III.

1685,

much troubled, but dared not let him go.* Fullarton, CHAPTER perceiving that the stipulation on which he had surrendered himself was violated, and determined to defend himself to the last, or at least to wreak, before he fell, his just vengeance upon his perfidious opponents, grasped at the sword of one of them, but in vain; he was overpowered, and made prisoner.

offered to him

Argyle was immediately carried to Renfrew, thence The indignities to Glasgow, and on the 20th of June was led in triumph into Edinburgh. The order of the council was particular; that he should be led bare-headed, in the midst of Graham's guards, with their matches cocked, his hands tied behind his back, and preceded by the common hangman, in which situation, that he might be the more exposed to the insults and taunts of the vulgar, it was directed that he should be carried to the Castle by

* In my relation of the taking of Argyle's person, I have followed his own account, and mostly in his own words. As the authenticity of the paper written in prison, wherein he gives this account, has never been called in question, it seems strange that any historian should have adopted a different one. 1 take no notice of the story, by which he is made to exclaim in falling, "Unfortunate Argyle!" and thus to discover himself. Besides, that there is no authority for it, is has not the air of a real fact, but rather resembles a clumsy contrivance in some play, where the poet is put to his last shift, for means to produce a discovery. necessary to his plot.

+ Woodrow, 536, 537.

CHAPTER
III.

1685. endured with magnanimity.

His mildness and resignation.

a circuitous route.* To the equanimity with which he bore these indignities, as indeed to the manly spirit exhibited by him throughout, in these last scenes of hist life, ample testimony is borne by all the historians who have treated of them, even those who are the least partial to him. He had frequent opportunities of conversing, and some of writing, during his imprisonment, and it is from such parts of these conversations and writings as have been preserved to us, that we can best form to ourselves a just notion of his deportment during that trying period; at the same time, a true representation of the temper of his mind, in such circumstances, will serve, in no small degree, to illustrate his general character and disposition.

We have already seen how he expressed himself with regard to the men, who by taking him, became the immediate cause of his calamity. He seems to feel a sort of gratitude to them, for the sorrow he saw, or fancied he saw in them, when they knew who he was, and immediately suggests an excuse for them, by saying, that they did not dare to follow the impulse of their hearts.

* Woodrow, 538.

"As soon as they knew what I was, they seemed to be much trou"bled, but durst not let me go." Woodrow, 537. In another paper, he "Of the militia who wounded and took me, some wept, but durst not let me go." Id. 538. Supra, 205. E.

says,

1685.

Speaking of the supineness of his countrymen, and of CHAPTER the little assistance he had received from them, he declares with his accustomed piety, his resignation to the will of God, which was that Scotland should not be delivered at this time, nor especially by his hand; and then exclaims, with the regret of a patriot, but with no bitterness of disappointment, "But alas! who is there "to be delivered! There may," says he, " be hidden

66

ones, but there appears no great party in the country, "who desire to be relieved."* Justice, in some degree, but still more, that warm affection for his own kindred and vassals, which seems to have formed a marked feature in this nobleman's character, then induces him to make an exception in favour of his poor friends in Argyleshire, in treating for whom, though in what particular does not appear, way he was employing, and with some hope of success, the few remaining hours of his life. In recounting the failure of his expedition, it is impossible for him not to touch upon what he deemed the misconduct of his friends; and this is the subject upon which, of all others, his temper must have been most irritable. A certain description of friends, (the words describing them are omitted,) were all of them, without exception, his greatest enemies, both to betray and destroy him; and...... and and ........ (the names again omitted,) were the greatest cause of his rout, and

* Woodrow, 538.

CHAPTER
III.

1695.

his being taken, though not designedly he acknowledges, but by ignorance, cowardice, and faction.* This sentence had scarce escaped him, when, notwithstanding the qualifying words with which his candour had acquitted the last mentioned persons of intentional treachery, it appeared too harsh to his gentle nature, and declaring himself displeased with the hard epithets he had used, he desires they may be put out of any account that is to be given of these transactions. The manner in which this request is worded, shows, that the paper he was writing was intended for a letter, and as it is supposed, to a Mrs. Smith, who seems to have assisted him with money; but whether or not, this lady was the rich widow of Amsterdam, before alluded to, I have not been able to learn.

friends were our greatest enemies, all without exception, "both to betray and destroy us; and indeed......and...... were the greatest cause of our rout, and (of) my being taken; though not designedly I acknowledge, yet by ignorance, cowardice, and faction." E. + "I am not pleased with myself. I have such hard epithets of some "of my countrymen, seeing they are Christians; pray put it out of any "account you give; only I must acknowledge, they were not govern"able, and the humour you found begun, continued." Woodrow, II. 538. After an ineffectual research to discover the original MS. Mr. Fox observes in a letter, "Cochrane and Hume certainly filled up the two principal blanks; with respect to the other blank, it is more difficult, but "neither is it very material." Accordingly, the blanks in the text, and "in the preceding note, may be filled up thus, “(Cochrane's), friends "were our greatest enemies," &c. " and indeed Hume and Cochrane, were the greatest cause of our rout." &c. E.

CHAPTER

III. .

1685.

torture.

When he is told that he is to be put to the torture, he neither breaks out into any high-sounding bravado, any premature vaunts of the resolution with which he will Threatened with endure it, nor, on the other hand, into passionate exclamations on the cruelty of his enemies, or unmanly lamentations of his fate. After stating that orders were arrived, that he must be tortured, unless he answers all questions upon oath, he simply adds, that he hopes God will support him; and then leaves off writing, not from any want of spirits to proceed, but to enjoy the consolation which was yet left him, in the society of his wife, the Countess being just then admitted.

by Queensberry.

Of his interview with Queensberry, who examined Hisexamination him in private, little is known, except that he denied his design having been concerted with any persons in Scotland; that he gave no information with respect to his associates in England; and that he boldly and frankly averred his hopes to have been founded on the cruelty of the administration, and such a disposition in the people to revolt, as he conceived to be the natural consequence of oppression. He owned at the same time, that he had trusted too much to this principle.* The precise date of this conversation, whether it took place before the threat of the torture, whilst that threat was im

*Burnet, II. 315.