| | | | There is a rather remarkable dearth of personal testimony | from the Jacobite side about the two renowned | insurrections of the eighteenth century for the restoration | of the Stuarts. The events of the great civil war of the | preceding century are abundantly narrated by men who, | from some eminent position, civil or military, saw what | they told. From the posthumous honours which popular | literature has obtained for the heroes of the small but | stirring contests in which our civil wars died out, it would | not naturally be anticipated that any of them would be | ashamed to tell us his career. Yet of those two wondrous | marches into England, which ended the one in the | defence of Preston, the other in the retreat from Derby, | we have but scanty and fragmentary memorials. Of the | later affair a brief narrative was written by Andrew | Lumisden, a man of scholarly pursuits, who, after an | unnoticed career in Prince Charles Edward's army, spent | his latter days in Italy, where he wrote "Remarks on the | Antiquities of Rome and its Environs." Lumisden's | narrative was afterwards woven by John Home into his | History of the Rebellion. The very questionable memoirs | of the Chevalier Johnston, and some scraps of narrative | published by Mr. Chambers in his Jacobite Memoirs, | almost exhaust all that the Jacobite heroes of the '45 seem | to have had to tell the world. In the state trials, however, | in private letters and public documents, and the | newspapers and magazines of the day, there exist | abundant materials for a history of the romantic little war | which brought the almost forgotten exile into the heart of | England. And there will be a further addition to our | means of information when the memoirs of Dr. Carlyle, | the friend of Hume and Robertson, who saw the battle of | Preston Pans and other events of the period, are published. | For the history of the insurrection of 1715 we have still | fewer materials; and this is the more to be regretted since, | though less prolific in romantic incidents, it is of far | deeper significancy and importance in the constitutional | history of Britain. For all that has been said of the alarm | in London, when the Highlanders were known to be at | Derby, and the stories how the Duke of Newcastle hid | himself that he might give his | | unbiased reflections to the claims of the Stuart dynasty on | his loyalty, ~~ no-one | who looks at the force in the hands | of the Government and to the known temper of the | English people, can think of ultimate success to the | expedition as an event that ever was within the range of | possibilities. How long the insurgents might have held | the Highlands, and what trouble they might have given | while possessed of that stronghold, if such had been the | limit of their ambition, it is hard to say. But the march | into England, marvelously audacious as it was, and as | marvelously successful, was but a Highland raid on a | large scale, ~~ a sort of expedition which leaves no | permanent results even as the fruit of success, and finds | its natural completion in a retreat as rapid as the advance | has been. | The affair of the '15, on the other hand, was a | constitutional crisis, second only to that of the Revolution | itself in the imminence of the risk and the value of the | success. The strength of a piece of constitutional | mechanism, of English structure entirely, and | unexampled in any other part of the world, was about to | undergo its last and most formidable trial. Down to this | juncture it can scarcely be said that the Stuarts had lost | the throne: for William during the few years when he | reigned a widower alone, held it for the Princess Anne, | and he was himself a nephew of King James, whose son | was at that time generally believed to be a spurious child. | Though he continued to be called the Pretender, that | belief had disappeared, and a legitimate heir to the House | of Stuart had grown to manhood, and had friends if not | sworn supporters among the most eminent British | statesmen of the day. It was in the midst of such | elements of peril that the moment arrived for the great | trial, when it would be seen whether that fastidiously | deliberate selection which the British Parliament had | made of an heir to the crown from among the many | distant connexions of the exiled House, was a measure | having vital strength enough to bring its grand purpose to | a practical conclusion. Those men must have known | more than we have now the means of ascertaining, who | between the Treaty of Utrecht and the death of Queen | Anne believed the Hanover succession to be safe. | In Scotland, to be sure, the stage on which the last and | most stirring act of the historical drama was acted, the | position of matters was simple enough. There might be | some dubious elements, such as the impracticability of | the ultra-Presbyterians, and the uncertainty which side | some Highland chiefs might take, while it was certain | that whichever it might be the clan would take the same. | But in its fundamental military strength Scotland was | divided into two parties as thoroughly hostile to each | other as | | any that ever waged civil war. There were on the one | side the Whigs and Presbyterians, on the other the | Jacobites who were some of them Romanists, others | Episcopalians, but united in a common hatred of the | Whigs. It was in the very nature of things that these two | hostile parties should fight it out with each other until the | one was victorious and the other crushed, unless a | preponderating power operating from England should | settle the question at once. But there was no such | preponderating power, and the war had gone on for many | months before the Scottish Jacobites sensibly felt that | their struggle was not to be with their fellow-countrymen | alone. There were not a thousand enlisted soldiers in | Scotland when the insurrection broke out: and when | Argyle was sent down to quell it, he who had commanded | great armies in the war of the Spanish Succession, found | himself, as commander-in-chief of the forces which were | to protect his own country, at the head of 1800 men. The | extreme meagerness, indeed, of the military organisation | for the protection of the country, or the protection of the | Act of Settlement, which is perhaps the more correct | expression, remains among historical mysteries. Whether, | indeed, it is to the soundness of the popular feeling of | England at that crisis, or to the timely audacity which | prompted Somerset and Argyle to step unsummoned and | unexpected into the council-chamber at Kensington, | while the Queen was breathing her last, ~~ that we owe | the great result, remains in a state of almost painful doubt. | One there was who doubtless looked onward to the | difficulties of this epoch, exulting in the consciousness of | power to conquer them. Had it not been that the pen | dropped while the tale was left half told, we should have | had explained to us in imperishable words the whole vital | anatomy of English society and European politics in such | manner as to make it plain that the whole was the result | of distinct simple causes which rendered it impossible | that the events should have been other than they were. | In the mean time any book which adds to our scanty | information about the characters and objects of the men | conspicuous in the events of that epoch deserves a | welcome as an important addition to the materials of | British history. It has long been known that there existed | a manuscript chronicle of the insurrection of 1715, | written by the Master of Sinclair; a man who, from his | talent, his training as a soldier, and his territorial | influence, held a conspicuous place in the councils of the | Jacobites, and a command in their army. It was known | that Sir Walter Scott felt a strong interest in this narrative, | and that, intending to publish it, he had furnished it with | an introduction and notes. Any interest, or rather | curiosity, which other people might feel | | about the book was not likely to be abated by the reasons | which induced Sir Walter to abandon his design. He was | alarmed by the sarcastic acerbity with which the Master | treated his contemporaries, ~~ a quality which, as he saw, | would render the memoirs , but which induced | him to restore to its original privacy a book capable of | giving much pain to living people not distantly related to | the persons over whose follies and vices its author exults. | The passing away of at least one full generation since Sir | Walter locked up the manuscript, while it has thrown the | nearest existing representatives of the persons it | commemorates into a more distant grade of relationship, | has, perhaps, at the same time removed some of the relish | with which the personal and political scandals might have | been devoured. If there is something wearisome in a | continued stream of mellifluent praise, there is something | still more offensively wearisome in a continued | outpouring of the bitterest gall. When the spiteful heart is | so deeply devoted to its malignant work that it cannot | stop to give the interest of individuality to its descriptions, | and when these often apply to men of whom one knows | little else than the black portrait so drawn, the exhibition | is rather a dreary one to the ordinary uninterested | spectator. It tells its own lesson, however, to those who | take it up as historical material. The malignity with | which men in the Master's position spoke of and treated | each other ~~ the scenes of depravity and meanness | which in their mutual upbraidings they bring to light, | form an element which should not be dropped out of our | history. | Such exposures of the motives and conduct of the men | who figured in the Jacobite insurrections and intrigues, | when thoughtfully looked at, cannot fail to fill the mind | with profound thankfulness for the better age in which we | live, accompanied with a feeling of deep gratitude | towards those brave and enlightened men who, in | carrying out the Constitutional settlement of the Crown | through all difficulties and dangers, created for us the | freedom, the internal peace, and the higher political | morality which we now enjoy. The notions which | readers of romance derive of the singleness of purpose, | disinterested devotion, and untarnished honour which | must have animated the Jacobite leaders, are signally | dispersed when we get among them and hear what they | have to tell about each other. The revelations so obtained, | if they may not be called pleasing or attractive, have a | solemn interest in the significant exemplifications which | they afford of the progress of political and social morality | in this country. In these days, when bribery at elections | and pecuniary | | dishonesty in high places cause people of nervous or | gloomy temperament to become desponding about the | destiny of the country, it may be a wholesome and an | assuring exercise to look back upon the kind of men who | lived in the days of our great grandfathers, and the | astounding things they did. General theories, formed | abstractedly and of the mere faculties of the brain, are apt | to be rudely dispersed by such facts. | Certainly a man, who takes his notions of our past | condition from what he sees around him at the present | day, and what he reads in the ordinary histories, would be | ill prepared to believe in the scenes of treachery, cruelty, | and general profligacy, political and individual, at a time | so late in our annals that many people who have spoken | to him may also have spoken to | those who figured in these scenes. It can scarcely be said | that either the Jacobite cause or the other is responsible | for these evil characteristics, since the chief object of | those endowed with them was to find the side which it | would serve their own ends to belong to for the time | being, and so they are at intervals generally found to have | figured in both. But facts proving that there has been so | great and so recent a revolution in the political morality | of our upper classes, are likely to suggest doubts of the | exact certainty of many well-accepted ethnological | theories about the capacities and destinies of races. It | may surely be safely believed that it is not in the blood of | the British people to produce such miracles of atrocity as | those which were developed among our Oriental fellow-subjects | in the Indian mutinies. But let us not exult in too | broad a line of distinction between races of British | descent and the rest of the world. It was once remarked | to the late Mr. Montstuart Elphinstone that it was almost | impossible to realise a character like that of Lovat ~~ | externally a gentleman of rank and education, popular, | genial, and bland in his manners, good-natured, | accommodating, and, if anything, only too sedulous to | please ~~ while, under this exterior of genial worth, there | was a conscience which by his own repeated deeds he | had made that of a forger, a betrayer, a robber, a ravisher, | and a murderer. The Indian statesman said he could | realise and appreciate such a character perfectly from his | experience of Orientals ~~ he was well acquainted, in fact, | with an Affghan chief who was almost a fac-simile of | Lovat, and who always reminded him of that worthy. | Of course we must attribute the strange mental | phenomena of those days to the uncertainties and | difficulties of the times; and that is just the reason why a | retrospect towards them must inspire us with admiring | gratitude to the men whose untiring zeal and intrepidity | produced, as the conclusion of their long-continued | | struggle, the constitutional establishment of the House of | Hanover. It might have been suspected by unprejudiced | persons that a good deal of discreditable service must | from time to time have been offered to the Jacobite cause. | Temptations which broke through the prudence as well as | the honesty of men like Godolphin, Atterbury, and "lofty, | pensive Saint John," which tarnished the heroic luster of | the fame of Marlborough, were not likely to find inferior | men exempt from their influence. Accordingly, when | looking lower down through the grades of society, and | diverging into those distant social circles to which the | existing civilisation of the day had not penetrated, we | find the defects and vices which sullied the great | statesmen developed, according to the surrounding | conditions, with greater coarseness or more reckless | effrontery. | The Master of Sinclair's narrative abounds in sketches of | such characteristics, by no means undercoloured. The | chief hero or demon of his narrative, however ~~ that | man to whose destruction it is religiously devoted, the | Earl of Mar ~~ is not to be counted among the secondary | agents. To the end of making this man odious, the Master | exerts himself with an earnestness of purpose and a | continuity of effort which render even him malignity a | little laughable. Had he known all that the world now | knows of his enemy he might have spared much of his | pains, since it would be a futile task to add to the | blackness of such a character. The characteristics of the | leader in the insurrection derive a peculiar interest and | importance from the double sphere in which he acted ~~ | in the one a Highland chief, with a troop of half-savage | banditti at his heels; in the other a member of the British | House of Lords ~~ a powerful statesman, and by his | connexion with the Pierpoint family admitted into a circle | of politicians and wits the most brilliant and attractive of | its own day, and not surpassed, if ever equaled, by any | such circle in later times. His career derives, too, an | additional interest by coupling it with that of his younger | brother James. They worked, as will presently be seen, in | totally different arenas, but it is marvelous to find how | each, in his own, found abundant exercise for his | extraordinary acquirements in selfishness, perfidy, and | cruelty. | After some malignant private accusations, with which the | world has little concern, even if they could be established, | the first political crime which the Master fastens on his | enemy is his advocacy of the Treaty of Union, , | as the Master says, . It is a sad evidence of the | | perverted feeling prevalent in Scotland during the last | century that it should have continued to be acceptable to | speak in this manner of a measure fraught with | inestimable blessings to both countries, and especially | honourable to Scotland as a perpetual acknowledgment of | her old national independence, and her equality as a | contracting party to a nation so much larger and more | powerful. The extent to which Scott inherited this | prejudice is curiously shown in his short but fierce | comment on the story which tells how Seafield, the | Chancellor, when he signed the official copy of the Act of | Union, said . This silly jest, which probably | was never made, is solemnly characterised as . | It is still stronger evidence of such perversion that a man | with so much pride of country as Scott should have | maintained that on that occasion the most eminent | Scottish noblemen and statesmen accepted of bribes paid | down in hard cash for the votes in which they betrayed | their country ~~ Lord Marchmont getting 1,104 pounds | 15shillings 7 pence, which was exactly adjusted by his | giving back 5 pence in copper as the balance on a shilling, | while the services of poor Lord Banff were rewarded at | precisely 11 pounds 2 shillings! The affair was not quite | justifiable, perhaps, but it did not partake of the infamy | which Scottish patriots have pertinaciously attributed to it. | The finances of Scotland were then in a very irregular | condition, and a number of official people were | clamouring for arrears of salary. The Government | thought it was not expedient to set a parliament | containing many discontented and angry men to the | delicate task of discussing the Treaty of Union, and at the | same time the occasion was not a propitious one for | levying money by taxes; they therefore requested and | obtained from the English Exchequer the loan of 20,000 | pounds to pay up these arrears. The application of the | money was rigidly investigated by that celebrated Tory | committee which ruined Marlborough and sent Walpole | to the Tower; but they did not find that the payments had | been misappropriated. The prejudices about the Union | have died off within the present generation, and there | could be little sympathy with the Master of Sinclair's | denunciations had not Mar himself managed to make his | conduct even about this good service odious by | ignominious professions of penitence for the part he had | taken, embodied in a declaration proclaiming to his | countrymen that they . | Mar was at the death of Queen Anne Secretary of State | for Scotland; an office which gave him enormous | personal influence | | from the peculiar political condition of the country. He | desired to retain it, if not to improve his position, and | consequently sent a dutiful letter or memorial to George | I., which reached him as he passed through Holland on | his way to London. , said Mar in this document, | ; and he concluded with a fervent prayer that as | his Majesty's accession to the Crown had been quiet and | peaceable, so might his reign be long and prosperous. | Mar in the mean time endeavoured to strengthen his | hands by procuring a document very characteristic of the | political condition of Scotland in those days. This was an | address by a large number of the chiefs of the Highland | clans, authorising him to offer their entire allegiance to | the new dynasty, stating that as in Queen Anne's reign, | they were desirous to be led by his counsel in this as in all | other things, and entreating him to commend them to the | new king, and assure him of their dutiful services when | needed. The younger brother, of whom we have | something to relate presently, is said to have been the | author and promoter of this document, to which his | extensive secret channels of communication with the | Highlanders enabled him to find a large body of | adherents. It was calculated to make Mar appear the | arbiter of the destinies of peace or war. It does not appear, | however, that he got sufficient encouragement to induce | him to present or make use of it, and he was enabled to | assure the chiefs that their offers of allegiance were | scornfully flung back in their teeth. | One evening, after having attended his last hopeless levee | at St. James's, the earl set our in disguise for Scotland. | He at once assumed the position of the chosen | representative of the exiled Prince and announced himself | as . It is disputed whether he produced his | commission to the chiefs whom he assembled round him | at Braemar, and the more charitable supposition is the | negative, since any such document must have been a | forgery. It was afterwards found necessary to place him | in the rank and character which in his assurance he had | arrogated to himself, and when the war had made some | progress his veritable commission arrived. His moral | nature is not responsible for having made him a wretched | general, but it only too well justified the distrust of his | followers, and their apprehensive feeling that they were | in the hands of a man dangerous not only for his | incapacity but his duplicity. In a long rancorous dispute | which he had with the Master of Sinclair, his conduct | looks well at a first glance, but | | becomes far otherwise if we give any credit to the | Master's interpretation of his motives. This latter was the | leader of a party in the camp called "the Grumblers," who, | maintaining the expedition to be hopeless, and all further | efforts a mere wanton accumulation of mischief and | misery, proposed to surrender to Argyle on such terms as | they could obtain. Mar indignantly denounced this | proposal, and called upon the leaders to stand out to the | last. The Master said the cause of all this seeming | magnanimity was that Mar had already been feeling for | terms for himself, but found no favourable response, ~~ | was assured indeed that he would be specially excepted | out of any amnesty that might be granted, ~~ and, rightly | or wrongly, this was believed to have been the motive of | his conduct. | However it may have been, he took the earliest and best | opportunity of escaping to France by accompanying the | Prince whose arrival was so unwelcome, and who was so | speedily hustled out of the country. Mar went with his | master to Urbino, where the man of affairs found the | business of so small and unreal a court rather too narrow | for his active habits. He was charged by his fellow | Jacobites with many treacheries, among others with | purloining the poor 2000 pounds which at one time | constituted their exchequer for political purposes. | Whether all the charges against him were true it would be | very difficult now to discover, and when the general | blackness of his character is considered, not very | important to the cause of truth. It is certain that he was in | perpetual communication with Stair, Sunderland, and | other British ministers, ~~ a kind of occupation through | which few characters could be sufficiently strong in | rectitude to carry a man in his condition untainted. | Lockhart, his rival, who bestowed on him the sort of | cordial hatred which abounded in the little court of the | exile, mentions a speech to Mar by their common master, | which if not made in absolute trusting simplicity, which it | hardly could be, shows a sense of sarcastic humour in the | poor youth. He said that Mar's course of conduct met his | entire approval, for by an understanding with the enemy | it only gave him the better opportunity of giving effect to | that zeal and attachment which he felt towards his | legitimate master. Among other busy projects Mar | brought under the notice of the Regent of France a plan | for dismembering Britain, and subordinating England to | the will of France, by establishing the exiled house in | Scotland and Ireland only. | No-one can know the exact | depth of the purposes of the treacherous, and it is | therefore difficult to say whether the Jacobites were right | when they maintained that Mar had been bribed by the | Hanoverian | | Government to promulgate this scheme for the purpose of | rendering the Jacobite cause odious as that of men who | would sell their country to France. | One more little incident and we have done with this man. | By an arrangement founded on the professed object of | securing a jointure to his wife out of his forfeited estates, | the Government managed to put Mar into possession of | an income of 3000 pounds a year, ~~ as much he said, in | proclaiming his gratitude, as ever he had been able to | derive from his property. It happened that this act of | magnanimity on the part of the Crown was set forth in the | same parliamentary report in which the charges against | Atterbury was stated. The Jacobites naturally had most | vehement suspicions that the conjuncture was not entirely | fortuitous, and that the two things were really connected | with each other. Lockhart, indeed, bluntly states that it | was Mar who acted the assistant detective, by playing | into the hands of those put on the scent, and enabling | them to trace the celebrated ciphered letters to Atterbury's | door. One of these ciphered letters was intended for Mar, | and when delivered to him, he was told, or he managed to | know, that the cipher had been discovered, and that his | answer would be intercepted and read. In that answer he | put in such suggestive particulars as could not fail to | point unquestionably to the Bishop, as the English leader | of the correspondence, ~~ so at least Lockhart's story | goes. Yet, after all, this man illustrates the sentiment, | that there is some soul of goodness in things evil. He was | fond of gardening, and did a deal to promote among his | countrymen an art so valuable to their sterile land. He | was a patron of the fine arts, and in one respect a very | successful one, since it was he who discovered the merit | of James Gibbs, the son of an obscure citizen of | Aberdeen, who advancing under his countryman's | patronage as an architect, has left us, among other | eminent buildings, the Radcliffe Library and the beautiful | church of St. Martin's in the Fields. | Mar's younger brother, James Erskine, had a very | different but scarcely less remarkable career. He was a | Judge of the Court of Session, and when he is mentioned | by his judicial title as Lord Grange, it may possibly dawn | upon the reader as a name connected with a wild tale of | domestic oppression. He was the perpetrator of the | outrage which has been so often referred to as , | ~~ of the woman who was seized in her house in | Edinburgh and removed to a distant rock among the | Hebrides, where she lived for many | | years the life of a savage, or of one cast by shipwreck on | a desolate island. Her husband led two distinct lives, | nearly as remote from each other in character as the | varieties of human nature exemplified within the British | Isles could admit two men to be. In the one character he | was a zealous Whig, devoted to the Revolution settlement, | and an austere Presbyterian, erring only in the extreme | rigidness of his devotional observances, and the excess of | his righteous zeal against the backsliders of the time. In | his other character he was Jacobite and a profligate, | mixing in scenes of sensuality with the worst men of his | age. He was addicted to mysterious absences from his | home and the regular haunts of his pious brethren, which | might by them be attributed to any of the divine | aspirations or agencies which from time to time call away | men of exalted spirituality from communion with the | things and people of the world. We now, however, know | that on such occasions he was occupied in plots among | the Jacobites, or in deep orgies of debauchery, | occasionally, perhaps, attending to both duties at the | same time. Wodrow, the zealous Covenanting historian, | records many of Grange's precious sayings; among others, | how it weighed upon his spirit to reflect that among the | clergy of the day there was too much preaching up of | mere morality and too little of Christ and grace. Such | bold duplicity as Grange's could not entirely evade | suspicion; the holy man had his enemies and backbiters, | and even so simple-minded a man as Wodrow could not | record his virtues and sufferings without leaving the | traces of a suspicion in his own mind that possibly all | might not be right. , says the historian, | . | This Simson was a professor of Divinity in Glasgow, | against whom the Covenanting party of the church | carried on war for several years in efforts to crush him for | teaching heretical doctrines. In such a contest Grange | was in his element. He could be relied on when | assistance was wanted for any purpose of bigotry or | persecution, and he was foremost in the efforts to | withdraw all toleration from the Episcopal form | | of worship. We have no means of knowing how he | reconciled his Jacobite colleagues to his conduct in such | matters; they would probably consider, on the whole, that | the odour of sanctity in which he stood towards the | Covenanters was a substantial element of his value as a | partisan. | When, after many years of secrecy, the history of his | wife's banishment became known, his defence was that | she was a woman of fierce passions and frantic temper, | aggravated by habits of intoxication; that she was a | scandal to him in his correct walk as a Christian man and | a Judge; that she collected mobs and raised riots about his | doors when he was entertaining his worshipful friends; | and that he was in daily terror lest the frantic woman | should rush upon him on the bench, and in that solemn | place expose his domestic wretchedness to the world. | Those of his pious Covenanting friends who understood | that he had taken measures to free himself from his | domestic curse, would believe that the righteous man had | put her away privily with due attention too her comfort | and well-being. His secret Jacobite colleagues, however, | were well acquainted with a different solution of the | mystery. Many of the most eminent among them, | including Lovat, put themselves to great pains in | accomplishing the lady's seclusion, both for the sake of | their own safety and that of her husband. She had, in fact, | discovered some of their plots, and in her frantic rage | against her husband threatened to denounce him. Grange | had a relation living in an old turreted mansion at the foot | of the hill of Benochie, in Aberdeenshire, to whom he | used to communicate, in a tortuous and misty | correspondence, as much of his difficulties and sorrows | as he thought it safe to put on paper. Perhaps he was not | vain enough to suppose that more than a hundred years | afterwards the curiosity of the world about his deeds | might call these records from their obscurity, to be | printed and commented on. They may now be read by | anyone who will | undergo the tedious process for the sake | of such rays of light as they throw on a life of mystery. | They show clearly that what he feared from his wife was | the promulgation of criminal charges, ~~ false charges of | course, ~~ but sufficient to inspire him with a lively | terror, which exudes in allusions to Tyburn, and to the | Grass Market ~~ the place where the gibbet of Edinburgh | stood. | Another female figure besides his wife occasionally flits | across the misty vista of these papers. Wodrow mentions, | | among other affairs of the day worthy of commemoration, | that Grange is going to London to see about my Lady | Mar, his sister-in-law, who had been under medical | affections, and that he is likely to bring her with him to | Scotland. Doubtless the simple-minded Covenanter | thought it would be a great blessing to the poor woman to | take her away from her aristocratic circle in England, | polluted by prelacy and Erastianism, and bring her to the | hearth of a devout professor surrounded by so much | sanctity. When he went to London we find him engaged | in a fierce contest with a foe not to be despised, though of | the softer sex ~~ Lady Mary Wortley Montague, the | sister of the Countess of Mar. Erskine abused her as | heartily though not so antithetically as Pope; and of their | dialogues, on her part, he gives such specimens as | . And after setting forth such particulars as seemed | to justify her opinion, she . The dispute | between them involved questions too complicated to be | here discussed, about the arrangement already referred to | for virtually restoring Mar to his original income. It | seems, however, that the question whether Lady Mar was | sane or insane affected these pecuniary matters, and also | that it was an important consideration whether her sister | or her brother-in-law was to have charge of her. At all | events, the possession of the poor woman was the | immediate cause of the bitter contest between Grange and | Lady Mar. He was so near accomplishing his object, | whatever it might be, that he was on his way to Scotland, | with Lady Mar in his charge, and had almost crossed the | border when, to his disappointment and rage, she was | taken from him under a King's Bench warrant, obtained | by his vigilant adversary. He mumbles forth some | complaint about the injurious suspicions thrown on him | on this occasion; as, for instance, that when he has his | sister-in-law in Scotland he may have her secretly locked | up, or removed to some distant country. Lady Wortley | Montague's published letters may be searched in vain for | any allusion to this curious affair. But it is evident that | there has been a systematic pruning of them, since, in her | correspondence with her sister, just after the | | suppression of the insurrection, there is no reference to | the actual or probable fate of the family; nothing to | remind one that the sister to whom she writes had but | recently been assured of her husband's escape from the | block, or that, indeed, there was any matter of anxiety to | distract the attention of either of them from fashionable | news and gossip. | Grange in vain besieged Walpole for promotion: that | watchful minister knew rather too much about him, | having set down to his debit certain intercepted letters to | the court at Urbino, and other little traces of his doings. | Grange thought it excessively unreasonable that his | acceptability to the zealous party in the Church of | Scotland had not been estimated by the minister at its | proper value. It was by no means uncommon to bring | forward such testimony to the possession of spiritual gifts, | as the foundation of a claim for temporal advantages. | Among the sources of political influence at that time in | Scotland, after large estates, or the command of a | Highland following, the next element in point of power | might be counted a following of the extreme Covenanters. | In the present age, when little denominational prejudices | and petty intolerances are scattered in various but never | formidable shapes, here and there throughout Britain, it is | scarcely possible to conceive the burning and | exterminating zeal of those who delighted in the title of |

"the persecuted remnant,"

during the time when | the country ran its greatest risk from the party who in | politics and religion were nominally their antipodes. | Nothing but a perusal of their own multifarious protests, | remonstrances, testimonies, denunciations, and | anathemas can afford one any conception of the remote | intricacy of the theological stronghold to which they | betook themselves, and the impartial denunciations which | they dashed in the teeth of | everyone who failed or | hesitated to go with them. Nor can the phenomenon be | understood without looking to its cause in that dreadful | persecution by the governments of the latter Stuarts, | which burnt every human sympathy and all interests in | common worldly virtue and well-being out of the hearts | of the Covenanters. To gain men in such a condition was | not difficult to the perfectly unscrupulous. Natures in | such a state of spiritual exaltation are suspicious of | nothing but what tends to question their belief or thwart | their projects. The man who professes to go with them | altogether, having no doubt or scruple, runs little chance | of suspicion on their part. All of him that might seem to | contradict his professions is reconciled to them by the | potency of their theological logic. And if something | should occur too palpably demonstrative of worldliness | and vice, there is still a recourse founded upon the very | preciousness | | of his services: for Satan, alarmed at their efficiency, has | made a formidable effort and has for the time obtained | the dominion over the child of grace. The possession of | an influence over these men was a stake often played for | by the political gamblers of the time. One of these, John | Ker of Kersland, left for the benefit of posterity an | elaborate and signally unblushing account of the way in | which he established such an influence and the uses to | which he put it. He laid his unappreciated merit and | unrequited services before the world, stating how he had | established his influence, how he had betrayed the men | who trusted in him to serve the Government, and with | what flagrant perfidy that Government had left him | unrewarded. Ker had acquired by marriage the estates of | a family high in favour with the Covenanters as | champions and sufferers for their cause. He thought he | might inherit the religious influence of the family as well | as their estates, and he expressed astonishment at the ease | with which he obtained the confidence of those simple-minded | zealots at no greater sacrifice than a simple | avowal of conformity with their views and objects. Like | a dealer setting off his wares, he describes the value of | the coadjutors of which an ungrateful government would | not reward him, in terms which show what sterling stuff | they were made of. | | After the accession of King William these zealots had | little else to do but to rail at the Revolution settlement and | at the Hanover succession, as each new event of public | interest | | gave them an occasion for lifting up their voices. The | new form of things was, they said, worse than what had | gone before, in as far as, though separated from them by | an impassable gulph, the monarchs and statesmen of the | new order professed to be their friends. How could there | be such a friendship: how could the wolf lie down with | the lamb? The new sovereigns and their statesmen were | uncovenanted; they had not even adopted and sworn to | that preliminary article of faith binding upon all Christian | men, the national covenant; and behind that there | remained, as farther tests of acceptability, the | Auchenshaugh testimony, and the Sanquhar declaration, | along with the document so characteristically termed the | . Nor was it alone in the evasion of these | salutary vows that the rottenness of the new rulers was to | be found. If they had permitted the truth in some | measure to reveal its glory and extinguish the previous | darkness in Scotland, was it not true that in England and | Ireland prelacy and Erastianism were tolerated, nay, not | only tolerated, but lifted up and established in high places; | all this must be extirpated, root and branch, before the | Government could be admitted into Christian fellowship | with the Remnant. | The clamorous perversity of these men constituted an | element of hope to the Jacobites from time to time | throughout the whole period from the Revolution to the | affair of '45. By itself, perhaps, it would not have been | worth much, but in combination with the Highland clans | and the other sources of reactionary influence it would | tell. But the Jacobites had far over-estimated the | factiousness and folly of the coadjutors they thus sought | to enlist, and when arguing came to practical conclusions, | these never could be got to draw the broadsword for the | old-established objects of their hatred ~~ Popery and | arbitrary power. It was had for them sometimes to resist | when the tempter who dealt with them was one of their | own chosen and trusted leaders. In the first Jacobite | conspiracy, which has a generic resemblance to all the | others, accident saved them from the sore trial of their | virtue by a trusted leader, who came to them with his | temptation in the first agony of their disappointment. | This affair is known as

"Montgomery's plot."

| Montgomery, like Ker, took the leadership of the | Covenanters as one of his hereditary rights; it is singular | how in this way the feudal spirit intwined itself with the | fanatical. Wodrow described his grandfather as | | . | The descendant of such a man does not seem to have | required many austerities on his own part to keep up the | hereditary reputation so acquired. In the two handsome | quarto volumes of family history ~~ the Memorials of the | Montgomeries ~~ which contain a courtly portrait of this | man and a picture of his magnificent tomb, it is said of | him, . These charitable family annalists require | a few minute particulars to be added to their bland and | decorous narratives if we would know history accurately. | This Montgomery was so ardent a friend of the | Revolution that he became one of the deputies sent by the | Convention Parliament to offer the crown to King | William. He had set his heart upon the office of | Secretary of State for Scotland; but finding that office | bestowed upon another person, his conscience suddenly | became awakened to the awful conclusion that he had | abandoned his loyalty and betrayed his rightful sovereign. | It followed that the only method in which he could atone | for his crime was to take such means as lay in his power | to restore that rightful sovereign to his own. He was so | fortunate as to find two other men of high station and | influence ~~ the Lords Annandale and Ross ~~ who had | been brought to the same conclusion through exactly the | same process. These three organised a really formidable | conspiracy for a restoration. Montgomery's contribution | to the means of carrying it out was to be the zealous | services of the Covenanters of the west, and, with | whatever sincerity, he stipulated for certain strong | conditions in favour of Presbyterianism when James | should be restored through his means. There was a black | leather bag fortified by each with his own peculiar seal, | which contained the perilous correspondence of the | conspirators. It was observed one day that there were | traces in the condition of these seals of the bag having | been opened without the presence of all, and some | momentous documents that should have been in it were | missed. This was done by Montgomery. Whether he had | withdrawn the documents for the purpose of doing what | he did, or became frightened into the course he took, is | not clear; but he started for London with | | them in his pocket. When the absence of these | documents was followed by the disappearance of | Montgomery, the others instinctively knew what had | happened, and they set off for London too, each his own | way, and keeping his own counsel. When Montgomery | appeared alone in the presence of Melville, the perplexed | Secretary of State for Scotland, and hinted at the | revelations he could make, and demanded terms, he was | for the time an important political personage to be treated | with rather than bullied; but when the two accomplices | followed, and all three were anxious to be the first to | make revelations, the value of treachery, according to a | well-known principle of political economy, fell in the | market, and the conspirators were glad to get out of | Britain with their heads on their shoulders. Their | contemporaries passed many reflections on the | inconsiderate folly which had brought to ruin three | ancient houses. | The position of the Covenanters had so many attractions | for the schemers of the day, that we find even such a man | as Lovat endeavouring to transact a little business in that | way by affecting the companionship of clergymen, and | performing a morsel of Puritanism and devotion when he | came southward to the low country. His character, | however, was to rank, and he was too thoroughly | connected with Popery to be able to carry out such | designs, in his own person at least, without more trouble | than the results would be worth. His strength lay in a | totally different element ~~ the absolute devotion of a | Highland following. It was here far more than even in | the crazy-headedness of the Covenanters that the power | of the political schemers of the day is to be found. It is a | common but totally erroneous supposition that the | Highlanders were naturally, and by an attachment akin to | patriotism, partisans of the House of Stuart. It would be | strange indeed had they felt any attachment to a race who, | for two hundred years had continued incessantly to use | every device for their extirpation. But, in reality, their | allegiance was all for their patriarchal leader. Not that | they carried the theory of hereditary divine right into their | glens. They allowed no law of absolute hereditary | succession to dictate who should be their leader, though | they selected him from what might be called the royal | family. Like bands of robbers, they kept the choice, in | some measure, in their own hands; but having once made | it, they followed their chief and captain whithersoever he | chose to lead them. There occurred in the affair of the '15 | a signal illustration both of the self-will of the | Highlanders in giving their allegiance and their implicit | obedience to him to whom it was | | given. The legal proprietor of the estates inhabited by the | Frasers joined the insurgents. The clan, or at least a | portion of them, accompanied him provisionally until | they should discover which side their chosen leader | Simon Fraser, who was not then known as Lovat, would | adopt. He was brought over from France, at the critical | juncture, and choosing, for reasons best known to himself, | to take the side of the Government, his clan immediately | scampered off from Mar's army, and joined their own | selected chief in the Highlands. | It was an absolute necessity to these wild tribes to have | leaders of some sort, and these were not always of | descent so ancient and so high as the world supposes. | When a clan became

"broken,"

that is virtually when they | had no family of position and influence to patronise them, | and be responsible at court for their good conduct, they | were not fastidious about the choice of a leader. The | celebrated Rob Roy McGregor holds a reputation in the | romance of history as the high-born chief of a warlike | clan. Rob was in early life a farmer and a cattle-dealer, | but not succeeding in these peaceful pursuits, he became | bankrupt under circumstances which have rendered | service to the Law of Fraudulent Bankruptcy, a division | under which the name of Robert Campbell, | alias McGregor, will be found | reported as one of the leading cases of the Court of | Session. He then , as Baillie Nicol Jarvie says; | and if an advertisement for his apprehension speaks the | truth, he had a good deal of the money of his defrauded | creditors, wherewith to start in is new occupation which | in England would have been called highway robbery. He | transacted a great deal of business during the affair of the | '15. The state of the country was eminently favourable to | his occupation, for in his marauding expeditions he held, | by his own appointment, a foraging commission from | either army, as he might find convenient. He and his | nephew had with them a considerable body of men at | Sheriffmuir, but they would not fight. Rob was in fact far | too impartial to take a side; he was at the field in the way | of business, expecting to find a good opportunity for | plundering, which was lost by the doubtful result of the | battle. | The peculiar position of the chiefs afforded easy | opportunities for political profligacy, and many whose | motives and rank were of a higher grade than Rob Roy's | yielded to these temptations. They held, as members of | the state, two totally different characters which they could | play against each other at will. As no more than an | ordinary subject in the eye of the law the chief professed | to give his allegiance like other citizens to the sovereign, | whether that of the parliamentary settlement or of his | | own choice. But as a leader of men he had a separate | policy to pursue with separate responsibilities, and if it | suited him to desert the allegiance he professed, or to | break through any promises or obligations, his conduct | was not an affair of private duty or morals; it had merged | into the category of diplomacy, ~~ it was an act done in | the course of a public policy, and was not to be tested by | the narrow rules applicable to private life. So a brother | chief, a man of education and accomplishments, speaking | of Lovat with reference to his long catalogue of crimes, | described him as . Doubtless his methods of | accomplishing his object were evil-spoken of by those | trained to the conventional morality of the day; but | . | A potent chief of high name and lineage, Sir John | Maclean, disturbed the Master of Sinclair's equanimity | when he desired to take the votes of

"the gentlemen" |

of the army, by stating that all his | clan were gentlemen, and therefore each must have | a vote. This chief was connected with the project of | invading Britain under the Duke of Berwick, commonly | known as the Queensbury plot. The project was defeated, | and Maclean being taken into custody had the | disagreeable alternative before him of saving himself by a | general revelation. The view he took of the matter cannot | be comprehended without reference to the peculiar | position of a Highland chief. , he said, | . Such revelations as he might think it fit or | necessary to make were an affair of policy and diplomacy; | but for a Highland chief to be placed in the witness-box, | and there cross-questioned like a common person, was | degradation too intolerable to be borne. | The existence in the country of a considerable number of | potentates whose conduct was regulated by so convenient | a code of ethics; was always a source of danger, the full | extent of which appears to have been rarely estimated by | English states-men. | | When an insurrection broke out, it was of course an | important question on which side each chief would

| "come out,"

and it was question quite incapable of | being solved by a reference to his precedents. In the '15, | there was considerable anxiety and doubt about the | intentions of one man in particular, the grim old lord of | Breadalbane, about the most powerful chief in the | Highlands. His early political career, if anything could be | inferred from that, was eventful enough. He it was who | got 20,000 pounds from the Revolution Government to be | expended in keeping the Highlands quiet, and who | became very indignant when called on to account for his | disposal of the money ~~ about as indignant as a German | sovereign would have been a hundred years later, if | questioned on the use he had made of a British subsidy. | He it was, too, who sent his clan to slaughter the Glencoe | people; an act in which he forgot that the country had | made some constitutional progress since the Revolution, | ~~ that there was a free parliament in Scotland, ~~ and | that the slaughter of a few hundred mutinous freebooters | was no longer a mere affair of clan with clan, in which | the Imperial Government had no further concern but to | give a general countenance to those who rid the country | of thieves and traitors. Since that awkward affair the old | chief had lived chiefly among his own clan, where he was | probably more secure than any king in Europe. The | Government had an eye on him when the insurrection | broke out, and he was summoned to repair with other | men of rank and influence to Edinburgh. He pleaded old | age and infirmity as disabling him from undertaking so | long a journey, but he made his appearance in Mar's | camp in a dubious and unconspicuous manner, and with | but a small following, as if he wished to feel his way | before committing himself. The Master of Sinclair gives | this sketch of his visit: | | | | Another contemporary writer sketches Breadalbane | briefly thus: ~~ | This hoary ruffian died before the insurrection was over, | and his son reigned in his stead. Of him, who bore the | undignified nickname of

"Old Rag,"

Sir Walter Scott | gives, in a note to the Master's narrative, as sketch which | we are tempted to transcribe: ~~ | | To firm believers in the influence of race, it must be a | satisfaction to reflect that no descendants of this odious | pair now inherit their honours. Sir Walter, in connexion | with the extinction of their race, mentions an incident | very characteristic of Highland notions. The sole male | descendant of the line, the son of Lord Glenorquhy, and | grandson of Old Rag, died while this worthy was yet | alive; and the death was made known to the world in the | usual manner. . | The Master treats the hero of the Massacre of Glencoe | with | | far more gentleness than the fellow rebels whose offences, | whatever they may have been, have certainly been less | conspicuously known. Were we to believe all that he | says of these fellow rebels, it would be clear that there | never had been, ~~ at the cave of Adullam, at Bourbon's | sack of Rome, or in any known assemblage of men ~~ | such a collection of unmitigated knaves, fools, cut-throats, | and scoundrels in a general sense, as those who | assembled round the banner of Mar. Though the author is | himself always an exception of course to his own general | condemnations, yet his precedents would be apt to justify | the world in deeming him no better than his comrades. | He was, when the insurrection broke out, a fugitive from | justice, which had to deal with him in a charge of murder. | He had killed two brothers ~~ the sons of Shaw of | Grenock, in single combat, as he maintained, but with | indications of ferocity and malignity which carried his | conduct beyond the licence of the code of honour. He | was ruthless, haughty, and vindictive. His temper was of | that wayward and unreasonable kind which discharges its | bitterest resentment on those with whom its owner has | had the closest alliance and sympathy. He has little to | say against the Government and the Whigs, so entirely is | he absorbed in the flagellation of his own party. Some of | the bitterest of his sarcastic sallies fall on Lord Duffus, a | respectable man by all accounts, who had, however, the | misfortune to be the representative of a rival branch of | Sinclair's own family, and thus near enough to him to be | entitled to a potent shard of his scorn. He thus describes | the progress of Duffus northwards, on an expedition to | besiege the Castle of Inverness. | | | | The reader will perhaps feel that this specimen of the | Master's method draws itself out into that sort of tedious | minuteness which spiteful and scandalous narratives are | apt to assume in the lips of elderly unmarried persons of | the female sex. To do him justice, however, he seldom | requires so much circumlocution to pronounce one of his | comrades a drunkard, a coward, a liar, and a swindler; a | word or two suffices for the destruction of a reputation. | Lord George Murray, for instance, who was the real | commander in the wonderful march to Derby thirty years | afterwards, was supposed to be a man of unstained | honour, but we are told . | The Master's narrative tends to confirm and give a | practical distinctness to some truths about the insurrection, | which were previously believed in a more general and | less distinct form. Among these he brings home to us the | utter incapacity which prevailed in the insurgents' camp. | We see in his statements more distinctly than elsewhere | the great opportunity that there was for mischief, had a | powerful military genius arisen to take advantage of it, | and hence one naturally experiences in the | | perusal, a feeling of thankfulness that the man was not | found. It is only with satisfaction that the friends of the | Constitution can read now: ~~ | | There were, however, the raw materials of a formidable | army had there existed a leader capable of using them. In | the first place these Lowland gentry who all wanted to be | generals, had in them plenty of military ardour and | hardihood, and would have made excellent subordinate | officers under one who could command them. The | Lowland peasantry of that day, too, were still able to | handle arms; they ceased to be so during the thirty years | which elapsed before the next insurrection. But the | element which was most troublesome in the hands of | incompetent leaders, and would have been turned to | brilliant effect by a military genius, was the large body of | well-armed Highlanders brought to the camp by their | chiefs. The handling of such a force demanded the | resources of an original warlike genius, like that of a | Montrose, or a Claverhouse, a genius capable of casting | aside the trammels of the conventional discipline of the | day, and directing the peculiar force to the peculiar | achievements for which it was eminently fitted. There | was no use of drilling and parading the Highlanders. | They had to be put to service such as they were, ready-made | soldiers of a peculiar cast. The same promptness | which enabled them to start into existence as an army at a | moment's warning, also enabled them mysteriously to | disappear from the camp when they disliked the service; | for even when embodied they could provide for their own | individual wants, and when dispersed their opportunities | for self-support were naturally increased. Nothing but | rapid enterprises or many opportunities for plunder could | have kept them together, and the lazy listlessness of Mar's | camp soon sickened them. It is evident from the Master's | narrative that there was a deep latent feud between the | Highlanders and the Lowland gentry of his own type, | which again demanded a leader of commanding genius to | keep it down. There was no opportunity | | for giving the many well-born gentlemen of this kind who | haunted the camp commands among the Highlanders, | since they would follow none but their own chiefs, even | had any other officers known how to handle them. And | yet, curiously enough, from the very same characteristics | it follows that any general fit to command the whole must | have been a stranger, at least not a Highlander. The | jealousy of the clans and the chiefs towards each other, | the rights of precedence demanded by some clans and | denied to them by others, would have rendered it | impossible for the head of any one clan to have command | over the others. Hence since the days when the Lord of | the Isles asserted a sort of Highland sovereignty, the | Highlanders have not been known to fight effectively in | combination under the banner of a Highlander; their chief | exploits indeed had been performed under Montrose and | Claverhouse, ~~ Scotchmen no doubt, but on that very | account all the more alienated from the Celts, who from | their side were looked upon as an inferior and an odious | face, whose existence was a national calamity. | In the absence of a military genius capable of combining | the ill-assorted elements of the insurgent camp, there was | another alternative for inspiring into them enthusiasm, | and with enthusiasm unanimity. Had they found | themselves embarked in the cause of a popular prince, | present among them ~~ such, for instance, as Charles | Edward, who, young, good-looking, with a dash of | enterprise and enthusiasm in him, put himself at the head | of his followers, and made up for want of military skill by | hearty good will, fair courage, and a resolution to meet | the hardships of a campaign; ~~ had such an aspirant | appeared among the Jacobites of 1715, their army would | have been roused from its lethargy. It was their fate, | however, to suffer rather than to profit by the presence of | royalty. The Master of Sinclair confirms the notion | generally entertained, that the presence of the Pretender, | as he termed, had such an effect upon his troops as to | cause the rapid extinction of the gradually-decreasing | army. The Master speaks ever with a forced respect | about "His Majesty," but he at the same time always | mischievously couples the royal appearance with the | dispersal of the troops, in a manner not to be | misunderstood. The Prince was delighted to see | , as he condescendingly termed the Highland chiefs; | but the delight was by no means mutual. In fact, the | Highlanders in their simple notions of greatness, could | never see it where physical strength and robust | proportions were wanting; and the unhappy youth, feeble | by nature, both in body and mind, and trained in the | hotbed of a little idle court, to no nobler enterprises | | than flirting and gambling, and small intrigues, was not | the man to satisfy their rude craving for strength, stature, | and a grand presence. The time was winter, and in the | deep snow the Highlanders dispersed to their own glens, | leaving little trace of the army they had formed, and | fortunately no opportunity for pursuit, and for the | cruelties too apt to accompany success in civil war. | The Master has his last opportunity of dwelling on the | folly, meanness, and selfishness of his comrades in | describing how each of them sought his own safety in | total forgetfulness to the cause to which they had | professed so much devotion. It is a curious instance of | self-delusion, that when we strip away the rhetorical | embellishments from the facts related by him, he appears | to have sought for a safe retreat only a little earlier than | the others, and to have gone about his arrangements for | flight with less precipitancy and miscalculation. But even | in finding a hiding place he contrasts with their | pusillanimous conduct his own lofty magnanimity, | comparing himself to two saints in elaborating one | metaphor: ~~ | | The perusal of such a book as this is apt to dispel from | the mind of ardent youth its ordinary vision of a Jacobite | hero, the ideal of chivalry, disinterested self-sacrifice, and |

"ancient faith that knows no guile."

A | thoughtful view of the picture so presented might also | serve to neutralize a conviction to which men of mature | years are more liable than the young ~~ a conviction that | the world is daily becoming worse and worse ~~ that

"we | are getting into an artificial state,"

and that the frankness | and straightforwardness which adorned the character of | our ancestors a generation or two ago, are gone for ever. | It is, perhaps, often the way in which we look at times of | trouble ~~ but it is peculiarly the shape in which the | Jacobite insurrections have been viewed, that we have | beheld them through the mellowed light of feelings | arising since their extinction, instead of seeing the deeds | done, and the men who did them, in the cold light of truth | and historical evidence. Many things concurred to | surround with a general interest and sympathy these the | latest | | vestiges of civil contest on the soil of Britain. The | cruelties perpetrated by the Duke of Cumberland, and the | commanders under him hardened in the German wars, | made sympathy with the fallen cause natural to Scotland, | and not uncommon in England. It was not that this | sympathy palliated the guilt of rushing into war for | personal or party purposes, or denied the substantial | justice of the severe rule, that those who put what seems | to them a just and holy cause to the arbitration of the | sword, must be prepared to justify their sincerity by | giving up their lives upon the scaffold should they fail of | success. Granting that the leaders in these rebellions all | richly deserved the doom which some of them met, it was | otherwise with their poor followers. However degraded | might be the condition of the poor Highlander, it was but | the necessary consequence of this condition that in | following his chief to battle he believed himself to be | treading in the path of honour. Within the narrow code of | duty and allegiance which had been imparted to him, he | had gone straight-forward in simple reliance. Indeed if | the clansman refused to obey the call to rebellion, the | state of society in the Highlands was then such as to | enable the chief to coerce him; and in many instances the | reluctant follower was brought to a sense of his duty by | force. A considerate Government should have protected | these men from the local tyranny they were under, if it | were resolved that they should be responsible for their | acts. But unfortunately for the fame of British rule during | the early half of last century, it was not until the offence | was committed and savagely avenged, that those | precautions were taken which could render rebellion no | longer an act of duty or submission in the poor | Highlander. | After all danger from Jacobite rebellions was over, and | the cruelties following Culloden were the latest | remembered incidents connected with them, people began | to forget the selfish ambition of the leaders in the | sufferings of the humble followers, and the whole sad | history was revived with a tender regret, like those green | mounds over Culloden Moor, which, though they cover | the bones of rebels, never fail to call up in whoever looks | on them ~~ Tory or Whig, Churchman or Dissenter ~~ a | certain sympathetic respect for the memory of those who | were so faithful to their own narrow sense of duty and | allegiance. When death closed over the degraded old age | of him who had been the hero of Preston Pans, it pleased | those in whom Jacobite tendencies lingered to find that | they could, with clear consciences, transfer their | allegiance to the House of Hanover. They chose, by a | perfectly harmless fiction, to understand that the true | heirs of the Stuarts now occupied | | the throne; and to overlook the crowd of princes scattered | over Europe who held their descent from Charles I. This | decorous arrangement removed the last ingredient of | actual political bitterness between Jacobite and | Hanoverian, and left them free to treat their past quarrels | as matters more of sentiment than of existing feud. | It was not the time when the old animosities had thus | mellowed down, though the events connected with them | were fresh in memory, that Scott burst upon the world | with his brilliant romance of "Waverley." The social and | political conditions from which he drew the charm of his | story were then matters of

"sixty years since."

| Nearly sixty other years have now passed since that book | was written, bringing their own stock of changes, | political and social. None will perhaps ever enjoy it with | the eager zest of those ~~ the contemporaries of the | author ~~ who may have spoken with fugitives from | Culloden, who may have heard the incidents of the | rebellion discussed at the fireside, and may have felt that | the tenor of their fortunes in life had been influenced by | them, and that their struggle with the world might have | been less arduous had not their fathers or grandfathers | been adherents of the old cause. None will read | "Waverley" with the same interest as these men did; but it | is fortunate for literature, throughout all times, that the | national feeling was caught up and impersonated while | there was something of it yet alive to warm the | sympathies of the novelist ~~ to enlist the feelings of his | heart along with the genius of his head, and thus confer | on his tale such a tone of reality as the brightest genius | would fail to work out by mere intellectual effort from | historical narratives of past events.