
As
soon as he was strong enough to walk Melville resolved on going to
London, and by the advice of his kind hostesses he represented himself
as a German tailor, probably assuming a German accent. The women wept,
wished him God speed, and accompanied him a short distance. 'Providence
sometimes,' remarks Melville, who is usually chary of reflections, 'puts
noble and lofty principles in the minds of persons of the humblest
rank.' One would have liked to hear that ou revisiting England, nine
years afterwards, he found and rewarded his benefactresses, but he seems
to have had a soldier's easy forgetfulness alike of benefits and
injuries, and he does not even tell us whether he ever ascertained his
brother s fate. He had to beg his way to London. While resting at the
door of a tavern near the end of his journey, a lady in a fine carriage
drove up. The footman questioned him, told his mistress what he had
said, brought him sixpence from her, and arranged to meet him at a
certain spot in London. In this way Melville secured cheap, but not very
clean or respectable, lodgings. He went every day to the Thames to look
for some Dutch ship which would give him a passage, and 10 talk with
Dutch sailors. One day he there met, dressed like a sailor, au old
Royalist comrade, by whose advice he called on a Melville kinsman, a
Roundhead. The latter, on being satisfied of his identity, embraced him,
sent out for good clothes, introduced him to his wife, and advanced him
money for his passage. A third Royalist soldier was to join Melville and
his friend, but whereas Melville pretended to speak nothing but Dutch,
the third man was foolish enough to talk Scotch, whereupon he was
arrested.
Landing at Rotterdam,
Melville went on to Brussels, where Cascar,
now Major-General of the Lorraine troops,
Welcomed him and promised him the first
vacant Captaincy. Cascar took him to France, but failed to perform his
promise, and his wife looked askance on the needy adventurer. When near
Paris, therefore, Melville asked for dismissal, and entered the city
alone, with money for only two days subsistence. Happily, as he
imagined, he was recognised on the morrow by an ex-Captain of the
Lorraine troops, who took him to an inn where some acquaintances were
regaling themselves. Deep potations led to a quarrel, swords were drawn,
and Melville was trying to make peace when the watch came up and seized
the whole party. Melville was thrown into a cell, in company with
Hamilton, a Scotchman who had come with him to Paris. Every morning a
priest came to the prison to say mass, and a nun brought bread, the only
food distributed. After a week's detention the two Scotchmen were
interrogated, and were told they could be discharged on paying the
jailor's fees. But they had no money, and two Jesuits offered to pay
their fees on condition of their becoming Catholics. Threats and
promises alternated, but the prisoners stood firm. At last the Jesuits
ordered the nun to stop the supply of bread, and all that the good woman
could do was occasionally, when unobserved, to throw into the cell just
enough bread to keep off starvation. So at least Melville thought at the
time, but his subsequent belief was that the Jesuits and the nun were iu
collusion, not intending to starve him to death but only to reduce him
to a capitulation. Hamilton's constancy gave way, and Melville was taken
to the cell to which he had been removed, to see the ample fare allowed
him, but all was ineffectual, and Melville was at length released. He
heard nothing more of Hamilton.
During Melville's incarceration the battle at St. Antoine's gate, on the
2nd July, 1652, had been fought, and on account of the ferment in Paris,
Cardinal de Retz resolved on having a Scottish body-guard. Melville
volunteered to join it, his sole duty being to escort the Cardinal in
his drives. The Cardinal took a fancy to him, and on the head of the
force resigning, promoted him to the post, his pay being thus doubled.
But soon, on the young King's return to the city, Retz had to disband
his guard. Schomber, the future hero of the Boyne, who under the Duke of
York (the future James II.), commanded the Scottish men-at-arms, then
sent for him and despatched him to his winter quarters iu Poitou. The
country, however, had been devastated, the peasants were reduced to
living on chestnuts, and but for game the soldiers would have well-nigh
starved.
In
1656 Melville served under Turenne in the relief of Arras. He was next
at Quesnoy, where, on a foraging expedition, he was captured by Croats,
but his knowledge of Polish procured him an audience of the Colonel, who
admitted him to his mess. Mistaken for an Irishman who had deserted, he
narrowly escaped being shot, but he was exculpated and ransomed, and
rejoined Schomberg. Seeing little prospect of promotion, however, he and
a fellow Scot, Mollison, asked for their discharge and went to
Konigsberg.
Here
I may remark that though sometimes wounded, and though repeatedly
disappointed in his hopes of advancement, Melville was never again
subjected to privations. The interest of the narrative somewhat falls
off. We hear more of battles and sieges, but less of picturesque and
affecting incidents. 1 may therefore pass more rapidly over his military
expeditions.
At
Konigsberg, while Melville and Mollison were watching the men employed
in erecting the citadel, they were introduced to Count Waldeck, who was
serving under the Elector of Brandenburg, 'the Great Elector,' Frederick
II.'s grandfather, in his alliance with Charles X. of Sweden. Melville's
services were accepted by Waldeek, and under a Scottish Colonel—he met
fellow-countrymen under every flag—he was employed in levying
contributions. One town which closed its gates against him he entered at
night through a sewer. Whde fighting against Casimir, King of Poland,
before Warsaw, some Jews deluded him with stories of hidden treasure,
and while he was away on one of these bootless quests the town which he
should have been watching was entered by Cossacks in the Swedish
service, who burnt the
Jewish synagogue, worshippers included, and captured some Polish ladies,
whom they would have held to ransom had not the French Ambassador
insisted on their release. Count Frederic Waldeck died, but recommended
Melville to his brother, Josiah, who commissioned him to raise a cavalry
regiment, and sent him to assist Charles X. iu Holstein, against the
Danes. Cromwell, however, as mediator, effected a peace between them. On
returning to Germany Melville heard of Charles II.'s accession, and
Waldeck, who had rendered Charles services in his exile, sent him to
London to compliment him. Charles had not forgotten Melville, asked what
had befallen him at Worcester, and assured him he should ever remember
both Waldeck's services and his own, but there, to Melville's
disappointment, the embassy ended.
The
Emperor Leopold had applied for assistance to all the Princes of the
Empire, and even to France also, to drive the Turks out of Hungary, and
the Elector of Cologne commissioned Count Josiah to raise a regiment of
infantry. The Count wished for Melville as Lieutenant-Colonel,
especially as he himself had no experience of infantry, but the Elector
had promised the post to someone else. Melville consequently agreed to
be Major, but with the pay of Lieutenant-Colonel. His supplanter was ere
long killed, and he then succeeded him. After passing the winter in
Styria, Melville helped to storm Turkisken. He became
Quartermaster-General of the Rhenish division, but a quarrel with the
General in command, ' Count Holac,'—a spelling under which it is
difficult to recognise Hohenlohe—soon led to his resignation, and but
for Waldeck's entreaties he would have quitted the army, in lieu of
resuming his former post. Fortunately he soon recovered Hohenlohe's good
graces. He was assigned the recapture with 500 men of a position near
Kanissa, and here is what passed:—
' I
waited till night, and then leaving the town I detached a captain with
fifty troopers with instructions to approach the enemy, but to retire as
soon as he gave the alarm towards a demilune on my left. My design was
to cut off the pursuers between their camp and this demilune, where I
lay in ambush. On taking up my position I resolved, according to the
advice of the Governor of the town, to put on my armour, but on donning
my helmet I found it so cumbersome, especially as it prevented me from
hearing, that I took it off and gave it to one of my orderlies, who
immediately stuck it on his own head. The captain gave the alarm as
directed, but instead of retiring in the direction ordered he came at
full gallop towards me, in great disorder, the Turks hotly pursuing him.
Although I saw my whole plan foiled by this blunder, I did not let the
Turks perceive this, and they were so disconcerted that after killing
several I drove the rest back to their camp, and then withdrew in good
order towards the town. On approaching it I heard a cry from the
ramparts to advance. I supposed it to be an order to turn back towards
the enemy, and without reflecting on the rashness of the step I advanced
towards a troop of Janissaries who were pursuing me at some distance,
and whom I could easily have avoided. My men, who reluctantly followed
me, shamefully fled at the first onset and deserted me. I was left in
the lurch with my orderly, and the Turks, imagining him to be the
officer on account of the helmet, cut off his head, and taking no notice
of me, retired. I was fortunate enough to withdraw unperceived, and to
find a retired spot, where I passed the rest of the night. At daybreak I
presented myself at the town gates, where I was joyfully welcomed, for
the soldiers who had deserted me had reported, apparently to excuse
their flight, that I had been killed.'
Melville witnessed the raising of the siege of Kanissa,6
the siege of Zrinevar by the Turks, and their passage of the Raab at St.
Gothard, where entire regiments of the Imperialists, panic struck,
allowed themselves to be slaughtered without resistance. ' They
contented themselves with loud cries to the Blessed Virgin for help, but
the clash of arms,' says Melville with grim irony, ' apparently
prevented her from hearing them.' He does not mention the camels, which
the Turks, as we know from other sources, had brought with them, nor
does he speak of the famous Commander-in-Chief, Montecuculi.f
In
1664 peace was concluded, and Melville, presented with a medal by the
Emperor, had to conduct his regiment through Vienna and Bohemia back to
Bonn. In Bohemia he had to be on his guard against attacks by the
peasants, for though he allowed no pillage, he paid them nothing for his
requisitions, but gave them drafts on the Elector of Cologne. The latter
on his arrival at Bonn presented him with his portrait, set in diamonds,
and offered him the governorship of that town on condition of turning
Catholic. Declining this, Melville requested Waldeck to recommend him to
George William, Duke of Hanover, who, resigning Hanover to his brother
John Frederick, took possession of Celle, which had fallen to him by the
death of his elder brother, Christian Louis. George William made him
Governor of Celle, and refused him permission to accompany his old
patrons, Waldeck and Mollison, to Venice, to fight once more against the
Turks. Melville was at first chagrined at this, but when Waldeck died on
the way was glad that he had been detained. A period of inactivity gave
him an opportunity in 1667 of revisiting England :—
' I
found King Charles still very courteous and kind, but unable, as he
himself naively told me, to do anything for those who had served and
succoured him in adversity. It is true that those then most in favour at
Court were those who had most contributed to his misfortunes. I admit
that it was polite for him to do this, but the consideration shown them
was no sufficient reason for paying mere empty compliments to men who
had lost their fortunes and repeatedly risked their lives in his
service; but it must be added that the good prince had no thought except
for his mistresses.'
Despairing of employment in England, Melville returned to Celle, and in
1674 Georgv William despatched him to help the Dutch against the French.
The former were tiding to recapture Treves, and Marshal Crequy
endeavoured to relieve it. At Conzbruck the German cavalry fled in
confusion at the first onset of the French, and Melville says :—
'
Deserted by my regiment I received 18 wounds, and as I had fallen, the
French troops passed over me in their pursuit of the fugitives. When all
had passed 1 tried to rise, but know not whether I should have succeeded
had it not been for an officer of my regiment who, not having fled like
the rest, had been wounded in the arm. He helped me as well as he could,
and happily, when we did not know what direction to take, we saw an
orderly on horseback, whom the officer recognised as in the service of a
captain of my regiment. We immediately hailed him, and he dismounted,
put me on his horse, with the officer's assistance, and they took me to
a post across the river. I fell from the horse on arriving, loss of
blood having weakened me, but my wounds were bound up with a piece of my
shirt, a bottle of wine was held to my mouth, which I almost emptied at
a draught, and in a moment I felt so strong that it seemed as if I had
undergone nothing. ... I was told at first that we had lost the day, but
presently I was assured that we had won it.'
The
fact was that the French, too eager in pursuit, had been outflanked,
their camp had been captured, and the fugitives rallying, the French had
been caught between two fires. Treves surrendered, and Melville
continues :—
'
Next day my wounds were dressed. They were more serious than I supposed,
and I was told that my right hand was lamed for life, but in a month I
was well enough to go to the Duke's headquarters and thence to Cologne
to complete my cure.'
'Melville did well,' wrote the Duke to his wife, 'but his regiment was
defeated.' At Celle in the winter he entirely recovered, and he served
in the next campaign against the Swedes. His memoirs virtually end here,
but in 1680 he was among the numerous auditors at a conference between
Antony Olrich, Duke of Brunswick Wolfenbuttel, and Joachim, general
superintendent, a sort of bishop, on an eucharistic dispute which was
then disturbing German Protestants. Duke Antony, who became a Catholic
in 1710, seems to have had a more serious taste for theological
controversy than the Eiectress Sophia, who thought it good sport to pit
an heretical visitor against one of her chaplains, and who was herself
so latitudinarian that she is said to have given her daughters no
religious teaching till she knew the creed of their expectant husbands.
In the winter of 1680 Melville accompanied to England her son,
afterwards George I., then twenty years of age, destined to succeed not
only his father as Duke of Calenberg, but his uncle as Duke of Celle,
and his distant cousin Anne as King of England. His mother, the
Electress Sophia, told Lord Dartmouth that she was once ' likely ' to
have married her cousin Charles II., but she speaks less positively in
her Memoirs, yet during the Civil Wars she was certainly looked upon as
the most eligible match for Charles.'7
She now apparently wished her son to marry the Princess Auue, aud Anne
was believed to be willing to accept him, but he was suddenly recalled
by his father, who had arranged a marriage for him with his cousin
Sophia Dorothea. She was the daughter of Eleanor d'Olbreuse, originally
the mistress, and eventually the wife, of George William, Duke of
Brunswick, his brother Ernest Augustus, Duke and afterwards Elector of
Hanover, releasing him from his engagement not to marry, on condition
that Sophia Dorothea, the only surviving child, should have no claim to
the succession. Poor Sophia Dorothea's alleged intrigue with Ivonigsmark
and her thirty-two years of captivity are well known. Curiously enough,
Prince George of Denmark had been one of her suitors. Sophia of Hanover
was at first strongly opposed to the marriage, despising Sophia Dorothea
for her low origin, and she wrote to her niece the Duchess of Orleans, '
It would have been an honour for her had I married her to my head
valet;' but in September 1082 she withdrew her opposition. But to return
to George and Melville in England. They went to Oxford in February 1681,
when the prince was made a D.C.L., and Melville, oddly enough, an M.D.
Melville was also knighted by Charles II., though Metcalfe's
Book of Knights ignores him, just as the
Oxford register (but not Anthony Wood) ignores his medical degree.
In
1683 Melville obtained from Charles a long Latin diploma, which, without
being in the form of a pedigree, gave his paternal and maternal descent
for several generations, and recommended him to any foreign potentate to
whom he might offer his services.8
He was apparently not then resigned to ending his days in the
comparatively obscure post of Governor of Gifhorn, to which he had been
appointed in 1677, or he may have found it necessary to silence
contumelious remarks on his lineage. About this time he probably made
the acquaintance of Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree, second son of the
first Earl of Dundonald. Implicated in the Ryehouse Plot, Cochrane fled
to Holland, and he apparently visited Celle. In 1685 he took part in
Argyle's rising, and from Amsterdam on the 23rd April he wrote to
Melville, announcing the departure of the expedition, to be followed by
Monmouth's landing in England. In this letter he speaks of James II. as
an ' apostate Papist who had murdered his brother.' Officers were
needed, and he desired Melville to acquaint fellow-countrymen in foreign
service that they might be well provided for at home :—
' I
dare not invite you [he added], although I am persuaded of your good
affection to our cause, the weakness of your body disabling you for the
field; but if you incline to come you shall carve out your own hand.
Do me
the favour to put my humble service to General Shavott,* and when you
see your Prince give my duty to him. . . .
*
Chan vet (not Shavott) was a Huguenot refugee in Brunswick, who had been
promoted over Melville's head, but whose capacity Melville frankly
acknowledges. After campaigns in Portugal and the Palatinate he served
the Duke of Brunswick from 1G70 to 1693, when he became Field-Marshal in
S.ixony. He died at a great age in 1696.
Give
my service and my son's to your good lady and children, and to Colonel
Lamott, his lady and her sister. I pray God bless you for the kindness
shown to me.'
How
this document, endorsed ' Sir John Cochrane's letter to Sir Andrew
Melville, 1685,' came among the Leven papers, it is not easy to
understand. Sir William Fraser has printed it without having been able,
as he kindly answered my inquiry, to identify the recipient with the
writer of the memoirs, or to trace his tolerably remote connection with
the elder branch of the Melville family. One would scarcely have
expected to find Melville thus sympathising with two rebellions,
Argyle's and Monmouth's, against the Stuart dynasty, from which he had
received a knighthood. The reference to his wife and children requires
explanations. Baron Melville van Carnbee, the descendant of a branch of
the family settled for some centuries in Holland, has been good enough
to inform me, but without specifying authorities, that Melville was
twice married, first to Nymphe de la Chevalerie (this looks like a fancy
name, and suggests a camp follower), and secondly in 1666 to Elizabeth
Christina von Medefourt-Beneken. By his second wife he had a son, George
Ernest, born at Celle in 16(58, aud who in 1717 married Lucy von
Staffhorsten. George Eruest had three sons and a daughter—one of the
sons was probably the ' Ger. Melville,' who was an elder of the French
church at Celle iu 1723—but all died before their father, who expired at
Celle in 1742. The daughter, Fraulein von Melville, was one of the two
maids of honour to the Duchess Eleanor, her colleague being a Fraulein
von Stafforsten, probably her cousin, and the Duchess in 1722 bequeathed
each of them 4000 thalers. Sir Andrew had also a daughter, Charlotte
Sophia Anna, who was born iu 1670, and in 1690 married Alexander von
Schulenberg-Blumberg, ultimately a lieutenant-general iu the English
army, and Governor of Stade, where he died iu 1733. He was probably
related to George I.'s mistress, the Duchess of Kendal. His wife
predeceased him in 1724. The name of Melville thus became extinct in
Germany in 1742. The memoirs, like the diploma, are entirely silent on
Melville's marriages.
Pensioned off, as one may say, by his appointment as Governor of the
small town of Gifhorn, he wrote his autobiography at the request of the
Electress Sophia. The dedication to her, ostensibly written by the
Amsterdam publisher, but probably by oue of her courtiers, speaks of the
book ' as containing instances of valour and courage worthy of a man who
has had the honour of serving under princes of your august house.' It
also speaks of his pure aud disinterested virtue, nearly always
persecuted by blind Fortune, and of his ' ardent zeal for the true
religion, to which he has been so much attached that neither promises
nor threats have ever been able to shake his faith.' It is a pity that
Melville wrote in French, for his French is very colourless, wholly
wanting in indi v iduality ; but Sophia herself wrote her memoirs in
that language, and our Queen Mary wrote to her likewise in French until
told that Sophia would prefer English. ' I might have believed,' said
Marvin excusing herself, 'that you had not forgotten English.'
Melville complains more than once of Avant
of due appreciation, and he evidently deemed himself qualified for more
important posts than were ever assigned him. It is impossible to say
whether or not ' blind Fortune' denied him an opportunity of fully
displaying his military abilities. He ought, with his varied
experiences, to have been a shrewd judge of character,
but his book
contains few reflections. It is mostly a narrative without comment, but
he may have
written thus to please
his patroness. The tranquility of which he speaks at the close of his
work remained unbroken till his death in 1706. He was buried at Gifhoru,
and as he had been for nearly thirty years its
drost or governor, and
oherhauptmann of the district, a monument was
doubtless erected over his remains; but the church was burnt down in
1744.
J.
G. Alger.
1 I may, however,
mention that there are four villages in Normandy called Melville,
besides a Melville in Haute Marne.
2 In his letter to
Speaker Lenthall Cromwell speaks of ' our men entering (the town) at the
enemy's heels, and fighting with them in the streets with very great
courage.' Other contemporary accounts speak of thousands of prisoners
being penned up in the cathedral, and of 'plucking lords, knights, and
gentlemen from their lurking holes.' Melville's brother was perhaps one
of the^.
3 Probably Redhill,
just outside the gates, or perhaps Bunny Hill, mentioned by Bate.
4 Several Douglases
seem to have been captured at Worcester. There was a Sir John Douglas,
and also a James Douglas, Lord Mordington, who told his captors he had
left a box of 115 ' old double pieces ' [doubloons ?] with one Demetrius
in Worcester, whereupon messengers were sent for it.
Cul. Mate I'apers,
1051. This shows that Melville was not alone in leaving his valuables in
the town, its capture not being calculated upon.
5
Collected Sermons of
Thomas Fuller, edited by J. E. Bailey, 1891.
6 The Turks had held
that town since 1600. The Imperialists hoped to reduce it by famine, and
on 3 prisoners refusing even under torture to reveal its straits, they
were killed, and offal only was found in their stomachs. The officers
alone had flour, and horseflesh was the only meat. On the approach of
large Turkish reinforcements, the siege was raised, June 1, 1664.
t
Alike for the horrors and the romance of the campaign we must turn to
Coligny-Saligny, a collateral descendant of the great Coligny. There we
read of the river Raab at St. Gothard becoming in a moment a floating
cemetery, no water visible, but only a mass of men, arms, and horses.
The Imperialists, too weak to pursue the enemy, were busy in stripping
the bodies in the river of their jewels and trappings. There too we read
7 Charles paid her
attentions at Breda in 1G50, and the Royalist refugees in Holland
desired the match, as also did her mother, but Sophia suspected the
penniless exile of having simply an eye to Lord Craven's large fortune,
for she was Craven's favourite, and she consequently avoided Charles.
Craven in 1688 was in command of the guard at Whitehall and was anxious
to resist William of Orange's soldiers, who came up without warning to
displace them ; but James II. shrank from using force and went to bed
that night under a Dutch guard which, he said, could treat him no worse
than his own subjects had done.
8 This is given in
full in the
llistorischc. Uemiihle, 179U, and is
reprinted in the
Neues Vaterlandisches Archiv, 1823.
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