No More Learning

The magistrates of Amsterdam answered
that the entrance of the Zuyder Zee was out of their jurisdiction, and
referred him to the federal government. It was notorious that this was a
mere excuse, and that, if there had been any real wish at the Stadthouse
of Amsterdam to prevent Argyle from sailing, no difficulties would have
been made. Skelton now addressed himself to the States General. They
showed every disposition to comply with his demand, and, as the case was
urgent, departed from the course which they ordinarily observed in
the transaction of business. On the same day on which he made his
application to them, an order, drawn in exact conformity with his
request, was despatched to the Admiralty of Amsterdam. But this order,
in consequence of some misinformation, did not correctly describe the
situation of the ships. They were said to be in the Texel. They were in
the Vlie. The Admiralty of Amsterdam made this error a plea for doing
nothing; and, before the error could be rectified, the three ships had
sailed. [347]

The last hours which Argyle passed on the coast of Holland were hours of
great anxiety. Near him lay a Dutch man of war whose broadside would
in a moment have put an end to his expedition. Round his little fleet
a boat was rowing, in which were some persons with telescopes whom he
suspected to be spies. But no effectual step was taken for the purpose
of detaining him; and on the afternoon of the second of May he stood out
to sea before a favourable breeze.

The voyage was prosperous. On the sixth the Orkneys were in sight.
Argyle very unwisely anchored off Kirkwall, and allowed two of his
followers to go on shore there. The Bishop ordered them to be arrested.
The refugees proceeded to hold a long and animated debate on this
misadventure: for, from the beginning to the end of their expedition,
however languid and irresolute their conduct might be, they never
in debate wanted spirit or perseverance. Some were for an attack on
Kirkwall. Some were for proceeding without delay to Argyleshire. At last
the Earl seized some gentlemen who lived near the coast of the island,
and proposed to the Bishop an exchange of prisoners. The Bishop returned
no answer; and the fleet, after losing three days, sailed away.

This delay was full of danger. It was speedily known at Edinburgh that
the rebel squadron had touched at the Orkneys. Troops were instantly
put in motion. When the Earl reached his own province, he found that
preparations had been made to repel him. At Dunstaffnage he sent his
second son Charles on Shore to call the Campbells to arms. But Charles
returned with gloomy tidings. The herdsmen and fishermen were indeed
ready to rally round Mac Callum More; but, of the heads of the clan,
some were in confinement, and others had fled. Those gentlemen who
remained at their homes were either well affected to the government or
afraid of moving, and refused even to see the son of their chief. From
Dunstaffnage the small armament proceeded to Campbelltown, near the
southern extremity of the peninsula of Kintyre. Here the Earl published
a manifesto, drawn up in Holland, under the direction of the Committee,
by James Stewart, a Scotch advocate, whose pen was, a few months later,
employed in a very different way. In this paper were set forth, with a
strength of language sometimes approaching to scurrility, many real and
some imaginary grievances. It was hinted that the late King had died by
poison. A chief object of the expedition was declared to be the entire
suppression, not only of Popery, but of Prelacy, which was termed the
most bitter root and offspring of Popery; and all good Scotchmen were
exhorted to do valiantly for the cause of their country and of their
God.

Zealous as Argyle was for what he considered as pure religion, he
did not scruple to practice one rite half Popish and half Pagan. The
mysterious cross of yew, first set on fire, and then quenched in the
blood of a goat, was sent forth to summon all the Campbells, from
sixteen to sixty. The isthmus of Tarbet was appointed for the place of
gathering. The muster, though small indeed when compared with what
it would have been if the spirit and strength of the clan had been
unbroken, was still formidable. The whole force assembled amounted to
about eighteen hundred men. Argyle divided his mountaineers into three
regiments, and proceeded to appoint officers.

The bickerings which had begun in Holland had never been intermitted
during the whole course of the expedition; but at Tarbet they became
more violent than ever. The Committee wished to interfere even with the
patriarchal dominion of the Earl over the Campbells, and would not allow
him to settle the military rank of his kinsmen by his own authority.
While these disputatious meddlers tried to wrest from him his power
over the Highlands, they carried on their own correspondence with the
Lowlands, and received and sent letters which were never communicated
to the nominal General. Hume and his confederates had reserved to
themselves the superintendence of the Stores, and conducted this
important part of the administration of war with a laxity hardly to be
distinguished from dishonesty, suffered the arms to be spoiled, wasted
the provisions, and lived riotously at a time when they ought to have
set to all beneath them an example of abstemiousness.

The great question was whether the Highlands or the Lowlands should be
the seat of war. The Earl's first object was to establish his authority
over his own domains, to drive out the invading clans which had been
poured from Perthshire into Argyleshire, and to take possession of the
ancient seat of his family at Inverary. He might then hope to have four
or five thousand claymores at his command. With such a force he would be
able to defend that wild country against the whole power of the kingdom
of Scotland, and would also have secured an excellent base for offensive
operations. This seems to have been the wisest course open to him.
Rumbold, who had been trained in an excellent military school, and who,
as an Englishman, might be supposed to be an impartial umpire between
the Scottish factions, did all in his power to strengthen the Earl's
hands. But Hume and Cochrane were utterly impracticable. Their jealousy
of Argyle was, in truth, stronger than their wish for the success of the
expedition. They saw that, among his own mountains and lakes, and at the
head of an army chiefly composed of his own tribe, he would be able
to bear down their opposition, and to exercise the full authority of a
General. They muttered that the only men who had the good cause at heart
were the Lowlanders, and that the Campbells took up arms neither for
liberty nor for the Church of God, but for Mac Callum More alone.

Cochrane declared that he would go to Ayrshire if he went by himself,
and with nothing but a pitchfork in his hand. Argyle, after long
resistance, consented, against his better judgment, to divide his little
army. He remained with Rumbold in the Highlands. Cochrane and Hume were
at the head of the force which sailed to invade the Lowlands.

Ayrshire was Cochrane's object: but the coast of Ayrshire was guarded
by English frigates; and the adventurers were under the necessity of
running up the estuary of the Clyde to Greenock, then a small fishing
village consisting of a single row of thatched hovels, now a great and
flourishing port, of which the customs amount to more than five
times the whole revenue which the Stuarts derived from the kingdom of
Scotland. A party of militia lay at Greenock: but Cochrane, who
wanted provisions, was determined to land. Hume objected. Cochrane was
peremptory, and ordered an officer, named Elphinstone, to take twenty
men in a boat to the shore. But the wrangling spirit of the leaders had
infected all ranks. Elphinstone answered that he was bound to obey only
reasonable commands, that he considered this command as unreasonable,
and, in short, that he would not go. Major Fullarton, a brave man,
esteemed by all parties, but peculiarly attached to Argyle, undertook to
land with only twelve men, and did so in spite of a fire from the coast.
A slight skirmish followed. The militia fell back. Cochrane entered
Greenock and procured a supply of meal, but found no disposition to
insurrection among the people.

In fact, the state of public feeling in Scotland was not such as the
exiles, misled by the infatuation common in all ages to exiles, had
supposed it to be. The government was, indeed, hateful and hated. But
the malecontents were divided into parties which were almost as hostile
to one another as to their rulers; nor was any of those parties eager to
join the invaders. Many thought that the insurrection had no chance
of success. The spirit of many had been effectually broken by long and
cruel oppression. There was, indeed, a class of enthusiasts who were
little in the habit of calculating chances, and whom oppression had not
tamed but maddened. But these men saw little difference between Argyle
and James. Their wrath had been heated to such a temperature that what
everybody else would have called boiling zeal seemed to them Laodicean
lukewarmness. The Earl's past life had been stained by what they
regarded as the vilest apostasy. The very Highlanders whom he now
summoned to extirpate Prelacy he had a few years before summoned to
defend it. And were slaves who knew nothing and cared nothing about
religion, who were ready to fight for synodical government, for
Episcopacy, for Popery, just as Mac Callum More might be pleased to
command, fit allies for the people of God? The manifesto, indecent
and intolerant as was its tone, was, in the view of these fanatics, a
cowardly and worldly performance. A settlement such as Argyle would have
made, such as was afterwards made by a mightier and happier deliverer,
seemed to them not worth a struggle. They wanted not only freedom of
conscience for themselves, but absolute dominion over the consciences of
others; not only the Presbyterian doctrine, polity, and worship, but the
Covenant in its utmost rigour. Nothing would content them but that
every end for which civil society exists should be sacrificed to the
ascendency of a theological system. One who believed no form of
church government to be worth a breach of Christian charity, and who
recommended comprehension and toleration, was in their phrase, halting
between Jehovah and Baal. One who condemned such acts as the murder of
Cardinal Beatoun and Archbishop Sharpe fell into the same sin for which
Saul had been rejected from being King over Israel. All the rules,
by which, among civilised and Christian men, the horrors of war are
mitigated, were abominations in the sight of the Lord. Quarter was to be
neither taken nor given. A Malay running a muck, a mad dog pursued by
a crowd, were the models to be imitated by warriors fighting in just
self-defence. To reasons such as guide the conduct of statesmen and
generals the minds of these zealots were absolutely impervious. That a
man should venture to urge such reasons was sufficient evidence that
he was not one of the faithful. If the divine blessing were withheld,
little would be effected by crafty politicians, by veteran captains, by
cases of arms from Holland, or by regiments of unregenerate Celts from
the mountains of Lorn. If, on the other hand, the Lord's time were
indeed come, he could still, as of old, cause the foolish things of the
world to confound the wise, and could save alike by many and by few.
The broadswords of Athol and the bayonets of Claverhouse would be put to
rout by weapons as insignificant as the sling of David or the pitcher of
Gideon. [348]

Cochrane, having found it impossible to raise the population on the
south of the Clyde, rejoined Argyle, who was in the island of Bute.
The Earl now again proposed to make an attempt upon Inverary. Again he
encountered a pertinacious opposition. The seamen sided with Hume
and Cochrane. The Highlanders were absolutely at the command of their
chieftain. There was reason to fear that the two parties would come to
blows; and the dread of such a disaster induced the Committee to make
some concession. The castle of Ealan Ghierig, situated at the mouth of
Loch Riddan, was selected to be the chief place of arms. The military
stores were disembarked there. The squadron was moored close to the
walls in a place where it was protected by rocks and shallows such
as, it was thought, no frigate could pass. Outworks were thrown up.
A battery was planted with some small guns taken from the ships. The
command of the fort was most unwisely given to Elphinstone, who had
already proved himself much more disposed to argue with his commanders
than to fight the enemy.

And now, during a few hours, there was some show of vigour. Rumbold took
the castle of Ardkinglass. The Earl skirmished successfully with Athol's
troops, and was about to advance on Inverary, when alarming news from
the ships and factions in the Committee forced him to turn back. The
King's frigates had come nearer to Ealan Ghierig than had been thought
possible. The Lowland gentlemen positively refused to advance further
into the Highlands. Argyle hastened back to Ealan Ghierig. There he
proposed to make an attack on the frigates. His ships, indeed, were ill
fitted for such an encounter. But they would have been supported by
a flotilla of thirty large fishing boats, each well manned with armed
Highlanders. The Committee, however, refused to listen to this plan, and
effectually counteracted it by raising a mutiny among the sailors.

All was now confusion and despondency. The provisions had been so ill
managed by the Committee that there was no longer food for the troops.
The Highlanders consequently deserted by hundreds; and the Earl,
brokenhearted by his misfortunes, yielded to the urgency of those who
still pertinaciously insisted that he should march into the Lowlands.

The little army therefore hastened to the shore of Loch Long, passed
that inlet by night in boats, and landed in Dumbartonshire. Hither, on
the following morning, came news that the frigates had forced a passage,
that all the Earl's ships had been taken, and that Elphinstone had fled
from Ealan Ghierig without a blow, leaving the castle and stores to the
enemy.

All that remained was to invade the Lowlands under every disadvantage.
Argyle resolved to make a bold push for Glasgow. But, as soon as this
resolution was announced, the very men, who had, up to that moment,
been urging him to hasten into the low country, took fright, argued,
remonstrated, and when argument and remonstrance proved vain, laid a
scheme for seizing the boats, making their own escape, and leaving
their General and his clansmen to conquer or perish unaided. This scheme
failed; and the poltroons who had formed it were compelled to share with
braver men the risks of the last venture.

During the march through the country which lies between Loch Long and
Loch Lomond, the insurgents were constantly infested by parties
of militia. Some skirmishes took place, in which the Earl had the
advantage; but the bands which he repelled, falling back before him,
spread the tidings of his approach, and, soon after he had crossed the
river Leven, he found a strong body of regular and irregular troops
prepared to encounter him.

He was for giving battle. Ayloffe was of the same opinion. Hume, on the
other hand, declared that to fight would be madness. He saw one regiment
in scarlet. More might be behind. To attack such a force was to rush on
certain death The best course was to remain quiet till night, and then
to give the enemy the slip.

A sharp altercation followed, which was with difficulty quieted by the
mediation of Rumbold. It was now evening. The hostile armies encamped at
no great distance from each other. The Earl ventured to propose a night
attack, and was again overruled.

Since it was determined not to fight, nothing was left but to take the
step which Hume had recommended. There was a chance that, by decamping
secretly, and hastening all night across heaths and morasses, the Earl
might gain many miles on the enemy, and might reach Glasgow without
further obstruction. The watch fires were left burning; and the march
began. And now disaster followed disaster fast. The guides mistook the
track across the moors, and led the army into boggy ground. Military
order could not be preserved by undisciplined and disheartened soldiers
under a dark sky, and on a treacherous and uneven soil. Panic after
panic spread through the broken ranks. Every sight and sound was thought
to indicate the approach of pursuers. Some of the officers contributed
to spread the terror which it was their duty to calm. The army had
become a mob; and the mob melted fast away. Great numbers fled under
cover of the night. Rumbold and a few other brave men whom no danger
could have scared lost their way, and were unable to rejoin the main
body. When the day broke, only five hundred fugitives, wearied and
dispirited, assembled at Kilpatrick.

All thought of prosecuting the war was at an end: and it was plain
that the chiefs of the expedition would have sufficient difficulty
in escaping with their lives. They fled in different directions. Hume
reached the Continent in safety. Cochrane was taken and sent up to
London. Argyle hoped to find a secure asylum under the roof of one
of his old servants who lived near Kilpatrick. But this hope was
disappointed; and he was forced to cross the Clyde. He assumed the dress
of a peasant and pretended to be the guide of Major Fullarton, whose
courageous fidelity was proof to all danger. The friends journeyed
together through Renfrewshire as far as Inchinnan. At that place the
Black Cart and the White Cart, two streams which now flow through
prosperous towns, and turn the wheels of many factories, but which then
held their quiet course through moors and sheepwalks, mingle before they
join the Clyde. The only ford by which the travellers could cross was
guarded by a party of militia. Some questions were asked. Fullarton
tried to draw suspicion on himself, in order that his companion might
escape unnoticed. But the minds of the questioners misgave them that the
guide was not the rude clown that he seemed. They laid hands on him.
He broke loose and sprang into the water, but was instantly chased. He
stood at bay for a short time against five assailants. But he had no
arms except his pocket pistols, and they were so wet, in consequence of
his plunge, that they would not go off. He was struck to the ground with
a broadsword, and secured.

He owned himself to be the Earl of Argyle, probably in the hope that his
great name would excite the awe and pity of those who had seized him.
And indeed they were much moved. For they were plain Scotchmen of humble
rank, and, though in arms for the crown, probably cherished a preference
for the Calvinistic church government and worship, and had been
accustomed to reverence their captive as the head of an illustrious
house and as a champion of the Protestant religion But, though they
were evidently touched, and though some of them even wept, they were not
disposed to relinquish a large reward and to incur the vengeance of
an implacable government. They therefore conveyed their prisoner
to Renfrew. The man who bore the chief part in the arrest was named
Riddell. On this account the whole race of Riddells was, during more
than a century, held in abhorrence by the great tribe of Campbell.
Within living memory, when a Riddell visited a fair in Argyleshire, he
found it necessary to assume a false name.

And now commenced the brightest part of Argyle's career. His enterprise
had hitherto brought on him nothing but reproach and derision. His great
error was that he did not resolutely refuse to accept the name without
the power of a general. Had he remained quietly at his retreat in
Friesland, he would in a few years have been recalled with honour to
his country, and would have been conspicuous among the ornaments and
the props of constitutional monarchy. Had he conducted his expedition
according to his own views, and carried with him no followers but such
as were prepared implicitly to obey all his orders, he might possibly
have effected something great. For what he wanted as a captain seems to
have been, not courage, nor activity, nor skill, but simply authority.
He should have known that of all wants this is the most fatal.
Armies have triumphed under leaders who possessed no very eminent
qualifications. But what army commanded by a debating club ever escaped
discomfiture and disgrace?

The great calamity which had fallen on Argyle had this advantage, that
it enabled him to show, by proofs not to be mistaken, what manner of
man he was. From the day when he quitted. Friesland to the day when his
followers separated at Kilpatrick, he had never been a free agent. He
had borne the responsibility of a long series of measures which his
judgment disapproved. Now at length he stood alone. Captivity had
restored to him the noblest kind of liberty, the liberty of governing
himself in all his words and actions according to his own sense of the
right and of the becoming. From that moment he became as one inspired
with new wisdom and virtue. His intellect seemed to be strengthened and
concentrated, his moral character to be at once elevated and softened.
The insolence of the conquerors spared nothing that could try the temper
of a man proud of ancient nobility and of patriarchal dominion. The
prisoner was dragged through Edinburgh in triumph. He walked on
foot, bareheaded, up the whole length of that stately street which,
overshadowed by dark and gigantic piles of stone, leads from Holyrood
House to the Castle. Before him marched the hangman, bearing the ghastly
instrument which was to be used at the quartering block. The victorious
party had not forgotten that, thirty-five years before this time, the
father of Argyle had been at the head of the faction which put Montrose
to death. Before that event the houses of Graham and Campbell had borne
no love to each other; and they had ever since been at deadly feud. Care
was taken that the prisoner should pass through the same gate and the
same streets through which Montrose had been led to the same doom. [349]
When the Earl reached the Castle his legs were put in irons, and he was
informed that he had but a few days to live.
It had been determined not
to bring him to trial for his recent offence, but to put him to death
under the sentence pronounced against him several years before, a
sentence so flagitiously unjust that the most servile and obdurate
lawyers of that bad age could not speak of it without shame.

But neither the ignominious procession up the High Street, nor the near
view of death, had power to disturb the gentle and majestic patience of
Argyle. His fortitude was tried by a still more severe test. A paper of
interrogatories was laid before him by order of the Privy Council. He
replied to those questions to which he could reply without danger to
any of his friends, and refused to say more. He was told that unless he
returned fuller answers he should be put to the torture. James, who was
doubtless sorry that he could not feast his own eyes with the sight of
Argyle in the boots, sent down to Edinburgh positive orders that nothing
should be omitted which could wring out of the traitor information
against all who had been concerned in the treason. But menaces were
vain. With torments and death in immediate prospect Mac Callum More
thought far less of himself than of his poor clansmen. "I was busy this
day," he wrote from his cell, "treating for them, and in some hopes. But
this evening orders came that I must die upon Monday or Tuesday; and I
am to be put to the torture if I answer not all questions upon oath. Yet
I hope God shall support me. "

The torture was not inflicted. Perhaps the magnanimity of the victim had
moved the conquerors to unwonted compassion. He himself remarked that at
first they had been very harsh to him, but that they soon began to treat
him with respect and kindness. God, he said, had melted their hearts. It
is certain that he did not, to save himself from the utmost cruelty of
his enemies, betray any of his friends. On the last morning of his life
he wrote these words: "I have named none to their disadvantage. I thank
God he hath supported me wonderfully! "

He composed his own epitaph, a short poem, full of meaning and spirit,
simple and forcible in style, and not contemptible in versification. In
this little piece he complained that, though his enemies had repeatedly
decreed his death, his friends had been still more cruel. A comment on
these expressions is to be found in a letter which he addressed to a
lady residing in Holland. She had furnished him with a large sum
of money for his expedition, and he thought her entitled to a full
explanation of the causes which had led to his failure. He acquitted his
coadjutors of treachery, but described their folly, their ignorance,
and their factious perverseness, in terms which their own testimony has
since proved to have been richly deserved. He afterwards doubted whether
he had not used language too severe to become a dying Christian, and,
in a separate paper, begged his friend to suppress what he had said of
these men "Only this I must acknowledge," he mildly added; "they were
not governable. "

Most of his few remaining hours were passed in devotion, and in
affectionate intercourse with some members of his family. He professed
no repentance on account of his last enterprise, but bewailed, with
great emotion, his former compliance in spiritual things with the
pleasure of the government He had, he said, been justly punished. One
who had so long been guilty of cowardice and dissimulation was not
worthy to be the instrument of salvation to the State and Church. Yet
the cause, he frequently repeated, was the cause of God, and would
assuredly triumph. "I do not," he said, "take on myself to be a prophet.
But I have a strong impression on my spirit, that deliverance will come
very suddenly. " It is not strange that some zealous Presbyterians should
have laid up his saying in their hearts, and should, at a later period,
have attributed it to divine inspiration.

So effectually had religious faith and hope, co-operating with natural
courage and equanimity, composed his spirits, that, on the very day on
which he was to die, he dined with appetite, conversed with gaiety at
table, and, after his last meal, lay down, as he was wont, to take a
short slumber, in order that his body and mind might be in full vigour
when he should mount the scaffold. At this time one of the Lords of the
Council, who had probably been bred a Presbyterian, and had been seduced
by interest to join in oppressing the Church of which he had once been
a member, came to the Castle with a message from his brethren, and
demanded admittance to the Earl. It was answered that the Earl was
asleep. The Privy Councillor thought that this was a subterfuge, and
insisted on entering. The door of the cell was softly opened; and there
lay Argyle, on the bed, sleeping, in his irons, the placid sleep of
infancy. The conscience of the renegade smote him. He turned away sick
at heart, ran out of the Castle, and took refuge in the dwelling of a
lady of his family who lived hard by. There he flung himself on a couch,
and gave himself up to an agony of remorse and shame. His kinswoman,
alarmed by his looks and groans, thought that he had been taken with
sudden illness, and begged him to drink a cup of sack. "No, no," he
said; "that will do me no good. " She prayed him to tell her what had
disturbed him. "I have been," he said, "in Argyle's prison. I have seen
him within an hour of eternity, sleeping as sweetly as ever man did. But
as for me -------"

And now the Earl had risen from his bed, and had prepared himself for
what was yet to be endured. He was first brought down the High Street
to the Council House, where he was to remain during the short interval
which was still to elapse before the execution. During that interval
he asked for pen and ink, and wrote to his wife: "Dear heart, God is
unchangeable: He hath always been good and gracious to me: and no place
alters it. Forgive me all my faults; and now comfort thyself in Him, in
whom only true comfort is to be found. The Lord be with thee, bless and
comfort thee, my dearest. Adieu. "

It was now time to leave the Council House. The divines who attended the
prisoner were not of his own persuasion; but he listened to them with
civility, and exhorted them to caution their flocks against those
doctrines which all Protestant churches unite in condemning. He mounted
the scaffold, where the rude old guillotine of Scotland, called the
Maiden, awaited him, and addressed the people in a speech, tinctured
with the peculiar phraseology of his sect, but breathing the spirit
of serene piety. His enemies, he said, he forgave, as he hoped to be
forgiven. Only a single acrimonious expression escaped him. One of the
episcopal clergymen who attended him went to the edge of the scaffold,
and called out in a loud voice, "My Lord dies a Protestant. " "Yes," said
the Earl, stepping forward, "and not only a Protestant, but with a heart
hatred of Popery, of Prelacy, and of all superstition. " He then embraced
his friends, put into their hands some tokens of remembrance for his
wife and children, kneeled down, laid his head on the block, prayed
during a few minutes, and gave the signal to the executioner. His head
was fixed on the top of the Tolbooth, where the head of Montrose had
formerly decayed. [350]

The head of the brave and sincere, though not blameless Rumbold, was
already on the West Port of Edinburgh. Surrounded by factious and
cowardly associates, he had, through the whole campaign, behaved himself
like a soldier trained in the school of the great Protector, had in
council strenuously supported the authority of Argyle, and had in the
field been distinguished by tranquil intrepidity. After the dispersion
of the army he was set upon by a party of militia. He defended himself
desperately, and would have cut his way through them, had they not
hamstringed his horse. He was brought to Edinburgh mortally wounded. The
wish of the government was that he should be executed in England. But he
was so near death, that, if he was not hanged in Scotland, he could
not be hanged at all; and the pleasure of hanging him was one which the
conquerors could not bear to forego. It was indeed not to be expected
that they would show much lenity to one who was regarded as the chief
of the Rye House plot, and who was the owner of the building from which
that plot took its name: but the insolence with which they treated the
dying man seems to our more humane age almost incredible. One of the
Scotch Privy Councillors told him that he was a confounded villain.
"I am at peace with God," answered Rumbold, calmly; "how then can I be
confounded? "

He was hastily tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged and
quartered within a few hours, near the City Cross in the High Street.
Though unable to stand without the support of two men, he maintained
his fortitude to the last, and under the gibbet raised his feeble voice
against Popery and tyranny with such vehemence that the officers ordered
the drums to strike up, lest the people should hear him. He was a
friend, he said, to limited monarchy. But he never would believe that
Providence had sent a few men into the world ready booted and spurred to
ride, and millions ready saddled and bridled to be ridden. "I desire,"
he cried, "to bless and magnify God's holy name for this, that I stand
here, not for any wrong that I have done, but for adhering to his cause
in an evil day. If every hair of my head were a man, in this quarrel I
would venture them all. "

Both at his trial and at his execution he spoke of assassination with
the abhorrence which became a good Christian and a brave soldier. He had
never, he protested, on the faith of a dying man, harboured the thought
of committing such villany. But he frankly owned that, in conversation
with his fellow conspirators, he had mentioned his own house as a place
where Charles and James might with advantage be attacked, and that much
had been said on the subject, though nothing had been determined. It may
at first sight seem that this acknowledgment is inconsistent with his
declaration that he had always regarded assassination with horror. But
the truth appears to be that he was imposed upon by a distinction which
deluded many of his contemporaries. Nothing would have induced him to
put poison into the food of the two princes, or to poinard them in their
sleep. But to make an unexpected onset on the troop of Life Guards which
surrounded the royal coach, to exchange sword cuts and pistol shots,
and to take the chance of slaying or of being slain, was, in his view,
a lawful military operation. Ambuscades and surprises were among the
ordinary incidents of war. Every old soldier, Cavalier or Roundhead,
had been engaged in such enterprises. If in the skirmish the King should
fall, he would fall by fair fighting and not by murder. Precisely the
same reasoning was employed, after the Revolution, by James himself and
by some of his most devoted followers, to justify a wicked attempt on
the life of William the Third. A band of Jacobites was commissioned to
attack the Prince of Orange in his winter quarters. The meaning latent
under this specious phrase was that the Prince's throat was to be cut
as he went in his coach from Richmond to Kensington. It may seem strange
that such fallacies, the dregs of the Jesuitical casuistry, should have
had power to seduce men of heroic spirit, both Whigs and Tories, into a
crime on which divine and human laws have justly set a peculiar note of
infamy. But no sophism is too gross to delude minds distempered by party
spirit. [351]

Argyle, who survived Rumbold a few hours, left a dying testimony to the
virtues of the gallant Englishman. "Poor Rumbold was a great support to
me, and a brave man, and died Christianly. " [352]

Ayloffe showed as much contempt of death as either Argyle or Rumbold:
but his end did not, like theirs, edify pious minds. Though political
sympathy had drawn him towards the Puritans, he had no religious
sympathy with them, and was indeed regarded by them as little better
than an atheist. He belonged to that section of the Whigs which sought
for models rather among the patriots of Greece and Rome than among the
prophets and judges of Israel. He was taken prisoner, and carried to
Glasgow. There he attempted to destroy himself with a small penknife:
but though he gave himself several wounds, none of them proved mortal,
and he had strength enough left to bear a journey to London. He was
brought before the Privy Council, and interrogated by the King, but had
too much elevation of mind to save himself by informing against others.
A story was current among the Whigs that the King said, "You had better
be frank with me, Mr. Ayloffe. You know that it is in my power to pardon
you. " Then, it was rumoured, the captive broke his sullen silence, and
answered, "It may be in your power; but it is not in your nature. " He
was executed under his old outlawry before the gate of the Temple, and
died with stoical composure. [353]

In the meantime the vengeance of the conquerors was mercilessly wreaked
on the people of Argyleshire. Many of the Campbells were hanged by Athol
without a trial; and he was with difficulty restrained by the Privy
Council from taking more lives. The country to the extent of thirty
miles round Inverary was wasted. Houses were burned: the stones of mills
were broken to pieces: fruit trees were cut down, and the very roots
seared with fire. The nets and fishing boats, the sole means by which
many inhabitants of the coast subsisted, were destroyed. More than three
hundred rebels and malecontents were transported to the colonies. Many
of them were also Sentenced to mutilation. On a single day the hangman
of Edinburgh cut off the ears of thirty-five prisoners. Several women
were sent across the Atlantic after being first branded in the cheek
with a hot iron. It was even in contemplation to obtain an act of
Parliament proscribing the name of Campbell, as the name of Macgregor
had been proscribed eighty years before. [354]

Argyle's expedition appears to have produced little sensation in the
south of the island. The tidings of his landing reached London just
before the English Parliament met. The King mentioned the news from the
throne; and the Houses assured him that they would stand by him against
every enemy. Nothing more was required of them. Over Scotland they had
no authority; and a war of which the theatre was so distant, and of
which the event might, almost from the first, be easily foreseen,
excited only a languid interest in London.

But, a week before the final dispersion of Argyle's army England was
agitated by the news that a more formidable invader had landed on her
own shores. It had been agreed among the refugees that Monmouth should
sail from Holland six days after the departure of the Scots. He had
deferred his expedition a short time, probably in the hope that most
of the troops in the south of the island would be moved to the north as
soon as war broke out in the Highlands, and that he should find no force
ready to oppose him. When at length he was desirous to proceed, the wind
had become adverse and violent.

While his small fleet lay tossing in the Texel, a contest was going on
among the Dutch authorities. The States General and the Prince of Orange
were on one side, the Town Council and Admiralty of Amsterdam on the
other.

Skelton had delivered to the States General a list of the refugees whose
residence in the United Provinces caused uneasiness to his master. The
States General, anxious to grant every reasonable request which James
could make, sent copies of the list to the provincial authorities. The
provincial authorities sent copies to the municipal authorities. The
magistrates of all the towns were directed to take such measures
as might prevent the proscribed Whigs from molesting the English
government. In general those directions were obeyed. At Rotterdam
in particular, where the influence of William was all powerful, such
activity was shown as called forth warm acknowledgments from James. But
Amsterdam was the chief seat of the emigrants; and the governing body
of Amsterdam would see nothing, hear nothing, know of nothing. The
High Bailiff of the city, who was himself in daily communication with
Ferguson, reported to the Hague that he did not know where to find a
single one of the refugees; and with this excuse the federal government
was forced to be content. The truth was that the English exiles were
as well known at Amsterdam, and as much stared at in the streets, as if
they had been Chinese. [355]

A few days later, Skelton received orders from his Court to request
that, in consequence of the dangers which threatened his master's
throne, the three Scotch regiments in the service of the United
Provinces might be sent to Great Britain without delay. He applied to
the Prince of Orange; and the prince undertook to manage the matter,
but predicted that Amsterdam would raise some difficulty. The prediction
proved correct. The deputies of Amsterdam refused to consent, and
succeeded in causing some delay. But the question was not one of those
on which, by the constitution of the republic, a single city could
prevent the wish of the majority from being carried into effect. The
influence of William prevailed; and the troops were embarked with great
expedition. [356]

Skelton was at the same time exerting himself, not indeed very
judiciously or temperately, to stop the ships which the English refugees
had fitted out. He expostulated in warm terms with the Admiralty of
Amsterdam. The negligence of that board, he said, had already enabled
one band of rebels to invade Britain. For a second error of the same
kind there could be no excuse. He peremptorily demanded that a large
vessel, named the Helderenbergh, might be detained. It was pretended
that this vessel was bound for the Canaries. But in truth, she had been
freighted by Monmouth, carried twenty-six guns, and was loaded with arms
and ammunition. The Admiralty of Amsterdam replied that the liberty of
trade and navigation was not to be restrained for light reasons, and
that the Helderenbergh could not be stopped without an order from the
States General. Skelton, whose uniform practice seems to have been to
begin at the wrong end, now had recourse to the States General.
The States General gave the necessary orders. Then the Admiralty of
Amsterdam pretended that there was not a sufficient naval force in
the Texel to seize so large a ship as the Helderenbergh, and suffered
Monmouth to sail unmolested. [357]

The weather was bad: the voyage was long; and several English men-of-war
were cruising in the channel. But Monmouth escaped both the sea and
the enemy. As he passed by the cliffs of Dorsetshire, it was thought
desirable to send a boat to the beach with one of the refugees named
Thomas Dare. This man, though of low mind and manners, had great
influence at Taunton. He was directed to hasten thither across the
country, and to apprise his friends that Monmouth would soon be on
English ground. [358]

On the morning of the eleventh of June the Helderenbergh, accompanied by
two smaller vessels, appeared off the port of Lyme. That town is a
small knot of steep and narrow alleys, lying on a coast wild, rocky, and
beaten by a stormy sea. The place was then chiefly remarkable for a pier
which, in the days of the Plantagenets, had been constructed of stones,
unhewn and uncemented. This ancient work, known by the name of the Cob,
enclosed the only haven where, in a space of many miles, the fishermen
could take refuge from the tempests of the Channel.

The appearance of the three ships, foreign built and without colours,
perplexed the inhabitants of Lyme; and the uneasiness increased when it
was found that the Customhouse officers, who had gone on board according
to usage, did not return. The town's people repaired to the cliffs, and
gazed long and anxiously, but could find no solution of the mystery. At
length seven boats put off from the largest of the strange vessels, and
rowed to the shore. From these boats landed about eighty men, well armed
and appointed. Among them were Monmouth, Grey, Fletcher, Ferguson, Wade,
and Anthony Buyse, an officer who had been in the service of the Elector
of Brandenburg. [359]

Monmouth commanded silence, kneeled down on the shore, thanked God
for having preserved the friends of liberty and pure religion from the
perils of the sea, and implored the divine blessing on what was yet to
be done by land. He then drew his sword, and led his men over the cliffs
into the town.

As soon as it was known under what leader and for what purpose the
expedition came, the enthusiasm of the populace burst through all
restraints. The little town was in an uproar with men running to and
fro, and shouting "A Monmouth! a Monmouth! the Protestant religion! "
Meanwhile the ensign of the adventurers, a blue flag, was set up in the
marketplace. The military stores were deposited in the town hall; and
a Declaration setting forth the objects of the expedition was read from
the Cross. [360]

This Declaration, the masterpiece of Ferguson's genius, was not a grave
manifesto such as ought to be put forth by a leader drawing the sword
for a great public cause, but a libel of the lowest class, both in
sentiment and language. [361] It contained undoubtedly many just charges
against the government. But these charges were set forth in the prolix
and inflated style of a bad pamphlet; and the paper contained other
charges of which the whole disgrace falls on those who made them. The
Duke of York, it was positively affirmed, had burned down London, had
strangled Godfrey, had cut the throat of Essex, and had poisoned the
late King. On account of those villanous and unnatural crimes, but
chiefly of that execrable fact, the late horrible and barbarous
parricide,--such was the copiousness and such the felicity of Ferguson's
diction,--James was declared a mortal and bloody enemy, a tyrant, a
murderer, and an usurper. No treaty should be made with him. The sword
should not be sheathed till he had been brought to condign punishment as
a traitor. The government should be settled on principles favourable
to liberty. All Protestant sects should be tolerated. The forfeited
charters should be restored. Parliament should be held annually, and
should no longer be prorogued or dissolved by royal caprice. The only
standing force should be the militia: the militia should be commanded
by the Sheriffs; and the Sheriffs should be chosen by the freeholders.
Finally Monmouth declared that he could prove himself to have been born
in lawful wedlock, and to be, by right of blood, King of England, but
that, for the present, he waived his claims, that he would leave them to
the judgment of a free Parliament, and that, in the meantime, he desired
to be considered only as the Captain General of the English Protestants,
who were in arms against tyranny and Popery.

Disgraceful as this manifesto was to those who put it forth, it was not
unskilfully framed for the purpose of stimulating the passions of the
vulgar. In the West the effect was great. The gentry and clergy of
that part of England were indeed, with few exceptions, Tories. But the
yeomen, the traders of the towns, the peasants, and the artisans were
generally animated by the old Roundhead spirit. Many of them were
Dissenters, and had been goaded by petty persecution into a temper fit
for desperate enterprise. The great mass of the population abhorred
Popery and adored Monmouth. He was no stranger to them. His progress
through Somersetshire and Devonshire in the summer of 1680 was still
fresh in the memory of all men.

He was on that occasion sumptuously entertained by Thomas Thynne at
Longleat Hall, then, and perhaps still, the most magnificent country
house in England. From Longleat to Exeter the hedges were lined with
shouting spectators. The roads were strewn with boughs and flowers. The
multitude, in their eagerness to see and touch their favourite, broke
down the palings of parks, and besieged the mansions where he was
feasted. When he reached Chard his escort consisted of five thousand
horsemen. At Exeter all Devonshire had been gathered together to welcome
him. One striking part of the show was a company of nine hundred young
men who, clad in a white uniform, marched before him into the city.