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.

name.

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 All thought of prosecuting the war they were evidently touched, and though was at an end and it was plain that some of them even wept, they were not the chiefs of the expedition would have disposed to relinquish a large reward sufficient difficulty in escaping with and to incur the vengeance of an implatheir lives. They fled in different di- cable government. They therefore conrections. Hume reached the Continent veyed their prisoner to Renfrew. The in safety. Cochrane was taken, and man who bore the chief part in the Argyle a sent up to London. Argyle arrest was named Riddell. On this prisoner. hoped to find a secure asylum account the whole race of Riddells was, under the roof of one of his old servants during more than a century, held in who lived near Kilpatrick. But this abhorrence by the great tribe of Camphope was disappointed; and he was bell. Within living memory, when a forced to cross the Clyde. He assumed Riddell visited a fair in Argyleshire, he the dress of a peasant, and pretended found it necessary to assume a false to be the guide of Major Fullarton, whose courageous fidelity was proof And now commenced the brightest to all danger. The friends journeyed part of Argyle's career. His enterprise together through Renfrewshire as far had hitherto brought on him nothing as Inchinnan. At that place the Black but reproach and derision. His great Cart and the White Cart, two streams error was that he did not resolutely which now flow through prosperous refuse to accept the name without the towns, and turn the wheels of many power of a general. Had he remained factories, but which then held their quietly at his retreat in Friesland, he quiet course through moors and sheep- would in a few years have been recalled walks, mingle before they join the Clyde. with honour to his country, and would The only ford by which the travellers have been conspicuous among the ornacould cross was guarded by a party of ments and the props of constitutional militia. Some questions were asked. monarchy. Had he conducted his exFullarton tried to draw suspicion on pedition according to his own views, and himself, in order that his companion carried with him no followers but such might escape unnoticed. But the minds as were prepared implicitly to obey all of the questioners misgave them that his orders, he might possibly have efthe guide was not the rude clown that fected something great. For what he he seemed. They laid hands on him. I wanted as a captain seems to have been, He broke loose and sprang into the not courage, nor activity, nor skill, water, but was instantly chased. He but simply authority. He should have 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

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 view of death, had power to disturb responsibility of a long series of mea- the gentle and majestic patience of sures which his judgment disapproved. Argyle. His fortitude was tried by Now at length he stood alone. Cap- a still more severe test. A paper of tivity had restored to him the noblest interrogatories was laid before him kind of liberty, the liberty of governing by order of the Privy Council. He himself in all his words and actions replied to those questions to which he according to his own sense of the right could reply without danger to any of and of the becoming. From that mo- his friends, and refused to say more. ment he became as one inspired with He was told that unless he returned new wisdom and virtue. His intellect fuller answers he should be put to the seemed to be strengthened and concen- torture. James, who was doubtless trated, his moral character to be at sorry that he could not feast his own once elevated and softened. The in- eyes with the sight of Argyle in the solence of the conquerors spared nothing boots, sent down to Edinburgh positive that could try the temper of a man proud orders that nothing should be omitted of ancient nobility and of patriarchal which could wring out of the traitor dominion. The prisoner was dragged information against all who had been through Edinburgh in triumph. He concerned in the treason. But menaces walked on foot, bareheaded, up the were vain. With torments and death whole length of that stately street which, in immediate prospect, Mac Callum overshadowed by dark and gigantic piles More thought far less of himself than of stone, leads from Holyrood House to of his poor clansmen. "I was busy the Castle. Before him marched the this day," he wrote from his cell, hangman, bearing the ghastly instru- "treating for them, and in some hopes. ment which was to be used at the quar-But this evening orders came that I tering 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.* 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 * A few words which were in the first five editions have been omitted in this place. Here and in another passage I had, as Mr. Aytoun has observed, mistaken the City Guards which were commanded by an officer named Graham,

for the Dragoons of Graham of Claverhouse.

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."

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 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

Most of his few remaining hours were passed in devotion, and in affectionate intercourse with some members of his family. He professed no repent-" No, no," he said; "that will do me ance 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, cooperating 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

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 at- His execu tended the prisoner were not tion. 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

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?"

breathing the spirit of serene piety. | all; and the pleasure of hanging him His enemies, he said, he forgave, as he was one which the conquerors could not hoped to be forgiven. Only a single bear to forego. It was indeed not to 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.* The head of the brave and sincere, though not blameless Rumbold, of Rum- was already on the West Port bold. 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

Execution

* The authors from whom I have taken the history of Argyle's expedition are Sir Patrick Hume, who was an eyewitness of what he related, and Wodrow, who had access to materials of the greatest value, among which were the Earl's own papers. Wherever there is a question of veracity between Argyle and Hume, I have no doubt that Argyle's narra

tive ought to be followed.

See also Burnet, i. 631. and the life of Bresson, published by Dr. Mac Crie. The account of the Scotch rebellion in the Life of James

the Second, is a ridiculous romance, not written by the King himself, nor derived from his papers, but composed by a Jacobite who did

not even take the trouble to look at a map of

the seat of war.

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."

he

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, 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 de

that he was imposed upon by a distinc- | virtues of the gallant Englishman. tion which deluded many of his con- "Poor Rumbold was a great support temporaries. Nothing would have to me, and a brave man, and died induced him to put poison into the food Christianly.' of the two princes, or to poniard 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 18 too gross to delude minds distempered by party spirit.*

Argyle, who survived Rumbold a few hours, left a dying testimony to the

Ayloffe showed as much contempt of death as either Argyle or Rum- Death of bold: but his end did not, like Ayloffe. 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.†

Argyle

In the meantime the vengeance of the conquerors was mercilessly Devasta wreaked on the people of Ar- tion of *Wodrow, III. ix. 10.; Western Martyr-gyleshire. Many of the Camp- shire. ology; Burnet, i. 633.; Fox's History, Appendix iv. I can find 'no way, except that indicated in the text, of reconciling Rumbold's denial that he had ever admitted into his mind the thought of assassination with his confession that he had himself mentioned his own house as a convenient place for an attack on the royal brothers. The distinction which I Euppose him to have taken was certainly taken by another Rye House conspirator, who was, like him, an old soldier of the Commonwealth, Captain Walcot. On Walcot's trial, West, the witness for the crown, said, "Captain, you did agree to be one of those that were to fight the Guards." "What, then, was the reason," asked Chief Justice Pemberton, would not kill the King?" swered West," that it was a base thing to kill net, i. 634.; Van Citters's Despatch of Nov. 9

"that he "He said," an

a naked man, and he would not do it."

bells 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

* Wodrow, III. ix. 9.

† Wade's Narrative, Harl. MS. 6845.; BurOct. 30.

1685; Luttrell's Diary of the same date.