his familiar and illiberal mirth and raillery leaving him no dignity. He was not vindictive, but on the contrary, very placable to those who had injured him the most. His good-humor, goodnature, and beneficence, in the several relations of father, husband, master, and friend, gained him the warmest affections of all within that circle.

His name will not be recorded in history among the "best men," or the "best ministers;" but much less ought it to be ranked among the

worst.

CHAP. LXXXIII.

Of the Rebellion which broke out in Scotland, in the year 1745.

ON the fourteenth of July, 1745, the Pretender's eldest son sailed for Scotland in a small frigate, and landed there on the twenty-seventh of July. He soon obtained a considerable force, and proceeding through several parts of Scotland, had his father proclaimed king, while he himself assumed the title of Prince Regent. He took several places, and gained some advantages over the king's forces sent against him; but at length the duke of Cumberland, at that time the favorite of the English army, put himself at the head of the troops at Edinburgh, which consisted of about fourteen thousand men. He resolved therefore to come to a battle as soon as possible; and marched forward, while the young

U

adventurer retired at his approach. The duke advanced to Aberdeen, where he was joined by the duke of Gordon, and some other lords attached to his family and cause. After having refreshed his troops there for some time, he renewed his march; and in twelve days came upon the banks of the deep and rapid river Spey. This was a place, where the rebels might have disputed his passage; but they seemed now totally void of all counsel and subordination, without conduct, and without expectation. The duke still proceeded in his pursuit ; and, at length, had advice that the enemy had advanced from Inverness to the plain of Culloden, which was about nine miles distant, and there intended to give him battle..

On this plain the highlanders were drawn up in order of battle, to the number of eight thousand men, in thirteen divisions, supplied with some pieces of artillery. The battle began about one o'clock in the afternoon. The cannon of the king's army did dreadful execution among the enemy, while theirs, being but illserved, was ineffectual. One of the great errors in all the pretender's warlike measures, was his subjecting undisciplined troops to the forms of artful war, and thus repressing their native ferocity, from which alone he could hope for success. After they had stood the English fire for some time, they, at length, became impatient for closer engagement; and about five hundred of them attacked the English left wing, with their accustomed fierceness. The first line being disordered by this onset, two battalions advanced

to support it, and galled the enemy by a terrible and close discharge. At the same time the dragoons under Hawley, and the Argyleshire militia, pulling down a park wall that guarded the enemy's flank, and which the rebels had left but feebly defended, fell in among them, sword in hand, with great slaughter. In less than thirty minutes they were totally routed, and the field covered with their wounded and slain, to the number of above three thousand.

Civil war is in itself terrible, but still more so when heightened by cruelty. How guilty soever men may be, it is ever the business of a soldier to remember, that he is only to fight an enemy that opposes him, and to spare the supplicant. This victory was in every respect complete; and humanity to the conquered would even have made it glorious. The conquerors often refused mercy to wretches, who were defenceless and wounded; and soldiers were seen to anticipate the base employment of the executioner.

Thus sunk all the hopes and ambition of the young adventurer. One short hour deprived him of imaginary thrones and sceptres, and reduced him from a nominal king to a distressed forlorn outcast, shunned by all mankind, except such as sought to take his life. To the goodnatured, subsequent distress often atones for former guilt; and while reason would repress humanity, yet our hearts plead in favor of the wretched. The duke, immediately after the decisive action at Culloden, ordered six and thirty of the deserters to be executed. The conquerors spread terror wherever they came; and, after a

short time, the whole country round was one scene of slaughter, desolation, and plunder. Jus tice seemed forgotten, and vengeance assumed the name.

In the mean time, the unhappy fugitive adventurer, wandered from mountain to mountain, a wretched spectator of all these horrors, the result of his ill-guided ambition. He now underwent a similarity of adventures with Charles II. after the defeat of Worcester. He sometimes found refuge in caves and cottages without attendants, and exposed to the mercy of the peasants, who could pity, but not support him. Sometimes he lay in forests, with one or two companions of his distress, continually pursued by the troops of the conqueror, thirty thousand pounds being offered for his head. Sheridan, an Irish adventurer, was the person who kept most faithfully by him, and inspired him with courage to support such incredible hardships. He was obliged to trust his life to the fidelity of above fifty individuals. One day having walked from morning till night, pressed by hunger, and worn out with fatigue, he ventured to enter a house, the owner of which, he well knew, was attached to the opposite party. "The son of your king," said he, entering, "comes to beg a bit of bread, and clothes. I know your present attachment to my adversaries, but I believe you have sufficient honor not to abuse my confidence, or to take the advantage of my misfortunes. Take these rags, which have for some time been my only covering, and keep them. You may, probably, restore them to me, one

day, when seated on the throne of the kings of Great Britain." His host was touched with his distress, assisted him as far as he was able, and. never divulged his secret.

In this manner he wandered among the frightful wilds of Glengary, for near six months, often hemmed round by his pursuers, but still finding some expedient to save him from captivity and death. At length a privateer of St. Malo, hired by his adherents, arrived in Lochnanach, in which he embarked for France, and safely landed on the coast of Brittany.

While the prince thus led a wandering and solitary life, the scaffolds and the gibbets were bathed with the blood of his adherents. Seventeen officers of the rebel army were executed on Kennington Common, in the neighborhood of London, whose constancy in death, gained more proselytes to their cause, than perhaps their victories could have done. Nine were executed in the same manner at Carlisle; six at Brumpton; seven at Penrith; and eleven at York. A few obtained pardons; and a considerable number were transported to the plantations. The earls of Kilmarnock and Cromartie, with the lord Bal merino, were tried by their peers, and found guilty. Cromartie, was pardoned. The other. two were beheaded on Tower-hill. Kilmarnock, either from conviction, or from the hope of a pardon, owned his crime, and declared his repentance of it. On the other hand, Balmerino, who had from his youth been bred to arms, died in a more daring manner. When his fellow sufferer, as commanded, bid God bless king