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THE ERA OF PEACE—INCIDENT AT
THE TOWN CROSS OF JEDBURGH—THE REBELS OF THE ’15 ENTER KELSO—INDIFFERENCE OF
THE INHABITANTS—SERMON BY THE REV. MR PATTEN IN THE GREAT KIRK— JAMES VIII.
PROCLAIMED KING —DIFFERENCES OF THE GENERALS — MARCH TO JEDBURGH—MUTINY OF
THE HIGHLANDERS AT HAWICK— END OF THE CAMPAIGN—COMMISSION OF OYER AND
TERMINER AT KELSO—JOHN MURRAY OF BROUGHTON—MARCH OF CHARLES EDWARD'S TROOPS
THROUGH THE BORDER COUNTIES—ROUTE OF THE WESTERN COLUMN—THE PRINCE MARCHES
TO KELSO —HIS RECEPTION THERE— CROSSES THE BORDER FROM JEDBURGH — LOCAL
INCIDENTS OF THE ’45— ADVENTURE OF MISS JEAN ELLIOT — CONDUCT OF MURRAY OF
BROUGHTON—ESCAPE OF A JACOBITE PRISONER AT THE DEVIL’S BEEF-TUB—THE LOCKED
GATES OF TRAQUAIR.
Peace and liberty—these were
the gifts of the Revolution to the Borders, as to the country at large. In
Border homes, weapons of offence and defence might at last be laid aside, to
figure as relics or to gather rust; whilst even the most exacting conscience
had no longer a religious grievance.
Borderers now had time to
direct their attention to progress, intellectual and material; and, though
misunderstood at the time, no measure was realiy of greater service to them
in this work than the Act of Union of 1707. To what good account they turned
their opportunities will be indicated in the concluding chapter. Meantime it
remains to glance at two occasions when that progress came near to being
interrupted by the untimely apparition of troops marching to war.
An incident which occurred in
Jedburgh on the accession of William and Mary serves to throw light on the
feeling excited in the Borders by that event. The burgh magistrates had met
at the town cross, and were drinking the health of the new sovereigns, when,
seeing a well-kncwn Jacobite pass by, one of them invited him to join them.
The man declined —agreeing, however, to take a glass of wine or ale. “ It
was a litle round plucked glasse,” says Wodrow, who tells the story, “ and
when he had gote it and drunk it off, he sayes aloud, ‘As surely as that
glasse will break, I wish confusion to him [William], and the Restoration of
our soveraing and the heir! ’ ” and with this threw the glass a long way
from him. It lighted on the tolbooth stair, rolling down several steps, but
nevertheless remaining unbroken. Thereupon the bailie ran and picked it up,
and after calling all present to witness the fact of its wholeness, placed
his seal on it with the intention that it should be preserved. The matter,
which was a good deal talked of, reached the ears of Lord Crawford, the
king’s commissioner, who, sending an express to Jedburgh to obtain the
glass, presented it to his Majesty with an attested account of the
circumstances.
The death of Queen Anne in
1714 afforded a pretext for reopening the Succession Question. Perhaps what
most strikes a student of the history of the crisis is the rareness of
decided preference for one side or the other. Apparently a large number of
people were prepared for either course, and a trifle would have sufficed to
turn them. Indeed, with but slightly more favouring circumstances abroad,
and more able and energetic action at home, there is no knowing what might
have happened. Certainly the Chevalier de St George was not in his own
person a figure to inspire enthusiasm, whilst a rising generalled by a
Forster and presided over by a “Bobbing John” could not reasonably hope to
accomplish much. Still, perhaps the most brilliant or most hopeful moment of
its existence was at Kelso, and it is proof of the continued indifference of
the Borderer on questions of the day that he gave it neither support nor
decided opposition.
Having attended a levee of
George I. on one day, Mar set off the next day to raise the Highlands for
James VIII., and soon most of the country north of the Tay was in the hands
of the insurgents. Meanwhile Lord Kenmure and his friends had proclaimed
King James at Moffat, and had effected a junction with Forster, Derwentwater,
and their “handful of Northumberland fox-hunters.” Finding themselves
menaced by General Carpenter on the south, the united forces then set out
for Kelso, there to await reinforcements from the north. On October 22 they
had left Wooler, and had halted upon a moor not far from their destination,
to appoint officers and make other needful arrangements, when they were
visited by messengers from Kelso. These informed them that, after
barricading the town, Sir William Bennet of Grubbet had withdrawn from it
with his men during the night, and that they were therefore free to enter
unopposed. Exhilarated by the intelligence, the rebels forded the Tweed,
notwithstanding that it was running deep at the time, and entered Kelso.
Here they were met by the exciting news that the body of Highlanders
advancing under Brigadier Macintosh had successfully passed the Firth of
Forth in the face of three English men-of-war. After this there seemed no
room to doubt that Fortune smiled on the expedition, so straightway sallying
forth again, in the direction of Duns, they met their brothers-in-arms at
Ednam Bridge, and having congratulated them on their achievement, escorted
them in triumph into the town. The Highlanders marched to the music of the
bagpipe, led by the gallant figure of the veteran brigadier. But rain and a
long day’s march had played havoc among them, and the effect produced was
not altogether inspiriting.
The inhabitants of Kelso made
no effort to oppose their progress. This is the more noteworthy that, but
two months before, assembled in their church, they had “ with the utmost
unanimity” subscribed an agreement to assist and stand by one another in
defence of their lawful sovereign, the succession of the Crown as
established by law, and the Protestant religion, and to oppose a Popish
Pretender and all his abettors. On the day following this demonstration, a
Mr Chatto, a magistrate, assisted by the neighbouring gentlemen, the
minister, and the principal inhabitants, had concerted measures for defence
in case of necessity. Besides those who were already armed, it was
determined that the Act of Succession. selected from the different wards and
placed under the command of competent officers, should be armed with muskets
; and such was the spirit manifested, that a hundred more volunteers came
forward than could be supplied with arms. The corps thus constituted was
then reviewed by Sir William Bennet and Sir John Pringle of Stichill,
notables of the neighbourhood. We now see that all these preparations ended
in nothing—that those who did not actually go forth to meet the rebels at
least offered no resistance to their advance. How is this to be explained?
Simply by the fact that the Borderer of 1715 took as little real interest in
dynastic questions as his grandsires had taken in sectarian ones. In both
cases he simply moved in the direction of the point of least resistance.
George or James—the exile of St Germains or the patron of a knot of greedy
German favourites—what had he to choose between them? To him both were
equally strangers and foreigners. , Unlike the Highlander, he had no
chieftain at whose call to rally; unlike him again, his practical nature was
slow to respond to the appeal of a sentiment, a tradition. But had he
foregone his ancient nature ? By no means. For we shall yet see that it was
but necessary to threaten his hearth and home, or to touch him in his
patriotic honour, for the martial spirit of his ancestors to flame forth
with all its ancient brilliancy.
The 23rd October being
Sunday, the troops mustered for divine service, which was conducted
according to the Episcopal rites, though not in the Episcopal meeting-house,
but in the Great Kirk—a debased structure contrived within the walls of the
ruined abbey. By order of Lord Kenmure, commanding in chief, Forster’s
chaplain, Patten, officiated. This person was to become the historian of the
rising, and has since in his turn become the subject of historians. A
renegade and turncoat, he lived to give evidence against those whose acts he
had formerly in his spiritual capacity countenanced and inspired—proclaiming
with hypocritical unction that his treachery was a “duty,” by which he made
all the amends in his power for the injury he had done the Government. On
the present occasion the text of his discourse was appropriately chosen from
Deuteronomy xxi. 17, “The right of the first-born is his”; and this impudent
time-server has presumed to put on record that “ it was very agreeable to
see how decently and reverently the very common Highlanders behaved,
answering the responses according to the rubric, to the shame of many who
pretend to more polite breeding.” The afternoon service was performed by
William Irvine, a Scots non-juror, who repeated a very eloquent sermon which
he had previously preached before Claverhouse, when in arms against King
William before Killiecrankie.
Next morning the troops,
having paraded in the churchyard, were marched with drums beating, colours
flying, and bagpipes playing, to the market square, where they were drawn up
in a circle round the volunteers, the leaders forming the centre. Silence
being enjoined, the trumpet sounded, and Seaforth of Barns, who had assumed
the title of Earl of Dunfermline, proclaimed the absentee Chevalier in these
words: “ Whereas, by the decease of the late King James the Seventh, the
imperial crowns of these realms did lineally descend to his lawful heir and
son, our sovereign James the Eighth, we do declare him our lawful king over
Scotland, England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith,” and so
forth. After this there was read a document described as a manifesto of the
supporters of the new king for relieving the kingdom from its oppressions
and grievances, especially those arising from the union of the two kingdoms,
the heavy taxes, and the large debts resulting from the maintenance of
foreign troops. This was greeted with loud acclamations and cries of “ No
union ! No malt-tax ! No salt-tax ! ” Then the troops returned to their
quarters.
During the next three days,
which were spent at Kelso, the little army—it numbered some 1400 foot and
600 horse— was undecided as to future plans, and had little to do except to
forage for itself, plunder the houses of some neighbouring loyalists, and
search for arms and ammunition—discovering, however, only a few muskets and
broadswords, some pieces of cannon which had been brought by Bennet from
Hume Castle for the defence of the town, and a small quantity of gunpowder
which lay concealed in the church.
The Government troops under
General Carpenter were by this time at Wooler, within a day’s march. On
hearing this, Kenmure summoned a council of war, and an animated debate
ensued. Three plans were under consideration. The first, advocated by the
Earl of Wintoun, was to march westward, reduce Dumfries and Glasgow, and
open communication with the army under Mar. The second was to give immediate
battle to Carpenter, whose troops consisted but of three regiments of
dragoons and one of foot, composed chiefly of raw levies. This was warmly
supported by the brigadier, who struck a pike into the ground and declined
to budge from the spot. The third plan, and by far the worst of the three,
was that of Forster and the Northumbrians, who were anxious to cross the
Border and march southward, in expectation of raising the Catholic gentry of
the north of England. Besides that it necessitated deserting the base of
operations, this plan had the additional disadvantage of being extremely
distasteful to the Highlanders, who were unwilling to set foot out of their
native country. In the end a compromise was agreed upon, and the army, on
leaving Kelso, proceeded to Jedburgh. But its progress even so far was not
without ominous incidents. Twice during the ten miles’ march did it mistake
a detachment of its own men for Carpenter’s troops; and in the second
instance—the alarm being carried to Jedburgh, where the horse had already
arrived—something not unlike a panic ensued among them. From Jedburgh the
troops marched to Hawick, where the discontent of the Highlanders broke out
in actual mutiny—the men, on being surrounded upon the Town Moor, cocking
their pistols and crying out that if they must be sacrificed they would
choose to have it done on Scottish ground. On the other hand, upon a sudden
alarm of the enemy’s approach, they behaved with firmness and presence of
mind. They were eventually pacified by being promised payment at the rate of
6d. a-day; but notwithstanding this, 500 deserted. The remainder, sporting
blue and white cockades which had been provided in Hawick, marched with the
rest of the army to Langholm, and crossed the Border on the 1st November.
Meantime Carpenter’s troops were following in their traces.
The ominous signs which had
already shown themselves were not long in being justified. It is true that
at Penrith a burlesque victory was gained over a motley host known as the
posse comitatus, or general muster of the county. But a very few days
later—to wit, on the 13th of the month— the entire army capitulated at
Preston to an inferior force under Wills and Carpenter. The loss in killed
was but seventeen. On the same day the army under Mar fought the battle of
Sheriffmuir. In the sequel, the rebels were, on the whole, very leniently
dealt with. In 1718, Kelso was one of four towns selected for the sittings
of a Commission of Oyer and Terminer, specially appointed to dispose of
cases arising out of the rebellion. Only one case, however—that of a Mr
Cranston — was brought before it, and this was thrown out by the grand jury.
The rebellion of 1715 was
altogether a half - hearted affair. That which, thirty years later, was to
assume so much more threatening proportions had at any rate the advantage of
a leader of almost irresistible attractiveness, and one who, at least for
the time being, displayed many of the attributes of a hero. It does not
belong to the present narrative to repeat the well - known story of the
romantic landing on Eriska Island, on July 23, 1745, or the unprecedented
succession of events which, in the space of some six weeks, were to convert
the moneyless, defenceless, almost friendless stranger of that occasion into
the adored and feted captor of the Scottish capital. Among those who had
been in relations with the prince ere he left the Continent was the
Peeblesshire laird, John Murray of Broughton; and when James VIII. was
proclaimed king at the cross of Edinburgh, Mrs Murray, a lady of great
beauty, added charm to the occasion by appearing on horseback, adorned with
white ribbons, with a drawn sword in her hand. Murray himself acted as the
prince’s secretary, drawing up his proclamations and conducting his
correspondence, and in so doing obtained immense influence over him. He
figures in the subsequent transactions as a man of unbounded selfish
ambition and capacity for intrigue, from whose composition the rudiments of
the sense of honour had been omitted—in fact, a sort of understudy of
Fergusson “the Plotter,” who had been the bad angel of Monmouth in the
rebellion of 1685.
After the victory at
Prestonpans came several weeks spent in dalliance at Holyrood, and it was
November ere Charles Edward set out to march to England. His army was
divided into two columns—besides a nondescript party, which probably
comprised the baggage and followers, and which proceeded southward by
Galashiels, Selkirk, and Hawick. The first or western column, commanded by
the Dukes of Perth and Atholl, in addition to their graces’ brigades,
included the Lowland troops, Ogilvie’s, Glenbucket’s, and Roy Stewart’s
regiments, the artillery, and the Perth horse. These marched by Auchindinny
to Peebles, and onward by Broughton, Tweedsmuir, Moffat, and LocKerby,
joining the Prince’s column at Newton of Rowclrff in England. At Peebles
their arrival created consternation among the inhabitants, but the
discipline of the soldiers seems to have been generally good. Certain
contributions in money and supplies were demanded, and these being granted,
no further molestation was offered.1 Local tradition points to a field lying
west of Hay Lodge as the site of the encampment, and states that the town
mills were kept working over Sunday to supply meal for the soldiers. When
the troops departed, certain carts and horses belonging to one David Grieve,
tenant in Jedderfield, were pressed into their service. There is no record
of any local organisation to resist them until fully two months later.2
Tradition adds that there was but one Jacobite in Stobo when the Highlanders
passed. The rest of the country-people had removed their cows to places of
safety, but disdaining to follow their example, this man paid the penalty of
misplaced confidence. A woman who was kept out of l>ed half the night to
cook observed that the bread she baked was never turned on the girdle, but
eaten half raw. The aspect of the country through which they marched
impressed the Highlanders favourably, so that one of them is fabled to have
remarked that “when she comes back she will settle in Glen Tweed.” An
intended domiciliary visit to Burnett, Laird of Barns, who was suspected of
Jacobite leanings, was frustrated by timely warning being conveyed to him.
Meantime the prince’s
column—which was composed of the clan regiments of Lochiel, Clanranald,
Glengarry, Keppoch, Cluny, and Stewart of Appin, with the remainder of the
horse, amounting in all to nearly 4000 men, under Lord George Murray as
second in command — had proceeded by Dalkeith to Lauder, the prince marching
on foot at the head of the clans, with his target over his shoulder. On the
4th November, after returning on horseback to Channelkirk to bring up
stragglers, he proceeded to Kelso, where he arrived in the evening. Thence
he sent an express to Wooler with instructions to prepare quarters for the
army; and the next day a party of horse, under his aide-de-camp, Ker of
Graden, crossed the Tweed to scout in that direction. But this was merely a
ruse to produce the impression that he intended to advance upon Newcastle.
During this time—or, more probably, on the night of the 5th November—it is
believed that he lodged at the now demolished house of Sunlaws, where a
white rose-tree, perpetuated by cuttings, is said to have been planted by
his hand. The Tanlaw at Hendersyde has also been pointed out as the scene of
a bivouac of his troops.
The reception of Charles
Edward at Kelso deserves a word of notice. The parish minister at the time
was a Glimpses of Peebles, by the Rev. Alex. Williamson.
Mr Ramsay, a man of strong
sense, a humourist, and something of a “ character.” Having occupied his
present position at the time of the Fifteen, he had some experience of
rebellion, which he now turned to account. In common with others, he had
received a communication from Government, which required him to report on
the Jacobites of the district. Being well acquainted in the neighbourhood,
and consequently well qualified to do so, he requested those gentlemen who
were supposed to be disaffected to meet him at his own house, and when they
did so placed the document before them. The gentlemen were not unnaturally
taken aback, on which Ramsay asked them what return they would recommend him
to make to this order of the Government, and whether they knew of any
persons of the character indicated. They replied with one accord that all
their acquaintances were loyal. “ Well, well,” said the minister, “ I am
exceedingly glad to hear so. Had there been any <&-loyal persons in the
place, I am sure that you must have known them; and I shall now acquaint the
Privy Council that I have consulted with the most intelligent of my
parishioners, who assure me that the people here are all well-affected to
his Majesty’s Government! ”
Whether in consequence of the
above action or not, it is a fact that the prince got not a single recruit
in Kelso. On the other hand, desertions among the Highlanders were there
particularly numerous, whilst such persons as were pressed into the
transport - service returned home on the earliest opportunity. The local
Jacobites confined their demonstrations of loyalty to waiting upon his Royal
Highness, and assuring him of their firm attachment—in token of which it was
mentioned that they never met together in an evening without pledging him. “
I believe you, gentleman, I believe you,” replied Charles Edward, with
well-merited dryness; “ I have drinking friends, but few lighting ones, in
Kelso.”
On the 6th of the month the
army crossed the Tweed on their way to Jedburgh. The river was hardly
fordable, but the men were in high spirits—to which they gave vent, when up
to the middle in water, by shouting and discharging their pieces. At
Jedburgh the Prince occupied a house in the Castlegate,1 then the property
of Ainslie of Blackhill. Thence he proceeded with the clans by the Rule
valley to Haggiehaugh, or Larriston, on the south side of the Liddell, the
cavalry marching by Hawick and Langholm—the route taken by their
predecessors thirty years before. On the next day the main body crossed the
Esk into England, and spent the night at the hamlet of Riddings, being
rejoined by the cavalry at Longtown.
It is natural that to this
day traditions should linger round Prince Charlie’s line of march. Thus it
is recorded that some of the Highlanders were drowned in attempting to cross
Fans Moss, near Earlston, where human bones, supposed to be theirs, with
buttons, remains of cloth, and wooden spoons, forming part of their kit,
have been found when peats were being cast. At Smailholm they ransacked the
house of a tailor, where a web of homespun took the fancy of a Highlander,
who was proceeding to cut it up when the gudewife solemnly remonstrated,
saying that he would have to account for the act. “Pe Cot, when ? ” was the
rejoinder. “ At the last day,” replied the pious sufferer. “That pe coot
lang credit,” said the robber, adding, “She was going to tak’ a coat, an’
will now tak’ a waistcoat too.” At Charterhouse there is record of a sudden
invasion by armed men, at the moment when the farmer’s wife and her maids
were busy with the household baking. They had to bake more than they had
bargained for, but were treated in return with kindness and civility, though
the visitors are not understood to have made any requital beyond “ Thank
you,” and “ Good morning.” From Ancrum a little girl had been sent on an
errand into Jedburgh, when she suddenly found the road in possession of a
great host of men, strangely dressed, and marching steadfastly onward.
Terrified by their appearance, she knew not which way to turn, when a
“bonnie gentleman,” riding up to her, told her not to be alarmed, and kept
her beside him till the Highlanders were past. The gentleman was, of course,
Charles Stuart himself.
The individuals concerned in
these incidents are more or less unknown, but no less a person than the
poetess of “The Flowers of the Forest ” had her share in the adventures of
the time. The daughter of Gilbert Elliot of Minto, Lord Justice-Clerk, it
was feared that her father’s well-known Whig principles would incur the
hostility of the rebels. Accordingly when a party of armed men presented
themselves at Minto, the owner made all haste to leave the house unseen.
Meantime Miss Elliot, with great presence of mind, received the intruders,
entertaining them hospitably until her father had had time to reach a safe
hiding-place among the adjacent crags. A search was then made which proved
fruitless, and the soldiers, concluding that the Justice-Clerk was not in
the neighbourhood, departed. Thus, at least, runs the current version of the
story, but a recent examination of the pages of the factor’s accounts points
to the conclusion that Lord Minto’s fears for himself were more or less
groundless, and that it was not his person so much as his chattels which the
rebels desired to seize. Ten bolls of oats were the dues exacted by them
from the Minto tenantry, whilst the factor records that he himself was
obliged, “under pain of military execution,” to pay the sum of .£274, 10s.
4d. Scots to John Goodwillie, “who came with a party to raise the cess [or
government tax] for the rebel army.” On receipt of payment, Goodwillie
presented a discharge in perfect order, which is preserved.
The prince had staked his all
upon the hazard of the die. The story of his triumphant advance to Derby, of
the failure of the English Jacobites to support him, of his retreat
northward, final rout at Culloden, and subsequent wanderings and adventures,
does not call for repetition here. Neither are we here concerned with the
penalties exacted from his supporters, or with the brutal vengeance of the “
Butcher ” Cumberland. With the possible exception of the duke, no one comes
worse out of the entire transaction than the secretary, Murray of Broughton.
Escaping from Culloden, he returned to Tweeddale, where he lay for some
hours concealed in the house of Hunter of Polmood, who was his
brother-in-law. This was on the 28th June, and, his retreat being
discovered, probably by his own connivance, he was apprehended and carried
by a party of dragoons to Edinburgh. There he did not scruple to purchase
his life at the price of turning in* former—revealing the secrets of a
conspiracy which had been in existence since 1740. Henceforth, under the
opprobrious nickname of “ Mr Evidence Murray,” he was a mark for the finger
of scorn. In 1770 he succeeded to the baronetcy previously held by his
nephew, Murray of Stanhope. But, what with the expenses of the rising and
the fines and losses which followed it, his affairs had become involved, and
having been forced to sell his estate, he spent his last years in poverty,
dying in 1777. Chambers, writing in 1864, remarks that “ who or where the
present baronet is seems unknown.” As a matter of fact, the title became
extinct in 1848, on the death of the eleventh baronet.
The escape of a Jacobite
gentleman of this time, by rolling down the precipitous slope of the “
Devil’s Beef-tub ” near Tweed’s Well, when being conducted by a military
escort to stand trial at Carlisle, will be remembered from Scott’s spirited
version of the story introduced into his novel of * Redgauntlet.’
The episode of the “
Forty-five ” is not without its memorial in the Border counties. The Earl of
Traquair of that day was a Jacobite, but foreseeing perhaps the inevitable
end of the rising, he had forborne to join it. Charles Edward had, however,
a great and well-justified belief in his own personal influence and powers
of persuasion, and during his stay in Edinburgh he is said to have visited
Traquair House, and used all means in his power to induce the earl to come “
out.” Finding, however, that his labour was vain, he prepared to take his
departure. Wishing, doubtless, to soften the harshness of refusal, his host
accompanied him to the great gate, at the head of the avenue, and there, as
he bade the bonnie Prince farewell, solemnly assured him that the gates
should never be opened again until Charles Stuart should re-enter them as
sovereign of the kingdom. He kept his word, his word has been kept for him,
and to this day those gates remain closed. Till Arthur wake, till Charles
come to his own — it is a synonym of hopeless waiting; and the suggestion of
pathos in the locked gates and grass-grown avenue is appropriate to the
futility of the last rally of the Stuarts, to the devotion which it
inspired, and the sorrow which it brought to so many. |
