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C] 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CHEVALIER de JOHNSTONE. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCH 
 M.S. OF THE CHEVALIER. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHAELES WINCHESTEB, 
 
 ADVOCATE, ABERDEEN. 
 
 VOLUME SECOND. 
 
 ABERDEEN : D. AVYLLIE & SON, 
 
 AND I 1.17.H. THE PRINCE Or WALES. 
 
 1871. 
 
 '^9 
 

 i 
 
 I 
 
 G. COUNVVVLL AKD SOKS, TIUNTERS AND LITHOGRAPHERS, ABERDEEN. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 SECOND AND THIRD VOLUMES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Sl^iiob d i\t dCjjeklier k |oIjiidmie. 
 
 The favourable reception given by my friends and the public 
 to the translation of the First Volume of the Memoirs of the 
 Chevalier de Johnstone,— not less than the flattering notices in 
 Reviews of the work, and the generous and unsolicited pat- 
 ronage of my friend, Mr. Leslie of Powis, the great-grand 
 nephew of the Chevalier, and the honoured owner of the 
 original M.S., of which the Translator has had such abundant 
 use, — have combined to induce me to answer the calls from 
 many different quarters to give the remaining two volumes 
 to the public. I hope my doing so will not be thought imper- 
 tinent or presumptuous in taxing the liberality of my friends 
 and supporters, for whom I feel the highest regard, and for 
 whose kindness I am bound to offer my warmest thanks and 
 gratitude ; and in bidding them farewell, I hope they will be 
 as much pleased with these two remaining volumes as they 
 have been pleased to express themselves satisfied with the 
 first. 
 
As already stated, the Second Volume contains a narrative 
 of the adventures and hair-breadth escapes of the Chevalier 
 after the Battle of Culloden, till his final escape to Holland, 
 disguised as a domestic in the suite of Lady Jean Douglas ; 
 and subsequently of his entering the military service of 
 France, and proceeding to Canada, with the rank of Captain. 
 
 The Third Volume contains the History of the War in 
 Canada, in v\rliich the Chevalier could not take part against 
 his native country ; and having made known his peculiar situ- 
 ation to the French General Montcalm, His Excellency at 
 once absolved him from his engagement. In this way, 
 although a non-combatant, he had the best opportunities of 
 seeing and describing the operations in that celebrated cam- 
 paign, in which the immortal "Wolfe and General Montcalm 
 both fell on the Heights of Abraham, on the same day. 
 
 Abeudken, April, 1871. 
 
frative 
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 ^lland, 
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civil 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE CHEVALIER DE JOHNSTONE. 
 
 f oIuiM Bttmk 
 
 GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF HIS HAIRBREADTH ESCAPES AFTER 
 THE BATl'LE OF CULLODEN, TILL HIS FINAL ESCAPE TO 
 HOLLAND IN THE SUITE OF LADY JEAN DOUGLAS, 
 DISGUISED AS A SERVANT, AND ENTERING THE FRENCH 
 SERVICE, AND PROCEEDING TO CANADA. 
 
 '^r^ 
 
 I- ■^■%,-\,-^-%-'\. -.-^-^.-^.-^ 
 
 HE Battle of Culloden, which Avas lost the 16th of 
 April, more through a series of bad conduct oq 
 our part siru'e that of Falkirk, than by any able 
 management of the Duke of Cumberland, in 
 terminating the expedition of Prince Edward, 
 opened scenes of horror to his partisans. The 
 ruin of many of the most illustrious houses of Scotland fol- 
 lowed in a moment the loss of that battle. The scaffolds of 
 England were for a long time innundated every day with the 
 blood of a great number of the gentlemen and Peers of Scot- 
 land, the executions of whom furnished a spectacle to amuse 
 the English populace, naturally of a character cruel anrt bar- 
 barous ; and the confiscation of their fortunes immediately re- 
 duced their families to beggary. Those who had the good 
 fortune to save themselves in foreign countries were consoled 
 for all that they had lost by having escaped a tragical death by 
 the hand of the executioner, and looked upon themselves as once 
 
6 
 
 more highly fortunate ; above all, by the humanity and com- 
 passion of His Most Christian Majesty, who, in according to 
 them an asylum in France, provided, at the same time, for 
 their subsistence by a guaranteed fund of forty thousand 
 livres per annum, which was distributed in pensions to those 
 unfortunate Scotch victims of their fidelity to their legitimate 
 Prince. These pensions had always been paid regularly ; but 
 in the partition of this ^und they had not always followed the 
 intentions of His Majesty, who had destined it solely to the 
 Scots in the suite of Prince Edward. 
 
 As soon as the Duke of Cumberland was assured by the 
 total dispersion of the Highlanders at Ruthven that he 
 had nothing more to fear of seeing them re-appear with 
 arms in their hands, he divid^^d his army into diiferent de- 
 tachments, that he might send them to scour the country of 
 the Highlanders, with a view to sack their habitations and 
 make prisoners. These detachments, as the executioners of 
 the Duke of Cumberland, perpetrated the most horrible 
 cruelties, — burning the mansions of the Chiefs of clans, 
 violating their wives and daughters, making it an amusement 
 to themselves to catch the unfortunate Highlanders whenever 
 they fell into their hands, and in that surpassing in barbarity 
 the savages of America, the most ferocious.* In the mean- 
 time, the principal object that the Duke had in vicAV by these 
 detachments Avas to seize I^rince Edward, who escaped with 
 much difficulty from their vigilance, although pursued very 
 hotly ; and in his instructions to commandants of detach- 
 ments, he recommended them ahvays not to make prisoners, 
 
 
 "^Tlio Dulco of Cumberland is dead, nnivcrsallj- ilctcstcd among Christian 
 l)0\sorH for the unheard of cruelties which he had perpetrated in Scotland. 
 One may apply to him that which is said by Herodotus, — that the Deity 
 proportions punishments to crimes ; and that for great offences, punish- 
 ments .ire ahvays great, — for ho had his body consumed with corruption by 
 the violence of his disease during many j^ears before his entire dissolution — 
 leaving luito posterity but the remembrance that there could have existed, 
 under a human shape, a monster so ferocious and unnatural. 
 
and com- 
 ordiug to 
 
 time, for 
 
 thousand 
 s to those 
 legitimate 
 larly ; but 
 lowed th(! 
 ely to the 
 
 ed by the 
 
 1 that he 
 
 )ear with 
 
 ■ercnt de- 
 
 jountiy of 
 
 Ltions and 
 
 tioncrs of 
 horrible 
 
 of clans, 
 
 musemcnt 
 
 whenever 
 
 barbarity I 
 
 le mean- 
 by these 
 :)cd with 
 
 ued very 
 
 detach- 
 
 )risoners, 
 
 tr Christian 
 
 Scotland. 
 
 the Deity 
 Ds, punish- 
 ruption hy 
 5sohition — 
 
 c existed, 
 
 but to poinard them on the spot. In point of fact, the Court 
 of London had been greatly embarrassed as to having such a 
 prisoner — the Parliament of England not seeing their way 
 to bring him to trial as a subject of Great Britain by his in- 
 contestable right to the crown. They sent, at the sametime, 
 orders to all the towns and villages on the borders of the two 
 arms of the sea, between Inverness and Edinburgh, not to 
 allow any person to pass without a passport from the Duke of 
 Cumberland or the Magistrates of Edinburgh ; and the same 
 in all the seaports of Great Britain, prohibiting all captains 
 of merchant vessels to receive any one on board without a 
 passport, or to contribute in any manner to the help of a 
 rebel, — a name which they then gave to us as vanquished, in 
 place of heroes, if wc were taken, under the pain of high 
 treason, to be prosecuted criminally, and subjeciod to the 
 same punishment as those who had taken up arms. The 
 Duke of Cumberland detached at the same time his cavalry 
 in the low country, at the entrance of the hills, to arrest all 
 those who should present themselves without passports to 
 cross the first arm of the sea, with orders to keep up con- 
 tinual patrols the whole length of the coast, and to keep a 
 look out through all the cities and villages in the vicinity of 
 the sea. Thus, by all these arrangements, it had become diffi- 
 cult, almost impossible, to save themselves from the f my of 
 this sanguinary Duke, who, by the excess of his unheard of 
 cruelties among civilized nations, fell at last into discredit 
 and into contempt of all honest men of the English nation, — 
 of those even who never were partisans of the House of 
 Stuart, and he procured for himself at Londoji the sou- 
 briquet of " The Butcher."* 
 
 lu all the troublesome positions in which I have found 
 myself invob.ed, having been preserved in foreign lauds, l*ro- 
 
 * The Duke of Cumberland was obliged to have an Act of Parliament to 
 indemnify him for the cruelties he had committed in Scotland, contrary to 
 the laws of the Realm, and to shelter him from prosecutions. 
 
8 
 
 videuce seemed always there to plunge me into unfortunate 
 encounters impossible to be foreseen, and to cause me to 
 touch often very closely to the scaffold, holding me in the 
 end by the hand to draw me from the precipice, as if the 
 Supreme Being wished to manifest to me all his power and 
 his infinite goodness. All the course of my life has been the 
 same — having often found myself ready to perish without the 
 least appearance or probability of escaping death, but saved 
 as by a miracle when I was resigned to die. The long train 
 of pains and excessive miseries which I had experienced 
 almost without interruption were not without their uses to 
 me, since they made me approbate tranquillity of spirit 
 and health as re.,1 inestimable riches, and rendered me con- 
 tent with simple necessaries of life, without ambition, without 
 desire of abundance of fortune, nor forgetful of their magnifi- 
 cence, I desired only always to have serenity of soul, and to 
 pass the rest of my days without chagrin and without 
 inquietude.* It is certain that the cessation of pains and 
 persecutions produces pleasure and a happy state. 
 
 My friendship for the unfortunate Macdonald of Scot- 
 house, who was killed at my side at the Battle of Culloden, 
 had engaged me to accompany him to the charge with his 
 regiment. We were on the left of our army, and at the 
 distance of about twenty paces from the enemy, when the 
 rout commenced to become general, before even we had made 
 our charge on the left. Almost at the same instant that I 
 
 * "It is coi-tain, says Lady Wortloy Montague, "that there are no real 
 pleasures but of the senses ; and the life of man is so short that he ought 
 not to dream but to make the present agreeal)lo." " Moderation of con- 
 duct," says a Chinese author, " is a virtue which takes its source in tran- 
 quility of soul. When we repress the violence of the passions, when we 
 accustom oui-selves to face with cool deliberation the accidents of life — when 
 wo always put a guard against eveiy troublesome impression — when wo 
 combat without ceasing the first impulses of a blind choler — when we give 
 ourselves time to weigh all — we shall enjoy therefrom that tranquility of 
 soul of which moderation in all things will be the fruit." — Military Art of the- 
 Chinese. 
 
 M 
 
saw poor Scot fall, (the most Avortliy man that I had ever 
 known, and with whom I had been allied in friendship the 
 most pure from the commencement of the expedition,) to the 
 increase of my horror, I beheld the Highlanders around me 
 turning their backs to fly. I remained at first immoveable 
 and stupefied. I fired with fury my blunderbuss and pistols 
 upon the enemy, and I endeavoured immediately to save 
 myself like the others; but having charged on foot and in 
 boots, I felt myself so fatigued oy the marshy ground, in 
 which there was water up to my ankle, that in place of 
 running, with pain could I march. I had left my servant, 
 Robertson, upon the eminence Avith my horses, where 
 the Prince was during the battle, about three hundred toises 
 behind us, ordering him always to hold by the servants of the 
 Prince, in order that I might be able more easily to find my 
 horses in case I should have need of them. My first atten- 
 tion on returning was to fix my eyes upon that eminence, to 
 discover Robertson. It was in vain. I neither saw the 
 Prince, nor his servants, nor anybody on horseback — all being 
 already gone and out of sight. I only saw a terrible plat- 
 form — the field of battle, from the right to the left of our 
 army, all covered with Highlanders dispersed and running all 
 that their legs could carry them, to save themselves. Not 
 being able longer to sustain myself upon my legs, and the 
 enemy always advancing very slowly, but redoubling their 
 fire — my mind agitated and fluctuating with indecision, in 
 doubt whether I should be killed or whether I should sur- 
 render myself a prisoner, wnich was a thousand times worse 
 than death upon the field of battle — all on a sudden I per- 
 ceived a horse about thirty paces before me, which had not a 
 horseman upon it. The idea of still having it in my power 
 to save myself, gave me new strength, and inspired me with 
 agility. I ran and seized the bridle, which was entangled 
 about the arms of a man extended upon the ground, whom I 
 believed to be dead ; but I was confounded when the cowardly 
 
10 
 
 poltroon, who had no other hurt than fright, dared to remain 
 in the most horrible fire to dispute with me the horse, at 
 about tAventy paces from the enemy, all my menaces not 
 being able to make him quit the bridle. "While we were 
 disputing together, there came a burst of a cannon charge 
 with grape shot, which fell at my feet, and which covered us 
 with mud, but without making any impression upon this 
 original, who remained constantly determined to retain the 
 horse. Fortunately for me there passed close to us, Finlay 
 Cameron, an officer of the regiment of Lochiel, a big, young 
 man, of about twenty years of age, six feet high, brave, and 
 heroic. I called him to mine aid — " Oh, Finlay," said I to 
 him, "this man will not give me up this horse." Poor 
 Finlay joined me at the instant as a shock of lightning, 
 presented a pistol immediately at the head of this man, and 
 threatened to blow out his brains if he hesitated a moment to 
 quit the bridle. This man, who had the appearance of a 
 servant, then took his resolution to take himself off with a 
 good grace. In possession of the horse, I attempted, with 
 many ineffectual strides, to mount on horseback, but I made 
 these ineffectual attempts in vain. Finding myself without 
 strength, and totally done up, I recalled again poor Finlay, 
 who was already some paces distant from me, to assist me to 
 mount. He returned, lifted me up easily in his arms like an 
 infant, and placed me on the horse, across as a sack full, 
 giving, at the same time, a stroke to the horse to make him 
 go off, then offering me his wishes that I might have the good 
 fortune to escape, he flew off like a hart, and was instantly 
 out of sight. We were not at the time more distant from the 
 enemy than about twenty-five paces when he left me. When 
 I found myself about tliirty or forty paces off, I then adjusted 
 myself upon the horse, placed my feet in the stirrup, running 
 as fast as the bad jade was capable of. I was under too 
 much obligation to Finlay Cameron not to have searched 
 continually to inform myself of his fate, but without ever 
 
11 
 
 liaving had tlic least light thrown upon it. This trait was 
 far more noble and generous on his part, as I had never 
 any particular connection with him. How dilhcult it is 
 to know men ! I had always known from the commence- 
 ment of our expedition that I was aide-de-camp to Lord 
 George Murray, a character pleasant, honest, and brave ; 
 but he never made me the smallest demonstration of friend- 
 ship, notwithstanding I was indebted to him for my life 
 in exposing generously his own to save me ! There was 
 every appearance that I saved also the life of this pol- 
 troon by awaking him from his terrific panic, for in less 
 than two minutes the English array would have passed over 
 liis body. Tiie cowardice of this man has furnished me since 
 with materials for reflection, and I was very much convinced 
 that for one brave man who perished in the routs, there were 
 ten cowards. The greater the danger that flashes upon the 
 eye of a coward blinds him, and deprives him of reflection, 
 renders him incapable of reasoning with himself upon 
 his position. He loses the power of thinking, with the pre- 
 sence of mind so necessary in great dangers, and seeing 
 cverythinf;i; troubles, his stupefaction costing him his life as 
 Avell as his honour ; in place of which a brave man firmly and 
 determinedly sees all the peril in which he finds himself 
 involved, but his coolness makes him remember at the same 
 time the means of extricating himself out of a bad case, if he 
 has any resource, and he profits by it. 
 
 When I was beyond the reach of this horrible fire of mus- 
 ketry, I made a stop to breathe and deliberate upon the 
 course I should take, and the route I should follow. During 
 the stay that our army made at Inverness, I have been 
 often in a pleasure party at the mansion of Mr. Grant of 
 Rotliiemurchus, which is in the middle of the mountains, 
 about six leagues from that city. This worthy man, then 
 aged about sixty years, of pleasing manners, formed an 
 affection for me, and often repeated to me assurances of his 
 
12 
 
 frieiulship ; also his eldest son, with whom I had heen a com- 
 rade at school, hut who was in the service of King George, 
 llothiemnrchus, the father, was a partisan of the house of 
 Stuart ; hut from prudence did not declare himself openly ; 
 neither did his vassals, Avho remained neuters with their chief 
 during the whole expedition. His castle is in the most beau- 
 tiful situation, surpassing imagination, and which answers 
 poetic descriptions the most romantic ; situated upon the 
 banks of a most beautiful river, the Spey, Avhich winds in 
 serpentine curls in the midst of a verdant plain, extend- 
 ing to about a (juarter of a league in breadth to about two 
 leagues in length. All around this plain one beholds the 
 mountains, which rise in an amphitheatre, the one above the 
 other, the summits of some of which are covered with wood, 
 and others present the most beautiful verdure. It seems as if 
 nature had wearied itself in forming so beautiful a retreat, in 
 lavishing with profusion all that one could imagine of the 
 beauties of the country, which enchanted me above all that I 
 had ever seen. During two months that our army reposed 
 at Inverness, on its return from England, I passed as 
 much as possible of my time in these delicious scenes, which 
 I quitted always with regret; and I found myself at the 
 Castle of Rothiemurchus when they came to announce to us 
 that the Duke of Cumberland had passed the Spey with his 
 army on the side of Elgin, and that he approached towards 
 Inverness. I departed at once to rejoin our army, but with 
 a sensible regret at quitting these beautiful scenes, and the 
 society of Rothiemurchus, the most amiable man in the 
 world — mild, polite, upright, of an equable character, natur- 
 ally jovial, of much spirit, with a great fund of good sense 
 and judgment. On bidding him adieu, he clasped me in his 
 arms, embraced me tenderly with tears in his eyes, saying to 
 me, " My dear boy, if your affairs should take a bad turn, 
 opposed to the English army, as thr.t ma;y possibly happen, 
 come my way to conceal yourself at my dwelling, and I will 
 
 i 
 
 4 
 
 V 
 
 I 
 
 but _ 
 
13 
 
 I 
 
 be answerable for your safety, life for life." The Highland 
 hills being in effect a sure asylum against all the searches 
 which the English troops could make, I decided without hesi- 
 tation to t.ake the road to Rothiemurchus, which was on our 
 right from the field o£ battle ; but I had not made a hundred 
 paces when I perceived a corps of the enemy's cavalry before 
 nic, which blocked up the road. I then retraced my way, 
 taking that which led to Inverness, which 1 followed just 
 until I saw an eminence on which the bulk of our army had 
 thrown itself on that side, and I judged consecpiently that 
 the principal pursuit of the enemy would be on the road to 
 Inverness. I quitted likewise the road, and crossed straight 
 through the fields without any other design than that of dis- 
 tancing myself from the enemy as much as I possibly could. 
 
 Having arrived on the border of the river Ness, a 
 quarter of a league higher than the town of Inverness, and 
 about as far from the field of battle, I stopped to deliberate 
 upon the route which I ought to take, the cavalry of the 
 enemy upon the road to Rothiemurchus having totally dis- 
 concerted me, — my mind agitated and tormented to know 
 where to go in an unknoAvn place, having never been in that 
 part of the mountains, or west of Inverness. I heard all at 
 once a very brisk firing at the town, which lasted for some 
 minutes. As one is inclined in misfortunes to fill the imagin- 
 ation with vain hopes, I thought at first that it was tlie 
 Highlanders that were defending the city against the English, 
 and I regretted exceedingly having quitted the road to Inver- 
 ness. I was descending a footpath which led to the town by 
 the side of the river, where I had passed many times in going 
 to fish ; having found it, I plunged into it, without giving 
 myself time for reflection that it was by no means susceptible 
 of defence, not being surrounded but by a wall, proper only 
 for any enclosure, and I proceeded forward along this foot- 
 path in order to bring myself with despatch to Inverness ; 
 but I had not gone a hundred paces down when I en- 
 
14 
 
 countered si Highlander coining from the toAvn, who assured 
 me that the English had entered it without any resistance. 
 He told me, at the same time, that all the road from the field 
 of battle to Inverness was strewed with the dead, the Englii?ih 
 cavalry having made the principal pursuit from that quarter, 
 and the streets of the town were equally covered with dead 
 bodies — the bridge at the end of the chief street having been 
 all at once blocked up by the precipitation of the fugitives. 
 I was not displeased to find that my first conjectures were 
 not imfortunately too just, since following the road from the 
 town I should have made myself among the number of the 
 carcases. I then retraced my steps with a heart more poig- 
 nant than ever, and plunged in the deepest sorrow. All my 
 hopes vanished. I did not dream further than to be at a dis- 
 tance from these dismal scenes. The Highlander having told 
 me that he was going to Fort-Augustus, a fortress about 
 eight leagues from Inverness, which our army had de- 
 molished some time before, I took again the great road under 
 his conduct, proposing that we should go together. We 
 arrived at midnight at Fort-Augustus, without having seen a 
 •single cottage on our way ; and I set my food on the ground 
 in a small hut which had the name of a public-house, the 
 hostess of which had no other thing to give me but a morsel 
 of bread, a cup of elixir vitiP, from grain, and a little hay 
 for my horse, which gave me the most pleasure ; for althougli 
 I had taken noihing for twenty-four hours, the terrible 
 vicissitudes throughout a journey the most cruel and dismal i 
 had ever experienced, sufliced completely to deprive me of 
 appetite and all inclination to eat. Being too much overcome, 
 and equally fatigued in body and mind, I reposed during two 
 or three hours upon a bench before the fire, for as to beds, 
 there were none there. 
 
 I did not cease in the meantime to look upon Rothiemur- 
 chus as my only resource for saving me ; but his castle being 
 situated to the south of Inverness, by the road which I had 
 
15 
 
 taken to the west, I found myself much more distant from liis 
 castle at Fort Augustus than from the field of battle. I left 
 the public-house before it was day, having found another High- 
 lander, who conducted me to Garviemore, twelve miles south 
 of Fort Augustus. Next day I found myself at Iluthvcn, in 
 IJadenoch, which is about two leagues from Rothiemurchus. 
 Till then, I had not again met with anybody who could give 
 me any news ; but I was agreeably surprised at finding that 
 this little market town was in fact, by mere haphazard, the 
 phure of rendezvous, where a great party of our army was 
 rallied ; for they had not pointed out any place for our rally- 
 ing in case of defeat. In an instant I saw myself surrounded 
 by a great many of my comrades, who pressed forward to 
 announce to me that at Ruthven and its neighbourhood there 
 was a great part of our army, that the Highlanders were in 
 the best of dispositions for taking their revenge, and that they 
 were waiting with impatience the return of an aide-de-camp 
 which my Lord George had sent to the Prince to receive his 
 orders, and to be led again to battle. I had never known joy 
 so vivid as that which I then felt — the tears came to my eyes. 
 I could not better compare my state than to that of an invalid, 
 who, after having languished a long time, finds liimself all at 
 once in perfect health by a sudden revolution. Having ob- 
 served that there was not accommodation at Ruthven — the 
 greater part of our army having been obliged to lie on the 
 field — I did not dismount from horseback ; and after having 
 made enquiries after Finlay Cameron to offer him the assur- 
 ances of my gratitude, without being able to learn anything 
 of his fate, I continued my route to go to Killihuntly, which 
 is about a quarter of a league from Ruthven. 
 
 When our army went to the north of Scotland, I stopped 
 at the house of Mr. Gordon of Killihuntly, where I passed 
 several days very agreeably. It was full of genteel people. 
 These amiable persons welcomed my return with all the 
 friendship possible, and I found my Lord and my Lady Ogil- 
 
16 
 
 vie at their house, with many other friends. Not having 
 partaken of anything for forty hours, save a morsel of old 
 hread and a cup of usqucbagh (water distilled from barley), I 
 did great honour to the good cheer which my Lady Killi- 
 huntly set before us ; and as I had not enjoyed a bed since 
 our departure from Inverness to go to face the enemy, as soon 
 as the supper was finished T ♦v^ent to bed, with my mind much 
 refreshed and tranquil, and slept eighteen hours in one slum- 
 ber. The next day after dinner I went to Ruthvcn ; but 
 the aide-de-camp not having again returned, there was no 
 news whatever; and I returned to sleep at Killihuntly. I 
 was charmed to see there the gaiety of the Highlanders, who 
 appeared to be returned more from a ball than from a defeat. 
 
 Having passed the night with impatience and restlessness, 
 I got up betimes, and proceeded with despatch to Ruthven, to 
 learn if the aide-de-camp had returned. I was astonished to 
 fmd misery and melancholy painted on the countenances of 
 all those whom I met, and I soon learned that the cause of 
 this was but too well accounted for. The first officer whom 
 T met told me that the aide-de-camp had returned, and that he 
 had reported for all the answer on the part of Prince Edward 
 that every one could adopt the means of saving himself as he 
 best could — a reply melancholy and disheartening for the 
 brave people who had sacrificed themselves for him. 
 
 I returned at once to Killihuntly with a lieju't rent and 
 overwhelmed with misery, in order to take leave, and render 
 thanks to my Lord and my Lady Killihuntly for their civili- 
 ties. My Lady offered me an asylum in their mountains, 
 which are very isolated and difficult of access, telling me that 
 she would construct a cabin in ihe interior the most concealed, 
 where she would lay in for me a magazine of provisions of 
 every kind ; that she would not leave me without money ; and 
 that she would give me a flock to keep of six or eight slieej). 
 She added that the fastness Avhich she proposed for me being 
 on the border of a lake about a quarter of a league from the 
 
17 
 
 having 
 [ of old 
 irley), I 
 y Killi- 
 ed since 
 
 as soon 
 id much 
 le shim- 
 en ; but 
 
 was no 
 [ntly. I 
 ers, who 
 a defeat. 
 :lessness, 
 thven, to 
 lished to 
 ances of 
 
 cause of 
 er whom 
 d that he 
 
 Edward 
 elf as he 
 for the 
 
 rent and 
 d render 
 ir civili- 
 
 ouutains, 
 me that 
 
 rncealed, 
 i^iions of 
 oy ; and 
 it slice]). 
 
 me beinj^ 
 from the 
 
 Castle, where a stream entered it ahonnding with trout, I 
 could amuse myself in fishing, and that she would often walk 
 towards that quarter to see her shepherd. The project at first 
 pleased me greatly, my misfortunes having metamorphosed 
 me suddenly into a philosopher, and I would have consented 
 to pass all my life in this solitude, provided I could have 
 regained my mind into its natural and tranquil state, and 
 devoid of agitation. Besides, we were at the approach of 
 summer, and the natural beauties of the place, the cascades, 
 the sheets of water, the valleys between the mountains, the 
 rivers, the lakes, and the woods ; nature there displayed a 
 magnificence, a majesty that commanded veneration, a thou- 
 sand savage charms that surpassed infinitely artificial beauties ; 
 it is there that a painter, a poet would feel their imagination 
 lifting them up, warming them, and filling them with ideas 
 which become ineffaceable in the memory of men ; above 
 all, the amiable society of M. and Madllc. Killihuntly, Avho had 
 testified to me so much friendship, in this moment I did not 
 see any better to do ; but before my deciding on it I wished 
 to revisit my good friend, Rothiemurchus, to consult with 
 him if there was no means of finding an opportunity of em- 
 barking me for foreign parts, in order that I might not be 
 continually between life and death. T Avent, after mid-day, 
 to Rothiemurchus, which is at the other extremity of this 
 beinitiful valley, about two leagues from Killihuntly ; l)iit 
 Ilothieraurchus, the father, was not at home, having gone to 
 Inverness immediately on receiving the news of our defeat, 
 to make his court to the Duke of Cumberland, more for fear 
 of the evil tliat this barbarous Duke could do him, than for 
 any attachment to the House of Hanover. I found his son, 
 also the Chevalier Gordon of Park, Lieutenant-Colonel J^ord 
 Lewis Gordon, Gordon of Cobairdie, his brother, and Gordon 
 of Abachie. 
 
 Rotliiemurchus's son advised me to deliver myself up a 
 prisoner to the Duke of Cumberland, in the view of the dilli- 
 
 B 
 
18 
 
 culty, almost impossibility of my being able to escape, alleo-. 
 ing, at the same time, that the first who surrendered them- 
 selves prisoners would not fail to obtain their pardon ; and 
 he added that he would return immediately to Inverness, 
 where he had escorted my Lord Balmerino, who had followed 
 his advice in delivering himself u]) a jirisoner. I did not 
 relish at all the jjcrfidious ( ounsels of my old comrade, wlio 
 Avas of a character quite different from that of his fatlici-. I 
 replied to him that the very thought of seeing myself in a 
 dungeon in irons made me tremble. As long as I could J 
 woidd preserve my liberty, and when I Avas no longer al)Ie to 
 avoid falling into the hands of the Duke of Cumberland, he 
 could then make of me all that he could wish. I would then 
 be resigned to all. The unfortiniato Lord Balmerino had his 
 head cut oif at London during the time that I was concealed 
 there, and he died Avith an astonishing constancy and bi-avery, 
 Avorthy of the ancient Romans. The servant of Rothiemurchus 
 told us that having gone through tlie field of battle, there 
 Avould appear to have been more killed of the English than 
 the Highlanders, Avhich gave us some consolation in learning- 
 that they had not gained the victory at small cost. He added 
 that the Duke of Cumberland after having left our Avounded 
 on the field of battle for forty hours quite naked, had sent 
 detachments to kill all those Avhose robust constitutions had 
 been able to stand against a continual outi)oui'of ])elting rain, 
 and that those orders had been executed Avith tlie utmost 
 rigour, Avithout sparing any one.'* 
 
 M. Chevalier Gordon, his brother, and Abachie haviu"- 
 made up their minds to go to their oavu estates, in the county 
 of Banff, about ten or tAveh'c leagues to the south of Rotliie- 
 murchus, they proposed to me to go Avitli them. I consented 
 at the instant, the more Avillingly that my brother-in-laAV, 
 
 * The Duke of Cumberland was obliged to have an Act of Parliament to 
 indemnify him for the cruelties which he had comniiitod in Scotland, con- 
 traiy to the huvs of the realm, and to shelter him from prosecutions. 
 
19 
 
 them- 
 ; and 
 
 having 
 
 county 
 
 \othio- 
 
 nsonted 
 
 ■in-law, 
 
 Hollo, noAv Lord Eollo, Peer of Scotland, was established in 
 tiu! tOAvn of Banff, capital of that province, and being a sea- 
 port, wliei-c he had +he inspection of merchant vessels, by an 
 np])ointment which lie had obtained lately from Govermnent, 
 I hoped, by his means, to find an oj)portunity to pass beyond 
 sea. So I abandoned Avithout difficulty the project of shep- 
 lierd of my Lady Killihuntly, which had held me too long 
 time in a state of uncertainty of my fate ; besides, being a 
 stranger in tlie moinitainous districts, without knowing a 
 single word of their language, determined mo entirely to pnt 
 myself under the auspices of M. Chevalier Gordon. 
 
 After a stay of tAvo or three days at Rothiemurchus, I 
 <lc])artcd with the Chevalier Gordon, his brother, Gordon of 
 Cobairdie, and Gordon of Abachie, and we slept at some 
 miles from the house of one of their friends, near a mountain 
 called Cairngorm, where the shepherds often find precious 
 stones of different kinds Avithout knowing their value. I 
 made, during some years, a collection of these stones, before 
 being at the place which ])roduces them, and I have found 
 them very beautiful ; above all a ruby, of great beauty, 
 which piece did not cost me more than a crown, and Avheu it 
 was polished, I i-efused to give it to the Duke c^' Hamilton 
 foi- fifty guineas. This stone had the thickness of a bean or 
 berry; the colour somewhat dark; brilliancy like the most 
 i)eautiful diamond ; and all the jewellers of Edinburgh had 
 taken it for an oriental ruby. I made a present of it to my 
 Lady Jean Douglas, who repaid me amply, some time after, 
 by saving my life. I had also found a hyacinth of a very 
 beautiful brilliancy, and a topaz as thick as a pigeon's Qg(r^ 
 and of a fine colour, upon which I engraved the arms of 
 (ireat Britain ; and I made a present of them both to Prince 
 I'^dward ; the hyacinth at Perth, on attachhig my fortune to 
 his ; and the topaz, Avith ids arms, on our arrival at Edin- 
 l)urgli. These gtmtlemen having agreed, at the entreaties of 
 their friend, to adjourn the next day to his house, I accom- 
 
 i 
 
20 
 
 pahiecl him Avith great good Avill, and forgetting for the 
 moment my disasters. I rose tlie next day, in the morning, 
 at an e.arly hour, running immediately to tliose hills among 
 the she])herds, where I found some beautiful tojiazcs, two of 
 which I made a present of to the Duke of York, at Paris, 
 sufficiently grand to serve his seal. On my return to diuner, 
 seeing me enter the Lodge with a great sack of pebbles, tliey 
 all burst out in a great roar of laughter; and the Chevalier 
 Gordon exhorted me very severely to think rather of saving 
 myself fi'om tiie power of the police, than to collect pebbles. 
 I had my mind occupied as much as they with our un- 
 fortunate lot, and the scaifold sufficiently vividly impressed 
 upon my imagination, but I was satisfied at the same time, 
 that the possession of a few pebbles would not accelerate my 
 fate if it was my destiny to be hanged ; and the search of 
 these stf»nes dissipated for a moment the idojis which absorbed 
 my companions in misfortune. 
 
 We arrived in the county of Banff the foui"th day of our 
 dej)arture from Rothlemurchus, where it became necessary 
 for us to separate — the populace being all Calvinists, and 
 violent against the House of Stuart. Having lodged the next 
 night at the house of Mr. Stuart, the Presl)} terian ministei", 
 but a very good man, and secretly in the interest of Prince 
 Edwai'd, on rising in the morning I exchanged my clothes 
 of the Highland garb with his servant for an old peasant 
 dress, all in rags, offensive to the smell, and in appearance as 
 if it had not been in use for many years, nor since it had 
 cleaned his master's stables ; for it liad the smell of dung 
 to be felt at a distance. I made a comi)lcte exchange 
 with him even to stockings and shoes, in every one of which, 
 however, he found his account, and I much more than ho 
 with these tatters, which wore calculated to assist in saving 
 my life. Thus metamoi'phosed we took leave of one another, 
 every one separating and taking a different I'oute. j\I. the 
 Chevalier Gordon advised me to go and sleep in his house at 
 
21 
 
 the 
 
 of 
 
 Park. I followed his advice the more willinfrly that his 
 house, not being but a league and a half from Banff, I Avas 
 approaching towards having an interview with my brother-in- 
 law Rollo, but not without dread that some of the detachments 
 they had in that quarter might be sent to search for and ap- 
 prehend the Chevalier Gordon, who was a near relative of the 
 Duke of Gordon, and might be able to make me prisoner at 
 his place. I found Mrs. Menzies, his cousin-german, in his 
 house. — "„ most amiable lady, full of spirit and good sense ; 
 and I had passed some time very agreeably in her company 
 in the house of Mr. Duif, Provost of Banff, a house the most 
 I'ospectable and the most amiable that 1 have ever known in 
 my life ; and quitted their charming society with the greatest 
 regret possible to rejoin our army at Inverness. Madame 
 told me that there were in the town of Banff four hundred 
 men of the English troops ; and she exhorted me strongly not 
 to expose myself by going there. But as an interview with 
 my brother-in-hiAV was my only hope of being altle to save 
 myself in a distant land, I determined to go contrary to 
 her advice, and I departed the next day on foot from the 
 house of the Chevalier Gordon, towards nine o'clock at night, 
 leaving my horse there till my return. I met, on entering 
 the town, many English soldiers, who took not tlie least 
 notice of me, which gave me the most favourable augury of 
 iny peasant's disguise, for ray clothes were so bad the j)()orest 
 l)eggar Avould have blushed to have carried them on his back. 
 Then my blood boiled in my veins at the sight of these sol- 
 diers, whom I regarded as the authors of the pains and 
 misery, which I began to feel ; and I was not able to allow 
 myself to fix my eyes upon them but with rage and my soul 
 full of fury. I continued my way, praying fervently to the 
 Supreme Being to grant us once more only one single oppor- 
 timity of avenging ourselves of their cruelties at Culloden, and 
 that I would thus die tranquil and satisfied, — ^prayers which 
 in appearance Ayere never granted. 
 
22 
 
 I went straight to the liouse of Mr. Duff, wliere I had 
 been so agreeable so littki time, before. IIo was secretly a. 
 partisan of the Prince, but j)rudent and discreet, he did not 
 declare his AV^ay of thinking but to his friends. He was the 
 most amiable man in the world, endoAved witli all the good 
 qualities possible, and of real merit. He lias the most equable 
 character, jileasant, gay, enjoying great good sense, judgment, 
 spirit, and discernment. Mrs. Duff, his spouse, I'escmbled in 
 every respect the character of her husband ; and their two 
 daughters, of whom the youngest sister was a dazzling beauty, 
 were exact copies of their father and mother. Everybody in 
 the house of Mr. Duff had but one way of tliinking, and it 
 was the most delicious society, that I regi-ettod leaving as 
 long as I lived. The maid-servant who o})ened the door foi* 
 mo, did not recognize me on account of the oddity of my dis- 
 guise. I told her that I was charged with a letter for her 
 master, to be delivered into his own hands ; and I begged her 
 to inform him of it. Mr. Duff descended, and at first did 
 not recognize me more than his maid-servant ; but having 
 fixed his eyes upon me for a moment, a torrent of tears suc- 
 ceeded his surprise. He exhorted his servant strongly to be 
 faithful in guarding the secret. Mrs. Duff and their daugh- 
 ters being gone to bed, he conducted me into a chamber, and 
 sent, upon the instant, his servant to fiiul out my brother-in- 
 law, who had not returned to his house ; and all the incpiiries 
 that coidd be made to find him were fruitless. My sis^ter was 
 still at the house of her father-in-law, Lord Rollo, at Dun- 
 craib, as it was not long thjit he had held his charge at 
 Banff. My intention not being to sleep there if I should be 
 able to find my brothei'-in-law innnediately, and ascertain if 
 I could hope for his services in a moment so critical for me, — 
 the neighbourhood of soldiers having too greatly disturbed 
 me to be able to be tranquil, without fear at every instant 
 of being discovered, I had resolved to leave Banff before day 
 to return to the Castle of the Chevalier Gordon. Mr. Duff 
 
rv"i.\r«»i 
 
 23 
 
 returned at one o'clock in the morning, and I then -went to 
 bed, without being able to shut my eyes. 
 
 I arose as soon as the day began to appear, and resumed 
 the taterdemalions. Seated in an arm-chair, Avith my eyes 
 fixed on the fire, in a deej) revei'ie, and phuiged in an abyss of 
 reflections whicli my situation furnished me with in abund- 
 ance, suddenly the maid-servant entei-ed, and rushed by 
 into my apartment, announcing to mi^ that I was lost, and 
 tliat the conrt-yard of the house Avas full of soldiers to 
 seize me. Less tlum that sulliced to rouse me from my ab- 
 stractions. I looked u[) at the Avindow, and saAv actually 
 the soldiers in the conrt-yard, as the ser\'ant had told me. 
 Thus conA'inced ocularly of my misfortune, I returned to the 
 arm-chair full of resignation, regarding myself as a man Avho 
 should shortly end his days. I conjectured immediately that 
 it Avas the servant Avho had betrayed me, having some; soldier 
 for a lover, as is generally the case. There remained but a 
 feeble spark of hope of my being able to make my Avay 
 through the soldiers, Avitli one of my pistols in each hand ; 
 and 1 kept my eyes ahvays fixed upon the door of tlie cliam- 
 ber, in order tu rush upon the soldiers as a lion the moment I 
 saw them ap})ear. Miserable resource ! in Avliich I had but 
 little confidence to rely on ; but this Avas the last resort. 
 Having passed about a quarter of an hour in these violent 
 agitations, at last the door of my chamber flcAV open, aiul I 
 rushed Avitli precipitation to attack them. But Avhat a sur- 
 prise ! In place of the soldiers I espied the beautiful and 
 adoralde Miss Duff, (he younger sister, out of breath, Avho 
 cauK! as a guardian angel to inform me not to be any longer 
 disturbed ; that it Avas nothing more than the soldiers Avho 
 Avere fighting among themselves ; that they had entered the 
 court to conceal themselves from their officers ; and that their 
 quarrel liaving exploded itself in a few fisticuff's, they had 
 left the court-yard together. Siie Avas of rare beauty, and Avas 
 not more than eighteen years of age. I seized her in my 
 
24 
 
 arms, pressed her to my bosom, nnd pjavo her a thousund 
 tender embraces from tlie bottom of my lieart. In an instant 
 the whole house Avas assembled in my cliamber, to congratii- 
 hite me upon my deliverance — the noise of tiie soldiers having 
 made every one rise, and it was scarcely six o'clock in the 
 morning. Convinced of the sincere friendship and esteem of 
 all this amiable family, one of my great solicitudes during this 
 adventure was, that through their too great anxiety for mo 
 some one of them might be apt to betray me innocently, had 
 it not been for Mr. DufP, by whom I was reassin-ed from his 
 coolness and presence of mind. 
 
 My brother-in-law came to sec me the moment after this 
 alarm. He made me all the protestations possible of friend- 
 ship, at the same time that he excused himself for not l)eing 
 able to contribute by any means to afford me an opportunity 
 of embarking for a foreign land ; all the vessels at Banff 
 being strictly inspected before their departure by the different 
 ofRcers of Government ; and he advised mo very strongly to 
 retire into the mountainous districts as the only course to 
 adopt. I confess that I was indignant at him, the more so 
 that he was under obligations to me without number. I an- 
 swered him that I had no need of his coimsels, but his services. 
 Ho took himself off, after having staid a quarter of an hour 
 with me as upon nettles, and I have never seen him since, or 
 had any accounts of him. He knew all the captains of mer- 
 chant vessels at Banff ; so that if he had oeen willing to serve 
 me, he could have certainly fouiul some one of the innnber 
 Avho coidd have taken me into his vessel disguised as a sailor, 
 which Avoidd have saved me from an infinitude of pains, and 
 sufferings the most cruel, which I endm-ed before being saved ; 
 but he did not wish to expose himself to the least risk for his 
 brother-in-hiAV, who on all occasions ever gave him the most 
 substantial proofs of his friendship ; and he was of a character 
 that would not put himself to any inconvenience, not even for 
 his own father, or all those who existed on earth ; regarding 
 
25 
 
 himself born for himself, without bowels of compassion for 
 his sj)ccics ill their misfortunes aiul sufferings. Misfortunes 
 are the touchstone to prove men ; and I have learned by inino 
 liow little one can count upon friendship in general.* All 
 those from Avhom I expected assistance in my misfortunes 
 threw off the mask, and discovered to me their falsehood and 
 dissimulation ; and it was only those from whom I did not 
 (ixpect any service that turned out true friends. Experience 
 made me know in one day many, in place of having been 
 <leccived all my life. I had even rendered most essential 
 service to my brother-in-law a little time before.f Lord 
 Rollo, his father, a %'iolont i)artisan of the House of Stuart, 
 had taken up arms in 1715, in an attempt which was 
 then made to re-establisli that House upon the throne ; but 
 they were put to the rout by the English army, under the 
 command of the Duke of Argyle ; and his Lordship, after 
 having remained concealed for some years, obtained his par- 
 don. After having passed a night at his Lordship's house 
 when our army made its retreat from Stirling to go to Inver- 
 ness, he pleaded incessantly that his age and his infirmities 
 did not permit him to join Prince Edward ; and he conjured 
 me with clasped hands to proceed to Banif express, to order 
 his son, my brother-in-law, immediately to join himself to our 
 army, under the pain of never seeing him in his lifetime. I 
 communicated to my brother-in-law the orders of his father ; 
 but I made him aware at the same time of the misery to which 
 he would expose his wife and family in case we should be de- 
 feated. My counsels were salutary to him ; since a short 
 
 * "In the midst of disgraces the most frightful," says M. Bcdoycrc, "I 
 derived a sweet satisfaction to know men and all their pcrfidiousness— they 
 were no longer concealed from my eyes— I saw them such as they arc in 
 effect— advantages reserved to the unfortunate, whoso reason, divested of 
 prejudices, is the lot and the consolation." 
 
 + It appears lately proved by the archives in the Tower of London, that 
 my nephew, at present Lord KoUo, a peer of Scotland, is descended froax 
 Raoul or Rollon, Duke of Normandy, by lawful wedlock. 
 
26 
 
 time after he found himself in possession of the hinds and 
 titles of the House of Hollo, instead of dying upon the scaf- 
 fold, or being a nu'udicant in a foreign land. It is true, I 
 had the interest of my nephew and sister more in view than 
 his. 
 
 Having j)assed tlic wliole day at the house of Mr. Duff, 
 with as much agreeablencss as it was possible to retain 
 in the troublesome position in which I found myself placed, I 
 took a last adieu of that charming society about nine o'clock 
 at night, in order to return to the Chateau of the Chevalier 
 Gordon, and our tears were reciprocal and abundant. I 
 passed the night without going to bed, in order to converse 
 with Mrs. Menzies, not without fear of a visit from some 
 detachment sent in ])ursuit of the Chevalier Gordon, and the 
 mistake would not have been to my advantage. After a 
 great many reasonings with this lady upon the part which I 
 ought to take, I at length finally decided to gain the low 
 country, to endeavour, as nuich as I possibly could, to 
 api)roach Edinbrn-gh, to obtain succours from my parents 
 and my friends, not knowing any person in the Highlands 
 but those who were placed in the same embarrassment as 
 myself, or to perish in the attempt ; to regard myself from 
 henceforward as a lost man, who had a thousand cl unices to 
 one to perish upon the scaffold, but who might have one 
 chance in my favour ; to resign myself entirely to Providence, 
 and to commit myself to mere hazard, than to any othei* 
 resom'ce ; to preserve, ahvays, my sans froid and presence of 
 mind, as absolutely necessary to grapple with the troubles 
 and encounters Avhich I might have to meet with, and to 
 profit by the favourable opportunities that might ])resent 
 themselves. Behold what were my resolute and decided 
 conclusions to put them into execution, and to think of noth- 
 ing that could in any way divert me from this plan. Mrs. 
 Menzies did her utmost possible to turn me from it, by repre- 
 senting to me the insurmountable difficulties at every stcj) ; 
 
27 
 
 the counties to traverse, where the famiticiil Calviiiistic 
 ])('asants assembled in troops, of those even to form ])atrols, 
 with their pastors at their heads, in order to make prisoners 
 of llie niifortunatf jfcntlemen who endeavoured to save tlu-ui- 
 selves in the mountainous districts of tlie country from the 
 pursuit of the troops ; the great distance it was from Edin- 
 burgli, and tlie impossibility of being able to cross the two 
 arms of the sea (see the Plan, Vol I., page SJ, without a 
 passport from Govenmieut, Avhere the English cavalry made 
 their continual patrols along the banks and in the villages, to 
 exaniinc and an-est all whom tliey suspected without a pass- 
 port. But nothing could turn me from my I'esolutions to 
 advance towards the south. 
 
 J took leave of Madame Menzies at five o'clock in the 
 morning ; she gave me a letter of recommendation to Mr. 
 Gordon, of Kildrummy, one of her ridations, Avhosc house, 
 Avhich he then inhabited, was at the distance of twelve miles 
 from that of Mr. Gordon, of Park ; and she gave me a 
 domestic to conduct me thither, whom I sent back immediately 
 when we were in sight of his house. I asked at a servant of 
 ^Ir. Goi-don's if his master was at home ? He answered me 
 that he was gone out, but would be back to dinner ; and ho 
 informed me, with a tone of indifference, that if I was cold I 
 could enter the kitchen to Avarm myself, while waiting for 
 his master's return. I accepted the offer, for he made it very 
 frankly, and I entered the kitchen, where a great number of 
 servants assembled around the fire, who believing themselves 
 of a class much above me, left me for a long time at a side, 
 before proposing to me to sit down, or to permit me to join 
 their company, which I approached very respectfully. They 
 embarrassed me much by their continual questioning ; one 
 lackey demanded of me if it was a long time since I had been 
 in the service of Madame Menzies ! I replied with a humble 
 and submissive air that it was not above two months. I 
 heard, at the same time, a chambermaid, who whispered in 
 
28 
 
 tlio our of a lackey, but loud onou^li that T coiiM hear lior, 
 that IMadiunc Mcuzies ought to have been ashanicMl to havcj 
 sent a (lomcstit! Avith hor commission for his master so ill 
 clad. Their jarfron, tomfooleries, and impertinences aimoycd 
 mo to death, and made me impatient din'ingtvvo hours, when, 
 for my deliverance, Mr. Gordon arrived. I delivered to him 
 the letter of JMadame Menzies in presence of his servants, 
 following; him constantly, even to his apartment, and immedia- 
 tely -vVhen I saw myself alone with him I told him who I was, 
 ami besecched him to give me a guide to conduct me as far 
 as the first arm of the sea, not being accpiainted with the 
 country. lie seemed ])enetrnto(l witii my situation, and 
 showed all jjossible civilities ; anil sent, upon the instant, a 
 servant Avith an order to one of his gamekeepers to furnish 
 me Avith a guide as far as the estate of Kildrinnmy, which is 
 six miles from that; and in waiting for the return of his 
 servant, he found means to cause be brought in to me under 
 cover a dinner, of which I ate heartily, without feeling an 
 ai)[)etite, but for precaution, not knowing if I should iind any 
 sup[)er at Kildruminy. The guide having arrived, I took 
 leave of Mr. Gordon, and I arrived at an early hour at Kil- 
 drummy, a village greatly celebrated for one of thi^ most 
 memorable episodes in the history of Scotland, where I 
 stopped to pass the night. 
 
 The Scotch had been in alliance with France during 
 nearly nine hundred years without interruption, since 
 Charlemagne, till the union of the crowns of Scotland and 
 England, without having ever varied in their treaties, offen- 
 sive and defensive, but the Scotch were generally the victims 
 from their attachment to that kingdom. lu all the quarrels 
 of France with England, the Scotch began hostilities, France 
 availing itself of the services of Scotland to make a diversion 
 on the side of England, and to keep the English in check, — 
 a manuocvre Avhich France ahvays played, and of which the 
 Scotch Avere continually the dupes ; for the moment the 
 
29 
 
 Hnjrlisli mado a dcst'ent upon France, the Ficncli auxiliaiics 
 in Scotliind were re('iilh>(l innnodiately for the dofcncc of tliisir 
 own countrv, and these unfortunate Scotch were left to their 
 own forces to free tlieniselves from tlie miscliicvous adven- 
 ture in the best way they couhl ; and Eu;j,land having; alwaya 
 lieen much more itoj)uh)us than Scothuul, the Scotch Avcre 
 luiiny times rechiced to tlic lowest abyss, their valour not 
 heinj:; always able to sui)[)ly the Avaut of numbers. The 
 Scotch after the loss of numy battles on end, having lost all 
 the Lowlands of Scotland, as far as Kildrunimy, were slnit U]) 
 in the Highlands, the dilficult access Avhcreof saved them from 
 being entirely subdued. In that deplorable condition, 
 Robert the Bruce, having re-assembled six thousand men, the 
 shattered remains of the Scottish armies, placed himself at 
 their head, and, at Kildrummy, fell unexpectedly Avith im- 
 pctuous force upon the English army, who Avere inniiediately 
 put to llight, withoiit one escaping to cairy the neAvs of their 
 defeat, and Scotland saAv itself entirely liberated.* I Avalked 
 about a great deal at Kildrummy, recalling this trait of history 
 to my imagination, and lilliiig it thcreAvith so totally that I 
 believe I could distinguish even the field of battle Avhere this 
 lii'iliiant victory had been gained OA'er the English. I said to 
 myself, "Ah! if this earth could open itself, how Avould it 
 discover there the bones of the English Avhich it had j)resei'- 
 ved in its bosom as precious deposits." In fine, the sight of 
 this c.elebi'ated jdace solaced me, elevated my heart a little, 
 and made me feel for the moment my pains assuaged and sus- 
 pended, and my torments of mind abated. 
 
 As there were but feAV inns at Kildrunnny, I passed the 
 night in Avhat boi-c the name of the "Public, House," Avhere 
 I re})osed myself upon a bed of straAV, much to my discom- 
 fort Avith an enormous number of iieas ; but in recompense 
 my landlady gave me for supper an excellent young foAvl, 
 
 *It is reported that the English army then in Scotland amounted to ten 
 thousand men, but it is more likely tliat the number is exaggerated. 
 
30 
 
 and she surprised me next morning in demanding from me 
 but throe halfpence, (six halfpence of France), for my supper 
 and bed. It is true this was a hotel very extraordinary, 
 wliere they had no need of any hard cash. This event gave 
 iiic pleasure, seeing, at least, I should not have hunger aiul 
 misery to combat with as I had had in the Highlands. M. 
 Gordon had sent an order to Kildrummy to fiu-nish me with 
 a guide as far north as Cortachy, a village belonging to 
 Lord 0""ilvie, at the foot of the mountains, which I had 
 walked along the sides of since my departure from Banff. 
 Before my departure from Kildrummy, I made them roast 
 another fowl, which I put into my pocket by way of precau- 
 tion, uncertain if I should find anything to eat in my jour- 
 ney ; and in giving mine hostess a piece of twelve halfpence, 
 she was as content as I was. These good people know little 
 about money, and in effect they have no need of it, having in 
 abundance the necessaries of life. 
 
 As soon as my guide had put me into the Avay to Cor- 
 tachy, Avithout the possibility of deceiving me, I sent him 
 back, and I arrived at Cortachy in the evening. I Avished, 
 with all my heart, in crossing the country of Glen Lyon to 
 meet there the minister of that parish, a sanguiiuiry villain, 
 who ma le daily patrols through that country with a pistol 
 concealed under his coat, which he presented at tlie head of 
 our unfortunate gentlemen to make them prisoners. This 
 iniquitous minister of the Word of God, regarded as a saint, 
 attempted to make every one perish on the scaffold.* Mv. 
 Menzies had forewarned me to be upon my gnard against 
 him, but I did not fear him, having always my English pistols 
 
 "* I have seen, says the authoi" of Giphantie, people who adore the same 
 God, who sacrifice at the same altar, who preach to the people the spirit of 
 peace and sweetness ; I have seen them engage in qnestions the most unin- 
 telligible, and immediately hate them, persecute them, and mutually destroy 
 one another. God ! what will become of men if they don't fuid in Thee 
 more goodness than is found in those of weakness and of folly ? (Jcaso 
 to be victims of misguided zeal, adore God, keep silence, and live in peace. 
 
31 
 
 in a most perfect state, loaded and primed, one In each 
 breeches' pocket. I desired, on the contrary, to find In'm, for 
 the benefit of my comrades in misfortune, being well assured 
 that I would not liavc had any difficulty to fight with him at 
 pistols, for a man harsh, barbarous, and cruel is never bi'ave ; 
 I have remarked this all my life ; but the punishment of this 
 monster in human form was reserved for Mr. Gordon of 
 Abachie. "When we were separated four days, after our de- 
 parture from Rothiemurchus, Abachie took the post to go to 
 his Castle ; and the minister of Glen Lyon having had infor- 
 mation of this, placed himself at the head of a detachment of 
 his armed parishioners, true disciples of such a pastor, whom 
 he conducted to tlie Castle of Abachie, to make him prisoner ; 
 and he had only time to save himself through the window in 
 his shirt. As one hardly ever pardons an attempt made upon 
 one's life by treachery, Mr. Gordon assembled a dozen of 
 his vassals, — some days after departed with them in the 
 night for Glen Lyon, and found means to enter into the 
 house of the fanatical minister, having gone up into the 
 chamber where he slept. They subjected him to an oper- 
 ation too horrible to relate, which may be conceived but can- 
 Tiot be described, assuring him at the same time that if he did 
 not make these infernal patrol' of his parishioners to cease, 
 they would cause a second visit cost him his life. None 
 could in the smallest degree lament this adventure but one ; 
 as to himself, his chastisement was not so tragical as death 
 ' jjoii the scaffold, which he wished to prepare for Mr. Gordon 
 of Abaehie. It is believed that he was sufriciently corrected 
 not to follow any more his inhuman courses.* 
 
 *Tlio Editor has endeavoured to i)iit the misdeeds of this miscreant into 
 vei-so in th' following lines, which ho hopes his readers will appreciate^ how- 
 ever fcehle tho execution. The disgraceful conduct of a ^Minister of tho 
 (liurch of Scotland prostituting his sacred ofllce to the purposes of politi- 
 cal rapine and revenge, can never be sufficiently reprobated, nor too severely 
 punished. Hap; y it is that there are but few examples of such violence and 
 wickedness, and uouc in the present day. 
 
32 
 
 As the greater part of the vassals of my Lord Ogilvie 
 were with him iirthe army of Prince Edward, I risked no- 
 
 ^t |)avson of §k\x "g^an. 
 
 How shall the Muse relate the tale, 
 
 Might make the stoutest heart to quail ? 
 
 It is not of arms or murder dire, 
 
 Or sacked towns where hosts expire ; 
 
 But one which covers us wita shame— 
 
 A deed so dar^ we dare not name, 
 
 A fiend in human flesh, they say 
 
 Might well lament the fatal day ; 
 
 But some say he uttered neither tear nor groan. 
 
 Nor made his tongue to guilt atone ; 
 
 But others tell a different tale, 
 
 And say he spoke of heaven and hell. 
 
 Not fit for poinard, sword, or rack. 
 
 Rampant he rode through moors and mire. 
 
 Without one touch of manly fire. 
 
 Nor he alone ;— a bloody train 
 
 Of parish folks— fanatic men, 
 
 Whose souls ho trained to deeds of strife, 
 
 Instead of leading them in walks of life ; 
 
 A sad perversion of his honoured place. 
 
 Omen evil to the rising race. 
 
 And what dire design but death, 
 
 Could bring him armed upon the heath 
 
 With numerous crowds of followers in his train, 
 
 To catch those called rebellious men. 
 
 Among those whoso rank was high 
 
 Stood Gordon, chivalrous Chief of Abachic. 
 
 The monster parson of the glen 
 
 Surrounds his house with Highland men, 
 
 To catch him as in peace ho lay. 
 
 To take him prisoner, or to slay 
 
 Within his castle gates of Cortachy. 
 
 So sudden was the onslaught dire. 
 
 It seemed Uke gleams of liquid fire ; 
 
 Its success, had they done the deed, 
 
 Must have cost the Chief his head, 
 
 And made another to be + M 
 
 Had stained with hlood the scaffold. 
 
 As it was, he just had timo 
 
 To save his neck or break his spine. 
 
110- 
 
 33 
 
 thing in addressing myself to tlic first house I should come to at 
 Cortaehy, hjiving informed the landlady on entering the cot- 
 tage that I was one of the Prince's army.* She told me im- 
 mediately that there were two gentlemen concealed in Glen 
 Prosene, a great ravine between two hills, whei'c there runs a 
 small rivulet, which was at the foot of the mountains, — a 
 pass altogether picturesque and greatly secluded. I took my 
 way immediately, following her directions to the house of a 
 peasant named Samuel, quite at the top of the ravine, about 
 half a league from Cortaehy, where I found them as she had 
 told me. They were Messrs. Brown and Gordon, the two 
 officers in the service of France who had escaped from the 
 
 ■■'The vassals in Scotland always followed the side which their chief took, 
 whether it were for the House of Stuart or for that of Hanover. 
 
 No sooner was the alarm but given, 
 Than he from off his bed had risen ; 
 Then almost naked to the road, 
 Where beasts of burden only trode, 
 Out at the window took his Hight, 
 To meet the darkness of the night, — 
 Without his stockings or his shoes, 
 Or time his vassals to arouse. 
 There's not a man whoso heart can feel 
 For public or for private weal. 
 But must detest all treacherous arts. 
 However well the traitors act their parts ; 
 And wonder not if vengean?" due 
 The guilty traitor should i)ursue. 
 So in this case, as will be seen, 
 'Twas neither low — nor coidd bo mean. 
 To make the monster dearly rue. 
 With retribution justly due, 
 The dastardly attempt he made 
 To endanger Gordon's precious head. 
 Not many more than ten good days. 
 Or nights that sparkled in the moon's palo rays, 
 Thau he whose life liad been thus ensnared 
 By traitors vile, who thus had dared. 
 With vassals few, but manly stride 
 Along the mountainous passes, ride 
 C 
 
34 
 
 city of Carlisle in England after its capitulation, ^vllo were 
 very glud to see me again. They advised me strongly not to 
 go farther to the south, where I Avould inevitably expose my- 
 self to be captured, because they knew positively that all the 
 towns and villages upon the coast of the chief arm of the sea 
 were visited at every instant with all the vigilance and exact- 
 ness possible, by patrols of cavalry, who rode continually 
 along the coast, and who examined with the greatest rigour 
 and severity all passengers. They added that it was their 
 design, of trying to go to Edinburgh ; but from this they 
 desisted, seeing the impossibility of reaching it, and they 
 named to me many of our comrades who had been made 
 prisoners within a few days by endeavouring to effect a pas- 
 sage at the chief arm of the sea, which is about eight miles 
 
 To the Parson's manso, surround the door 
 
 With dagfi^cr, dirk, and bright claymore, 
 
 Determined to avenge the traitor's deed, 
 
 Tliat had imporill'd this Gordon's head. 
 
 Aloft into the bedroom floor 
 
 They mount, and shut the creaking door ; 
 
 And such a scene we shall not tell. 
 
 As there the sanguinary man befell ; 
 
 Blood enough he got full sore. 
 
 That made him wince, and howl, and roar. 
 
 It needs net words his fate to tell. 
 
 Nor what the loss he must bewail. 
 
 The tender virgins heard his cry. 
 
 His wife bemoaned with many a sigh. 
 
 The men Ihcy stript him to the skin. 
 
 And saw his legs wore very thin ; 
 
 He cried for mercy at their hands. 
 
 They said — " Dismiss your bloody bands ; 
 
 For if we come again to use the knife, 
 
 Depend it then shall cost your life." 
 
 It is not oft such deeds are heard. 
 
 Nor have boon known since days of Abclard. 
 
 The moral of this talc is such — 
 
 That zeal should ne'er bo over much ; 
 
 Nor short- lived man betray his friend. 
 
 But always helpless innocence defend. 
 
35 
 
 from Cortacliy ; they besooched nie with these instances in 
 view not to be obstinate, and to adopt, as they had done, the 
 sojonrn of Glen Prosene, at the house of Samuel. With 
 every desire that I had to approach Edinburgh, I did not 
 wish to precipitate myself to perdition by rashness, my situa- 
 tion being then so critical that the least false step from an 
 error of judgment was sure to cost me my life. Thus I fol- 
 lowed their advice, and consented without Avavering to 
 remain with them at the house of Samuel. 
 
 Samuel was a very honest man, but excessively poor. 
 We dwelt at his house during seven days, and partook of 
 the same cheer with him and his family, who had nothing for 
 their entire nourishment but oatmeal, and no other beverage 
 but the pure water of the river which runs in the midtlle of 
 the ravine. We breakfasted in the morning with a morsel of 
 oat bread, and not to choke ourselves, we drank a cup of 
 water, which made it pass over. For dinner we caused 
 boil this meal with water till it became tliick, and we ate 
 this Avitli horn vspoons ; at night we turned the boiling water 
 upon this mess into an sarthen pan, and this was our sup- 
 per. I confess that the time I passed under this nourishment 
 appeared long, altliough we all held out well, without our 
 health being in the least degree affected. We coidd have 
 had an addition to om* bad cheer by sending to bring it from 
 Cortachy ; but avc durst n^t risk that for fear that the inha- 
 bitants who knew the ordinary fare of Samuel would n^t 
 doubt but that he had peo})lc concealed in his house; and that 
 some evil intended person woukl not fail to inform the first 
 detachment of cavalry, whom they might find at Cortachy, 
 some of whom were there very often, to come to make us 
 prisoui .s. Poor Samuel and his family, — never having 
 known any other meat during the Avhole year, unless, iiei'ha[)S, 
 in sunnncr, that they might have a little milk to mix with 
 their oatmeal in place of water, — by their mode of living they 
 were under the shelter of fortune, not fearing diseases which. 
 
36 
 
 inip;lit deprive them of their meagre fare, but to which they 
 might be less subject by that frugal aucl simple nourishment, 
 which would not produce so much humour in the body f,s in 
 those who lived in luxury ; and as they confined the neces- 
 saries of life to a very small limit, they were certain to find 
 what was sufficient wherewithal to furnish their subsistence 
 and support by their labour ; besides, they enjoyed a health 
 perfect and unknown to people bi'ought up in abundance and 
 ease.* Their desires were confined to the })reservation of 
 their existence and their well-being, without ambition to de- 
 part from the state where nature had placed them, not even 
 to ameliorate their lot ; content with what they possessed, 
 they wished nothing more; living Avitliout care, sleeping with- 
 out inquietude, and dying witliout fear.f One should call 
 
 *It is in the nature of man to seek out the means of his happiness, that 
 he should be as happy as it is possible for him to be— subsistence for the 
 present, and if he will think it, for the future, hope and certainty of this 
 fii'st boon. It is not necessary but to believe that we are happy to be so. 
 It is this belief that makes part of our felicity. He who believes himself 
 unfortunate becomes so. 
 
 +The ordinary state of the human mind is a species of delirium. The 
 soul is unceasingly agitated by a strange succession of vague thoughts and 
 contrary passions. Man cannot be happy but by retrenching, not only his 
 actions, but his useless thoughts. Says an author — We do not mistake our- 
 selves, however, bj' this indolence. The calculations of nature are much 
 greater than ours, guarding us from slandering her too largely. She leaves 
 to the cares and passions of men the distriliution of riches, but that of 
 happiness is retained in her own hands. She has no food for variety of 
 dishes, and delicacy of best meats ; she has not put in common all the 
 pleasures which she chooses to distribute to the human race ; she has given 
 too much empire to the potentates of the earth. They can by their concur- 
 rence reduce man by labour to have nothing for his recompense but jiain, 
 they cannot elevate him ; neither his returning wants which give a sauce to 
 the most simple nourishment, nor that burning thirst which pants with 
 pleasure after the fountain, nor the sleep which refreshes sweetly his 
 wearied frame, nor the spectacle of natiu'o which rejoices him at sunwako, 
 nor the emotion which distracts him, nor that curiosity which agitates him, 
 nor that blood which thrills deliciously through his senses, nor that hope, in 
 short, which gilds the future, sweetens the present, and excites courage. 
 All these pleasures of life are not in the powers of civilized possessors ; it is 
 the boon of the poor as well as the rich. 
 
 I 
 
37 
 
 tlicm liJippy — if ha])[)iiies.s consists in exemption from pains — 
 which follow imaginary wants ; and the remembrance of 
 those good people, of whose felicity I was often envious, 
 made me always think that three-fourths of men are miser- 
 able by their oAvn proper faults, having in their })Ower tho 
 means of being ha])py, if they would choose to regulate tlieir 
 recpiirements according to their incomes, every one according 
 to the means which he possesses. The absolute necessaries 
 for man are food and raiment ; but what they mean ordinarily 
 by the necessaries of life does not consist but of su})ei'flu()us 
 things, no ways essential to the preservati(jn of their health 
 and existence — on the contrary, often prejudicial, and which 
 only serve to shorten their days. No one can be happy but 
 by being contented with his lot, and p''oportioning his 
 wants to his resources ; that is Avhat all might be able to do 
 gradually, even reducing themselves to the condition of 
 Samuel ; disenthroning ambition and avarice, as flies which 
 multiply — without ceasing our imaginary wants — in such sort, 
 that the more one ac([uires of honours and riches, the more 
 is one insatiable and never happy. Happy mediocrity, verily! 
 It is often in one's own bosom that one finds happiness, 
 turning by necessity of spirit from cloying pleasures.* Besides 
 our meagre cheer, to Avhich I had at first much pain and 
 ditTiculty in accustoming myself, we were often disturbed by 
 detachments of English cavalry, who made frequent patrols 
 in our neighboui'hood. Samuel had a married daughter who 
 dwelt at the entry of the ravine, and she served us as an 
 
 *Cortaiiily, says Herodotus, there arc a grcai, many rich men who, never- 
 theless, are not happy ; and there are a great many that are happy with but 
 httlo patriniony. The rich man has many ways of satisfying his covetous- 
 ness, and of bearing great losses. But granted that the other, though in- 
 ferior to him in two things, he surpasses him, nevertheless, in tliis that he 
 cannot suffer great losses, or bo subject to those covetous desires ; and this 
 helplessness itself, which seems to be a disgrace of fortune, is for him an 
 advantage and a favour. He enjoys health, he has virtuous children, he has 
 a pleasing countenance, ho has an elegant deportment. 
 
38 
 
 advanced sentinel, to apin'i'ze us when there were any detacli- 
 menta of the Enj^lisli at Cortacliy, and Avho tran([uilized us 
 durin<? the day, our sentineless he\ug^ very exact to inform us 
 of all that passed there ; but wlien the troops arrived at the 
 bejrinning of the night, we wei'e obliged to seek our security 
 by saving ourselves in the neighbovn-ing mountains, where we 
 often passed the night in the open air, even in frightful 
 storms of rain and wind. 
 
 Our sentineless, always attentive and alert, came to in- 
 form us that there were a great many detachments wlio 
 scoured roimd our quarters, and that they had nia<le prisoners 
 of Sir James Kinloch, his bi'others, and many other persons 
 who were found with them in his castle, and that M. Ker, a 
 colonel in the service of Spain, aide-de-camp to Prince 
 EdAvard, had also been captured about four miles from us, at 
 the side of the little town of Forfar. She added that one 
 detachment had searched through all the castles and environs 
 of Cortachy in the hope of finding there my Lord Ogilvie, 
 who was then not far from us without our suspecting it. 
 According to what his Lordship has said to me since, that 
 the same detachment had information of our retreat in the 
 Glen Prosene, on account of these detachments which flew 
 continually around us, we were all imanimously of opinion to 
 take our departure from Samuel's house the next day at three 
 o'clock in the morning to return to the mountains, and fix for 
 some time our residence among the rocks, having no other 
 course to take. In consequence of our resolution, we went 
 to bed at eight o'clock, in order to make at least one provision 
 of sleep at parting, not being able to hope to have the benefit 
 of sleeping under roofs for some time. 
 
 I have never been credulous in regard to supernatural 
 stories, which peoi)lc listen to in all countries, and witli which 
 they delude men from their infancy — the products of brains 
 disordered by superstitions of old women or fools ; but I 
 had this night a dream so extraordinarily incomprehensible 
 
89 
 
 that if any other had tohl it mc I wouM have treated him 
 as a visionary ; nevertheless, it was in the end so verified 
 to tlie letter, and I owed to it my life in having been so 
 much struck with it that, all incredulous as I had been, I was 
 not able to refuse to follow the im})ressions which it had left 
 upon me. T dreamed that, escaping from the pursuit of 
 my enemies, rejoicing with entire satisfaction to sec myself 
 beyond all dangers, and in a situation of the most perfect 
 security, with the soid serene and tranquil, in short the most 
 fortunate of men, having escaped perishing on the scaffold, 
 and l)eing at an end of all my pains and sufferings, I was at 
 Edinburgh, in company Avith my Lady Jean Douglas, sister 
 of the Duke of Douglas, relating to her all that had hap- 
 pened to me since the battle of Culloden, giving her a detail 
 of all that regarded our army, since our retreat from »Stirling, 
 and finally the risks Avhich I had run personally for saving 
 myself, the idea of Avhich, always presented to my mind of 
 perishing on the scaffold, had pursued me without ceasing till 
 that happy moment, A\liich tiu-ned in my soul the salutary 
 balm of the sweetest tranquility. On awakening at six 
 o'clock in the morning this dream left an inq>ression so strong 
 upon my mind that the sweet voice of my Lady Jean 
 Douglas appeared to me still sounding in my ears ; all my 
 senses were in a ])rofouud calm, at the same time that I ex- 
 perienced a serenity of soul and a tran<{nility of mind which I 
 had ceased to know since the fatal epoch of our misfortunes. 
 All the particulars of my dream were presented to my im- 
 agination, and engraved deeply in my memory ; and my soul 
 was for a long time in this flattering state, sweet and agree- 
 able, where my dream had placed it by the thought of being 
 saved. I rested in my bed distracted and plunged in an 
 abyss of reflection, my head placed on my hand, and my 
 elbow leaning on the pillow of my bed, recapitulating all the 
 circumstances of my dream, regretting that it was but a 
 dream, but wishing to have often such to calm the storms and 
 
40 
 
 agitations by wliicli my soul was clcvourccl by the uncertainty 
 of my lot. What could be more cruel than to be continually 
 fluctuating between hope and despair, a thousand times worse 
 than death itself ; for the certainty of a suffering visibly un- 
 avoidable makes one adopt his course with resolution and 
 resignation. Having passed an hoin* in this attitude, immove- 
 able as a statue, Samuel entered my chamber. He told me 
 that my companions had gone at thrt-i o'clock in the morning, 
 and pointed out to me at the same time the road in the moun- 
 tains where I Avould find them. He added that he had been 
 twice at my bed to awaken me before their departure, but 
 linding me buried in a deep sleep, he had felt regret to 
 awaken me, knowing the need I had of repose to fortify me 
 at the commencement against the fatigues which I was about 
 to undergo in the mountains ; he told me to be quick in rising, 
 it being time to depart, for fear lest his daughter, believing 
 that we had all left his house, might not be so exact of adver- 
 tising, if there ajjpeared any detachments. I answered him in 
 a soft and serious tone — " Samuel, I am going to Edinburgh. " 
 Poor Samuel immediately opened his large eyes, and with an 
 uir sheepish and stupefied answering me — " My good sir, 
 excuse me, your head is turned." "No," said I to him, 
 " Samuel, my head is not turned ; I am going to Edinburgh, 
 and I shall dc[)art from here this evening. Go tell your 
 daughter on the instant that I am still at your house, that she 
 may continue her outlook, as usual, and inform me the 
 moment that there are any detachments, in case they should 
 come to Cortachy throughout the day." Samuel conmieuced 
 to annoy me with his remonstrances ; but I imposed silence 
 upon him, and 1 replied to him once for all that it was de- 
 cided, and not to speak to me any more of it. 
 
 Never did a day appear to me so long. I was left to my- 
 self all the time to continual reflections between impatience 
 and fear of seeing the night arrive. The detachments of 
 soldiers, the fanatical peasants — still more dismal than the 
 
41 
 
 soldiers — even the towns and the'villiijjjcs to go through arc 
 full of these Calvinistic enemies of the House of Stuart, the 
 peril to Avhich I should he ohliged to expose myself in ad- 
 dressing myself to the boatmen for passing the arms of the 
 sea, in short a thousand black ideas came to crowd upon my 
 mind, the dangers always thickening in enlargement, and the 
 frightful dilliculties which it was necessary to surmount made 
 me tremble, but did not shake me in my resolution of going 
 to Edinburgh or to perish in the execution of the attempt. 
 I ended ahvays in replying to myself as if there were some 
 one with whom I was holding converse — " Very well, 
 I shall perish, Avhether in going to the south or to the moun- 
 tains, it is all the same, and it is a risk throughout all ; but, 
 if so I get to Edinburgh, T shall be more in safety than 
 among the mountains, where I have neither parents nor 
 friends, and where my acquaintances are but of recent date. 
 I am ready ! Very Avell ; my fate will be promptly decided 
 without languishing a long time overwhelmed with misery, as 
 I should be in the mountains, and after that, perhaps, finish- 
 ing my days on the scaffold." These were my reasonings; 
 they found but snuill argument favourable to the course I had 
 taken to go South, for all appearances were against me ; but 
 my head Avas full of the dream, and if the whole earth had 
 Avished me to turn back, they Avould have made no impres- 
 sion, nor have prevailed ought upon me. 
 
 At last the night arrived, which I had waited for impa- 
 tiently. I mounted on horseback, with Samuel behind me, 
 who consented to be my guide as far as the first arm of the sea, 
 about eight miles from Cortachy, and we left Samuel's house 
 about ten o'clock at night. There is a small town named For- 
 far, most renowned for its Presbyterian fanaticism, and Avhosc 
 inhabitants have signalized latterly their holy zeal by con- 
 tributing to make Colonel Ker prisoner. Samuel had fore- 
 warned me that it was necessary to pass through this infernal 
 town, not having any other road which conducted to 
 
42 
 
 Bronp^lity, a village on tlic border of the first arm of the sea, 
 or abaiKloiiiiifr the great routes to pass it; so I departed lato 
 from the lioiisc of Samuel, in order to ]mss through this 
 exccralde town during the time tliat tlieso unworthy inhabi- 
 tants were sunk in their nu)st profound sleef). At the monuiut 
 that we entered into this abominable hole a dog barked and 
 tcrrilied poor Samuel, who was a very honest good man, but 
 very timorous, and naturally an excessive poltroon. Seizes' 
 with a terrible panic he became like a fool, and wished b_^ 
 main force to throw himself under the horse to fly from it. 
 I caught hold of the skirt of his garment, and tied it under 
 the horse in spite of all his efforts to disengage it, fearing that 
 the fright he had received had turned his head altoo;ether. I 
 would not suffer him to fly (although in the best possible dis- 
 position, in cold blood, to serve me), and to leave me in the 
 most cruel embarrassment, for I did not know the country, 
 and I should never have been able alone to find the road 
 to return to Cortachy without being obliged to ask from 
 village to village, in exposing myself to be made prisoner bj'- 
 this rabble. He wriggled himself about continually, ai 
 threw himself on to the j^round, but I prevented him froii. 
 unloosing himself from off the saddle by the hold which I 
 had of his dress witli my right hand. I exhorted him to be 
 calm, I scolded him, I prayed him, I threatened him, but 
 always without any effect; his head was no longer his own. 
 I was pleased to say to him, " But, Samuel, it is but a dog 
 that's barking ;" he heard nothing that I could say to him. 
 He was not possessed of himself ; he poured out great drops, 
 and trembled like one in a fever. Fortunately, I had an 
 excellent horse. The day after the battle of Culloden, being 
 opposite the Castle of Macpherson of Cluny, Rose, which had 
 saved me from the battle, was ready to tumble under me, not 
 being able longer to sustain liimself on his legs, I met my 
 Lady Macpherson on the high road, when she told me that 
 there were seven or eight persons who had left their horses 
 
43 
 
 road 
 
 froi 
 
 own. 
 
 
 I 
 
 near to tliat to save tlicmsolvos on foot in tho mountains ; and 
 that r could take one of tlic best of thorn. I set spur.s to my 
 horse, and passed tliroujrh the town at full speed, to leave as 
 fast as it was possible this troublesome crisis, always holdiug 
 on by his dress, and as soon as we were bcyoud it (no one 
 having turned out of his house), poor Samuel be;jfan to 
 breathe again. Having come to hinvself he made nie a thou- 
 sand apologies for his terror, and promised upon his word that 
 he would never again behave in that maimer come Avhat 
 might. 
 
 When the dny began to appear, I dismounted from the 
 horse, which I offered in a present to Samuel, not being able 
 longer to keep him on accoimt of the passage of the arm of 
 the sea. But Samuel would not take him, saying that his 
 neighbours, seeing him in possession of a line horse, would 
 immediately suspect that he had harlx aired some rebel, whom 
 he had aided to save himself, and that they would immediately 
 inform the judges, who would indict him ; and the horse 
 being a proof against him, they would condemti him to be 
 hanged. I took off the saddle and bridle, which we threw 
 to the bottom of a pool ; and we ■ "ove the horse into the 
 fields at a little distance from the high vad, in ( rder that any 
 one who might find him might take him for a stray horse. 
 We had much ditficulty in [)utting at a distance from us this 
 animal, which followed us for some time like a dog. 
 
 We had marched only about a quarter of an hour after 
 having set the horse at liberty, when we encountered a friend 
 of Samuel's, who questioned him hardly to know where he 
 was going, what he was going to do, and who I was. Samuel 
 answered him, without becoming excited, what I could 
 have little- expected of him since the adventure of the dog at 
 Forfar, that he was going to look after a calf which he had 
 placed last autumn for wintering in the low country ; as to 
 this young man whom you see, as he had no bread, 1 have 
 taken him out of charity, and he serves me for his meat. I 
 
44 
 
 am going to send him back again to my house with the calf, 
 while I shall go to Dundee to buy a cow, which will serve to 
 provide my family during the summer. Tiiere was a jDublic- 
 house near to that, where the two friends adjourned to drink 
 a bottle of beer together, and it was necessary that I should 
 go on with them there. I always showed so much respect for 
 my new master, that I would not even sit down beside him tUl 
 he told me to sit down. Samuel's friend insisted greatly on 
 me to drink a cup of that small beer, which had exactly the 
 taste of a medicine ; but Samuel exempted me ^rom it, making 
 such a great eulogy of my sobriety and good character, that 
 his friend paid me without ceasing a thousand litilc atten- 
 tions ; wishing from time to time to get a youth like me for 
 the same wages ; and I believe I was able to discover some 
 small desire to detach me from the service of Samuel, to enter 
 into his own. After having emptied some pots of beer, they 
 left the inn and separated, affording me infinite pleasure ; for 
 not only was I very much embarrassed to act the part which 
 Samuel had given me to play, but their foolish jargon annoyed 
 me to death. Scarcely had this man left us than Samuel 
 whispered in my ear that he was one of the greatest kDa^■es 
 and cheats in the whole province, and greatly renowned for 
 his roguish tricks. Had he knoAvn who I was I would have 
 been immediately sold ; and the sole temptation of having my 
 wealth and purse would have been enough to betray me, rnd 
 conduct me into the hands of the police. I was so much 
 astonished at what Samuel told me that I believed t'uen in 
 good truth they were bound together in friendship, which their 
 conversation, full of mutual expressions of esteem, left me not 
 room to doubt. I praised much the prudence and discretion 
 of my new master on this occasion. 
 
 AVo do not ordinarily attribnte, except to the courts of 
 Princes, deceit, hypocrisy, and the art of deceiving — named, 
 mal a propof , policy — as the only schools for learning false- 
 hood and dissimulation; and all men, although masked, know 
 
45 
 
 themselves to a certain degree by tliat which animates tlieir 
 own interests ; and measuring otliers after tliemselvcs, they 
 see and judge all that they are in effect ; but I saw (juite 
 as much finesse in tho false appearances of friendship and 
 comi)liments of these two peasants, during the time they Avere 
 drinking their beer; and I was as much their dupe in full as 
 I was in an interview at which I was present with two Lords 
 of high rank;* one of them was one of my best friends, the 
 other Ambassador to a court where he had promised and 
 would have been able to have rendered a service to my friend, 
 who was prescribed and exiled from his country, if he had 
 been well disposed to it. These two persons embraced each 
 other with an air of cordiality, saying a thousand flattering 
 things to one another, and gave themselves mutually all that 
 one could imagine of the strongest assurances of fi-ieiulship ; 
 but the moment M. the Ambassador had finished his visit, and 
 was gone, my friend made me aware that they both recipro- 
 cally detested one another. I reproached him for having 
 played a part so unwortliy of an honest and gallant man. lie 
 replied that it was for the pui'pose of paying the ambassador 
 home Ml his own coin.f The pantomime, nevertheless, of these 
 two Lords would have deceived mo less easily, through the idea 
 generally entertained of the duplicity of courtiers, than that 
 played by these two peasants, shown by the falsehood and dis- 
 simulation of the one, and the artfulness of the other, but a 
 simple natural rustic. Falsehood is in the hearts of men in 
 general, irrespectively of their rank in the world ! — (U>})ravity 
 
 *M. Lo Due do Miropoix, then nmbassailor at London, nnd ii\v Tiord 
 Ogilvic, now Earl of Airlie. 
 
 + "To what a dcgrco our politeness," says an author of the ycrr 1448, 
 "is false and triHing, as that which makes a parade of itself — great, odious, 
 and insulting. It is a mask much more hideous than the most dofonnod 
 visage. All these bowings and scrapings, tliese aft'ectations, and those other 
 gestures, are insupportable to an honest man. Tho false brilliancy of our 
 manners is more detestable than the coarseness of many more rustic, which 
 is not so revolting." — Pago !3G7. Through all, one sees the baseness of man ; 
 but where is his grandeur ?— to bo vile in his opinions, odious in his passious. 
 
46 
 
 of sentiments which Ave do not find in the animal races ; for a 
 dog will not caress when he wishes to bite ; these evil qualities 
 are reserved alone for the himian rrce. Lying causes man to 
 depart from his natural state, dishonours him, debases him, 
 degra<los him below the brutes ; and, unfortunately, one finds 
 it indiscriminately in the heart of one born to govern a king- 
 dom as well as in that of a peasant. 
 
 Having arrived about nine o'clock in the morning a dis- 
 tance of about half a league from the first arm of the sea, 
 without knowing how I would have passed it, to whom I 
 could address myself to find assistance, nor where to find 
 an asyhmi in walling for an opportunity presenting itself to 
 cross the Firth, I demanded of Samuel if he could not point 
 out to mc some gentleman in the neighbourhood of Broughty 
 who was not an enemy to the House of Stuart, but in the 
 meantime had not joined our army. " On my troth," replied 
 Samuel, ''behold the castle of M. Graham of Dinnetrune, who 
 answers precisely to wliat you define, two of whose nephews 
 were in your army, but he has remained quiet at home witli- 
 out declaring himself." I had not known M. Graham, 
 having never seen him ; but I had often heard him spoken 
 of by my sister Rollo, his niece having been companion to 
 my Lady Rollo, her mother-in-law. M. Graham was of a 
 very ancient family, a branch of the Grahams, Duke of Mon- 
 trose, and was one of those who had taken arms in favour of 
 the House of Stuart in 1715. Having then but small 
 means after that unfortunate adventure, he got into the ser- 
 vice of the English East India Company, and rising to the 
 command of one of their ships, he acquired a considerable 
 fortune, and again raised his family. I sent Samuel on the 
 instant to inform M. Graham that he had conducted close to 
 his mansion an unfortunate gentleman who desired exceed- 
 ingly to speak with him. Samuel did not delay returning, 
 telling me that he had found M. Graham, who had ordered 
 him to conduct me to one of bis enclosures, where there were 
 
47 
 
 very high furze, and that he would not delay to join me. M. 
 Graham arrived immediately. I told him who I was, and 
 prnyed him most instantly to procure me a boat to pass the 
 Firth at Broughty, as this village was not above half-a-league 
 from his house. I addressed myself to him, persuaded that 
 he would certainly know all the inhabitants in whom one 
 could confide. He replied that he would be greatly delighted 
 to be able to be of use ; that he knew my sister Hollo, having 
 seen her for a short time at the Castle of Lord Rollo ; and 
 after a thousand apologies for not being able to run the risk 
 of making me enter into his Castle (fearing his servants, of 
 whose fidelity he was not certain), he told me that he would 
 send forthwith to Broughty to find a boat, asking me at the 
 same time if I would not wish to breakfast. I told him, that 
 after having passed six or seven days at the house of Samuel, 
 with nothing to live upon but oatmeal and Avater for our food, 
 I should find very good whatever he should judge proper, 
 and should do honours to it by my appetite. He went away, 
 and sent me at once his gardener (of Avhose fidelity he was 
 sure), with fresh eggs, butter, cheese, a bottle of white 
 wine, and another of beer. Never did I cat with so much 
 voracity ! I devoured seven or eight eggs in a moment, with 
 much butter, and bread, and cheese. M. Graham returned 
 into the park, but seeing me drowsy, he left me, reiterating 
 his assurances that he would send immediately to Broughty 
 to secure boatmen to tninsport me that night in a boat to 
 the other side of the Firth. It was then nearly ten o'clock 
 in the morning, and fine weather in the month of INIay. 
 Having sent back Samuel very well pleased by a gratuity 
 which I made him far above his expectations, I laid me down 
 among the broom, which was five feet high, and I slept an 
 hour, Avhen I was awakened most agreeably by M. Graham 
 announcing to me the good news that he had engaged the 
 boatmen, who were assembled to take me across the Firth in 
 their boat that night at nine o'clock. 
 
 I ii 
 
48 
 
 M. Graham asked me what I would wish for dinner, 
 making a detail of the good things in his house, all exquisite 
 for a famished man who had partaken of such meagre fare at 
 the house of Samuel. He mentioned to me a good sirloin of 
 beef, and I begged of him not to send me anything else. Al- 
 though it was then scarcely three hours since I had eaten 
 copiously, I did not feel myself less strong as I devoured the 
 sirloin, which I found delicious, and of a taste far above aV 
 I had ever eaten in my life, of the most delicate and refined ; 
 in fact, I would have been able to have indulged myself in a 
 repast far more ample, not being able to foresee if I should 
 make an equal one for a long time.* 
 
 M. Graham returned immediately after dinner, bringing 
 with him a bottle of old claret wine, which was excellent, 
 and which we emptied together, so that I felt myself in force 
 and in courage to face all ditficultics. He made me aware of 
 the arrangements he had adopted, that at five o'clock precisely 
 I should jump over the park wall, at the place which he 
 shewed me, where I would see the gardener with a sack of 
 corn on his back, whom it was necessary to follow at some 
 distance until he should enter into a wind mill ; then there 
 would appear an old woman in place of the gardener, that 
 I should folloAV tlie same, and who would conduct me to 
 the village of Broughty. ]\1. Graham kept company with 
 me till about four o'clock, Avhen he took leave of me, em- 
 braced me, and wished me the luck of saving myself. I regu- 
 lated my watch by his to be exact at the rendezvous of the 
 gardener. 
 
 I had yet a mortal hour to wait in the park, which ap- 
 peared to me long through my impatience. I held my watch, 
 constantly counting tho minutes, and the moment the hand 
 touched live o'clock, I set myself to follow the order of M. 
 
 [* Wliothcr everything oaten of the best fare is enjoyment, or whether 
 of every thing snperabonnding, the i^lensure is but satiated ; one has always 
 a feeling for the first necessaries ; one has it not for worn-out tastes.] 
 
49 
 
 regu- 
 
 i iip- 
 
 atcb, 
 liand 
 of M. 
 
 rhcthcr 
 always 
 
 Graliam. I had no difTicnlty in discovering the gardener, 
 with the sack of corn on his back ; but I was greatly embar- 
 rassed to be able to distinguish the old woman among three 
 or four old women who passed before the mill precisely at the 
 very instant that the gardener entered it ; and I did not know 
 which of them it behoved me to follow, until my one, seeing 
 my embarrassment, made me a sign of the head, which I 
 comprehended very well. Having arrived at the top of the 
 eminence which descends to the village of Broughty, she 
 stopped to inform me that she would go down herself alone, 
 in order to see if all was ready, and told me to await her 
 return on the highway were she left me. 
 
 Broughty is situated on the sea coast, at the foot of an 
 eminence, and one does not see it till one is at the top of this 
 eminence, from which the road descends obliquely to enter 
 the village. The sun began to set when the good woman 
 quitted me ; and having Avaitcd more than half an-hour on 
 the highway without her having reappeared, impatience at 
 the last made me leave the highway, and enter five or six 
 paces on the laboured land, to approach more nearly the bor- 
 der of the eminence, in order to perceive if she was on the 
 way of coming up again, Avhere I lay down on my belly on 
 the ground in a furrow. I had not been five minutes in this 
 state, to look out for the old woman, till I heard some one 
 coming up, and saw a head appear, which I took imme- 
 diately for her ; but having perceived the head of a horse, 
 i lay down instantly as before, concealing myself on the 
 ground with my head turned to the side of the highwa}-, 
 when I saw pass eight or ten men on horseback at the 
 point which I had just quitted ; and they had just only i)a^!SC(l 
 when tiie old Avoman arrived, quite fluttered as they had 
 followed her close. I rose up, and having aproached 
 her, " Ah ! " said she to me, in a transport of joy and trcni- 
 bling, as if she had been in a paroxysm of fever, ••' I ne^vr 
 counted upon finding you again." I told her to calm herself 
 
 D 
 
50 
 
 and take breath, not comprehending at first what she wished 
 to say to me ; hut hcitig a little restored, she endeavoured to 
 explain to me the cause of her alarms. She told me that the 
 men whom I had seen were English dragoons, who came to visit 
 the village Avith so much severity and threatening that they had 
 affrighted so dreadfully the boatmen whom M. Graham had 
 engaged to ferry me over the Firth, that they would not fur- 
 thermore undertake to do it. I reproached her a little for her 
 imprudence and rashness for not having made me aware that 
 the dragoons were in the village ; for I not only ran a great 
 risk of having been captured by this detachment, if I had not 
 quitted by the merest chance the highway where she had told 
 me to wait for her, but I was tempted at many times, by my 
 impatience at her tardiness in returning, to descend to the 
 village, which I woidd luive done had I known the road to 
 Broughty, or Avhere the public house was, without being 
 obliged to ask from door to door ; and I should have been 
 thrown into the mouth of the lion, by the silliness and stupi- 
 dity of this woman, whose imbecility made me touch closely 
 the scaffold ! What a dire position we are in when our life 
 depends upon the conduct of narrow-minded people ! She 
 answered me, that on entering into the tavern to find the 
 boatmen, she was so overcome by seeing it full of soldiers 
 that she v^as demented and did not know further what she 
 should do. It was a dreadful disaster for me that the boat- 
 men would not move farther, at the moment when I believed 
 I had half saved myself by the certain passage of the Firth. 
 I beseeched the old woman to conduct me to the tavern where 
 the boatmen were, but she had no desire to return thither, 
 excusing herself upon the usclessness of going there — the boat- 
 men being so terrified at the threatenings of the soldiers, added 
 she, that they Avould not ferry me over that night for all the 
 gold in the world, and that I had no other course to take but 
 to return to M. Graham's house, who would find means to 
 conceal me till the next day, at night, that the boatmen 
 
51 
 
 would bo recovered from their frijilit. I could not endure the 
 idea of retracing my steps, the more es])ecially that, being 
 upon the border of the Firth which had cost me so mucli 
 anxiety of mind and wishes to arrive at, and which Avas so 
 diificult to })ass, on account of its nearness to the moun- 
 tainous districts, and detachments of dragoons, who were con- 
 tinually patrolling upon its banks, the reflection that there 
 was no depending for a moment upon the good dispositions of 
 the boatmen to set me free — this unfortunate condition ren- 
 dered me obstinate, and I hoped to secure them by force of 
 money or persuasion; so I always persevered in assuring the 
 old woman that this was the most favourable opportunity in the 
 world, since the dragoons, not having any trace of rebels, 
 would not return a second time that night to revisit the vil- 
 lage. At length she listened to my reasons, and consented, 
 although with some repugnance, to conduct me thither. 
 
 On entering into the the tavern, the hostess, who called 
 herself Mrs. Burne, whispered into my ear to fear nothing in 
 her house, and that she had a daughter in our army with my 
 Lord Ogilvie. I regia'ded this as a very good omen. She 
 showed me immediately the boatmen who had promised to 
 M. Graham to cany me over to the other side of the Firth 
 in their boat. I addressed myself to them, whom 1 found 
 .still trembling and terrified at the threats of the soldiers. 
 All my offers, my prayers, and my entreaties, amounted to 
 nothing; and having employed half an hour at this un- 
 successfully, I perceived that two daughters of Mrs. Burne, 
 Avho Avere beautiful as Venus, the eldest of Avhom Avas 
 .scarcely eighteen years of age, Avere not indifferent to the 
 boatmen, by the glances Avhich they cast upon them from time 
 to time. I quitted these stupid brutes to attach myself to the 
 two pretty girls, in order to enlist them in my interests, 
 and make use of them in opposition to the boatmen, as it is 
 natural for the .sAveethearts to have all i)OAvcr Avitli their loA'crs. 
 I caressed them, 1 embraced them, one after the other. I 
 
52 
 
 said to them a thousand flattering and obliging things, and 
 vei'itahly I had no ditficidty in phvying this game ; for they 
 were of the most ravishing beauty, and my sincere compliments 
 proceeded from the heart. I was determined to pass the night 
 at Mrs. Burne's, in case I should not succeed in crossing 
 the Firth, and I sent back the old woman. 
 
 At the end of half an hour, I had got my two beauties en- 
 tirely in my interests, and each of them made a bold assault 
 upon her lover, making them all the prayers and entreaties 
 possible, but with as little success as myself, and without 
 being able to bend th m — the terrors of these stupid lovers 
 being much stronger than their love. The beautiful and 
 charming Mally Burne, the eldest of the two, repulsed to the 
 end, and, indignant at their obstinacy, turned to her sister, 
 and said to her, "Ah! Jenny, these are lazy and despicable 
 cowards. I would not for any thing in the world that this 
 luifortunate gentleman shoidd be taken in our house. I feel 
 pity for him. Will you take an oar ? I will take another, 
 and we will go across ourselves, to the eternal disgrace of 
 these two raggamuffins without souls." Jenny consented 
 without hesitation. I fell upon their neck, and gave them a 
 thousand tender embraces alternately, the one after the 
 other, fi-om the bottom of my heart. 
 
 I thought at first that the resolution of these generous 
 girls woidd have influenced their lovers ; but these lazy dogs 
 — move beasts than the brutes themselves — were not in 
 the least degree moved by them, preserving their indif- 
 ference, and leaving it to be done by these charming beauties 
 without being in the smallest degree affected by it. Seeing 
 the stubbornness of the boatmen, and wishing to [jrofit by the 
 offer of these charming girls, I took upon the instant two oars 
 upon my shoulders, and marched to the borders of the Firth 
 between my two beauties. I launched the boat into the water, 
 and these amiable girls having entered it, I pushed it along ; 
 then taking one of the oars to myself, I gave them the other 
 
53 
 
 to row by turns, by relieving one another, when thoy sliotild 
 feel themselves fatigued. I experienced at that moment that 
 every kind of skill may become useful. During the stay 
 which I made in Russia, where they often made parties of 
 pleasure on the river, I amused myself sometimes in rowing, 
 little then foreseeing that I should avail myself of it one day 
 to save my life. We left Broughty at ten o'clock at night, 
 and we arrived at midnight at the otiier side of the Firth, 
 which is about two miles in breadth ; the weather being fine, 
 starlight, and suihciiiitly clear to distinguish the way. I ad- 
 mired the conduct of Heaven towards me, and the visible 
 effects of Providence ; but at the moment when I thouglit of 
 my good fortune in having escaped the detachment of cavalry, 
 and having passed the Firth, it came into my mind at the 
 same time the infinite number of such encounters, which 
 would necessarily befall me, still to encounter before being 
 saved in foreign lands; and this reflection chilled the joy that 
 I would have otherwise experienced. My two beauties 
 having disembarked with me, to put me into the highway 
 which leads to the town of St. Andrews, I took leave of these 
 charming girls, truly enamoured of tlieir sentiments and gene- 
 rosity, quitting them with a sensible regret, as I should never 
 see them again. I embraced them a thousand times, one after 
 the other ; and as they obstinately insisted on not receiving 
 any recompense in money, I found means of sliding ten or 
 twelve shillings into the pocket of the charming Mally, who 
 was one of the most perfect beauties that nature had formed, 
 made to be painted, with an elegant manner, and with all the 
 graces possible. In any other position they would have been 
 able to have tempted me to make a stay in their village ; and 
 if it shoidd be my lot to return to my native country, I shall 
 certainly be at Broughty expressly to see them. 
 
 I had not been able to form any plan of advance that I 
 should make, or the route which I ought to follow ; a tliou- 
 sand^obstacles to surmount sprung up at every step, while un- 
 
54 
 
 foreseen circumstances Jilso presented themselves in my 
 favour. Ever attentive to preserve my san/j froid, and my 
 reflection, to be able to meet troublesome and unexpected en- 
 counters, and to avail myself rapidly of propitious incidents 
 whicli might attend fortune (equally fickle in its favours and 
 repulses), I always experienced a mixture of good and bad 
 events, but uncertain which would preponderate in my lot. 
 I could not recollect during my crossing the Firth of any per- 
 son of my acquaintance who dwelt in the extent of the land 
 between the two arms of the sea, which was about twelve 
 miles in breadth — ^almost all the gentlemen of the county, 
 wdiich they call Fife, having taken up arms for Prince 
 Edward, were in the same situation as myself. 1 could not 
 see any person there to whom I could address myself besides 
 my cousin, Mrs. Spence, whose two grandmothers were sisters, 
 daughters of Douglas, Baron of Whittengeme, a branch of the 
 liouse of the Duke of Douglas. She had an estate close to 
 St. Andrews, and made her ordinary residence in that town ; 
 but St. Andrews was at all times the most fanatical town in 
 Scotland, renowned by the assassination of their Archbishop, 
 the Cardinal Bethune. Full of a malignant race of Cal- 
 vinistic hypocrites, who masked their wickedness under the 
 cloak of religion, the greatest cheats and rascals in their inter- 
 course, and who, nevertheless, carried their sanctified dissim- 
 ulation so far as to lift their bonnet in taking a pinch of snuff 
 to ask God's blessing on it ; in short, who have always the 
 name of God in their mouths, and the devil in their hearts ; 
 a city truly worthy of the fate of Sodom and Gommorrah. 
 Meantime, I resolved to go thither. It was a seaport, and I 
 w^as seduced with the hope, of finding there my passage in 
 some ship for foreign parts by means of my cousin, Mrs. 
 Spence. 
 
 Having marched the whole night, as soon as the day 
 began to appear, I stopped upon the border of a rivulet to 
 assuage my feet, the toes of which were blistered and peeled 
 
55 
 
 ^< 
 
 even to the bonos as with a razor, hy my thick stockings and 
 rustic shoes, which I found full of Wood when I detached 
 myself from them to ])ut my feet to trample in the Avater ; 1 f(dt 
 immediately by the bathing the shooting pains less violent and 
 more supi)ortable. During two hours that 1 remained there, 
 my feet always in the rivnlet, 1 experienced a sweetness, and 
 serenity overspread my soul, and a tranquility of spirits, 
 withont the least agitation, and withont the more light 
 effusions of the passions which prevailed, like as in my sleep 
 in Samuel's house after the dream which made me enter into 
 the rash enterprise of attempting to go to Edinburgh, although 
 at the same time over})owered, and in a condition to move 
 compassion in the breast of the most hardened. I was 
 resigned to die, and 1 prayed the Supreme Being with 
 extreme fervour to be pleased of his goodness and pity to 
 terminate in an instant my sorrowful existence ! Certainly 
 the prospect of death, at any other time so formidable, but 
 which I then regarded as my greatest good, would have ap- 
 peared sweet and delightful, and would not have had any- 
 thing terrible in it. I regretted bitterly not having been 
 killed at the battle of Culloden, having esca])cd it so nearly; 
 and I envied the lot of my comrades who were reposing dead 
 7ipon the field of battle. The iiorrible idea of seeing an exe- 
 cutioner with a knife in his hand ready to rip up my boAvels 
 while alive*, and tear out my heart, still beating, and throw 
 it in the fire ; my imagination was impressed with the idea 
 that I should have the dismal fate of being taken, and this 
 reflection made an impression so strong upon me by the pro- 
 spect of thus perishing on the scaffold in presence of a cruel 
 and barbarous populace, that I was often tempted to shorten 
 my days in a moment on the borders of this rivulet, which 
 were become burdensome to me ; and in my position the 
 pleasures of existence appeared to me a very small thing.f 
 
 * The mode of punishment to which all those were subjected who had 
 the misfortune to be taken and condemned. 
 
 1 1 reasoned with myself on the immortality of the soul. 
 
56 
 
 How do the effects of hope termiimtc, the smallest ray of 
 whieh suj)|)orts the unfortunate in spite of the evidence of 
 danj5er the most inevitable, inspires him with a supernatural 
 coiu-age, diffuses a balm even on the wounds which produce 
 his death, and seems to disarm the hand of the suicide. Is 
 it in the power of Providence to give to man a succour and a 
 consolation more usefnl ami more efHcacious ? and by n 
 gracious felicity the unfortunate are not deficient in hopes ; 
 they do not see in all their projects but the termination of 
 their evils. It is from this that they terminate all their com- 
 plexities. I implored the Almighty, that if it Avas my destiny 
 thus to perish in sufferings, at least not to leave me to languish 
 a long time between life and death — cruel incertitude and a 
 terrible altcriuitive to support. I i)Ut on my stockings and 
 shoes, and rose t(j depart, but scarcely Avas I able to keep myself 
 from falling, my stockings and shoes being indurated with 
 blood ; as soon as I began to move a pace, I felt pains which 
 pierced me to the heart. I took off my shoes and stcxikings ; 
 I i)ut my feet into the water, and having i/nmersed my stock- 
 ings and shoes in the rivulet for half an hour to soften them, I 
 then found myself in a condition to walk, and I departed. I 
 met a countryman after an lunu* on the road, who told me 
 that it was still four miles from St. Andrews. I flattered 
 myself that the peasant was mistaken ; but I found in the 
 end these miles as long as the leagues in the environs of 
 Paris. According to report of the peasant, I had made ten 
 of these miles since midnight that I left the boat. I arrived 
 at St. Andrews about eight o'clock in the morning, much 
 fatigued. It was Sunday, and the streets were full of j)eople, 
 who stopped me at every pace to ask at me news of tl- 
 rebels. I always answered them that I knew not^ «g, ' 
 iug come only from Dundee, a town almost as fa' 
 Andrews. I asked for the house of Mrs. Spem outej i 
 
 the town, and having found it, I said to her cliaii Dermal' I 
 had a letter to deliver to her mistress into her own ha. ids. 
 
57 
 
 
 She lotl me into the chnmhcr of Ma«lam Spcnco, who was 
 still ill bed, and immediately she retired. IMy cousin did not 
 recognise me at first, oAving to my disguise ; but luiving 
 examined me for a moment, she cried, bursting into a torrent 
 of tears., ''Ah! my dear child, you ar<5 lost without 
 resource ; how have you over been able to think of coming 
 to St. Andrews, and to a house so much suspected as mine." 
 She was a Roman Catholic. " The po})ulace yesterday,'* 
 added she, "made prisoner the son of my neighbour, jNIr. 
 lloss (who was disguised like a peasant), before he had evea 
 rested half-an-hour in his father's house, and he is actually 
 in prison at Dundee, loaded with irons." I did not expect a 
 reception like this, but I saw quite well the false stej) I had 
 taken, and I was very uneasy to get out of it. I besecched 
 her for mercy's sake to calm herself, otherwise that she 
 would be the means of betraying me, by raising suspicions 
 on my account in the minds of her servants. Being a little 
 tran({uilized, she wrote immediately to her tenant, who 
 was at a ({uarter of a league from the town, to give me a 
 horse, and conduct me as far as Wemyss, a village on the 
 border of the Firth, which I had yet to pass in order to 
 arrive at Edinburgh, about ten miles from St. Andrews. 
 This was all that I could desire for the best, for I was over- 
 whelmed with fatigue, and the wounds in my feet. She 
 mentioned in her letter to the farmer that she was sending 
 luider my charge to Edinl)urgh papers absolutely necessary, 
 and very pressing for her process, which was about to be 
 decided in Edinburgh in a fcAV days. I took leave of my 
 cousin immediately, without having even sat down in her 
 house, and I left with a little girl which she sent to conduct 
 me to the house of her tenant, taking by-roads across the 
 gardens, not to appear more in the streets of that execrable 
 town. When I was out of it, the fluttering idea of having a 
 horse as far as Wemyss gave me new strength and courage to 
 support my pains. 
 
68 
 
 I delivered the letter to the farmer, and the reply of this 
 animal petrified me as a statue. " Mrs. Spence," said he to 
 me, " is mistress to deprive me of my farm, to give it to 
 whom she pleases, but she is not able to make me profane 
 the day of the Lord, by giving my horse to travel on Sunday." 
 I represented to him with all the energy possible the necessity 
 of having a horse on account of the process of Mrs. Spence, 
 and that the delay in sending the papers to her advocate 
 might be productive of the greatest loss to her ; but all that 
 I could say had not the least effect, and he persisted obsti- 
 nately in his refusal. This holy scoundrel made no scruple 
 to deceive and cheat his neighbours on ihe Sabbath as on 
 other days, nor to spill upon the scaffold the blood of the 
 unfortunate gentlemen whom they had made prisoners ia 
 their infernal raids, who had never done them any ill, and 
 whom they even did not know.* These hypocrites, tiie execra- 
 tion and the refuse of the human race, with their eyes con- 
 tinually lifted up to heaven, use as a mask all that is most 
 sacred to deceive more securely ; and, imfortunately, this 
 same spirit of hypocrisy is found indiiferently in all religious. f 
 
 * " The man of the people," says a modern author, " is altogether a 
 perfect savage, whose spirit and whose heart have not been in the smallest 
 degi'ce cultivated ; the care of his manners is committed to piiests who are 
 content to fill his imagination with terrors, fables, and chimeras, and oblige 
 him to conform to their wicked practices — not dreaming in the smallest 
 degree to render him either reasonable or sociable. In general, the people 
 i?i every country are very devout, very credulous, very zealous for religion, 
 of which they comprehend nothing, very much disposed to the interest of 
 their priests, whom tuoy follow lilindly ; but they remain always in complete 
 ignorance of the principles of true morality ; they have no idea of equity, 
 humanity, sensibility ; they find the secret of allying religion \vith debauch- 
 ery, sensuality, and, often, with crime. These fanatics veil their infamies 
 and wickednesses by their devotion." 
 
 f "In fine," says Puffendorff, "there is not an animal naturally more 
 dangerous and more indomitable than mr.n, nor more inclined to vices cal- 
 cuLi ted to disturb society, so far as it pleases him to exercise his fury against 
 his fellow men ; and that the most jxirt of the evils to which l;uman life is 
 subject proceed manifestly from man himself." — Duties of Man and Citizen^ 
 tome U.J xjage 56. 
 
 \ 
 
59 
 
 Never could I fail to have great distrust of those wlio made 
 themselves known with ostentation as zealous observers 
 of the ceremonial part of religion, and by an outward devo- 
 tion — their actions rarely conforming thereto, which is a mani- 
 fest proof of their falsehood. In place of that, true piety is 
 concealed in the heart, and seeks not the applause of the 
 public. I would not fear these despicable minions in an open 
 campaign, or in the villages ; for these wicked and cruel mor- 
 tals arc always cowards, and these qualities are infallible 
 signs of their want of heart. In knocking ou<^ the brains of one 
 of these monsters with one of my pistols, I would make my 
 retreat with the other pistol in my hand without any of these 
 dastards ever daring to offer opposition ; but I was not tran- 
 quil di.i'ing the quarter of an hour that I was in the town of 
 St. Andrews. 
 
 Frustrated in my hopes of getting a horse, I immediately 
 quitted the house of the farmer, without having sat down 
 therein, and took the road to Wemyss. What a horrible situa- 
 tion ! Crippled by the wounds in my feet, which made me ex- 
 perience a pain so sharp that the shootings deprived mc some- 
 times nearly altogether of breathing — not knoAving to whom 
 to address myself at the village of "Wemyss, supposing that I 
 should yet retain strength to make out these ten miles — for- 
 :eeing the risk that I should run there of being seized at the 
 first inn at Avhich I should ask to pass the night — in fine, not 
 knowing what to do nor where to go. I found luckily a rivu- 
 let about half a-mile from that execrable town. I laid i\t u 
 distance from me my musket off the highway, and having 
 pulled off my shoes and stockings at the edge of the water, I 
 
 Hobbes says in his treatise on Man, " Forasmuch as swords and guns 
 are the arms of men, the brute beasts are providetl with nails, teeth, and 
 stings : so man surpasses in rapacity and cruelty the wolves, the bears, the 
 serpents, who do not exercise their rapacity, but when hunger impels ; nor 
 their cruelty, but when they arc irritated ; and hunger itself in the distance 
 renders man famished. All the scourges of nature do not revolt the human 
 heart eciual to the injuries of man." 
 
60 
 
 found the wounds of my feet considerably increased, the 
 blood running from them like a torrent. I put my feet to 
 steep in the water, as formerly, and did the same with my 
 shoes and stockings, which were full of blood. But this was 
 not my greatest evil : I had the mind as much lacerated and 
 tormented as the body. The hopes that I had formed of any 
 asylum and succour from my cousin Spence had vanished into 
 air, and the ten long miles from Broughty to St. Andrews 
 were useless and completely lost. I relapsed into a depres- 
 sion of mind and body which I had never felt before. It 
 was in vain that I racked my imagination to discover some 
 resource. I could see none. The castle of Lord Rollo was 
 at the side of the Firth, but at the distance of twenty-five 
 miles to the south. I was convinced of the friendship of his 
 Lordship and the benevolence of all his family ; but how was 
 I to get there ? It was several days' journey for me, then, 
 so fatigued and knocked up. Besides, supposing that I 
 should be able to get there, I should find myself at a greater 
 distance from Edinburgh than in the place where I was. I 
 did not know which way to turn me. In the meantime, I saw 
 no other course to take ; and, in short, I decided on it, 
 forming my plan to make the way by short journeys, and 
 always to sleep in the fields, to avoid as much as I could the 
 towns and villages which I should find in my way in going 
 to Lord Rollo's. 
 
 The body borne down with pains and fatigues, and the 
 mind cruelly ag'tatcd and tormented — lost in an abyss of 
 reflections, all of a sudden I recollected myself of a chamber- 
 maid of my mother, who was married some two years before 
 to George Lillie, gardener to M. Bethune, at Balfour, whose 
 mansion was not but half a league from Wemyss. This girl 
 having had a great deal of pains and cares for my mother 
 during a long illness which she had suffered, my father, in 
 consideration of her attachment, paid the expense of the 
 nuptials. I knew wel' 'it Lillie was a Calvinist, and one of 
 
61 
 
 the most furious and outrageous in these districts ; but, from 
 the favours he had received from my family, I did not dread 
 treachery on his part, supposing he should not lend himself 
 to my service ; and, in case he should incline to receive me 
 into his house, I should he there in the greatest security. 
 The remembrance of Lillie and his wife gave me an absence 
 of mind so inconceivable, that I wished upon the instant to 
 go thither, without thinking even of going to sleep, and with- 
 out perceiving that I had not rested, not haviiig had a (juar- 
 ter of an hour that I had sat down, and I felt no more 
 neither my weariness nor my pains. Zeno and the Stoics, a 
 sect of philosophers, have maintained that there are neither 
 real pleasures nor pains, and that different sensations depend 
 upon fixed attention upon our enjoyments and our suf- 
 ferings. It is certain that, in this moment of absence of 
 mind, I did not feel any more the pains of my feet, though 
 very violent ; but from this reverie I was awakened in an 
 instant. This philosophy would be a grand happiness to men 
 if these philosophers were able to teach us the art of with- 
 drawing our attention when we pleased.* 
 
 I had eaten nothing since my repast in the enclosure at 
 Diimetrune, where M. Graham filled my ])0('kets with bread 
 and cheese. In fact, I had always had my mind too much 
 occupied to feel hunger ; but my appetite returned with my 
 
 * " One pleasure which I have searched for," says the Abbe do Cardillac, 
 " C(iual]y recals all the agreeable ideas with which it is possible to be allied ; 
 the iniaginatiou reviews many si'usible i^erccptions for nie which it receives ; 
 aiid in that state it enjoys pleasures the most vivid. When it seizes on tho 
 action of my imagination, I feel immediately an enchantment. By this ex- 
 plication, we feci that the pleasures of the imagination are as real, and also 
 as natural, as others, although one prononnces generally tho contrary ex- 
 ample : — A man tormented by the gout, and who is not able to bear it, per- 
 ceives in a moment that ho has thereby at least recovered a sense that ho 
 believed to be lost — more pain ; an instant after, the tire has been set to his 
 house — more weakness ; ho is already out of danger wlien he dreams of suc- 
 cour. His imagination, suddenly and vividly struck, reacts upon all parts 
 of liis frame, and produces a revolution that saves him." — Ensai/ on the Oriyin 
 of Human Knoiclcdgc. 
 
62 
 
 hope of finding a refuge at the house of Lillie ; and taking 
 out of my pocket some of the bread and cheese, I made a good 
 repast of tliem during the time my feet, shoes, and stockirjgs, 
 soaked themselves in the stream. My strength and courage 
 returned at the same time ; and having taken two hours repose, 
 and phiced some white paper under the wounds of my feet, to 
 prevent the rubbing of my slioes and stockings, I made six 
 miles all on a stretch Avithout stop])ing, the half of the road from 
 St. Andrews to Wemyss, and there did not remain more than 
 four from that to Balfour. The desire and impatience to be 
 there made me feel less keenly my fatigues and pains. I still 
 found a rivulet where I could repose, making the same oper- 
 ations as formerly. My toes and feet were in a most 
 pitiable case, lacerated and torn even to the bone, of which I 
 shall retain the marks all my life, having the second toe of 
 my left foot entirely twisted by the cruel journey. In the 
 meantime, they did not hinder me from accomplishing the 
 other four miles to Balfour, although suffering the most 
 excessive pains ; and I arrived there about nine o'clock in 
 the evening, with joy and pleasure which surpass imagination. 
 When I found myself within a short space from the house 
 of Lillie, I seized the door with both my hands to prevent 
 me from falling to the ground. My strength was totally 
 exhausted, and would not have enabled me to go a step fartlier 
 to have even saved me from the scaffold. With diihculty my 
 legs were able to support me in dragging me up to the door. 
 What will necessity and the desire of preserving one's exis- 
 tence in a case such as mine not do, seeming to give an increase 
 of power to sustain incredible efforts. Having knocked, 
 Lillie came to open the door to me ; and not having recognised 
 me under my beggarly dress, he said to me several times with 
 
 What are you seek 
 answer him, but 
 advanced inside the door, fearing that he woidd shut i 
 
 ([uickness and fright, "AV' 
 
 want :• 
 
 lUg 
 
 you 
 
 are you 
 I did not 
 
 out 
 
 by the nose ; this made him redouble his terror, and he was 
 
63 
 
 I 
 
 quite trembling, taking me for some robber. I asked him if 
 he had any stranger in his house? His wife, vho was seated 
 before the fire, recognised my voice, and perceiving my 
 habiliments, she cried immediately to her husband — " Oh ! 
 great God! I know him; shut the door quickly." Lillie 
 obeyed without further examining me ; and following me up 
 to the light he also recognised me. In spite of my grievous 
 condition I could not keep myself from laughing at the atti- 
 tude of Lillie at the moment of his surprise in distinguishing 
 me under my disguise. Confounded, stupefied, petrified as a 
 statue, he joined his hands together, even lifting his eyes to 
 heaven. "Ah!" said he to me, " this does not surprise me I 
 My wife and I were speaking of you yesterday evening ; and 
 1 said to her, that for all the world I believed that you were 
 with that wicked race." I answered him that he had reason 
 to believe that, from the principles of attachment in which I 
 had been brought up for the House of Stuart. " Actually," 
 added I to him, " it is necessary to assist me, my poor George, 
 to save me from the powers that be." This was a melan- 
 choly adventure, and truly humiliating for Lillie, to be 
 obliged to give an asylum to a rebel, and to find himself 
 Tuuler the necessity, from gratitude, to succour one of those 
 whom he so much decried ! he who, of all the country, had 
 been one of the greatest orators against the rebels, with his 
 voice in their meetings, louder than others in exclamations 
 against the Pope and the Pretender, whom he always joined 
 together. Lillie was an honest man, notwitlistanding his 
 faiiatical principles. Ho assured me that he was penetrated 
 with my condition, and he would do all that could depend 
 upon him to save me and get me across the Firth as soon as 
 it shoidd be possible. Finding me as an automaton, without 
 the poAver of moving either arm or leg, Lillie and his wife 
 undressed me, and (the gardeners in Scotland all making a 
 trade of (piackery), Lillie having bathed the wounds in my 
 feet with whisky, which made me suffer an insupportable 
 
64 
 
 pain, applied to them ia tlie end a balm, and they put on me 
 their stockings and slippers. I found myself solaced by this 
 operation, and as it were resuscitated. 
 
 I sent Lillie to make my compliments to his master, M. 
 Bethune, beseeching him not to consider me bad if his gar- 
 dener lost some hours of work, I being at his house and in 
 great need of his services. M. Bethune sent back Lillie on 
 the instant to say to me on his part that he was in despair at 
 not being able to come and see me, having been indisposed 
 for some time, and having that moment gone to bed ; that he 
 could do no more than offer me a bed at his house, where I 
 would be much better than in Lillie's, but that he begged me 
 most instantly to send and fetch freely from his house what- 
 ever I shoidd stand in need of. He wished that Lillie should 
 take charge of chickens, wine, and other things; biit from 
 some desire that Lillie had to afford me good cheer at his own 
 house, he very prudently did not wish to take anything, 
 fearing, as he said to me, that it might create suspicion 
 among M. Bethune's domestics that he had some one con- 
 cealed in his house. I praised Lillie miu'Ji for his prudence 
 and discretion. Mrs. Lillie brought me quickly a plate of 
 collops, which I devoured in haste, having more desire to 
 sleep than to eat ; having been two days and as many 
 nights ahvays on the march, since my departure from 
 Samuel's, without having slept but three hours in the enclo- 
 sure of M. Graham. Lillie having undressed me, carried me 
 in his arms to bed ; it was impossible for me to put my foot 
 to the ground for all things in the world. I slept in one con- 
 tinued slumber from ten o'clock in the evening to the next day, 
 at nine and a half hours in the evening, twenty-three hours 
 and a half without ever awakening, Mr. Lillie having given 
 orders not to make the least noise, and not having wished to 
 awaken me to receive the visit of M. Bethune, who had 
 come to see me. 
 
 As nothing restores the exhausted body so much as sleep, 
 
 i 
 
65 
 
 ! 
 
 the precious gift of nature, and a boon of licavcn in our suffer- 
 ings, I felt myself greatly refreshed, the body so •vvell 
 restored, and it was only my feet which caused me to suffer 
 much. Mrs. Lillie had a chicken ready lo put upon the spit 
 the moment I should awake. I ate it in my bed before I 
 rose. Lillie having removed the dressing which he had put 
 upon my feet, replaced it by another. He told me that his 
 wife's mother kept an inn in the village of Wemyss, much 
 frequented by fishers ; that perhaps she Avould find me some 
 one of her acrpiaintance who would willingly put me across 
 the Firth ; and he proposed that I should go there with him 
 if I was in a condition to travel, Wemyss being not more than 
 half a league from Balfour. I was not displeased that Lillie, 
 in his desire n shake himself clear of me, was as anxious to 
 save me as I wa.^ myself. lie offered me a horse on the part 
 of M. Bethune, but before accepting it, I wished to try my 
 strength and see if I was in a state to travel. Having arisen 
 and made the tour of the bed-chamber, sup[)orted by his 
 arms, I saw that I was able to do without the horse. Mrs. 
 Lillie, with usual attention, <luring the tinu! that I slept had 
 cut the feet of my great boots to make the stockings more 
 comfortable ; in spite of that I always suffered great pain in 
 my feet. 
 
 We set out towards half -past ten in the evening, and I 
 Avalked with pain ; borne up rather by supp.ort on the arms of 
 Lillie, he trailed me after him ; but the hope of finding an 
 opportunity of crossing the Firth, and going up to Edinburgh, 
 prcvoiited me from feeling the pains which at any other time 
 would have appeared to me unsupportable. Along the road, 
 I said to him jokingly, '■' My poor Lillie, if I am actually taken 
 in our journey, what a figure you would cut. You never durst 
 shew yourself to advantage in these jiious assemblies. Your 
 rcput'ition of the good Calvinist would be gone without re- 
 source." He let escape a deep sigh, and cried out, '' Ah ! 
 Sir, do not speak to me of that." I made an attempt to laugh, 
 
 E 
 
G6 
 
 and continued, "It is true, Lillie, you would not bo injured 
 all your life like me, but your character would be lost for ever 
 among your brethren." I amused myself during the whole 
 route in making similar remarks to him, and I had the pleasure 
 of observing that he regarded his honour as completely en- 
 gaged, and that he sought to get me across the Firth as soon 
 as possible — as much for fear of being discovered at his house, 
 as to make a merit in the estimation of my family. 
 
 Arrived at the house of his mother-in-law, she told us 
 that of all the fishers of Wemyss she did not know anyone 
 that one could trust, except one named Salmon, adding that 
 he was a very zealous Calvinist, and a violent enemy against 
 the party of Prince Edward ; but, besides, a man of wealth, 
 and much distinguished in the village for his probity and good 
 manners ; that we could apply to him immediately, and that 
 if he did not incline to render me u service, he was too hon- 
 oural)]e a man to do me an injury. 
 
 We went instantly to the house of Salmon. It was nearly 
 midnight, and we found him already up, and engaged arrang- 
 ing his nets to go a-fishing. Knowing the voice of Lillie, he 
 opened the door to us. Lillie, after many efforts, at length 
 broke silence Avith a plaintive tone of voice, and a humble air, 
 abashed, bnshful, and embarrassed. "Salmon, my friend," 
 said he to him, '• behold the only son of my wife's mistress. 
 He has been fool and rash enough to join that wicked race 
 whicli seeks to destroy our religion, and renders us slaves. 
 Behold, my friend, the miserable state to which he has reduced 
 himself. Everybody knows tlie kindness his family has be- 
 stowed upon my wife and me at our marriage. I honour 
 them and respect them ; and I fear much that if he were taken 
 it Avonld cause the death of his mother, as well as his father, 
 for they are very much attached to him, being their only son. 
 I come, my friend Salmon, to beg you with joined hands to 
 give him a passage tomorrow in your boat when you go to 
 Lcith to sell your fish." The pathetic manner in which Lillie 
 
hon- 
 
 le, he 
 ength 
 ic air, 
 •lend," 
 itress. 
 id race 
 slaves, 
 (luccd 
 IS be- 
 lonour 
 takcu 
 ■atlicr, 
 y son. 
 mds to 
 go to 
 Lillie 
 
 67 
 
 spoke to Salmon gave me pleasure ; but the reply, couched in 
 a morose tone, did not please me so well, and gave me no hope 
 of relief. "You deserve well," said Salmon, "when you save 
 his life — you who wish to abolish our holy religion, destroy 
 our liberties, and render us slaves. No, Lillie, he addi'csses 
 himself badly to me. I would not do him any evil — I am not 
 capable of informing against him — he is in safety in that 
 respect ; but he ought not to expect that I will ever do him a 
 service, nor any one of that wicked race of rebels." I offered 
 him all the gold that I had remaining — six guineas — to carry 
 me over next day in his shallop ; but he was not inclined to 
 listen to speaking about advantage. I could not ; and seeing 
 that it was not on the side of interest that he could be taken, 
 — not being selfish, and that he appearing from his physiog- 
 nomy to be an honest man,* I had no other resource than to 
 abandon my enterprise. I had offered him all my money 
 without making any impression upon him. I hoped still to 
 convert him in my favour by persuasion. As he kept an 
 inn, I requested of him at least to have the pleasure of drink- 
 ing a bottle of beer with him. He consented ; and I did not 
 spare the beer, drinking cup after cup with them : in the mean- 
 time without speaking any further of my passage, but always 
 attentive to insinuate myself into his good graces, to render him 
 propitious to my wishes. At the end of an hour, he turned 
 his head to Lillie, and said to him, " It is a great pity that 
 this young man has been seduced and perverted by that un- 
 worthy rabble of rebels ; he is a good boy." Lillie profited 
 cleverly by this to let fall some words in my favour, and said 
 to him that it would not be long ere he repented it severely. 
 
 * A mirror more true, more expressive than his gesture, his discourse, 
 and even his accent, which could sometimes disiifuise itself, but whicli could 
 not paint this rapid li!:^ht which divides the soul, which has its involuntary 
 course glistening in the eyes even of a knave, who feigns zeal and draws the 
 curtain, and wishes to shape it to his own soul ; but it escapes, it pierces his 
 disguises, and leaves him to see himself naked in spite of every elFort to the 
 contrary. 
 
G8 
 
 I did not appear to understand them ; but I saw my affairs 
 were in a prosperous way; and I continued to pusli the bottles 
 of small beer, which was Aveak as water. In short, 1 played 
 my part so well, and gained so entirely the frieiulship of Sal- 
 mon, that this honest man offered me all at oiice a passage in 
 his long boat next day, without wishing to be understood as 
 speaking of money, but from a pure and noble generosity on 
 his part. It is true, this Avas not a game diflicult to play face 
 to face with poor Salmon, a nuui truly virtuous and respected 
 by all the village for his good morals and excellent qualities, 
 as the mother of Mrs. Lillie had told me of him ; and a 
 virtuous man can never have a Ir-ird heart, but is always sus- 
 ceptible of compassion and humanity for the unfortunate. 
 In whatever class among men one finds virtue, it pleases, and 
 one is prepossessed in favour of him who possesses it. Thus, 
 one is not obliged to do violence to one's sentiments, to say 
 flattering, obliging, and courteous things to a worthy man, 
 whatever be the lowness of his condition, as one is in presence 
 of a Lord of the first rank without merit, and whose elevation 
 is the effect of chance. 
 
 Salmon had but one share of the long boat with several 
 other fishers, and he had the circumspection of guarding him- 
 self in presence of his ptirtners. He told me to conceal myself 
 in a cave which was in sight of the sea, about a gun-shot 
 from "Wcniyss ; and at the break of day, when I should see 
 the fishing boats reurning into port, I should come down and 
 demand from the one where I should see him if he would give 
 me a passage to Leitli on payment ; that he would answer me, 
 " Oh, yes;" and he would settle immediately with his partners 
 as to the price. If any one of the boat should not be willing 
 to agree, he would engage them to consent to it — Salmon and 
 Lillie at the same time teaching me the accent of a countryman 
 in which I should address them. I quitted Salmon, putting 
 a guinea into his hand, telling him that that wiis only arles. 
 He made difficulty in accepting it, representing to me that I 
 
69 
 
 ought to save it, bocauac it was not gain that induced him 
 to render me a service. Lillic having accompanied mc as far 
 as the cave, took leave to return home, and offered me au 
 asyhim at his house in case this opportunity should not bo 
 successful. Although I regarded ray passage across this arm 
 of the sea as beyond doubt, I was very glad to find a secure 
 retreat at the house of Lillic — it being impossible to forsec 
 the troublous circumstances that might occur to me. 
 
 This cave was one of the curious anti(pnties of Scotland, 
 and according to tradition was formerly a Pagan Temple. 
 It is scooped out under a mountain, the entry of which 
 may be about five feet in height, and three feet in breadth, 
 and the edge of the sea is at a distance of about thirty paces 
 from the foot of the mountain. It is very high and spacious 
 inside, and appears to have been of an immense depth. Au 
 adventure happened to James II., King of Scotland, in this 
 cavern, which has rendered it celebrated. Tiie King, who 
 amused himself going about the country under different dis- 
 guises, found himself overtaken by a violent storm in a dark 
 night, and took refuge in this cavern to afford him a shelter 
 from the tempestuous weather. Having foisted himself inside, 
 he found there a great many men and women, ready to seat 
 themselves at a table to sup upon a roast sheep. He supposed 
 at first by their looks that he had not fallen into good hands ; 
 but it was beyond his power to retreat, and he begged their 
 hospitality until the storm was over. They consented to this, 
 and invited the King, whom they did not know, to sit down 
 at the table with them to partake of part of their supper. 
 This was a band of robbers and assassins. Immediately on 
 their finishing their supper, one of them presented an ashet 
 upon which there were two poignards in the form of a St. 
 Andrew's Cross, saying at the same time to the King that 
 that was the dessert which they always served to strangers ; 
 and that he behoved to choose one of the poignards to fight 
 against the one who should be deputed by the company to 
 
70 
 
 attack liim. The Kinp; did not lose his presence of mind. 
 He fecizetl quickly tlic two poignards with botii hi.s hands, 
 buried them in tlie hearts of the two robbers who were sitting 
 on eadi side of him, running lilce liglitning to the mouth of 
 the ca^'c, and escaped their pursuit by the dariiuess of the 
 night. The Kiiig caused seize tliis troop of assassins next 
 day in the morning, and made them all be hanged. 
 
 I entered a small way in advance in this cavern, and laid 
 myself down upon the earth, where I slept about an hour, till 
 all of a sudden 1 was awakened by a noise the most horrible 
 and terrific that I had ever heard. I doubted at first of the 
 fidelity of Salmon, in spite of the very favourable opinions I 
 had formed of him, fearing that it was a detachment of sol- 
 diers which he had sent to make me j)risoner. I ensconced 
 myself in the depths of the cavern with a pistol presented in 
 each hand, advancing always initil I should find myself cased 
 up against the wall, the better to defend myself. Having 
 remained for some moments in this attitude, I prepared to 
 defend myself or to be killed rather than to be made prisoner. 
 I listened at the same time to the noise with attention, and I 
 was soon quickly convinced by the velocity of the movement 
 of the object which created this hubbub, that it could not be 
 from men, and that was all that I then cared for. For some 
 time the object was close to my cars to affright me, and the 
 instant after in the distance with a swiftness and rapidity 
 incredible in its march. Thus I ceased to listen further to this 
 horrible phenomenon, of which I could comprehend nothing, 
 which made a racket and noise very like that of trumpets, 
 and in short a combination of different sounds which was to 
 me altogether unknown. I approached to the entrance of the 
 cave, without having any inclination to sleep more. 
 
 As soon as the day began to clear at a distance, I fixed 
 my eyes upon the sea, to bring to my view the boats which 
 were fishing a quarter of a league from the shore, and as 
 soon as I saw them cuter the harbour of Wemyss, I then de- 
 
71 
 
 ■f 
 
 ccndcd from the cavern, and followed with exactitude the 
 instructions which Salmon had given me. 
 
 The boat, to my misfortune, had made a very bad fii^liinfr, 
 and Salmon had hccn forced by hi.s partners to sell their lish 
 to another boat, tliey having so few that it was not worth 
 while to go to Leith to sell them. 1 asked them if they woidd 
 grant me a passage to go to Leith for j)ayment. Sahnon 
 answered me immediately " most willingly; " and he went up 
 to his partners in order to arrange about it among tliem- 
 selves. They all agreed to it in consideration of a crown of 
 three "livres" for my passage, and I had inconceivable joy 
 at it. At the moment that we were agreed, and that I Avas 
 going to embark, Salmon's wife arrived — cursing and swear- 
 ing " that she would not allow her husband to go to Leith 
 to-day, where he had no business, his boat having sold all his 
 fish, above all with a stranger; and that there appeared some- 
 thing mysterious in it which she could not comj)reheud." 
 What a dreadful misfortune for me ! I swore and railed to 
 myself against this wicked fish-woman ; but this did not 
 further me a bit; and Salmon, who was the weakest l)arty, 
 was obliged to submit himself to the will of his wife. J had 
 the prudence not to mix myself up with their dispute, fearing 
 — from the suspicions she seemed to show — that she had 
 been able to luiderstand our conversation in the night, while 
 we were in drinking the beer, not knowing that Salmon Avas 
 married, and that his wife was sleeping in the chamber even 
 where Ave Avere. I desisted Avitli a good grace, and Avith an 
 air of indifference. Salmon proposed to me to drink a bottle 
 of beer together. I consented to it ; and in going uj) the 
 stair, he slipt into my hand the guinea Avhich I had given him 
 on leaving his house, Avhispering into my ear — "You see, Sir, 
 that I am not master. I Avish you, Avith all my heart, the 
 happiness of saving yourself ; and I am soriy at not having it 
 in my power to contribute to it." I admired the honesty of 
 Salmon ; for not only could he have kept the guinea by in- 
 
72 
 
 forming against me, and have liad my purse and wateli, bnt 
 he would have liad a considerable reward given him by the 
 Governn. 211+ foi every rebel tliat he might make prisoner. 
 This goner( ns con-lnet was so much the more to be praised, 
 that he was an enemy of the House of Stuart, and that lie 
 did not know me. Humanity alone, and a noble spirit, made 
 him act with elevated sentiments above his condition. 
 
 I was not inclined to return directly to the house of Mrs. 
 Lilliii's motlicr, this wicked fish-wife having expressed her sus- 
 picions of me before every one. I was afraid of being fol- 
 lowed. I took the long route along the seaside to return to the 
 cavern, and when I was opposite the entry, looking arouiul me 
 on every side, and seeing nobody, I proceeded quickly inside. 
 I had an extreme curiosity to find out the causo of the terrible 
 uproai which h'ld given me such un3asines3 in the night, of 
 which I could form no idea. I advanced thirty or forty 
 paces in the darkness,, having lost even the sight of the mouth 
 of the cave, and the great noise commenced immediately the 
 same as before ; but when I cla]iped my hands, and cried 
 with all my strength, it increased a thousand times more, and 
 astounded iny ears completely. I perceived even the outline 
 of the rapid movement of those unknown objects which con- 
 stantly appi'oachcd nearer to me as if they would attack me. 
 I retiu'ned back as far as I was able to see the entrance of the 
 cavern, and redoubled my cries and clapping of hands ; I saw 
 depart in the end, owls and other innumerable birds of prey. 
 The frighttul noise of these animals couhl not be compared to 
 any sound 1 had ever heard, their cries and flapping of wings 
 in flying were confounded together by the echo of the cavern, 
 and made but the »ame kind of noise, which pierced my ears ; 
 and the impetuosity of their flight resembled the raging of a 
 storm. If T had not examined to the bottom, with coolness, 
 the cause of an oifcct so singular, I never could have known 
 to what to attribute it, and doubt not that an anchorite saint, 
 had he been in my place, would have found supernatural mir- 
 
73 
 
 acles, in this adventure, and would have made romantic stories,, 
 as good St. Anthony, — for enthusiasm is alwa.ys closely allied 
 to credulity and childishness. I sought (juietly to discover 
 something of which I had no idea what it was, and which I* 
 did not comprehend ; comparing Avith attention all the cir- 
 cumstances, preparing to defend myself with my pistols if it 
 was any ferocious animal ; but I recollected in a moment that 
 men are the most wicked and mischievous of all animals. 
 
 I returned to the house of the mother of Mrs. Lillie. after 
 having remained for about half an-hour in the cavern, and I 
 recounted to her my distresses — that an opportunity, *he most 
 favourable in the world, for crossing the Firth, and wliich 
 had all the appearance of being successful, had failed me by 
 the wickedness of Sabncn's wife, after my arrangements wore 
 taken with her husband ; and I prayed hv;r with earnestness 
 to ])rocure me some one who would pass me over at once, at 
 whatever price it might be, I would not grudge the money. 
 She immediately introduced into my chamber a man, without 
 warning me otherwise than by telling mo that he was an 
 Officer of the Customs in the service of King George. I be- 
 lieved that her head was turned, or that she Avished to betray 
 me ; but I was still more astonished and stupefied when s!ie 
 L'^gan to relate to him that I v/as with Prince Edward. ''J""his 
 man, i)erceiving my uneasiness, told me not to be alarmed, 
 that he had been in the same case as myself in 1715 ; that, 
 having lost his affects, he was reduced to the fatal necessity 
 of gaining his bread to accept this vile em])loyment in the 
 service of the usurper ; but that his attachment and good wishes 
 for the welfare of the House of Stuart were always the same. 
 
 Relieved of my alarms, I asked of liira if he could not 
 recommend me to some honest man who Avould take me 
 across the Firth, and that 1 would give him such remu- 
 neration as he could wish. He replied that there was one 
 named David Cousselnaine. sacrist of the assembly of non- 
 jurors in the villager of Wemyss, a very honest man, and 
 
74 
 
 very zealous to render service to all those who were of the 
 party of Prince Edward, that I could not do better than 
 address myself to him. He went out immediately to seek 
 him, and returned in a moment with him. Cousselnaine said 
 to me that he would take very willingly an oar, if he could 
 find any other one that would join him ; and he proposed to 
 conduct me to the house of Mr. Robertson, at the village of 
 Dubbyside, which is half a-league from Wemyss, to borrow 
 liis boat : he told me that Mr. Robertson was secretly on the 
 side of the Prince, and that he would lend himself to all that 
 I could desire. 
 
 We parted instantly for Dubbyside, Cousselnaine pre- 
 ceding me, as there were two bad villages in our way to 
 cross ; in case any one should wish to examine me, I desired 
 that they should call me John Cousselnaine, a handloom 
 weaver, the name and trade of his brother, Avhom no one 
 knew in these villages ; and if any one suspected m.e for 
 a rebel, he should claim me and maintain against all that I 
 was veritably his brother. I dreaded my new trade of wea- 
 ver ! Being only a servant, it was easy to play the part as 
 I had done in the service of Mrs. Menzies and Samuel ; but 
 if any one should arrest me on suspicion, and sliould want to 
 try me to work at my trade, I should be discovered immedia- 
 tely, and lost without resource. In the meantime, there was 
 no trade that suited me better on this occasion. Mr. Robert- 
 son laughingly said that he would not lend me his boat, but 
 that he would permit, with all his heart, Cousselnaine to un- 
 loose her whenever I should find any one to assist me in cros- 
 sing the Firth ; for as to him he did not knwvv a single person 
 at Dubbyside whom thev could trust. He advised me to go 
 and see M. Seton, a gentleman staying at Dubbyside, who had 
 his oldest son in our army. I did not know the father, but I 
 had contracted a friendsliip with the son. I was ignorant 
 that his paternal house was at Dubbyside, and was charmed 
 at the discovery. 
 
75 
 
 Having found M. Seton at home, I told him my name, 
 and renewed my friendship with his son. He made me enter 
 on the instant into the puhlic hall, where he tortured me to 
 death by a thousand questions of which I understood nothing, 
 and by incoherent proposals, receiving me very coldly, with- 
 out my being able to di\lne the cause. After keeping me 
 impatient during half an hour, all at once his son entered the 
 saloon, and leapt upon my neck to embrace me. He told me 
 that they had taken me for a spy sent to their house to take 
 him prisoner ; and although he had, for half au-hour that he 
 had scrutinized me through a hole across the partition of the 
 room, it was only that instant that he had been able to recog- 
 nize me in my disguise. I was very glad to see Seton again, 
 the more so that I was ignorant of his fate since the Battle 
 of Culloden ; and the pleasure of our meeting was reciprocal. 
 There is always friendship between persons engaged in the 
 same misfortunes. He invited me to stay with him at his 
 father's, and his offer gave me pleasure, as I was likely at 
 Dubbyside to find an opportunity of crossing the Firth. 
 
 I went a little after mid-day to Wemyss, promising myself 
 to see the mother of Mrs. Lillie, always hoping that she would 
 discover some one sutFicieutly humane to join himself to Con- 
 selnaine ; but after a sojourn of eight days at the house of 
 my fricud, without being more advanced than the first day of 
 my arrival there, we had a sharp alarm, which interrupted 
 the pleasures which I was beginning to taste in the society 
 of the very amiable family of M. Seton. Miss Seton having 
 asked at a fishwife while she was selling her fish at the door 
 of the house if she had any news, the fishwomau answered 
 her, hat it Avas reported among other thi ' .• • * a rebel was 
 prowling about every day along the coast ' . • .lo the village 
 of Wemyss, and that he offered lots of money to the fishers 
 to give him a passage across : she added that they would be 
 able very easily to lay hold of him some day in his courses. 
 One may imagine how much I was annoyed at this news, 
 
76 
 
 more especially when tlicy might have been able to have fol- 
 loAvcd mc to the house of M. Seton without my being able to 
 have perceived tliem. As there was everything to fear that 
 the house of M. Seton might be visited at the next moment, 
 Seton, my companion in misfortune, decided himself to quit 
 the house of his father the same evening, to take refuge 
 at the house of some friend, and I myself also to return to 
 Lillic's ; but I was determined to make a final effort before 
 quitting Dubbyside, to cross the Firth that night. I sent to 
 seek out Cousselnaine, who came to me immediately and told 
 me that, in spite of all the persuasions possible, he was unable 
 to find any person who would undertake it. What a deplor- 
 able situation ! To be so near Edinburgh, Avhere centred all 
 my wishes of being able to get there, bu_ upon the point of 
 being obliged to remove myself farther, to bury myself in 
 the fields, abandoning the hope of passing so soon the Firth. 
 The reflection of retreating, in place of advancing, agitated 
 my mind cruelly, and plunged me into an unsupportable 
 chagrin. 
 
 M. Seton, the younger brother of my friend, a young man 
 of eighteen years, who had made several voyages to sea, see- 
 ing my distress and touched with my situation, offered gene- 
 rously to take an oar with Cousselnaine to cross the Firth, 
 which from Dubbyside to Leith is about three leagues broad. 
 I received the obliging offer with thanks, and in the mean- 
 time with the good intention of profiting by it, my position 
 excluding ceremonies, all his family set themselves imme- 
 diately after him to fortify his good and generous resolution, 
 and we agreed to depart about nine o'clock in the evening. 
 
 All seemed to bid fair, and the passage of the Firth, which 
 had cost me pains and sighs, then appeared to me certain. 
 How fortune sports itself continually by throwing obstacles in 
 the way of it! The noise which Seton and Cousselnaine 
 made by launching the boat into the water, alarmed the 
 inhabitants of the village who were not yet gone to bed. The 
 
 .•*.'rf.-.. 
 
vv 
 
 see- 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 cry spread amongst them immediately tliat it was a rebel who 
 wished to save himself, and Seton and Coiisselnaine wcie very 
 very fortunate to escape the hubbub, without being known. 
 I was furious on understanding this vexatious mishap. I 
 durst say nothing to Seton, as it was by an effort of goodness 
 on his part that he had moved in my favour, but I redoubled 
 all my rage on Cousselnaine. I reproached him sharply for his 
 folly and stupidity in having made a noise in launching the 
 boat into tic water, and I scolded him like a nigger. In the 
 meantime, notwithstr.jiding this unlucky occurrence, I was 
 <iuite decided to continue my enterprise, determined to be 
 present to command myself the manoeuvre, and by a fortu- 
 nate stubborness, the more they represented to me tlie ob- 
 stacles for that evening, the more determined I was to make 
 another attem])t. M. Seton and all his family entreated me 
 with chisped hands to defer it till next day, alleging that the in- 
 habitants being alarmed would be on the watch all the night 
 and that it was morally impossible it could succeed. I replied 
 that it was ".seless to speak to mo of it, ray resolution being 
 taken most decidedly. The more certainly that I might take 
 the passage this night, 1 embarked along Avith an oar in each 
 liand, committing myself thus to Providence, and I would 
 undertake ic however extravagant was the prospect, so much 
 was I intent on leaving, provoked at not having been able to 
 llnd one single honest man among the iishers to join Coussel- 
 naine to save my life, and Avithout any prospect of succeeding 
 better in it in the end. 
 
 An unshaken firmness in my resolutions was always very 
 useful to me. I made many reflections before determining 
 on the course I should choose, examining impartially the pi'on 
 and co}is of all that ought naturally to result from them, but 
 once decided no person was ever able to make me waver in 
 my resolutions, even in those cases in Avhich there Avas no 
 other alternative but either to succeed or perish, and al- 
 though every one should be against my opinion, iu Avhich I 
 
78 
 
 always was well founded. Obstinacy becomes a fault in 
 general of character, notwithstanding every one's right to 
 comprehend his own affairs better than any one else, and 
 being the principal interested, the mind works and exercises 
 itself to most advantage to discover tlie resources, thus if one 
 is endowed with good sense and discernment one conducts 
 his own affairs liimself better tlian by the counsels of others, 
 who do not avail themselves of their doubts which render us 
 wavering in our opinions, and make us often deviate from 
 the right. I warned Coussclnaine to hold himself ready by 
 ten o'clock, Avishing still to make an attempt,* and I gave him 
 some money to buy refreshments of which he would have 
 need in crossing. 
 
 Coussclnaine returned at the exact hour, but so intoxi- 
 cated, that with difficulty was he able to hold his feet, having 
 well employed an hour all the more that he was absent. 
 Everything was against me. I swore, I blustered, but I 
 gained nothing by it, I replied to all the repeated solici- 
 tations that they made me to desist, that Coussclnaine being 
 necessary to bring back the boat, he should sleep, and so con- 
 duct himself during the crossing, while that I sailed with M. 
 Seton, and that that would be all the inconvenience ; that I 
 should depart that night most decidedly. I took Cousscl- 
 naine on my back and laid him down all his length in the 
 bottom of the boat ; I launched the boat into the vater with 
 the assistance of M. Seton without making any noise, and at 
 length, each taking an oar, we set ourselves to row with all our 
 strength. As soon as we were distant about fifty paces from 
 
 * It fares better that one is quick and precipitate than frif^htencd ; 
 for fortune is a lady, says INIachiaveli, whom one ought to brand and 
 keep in subjection ; and it is seen every day thah she allows herself to bo 
 governed by those wlio arc (luicl^ and assiduous rather than by those who 
 aro cold and phlegmatic in their movements ; therefore, as a lady, she is 
 always loved by those who aro young ; because, being less circumspect, 
 they attack her with more safety and boldness. Chapter xxv., imrje 231, 
 Edition dc Londres, en Avjtais. 
 
79 
 
 the land, not to be more plagued by the inhabitants, I began 
 then to breathe, and feel my heart rebound as if it had been 
 relieved of a great burden. 
 
 There arose an east wind which agitated the sea greatly, 
 and our little boat danced horribly. Seton was in great 
 terror, and it was well-founded, for a wave breaking over the 
 boat would have filled it with water sufficient to cause it to 
 sink to the bottom. I always encouraged him ; though in 
 any other situation I would have been as much in terror as 
 he was, as we were at every billow in the greatest danger 
 of being engnlphed. But I then feared nothing but the scaf- 
 fold, and any other peril could not make upon me a strong 
 impression. "We were still in danger, to encounter besides 
 the wind and the waves, the drunken CoUi^selnaine extended 
 in the bottom of the boat, wishing at every moment to rise, 
 wanting to return ; and we were obliged, to make him remain 
 quiet, to tie his feet together, and to threaten to throw him 
 into the sea at the least movement he should make further, 
 the only means to make him understand reason. Seton and 
 I having rowed like galley slaves, we landed ]ia})pily on a 
 coast toAvards six o'clock in the morning, a league and a half 
 east from Edinbui-gh. The Firth widening in proportion as 
 you advance to the cast, the passage whicli we made was 
 from four to five leagues. I embraced tenderly the young 
 Seton, and thanked him heartily for the essential services 
 which he had rendered me ; and I gave to Coussclnaiue, who 
 began somewhat to come to himself, a gratification much 
 beyond his expectations. They re-embarked immediately to 
 return to Dubbyside, while I quickly hastened at a distance 
 from the sea-shore, fearing that some countryman might sec 
 me set foot on laiul. I do not believe that any one could 
 enjoy a more perfect felicity than that which I experienced 
 on my landing, having then surmounted the jnost formidable 
 obstacles to my escape ; above all, the passage i>f both arms 
 of the sea, whicli had cost me so many pains, anxieties, and 
 
80 
 
 »g» 
 
 to be able to cloar them by the crosses which I there 
 continually encountered. Actually I found myself within 
 reach of succour, and the aid of my parents and friends. 
 Notwithstanding, it was not without many pains and dilfi- 
 culties that I had arrived at that goal. I had my hands 
 almost in the stnwe state as were my feet ton days before, 
 bleeding much, and prodigiously inflamed ; but I consoled 
 myself easily to be for some time disabled in my hands, not 
 having so much use for them then as for my feet, which 
 began to be pretty well restored. Having landed at a place 
 within gunsliot of the field of battle of Gladsmuir, (Preston- 
 pans), where we gained that brilliant victory over the English 
 army, and not daring to ai)proach Edinburgh till towards 
 nightfall, I determined to pass the Avholc interval upon the 
 field of battle, in order to tranciuilise iny mind, and soften a 
 little the rigours of our lot by rellections on the past. One 
 enjoys agreeable objects ; the sorrowful ai'e to be reflected 
 on, the happy man reasons little. It is only him that suffers 
 who meditates to find at least useful recollections in the evils 
 wliicli surroiuul liiin. Misfortune, the great master of men, 
 renders them moi-e prudent and wiser. Adversity chills the 
 spirit ; the repeated shocks of misfortune oblige even frivolity 
 to reflect. Travelling the Avhole day on the field of battle, 
 this ])lace presented to me a very striking exam})le of the 
 vicissitudes of fortune to which human nature Is liable ; and 
 I compared my situation then, in tliat glorious campaign — 
 executing the functions of aide-de-camp to the Prince, carry- 
 ing through all his orders, charged Avith three Innidred 
 English prisoners, — Avith my condition since, covered with 
 rags to save me from the scaffold ; overwhelmed AvIth pains 
 and misery ; happy only in the hope of escaping into some 
 foreign country, abandoning for ever my native land, my 
 friends, and my parents ; uncertain in Avhat State I niiglit 
 find an asylum, or Avhere I nnght obtain the means of subsis- 
 tence. AVhat a different lot ! I thought that Providence had 
 
81 
 
 bsis- 
 luid 
 
 I 
 
 
 led mc to land upou the fields of Gbdsmuir (Prcstonpaus), 
 having been driven to the east by the ebbing tide, ratlier tlian 
 in the ueighbouriiood of Leith, where we had the intention of 
 landing, in order to impress vividly on my mind lessons 
 which Avould never be effaced. How I desired to see at that 
 moment some of the favourites of tlie Prince, whose distin- 
 guished favour had rendered them insolent, proud, and im- 
 pertinent ! I imagined I saw those vile, low, and faAvning 
 reptiles in the charge of our affairs. I have seen them since, 
 and I was not deceived in my conjectures of them, finding 
 them such as I had believed.* How important it is for man 
 through the instability of fortune to preserve an equal char- 
 acter ; not to be elated in prosperity, and always to conduct 
 himself with modesty and humility are the sure means not 
 to be cast aown, nor to become mean in adversity. Pride 
 and vanity indicate infallibly a littleness of soul, never failing 
 in the reverses of fortune to degenerate into outrageous mean- 
 ness ; but a modest man, mild, honest, and well-doing, will 
 never be in that situation, whatever revulsion is possible to 
 occur in his fortune ; and from whatever elevation from 
 which he may fall, his fall will be liglitened by the esteem 
 and general regret of people of sensibility ; and having the 
 
 * Ti we n^flcct upon the miscrcaMo state of man, it appears to me that we 
 shall know little that he has of which to be proud and insolent. "Not to 
 make mention," says Wollaston, "of evils, hunger, thirst, heat, cold, the indis- 
 positions to which the constitutions of the universe renders us subject, one 
 generation falls as a dead leaf, another remains to fa,ll in the same manner, 
 and to bo for ever forgotten. As we issue forth from the midst of the griefs 
 of our mothers, we are immediately after hunted by those of our own. In- 
 fancy and youth glide away in insonsibilitj% in trifles, and in vanity or in 
 ignorance. If a man arrives at last to old age, over a thousand cares, a 
 thousand fatigiies, and a thousand different adventures, he then feels that 
 all his inconveniences are augmented, and he finds himself less able to sup- 
 port them, &c. In the meantime his wants and infirmities rush in crowds, 
 and under this new;.^jumulation ho becomes melancholy, blind, tottc.ing, 
 bowed down till from this he makes in the end some false steps, which sends 
 him to the tomb, where he remains insensible to decay and weakness." — 
 Outline of Natural Bcligion, Edition in 4fo, Page 344. 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 public voice in his favour, lie is liappy, lie sees the whole 
 world rejoicing in his good fortune, and in his misfortune 
 every one running to solace him ; and disgrace is honour- 
 able for him who brings along with him the regrets of a 
 nation whom he has faithfully served. Moderation of con- 
 duct is a virtue which has its source in tranquillity of mind. 
 AVhen one represses the fierceness of the passions, when one 
 accustoms one's self to look in the face coolly all the accidents 
 of life, when one keeps one's self always on his guard against 
 every troublesome impression, when he gives himself leisure 
 to weigh everything, to balance everything, he will enjoy 
 that traiKiuillity of mind of which moderation in all things 
 will be the fruit. A man of true merit will see with the 
 same eyes his rise and his fall, immovable in adversity as a 
 rock battered by all the fury of the waves in a tempest. 
 
 In perambulating these places, I recalled at every step all 
 the particulars of the battle ; and Avhen I found myself at the 
 place where I had seen three hundred English soldiers pri- 
 soners, guarded by twenty-four Highlanders, I sat myself 
 down to dine upon my bread and cheese, with a bottle of 
 Madeira wine which M. Seton had made me accept of at 
 parting. The remembrance of the glorious and inconceivable 
 victory we had gained on those fields added once more to the 
 extreme pleasure which I felt at having passed the Firth. 
 As I feared to be recognized if I went straight to Edinburgli, 
 I decided to seek a refuge at Leith, at the house of my old 
 governess, Madame Blythe, who was for twenty-three years 
 in my mother's service, and charged particularly with the 
 care of me — having taken the oflice of my nurse from the 
 age of one year. The troubles and the chagrin which I had 
 Qont'-i'illy occasioned her, as much by the dangerous dis- 
 e ith which my childliood was overwhelmed, as by the 
 
 h. ^ passionate, and thoughtless character which an only 
 son is prone to display, served only to call forth more of 
 her tenderness and affection for me ; as much as if I had 
 
83 
 
 urgii, 
 ly old 
 years 
 
 the 
 
 the 
 I had 
 
 dis- 
 )y the 
 only 
 ire of 
 
 had 
 
 
 hoen her own child. M. Blythe, captain of a small smii;;- 
 «>;Hng vessel, Avho was very rich, found her all to his taste at 
 fifty years of age. Ho ])roposed marriage to her, and the 
 proposal was too advantageous for Margaret to waver at his 
 l)ropoBition. It was three years since she had gone to live at 
 Leith with her husband, and they lived together in much 
 harmony, lilytho Avas a Calvinist, an outrageous enemy to 
 the House of Stuart, but too honest a man to have anything 
 to fear at his horse, so I quitted the field of Gladsmuir 
 (Pi'eston])ans), before the sun went down, to arrive at his 
 house before the night should close in. On entering the 
 house of Madame Blythe, I believed that this good woman 
 would have smothered me with caresses. She lea}»t u])on 
 my neck, took me in her arms, and shed a torrent of tears 
 of joy. As no one of my family knew that I was arrived, 
 or whether I was dead or alive, or killed at the Battle of 
 Culloden — my brother-in-law, Rollo, having kept them in 
 ignorance that he had seen me at Banff — as soon as the first 
 transports of this good woman were past, I besoeched her 
 most instantly to go quickly to Edinburgh to inform my 
 father and mother that I was in her house in perfect health. 
 I had as much impatience to give them my news, as Madame 
 Blythe would have to relieve their anxieties and pains by their 
 knowledge that I was safe. During her absence, M. Blythe 
 showed me all the concealments which he had caused to be 
 made in the partition of his chamber for putting there in his 
 contraband goods which he obtained in his voyages to distant 
 countries; "in short," he said to me, "to put you in there in 
 case of a surprise, and when any one comes to search my 
 house." I answered him that I was become the most contra- 
 batid and the most dangerous goods he had ever had in his 
 house, and that these concealments might very well not be 
 anv lonircr useless, although he had reckoned for a lonji; time 
 not to have any more need of them. 
 
 My impatience to give my father my news had made me 
 
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84 
 
 forget to tell Madame Blythe to bring me clothes ; but I had 
 the joy and satisfaction of seeing her return, to find that she 
 was charged with all that was necessary for me. In fact it 
 was time to lay aside my tatterdemalions ; for, besides other 
 inconveniences that I sustained from my disguise, I perceived 
 that these habits had given me torture. But as that vile 
 disease had not made further progress, I was relieved of it at 
 the end of twenty-four hours, by rubbing all my body with 
 fresh butter and brimstone, and taking flowers of sulphur 
 inwardly. These beggarly garments had been very useful to 
 me for about six weoks that I had worn them : in the mean- 
 time I had an inconceivable pleasure in discarding them, and 
 at not being obliged any longer to disguise myself in rags. 
 My father sent me word that he would come the next morn- 
 ing to pass the day with me. 
 
 Although 1 desired earnestly to embrace my father, not 
 having seen him since the month of October that our army 
 left Edinburf 'i to enter England, I dreaded, nevertheless, his 
 presence, on account of the reproaches which he might make 
 me on account of having joined Prince Edward without his 
 consent, and for being involved by my own fault in the miser- 
 able plight into which I was plunged. As soon as it was 
 known at Edinburgh that the Prince had landed in the High- 
 lands of Scotland, impressed with having the merit of being 
 among the first that should place themselves under his orders, 
 and who should attach their fortunes to his, I beseeched him 
 with clasped hands to grant me permission to depart im- 
 mediately to join him. But, far from agreeing to it, he 
 ordered me expressly not to think of it, telling me that it 
 would be time enough to join the Prince when he should be 
 in possession of Edinburgh ; that not being able to procure 
 passports, his principles and attachment to the House of 
 Stuart being known to all the world, I would expose myself 
 to be arrested on presenting myself to cross the Firth, and be 
 kept in prison during the whole expedition of the Prince. It 
 
85 
 
 was without effect that I represented to him that the Prince 
 woukl regard me more favourably by attaching myself to his 
 lot at the commencement of his enterprise, not having more 
 than some hundred men in his suite, than when these formid- 
 able obstacles were past, and not having more to do but be 
 crowned when he should be in possession of the capital of his 
 ancient kingdom of Scotland. In effect, I looked him in the 
 face as to this, but I was grossly deceived. My father would 
 not allow himself to bend, and in the end imposed silence 
 upon me. Burning with desire to depart, I went next day to 
 dinner at my Lady Jean Douglas's, sister to the Duke of 
 Douglas, who had alwayo been my protectress in my infancy, 
 expressly for the purpose of recounting to her my grievances, 
 and tlie conversation which I had had with my father. This 
 worthy lady approved of my reasons, counselling that I 
 should depart immediately without consulting my father '.my 
 more, and undertaking to appease him in case he should be 
 in a rage at ray disobedience. This was all that I could de- 
 sire, entirely conforming to my wishes, and I went oft' next 
 day in the morning without saying anything to any one. I 
 found no diflicidty in passing the Firth between Quecnsferry 
 and Dunfermline ; having put a black cockade in my hat, 
 I entered briskly into the wherr}', with an air of authority, 
 saying to those who examined the passports that I was an 
 officer of the Regiment of Lee, then in quarters at Edinburgh, 
 and that officers had no need of passports. On leaving the 
 boat I took the road to the castle of my Lord Rollo, where I 
 remained for two days, waiting his arrival from Perth, which 
 is twelve miles from it. When I reappeared at Edinburgh, 
 some time after with o\ir army, my father said nothing to me 
 for having departed without his consent, but then we were 
 victorious and triumphant ! Presently all had changed face, 
 and those who had loaded m with praises in our prosperity 
 treated us in our disasters as rash young men. It is the cus- 
 tom of the greatest part of the world not to judge of things 
 
86 
 
 but by their success. If we luid been successful In placing 
 the croAvn on the head of Prince Edward, as there was even 
 a great probability during some time of doing so, by conduct- 
 ing ourselves well after our victories, we would have all been 
 celebrated in heroics. The loss of the Battle of Culloden, 
 which ended the dispute between the Houses of Stuart and 
 Hanover, rendered us immediately rebels and fools in the 
 eyes of those who do not reflect, of which, unfortunately, 
 that is the majority. 
 
 My father came, but the good old man in place of abusing 
 me was so much affected by seeing me again that the tears 
 rushed at once into his eyes, and clasping me in his arms, he 
 was some time without being able to speak. As soon as we 
 both were somewhat composed after this scene of mutual ten- 
 derness, I amusea him with a recital of all the particulars of 
 our expedition since our departure from Edinburgh to enter 
 England, and of all that had happened to myself personally 
 since the Battle of Culloden. He kept me company till nine 
 o'clock at night, and the time passed as if it had been lightning. 
 I was penetrated with affliction on learning that my mother 
 was very unwell, and that she had kept her chamber for a 
 long time ; and I was still more so when Madame Blythe told 
 me that it was anxiety on my account which was the cause 
 of her illness, and that the physicians considered her in 
 danger. My grief was deep and natiu'al ! She had ahvays 
 adored me vntli the affection of the most tender of mothers. 
 I proposed to my father many plans for going to see her, but 
 he forbade me to think of it, telling me that I ran the risk of 
 being recognised, and that if, unfortunately, they sliould 
 make me a prisoner, I should cause them both to die of grief ; 
 so I did not insist further at that time. What a cruel 
 situation ! — to be so near my mother whom I had cause to love 
 most tenderly, and not to have it in my power to embrace 
 
 her ! 
 
 Leith , which is a mile from Edinburgh, being then full of 
 
87 
 
 { 
 
 troops of the Hessians and English Regiments who waited 
 there to embark on their return to Fhinders, two English. 
 Serjeants came to the house of M. Blythe with billets for 
 lodgings. This was a most teiTible disarrangement for me ! 
 Meantime, M. Blythe fortunately found means to exempt us, 
 and they went off. During an hour that these serjeauts re- 
 mained in the house to battle with Blythe to lodge them 
 there, I was acting as sentinel to observe them through a hole 
 which I had pierced across the partition which divided the 
 rooms, with the door of the hiding place open, to allow me to 
 rush into it, in case that I should see that it was their design 
 to search the house for rebels. I perceived poor Madamo 
 Blythe changing colour at every instant, trembling as in a 
 fever, and I feared greatly that her anxieties might create 
 suspicion to the serjeauts that she had some rebel concealed 
 in her house, but I was relieved from fear. 
 
 They came to inform me that Lady Jean Douglas was 
 coming to see me incognito the next day after mid-day, ac- 
 companied by M. Stuart, her husband, who was in her suite, 
 and another lady of my family.* This worthy and virtuous 
 
 * M. the Duke of Douglas, brother of my Lady Joan Douglas, is one of 
 the most ancient and illustrious liouses of Europe, and who have disputed 
 during many ages the Crown of Scotland against the House of Stuart. 
 John Baliol had two daughters, the eldest of whom was married to the Earl 
 of Douglas, and the other to Robert the Bruce, one of the greatest men that 
 Scotland ever produced, and who delivered his country when the English 
 had almost entirely made a conquest of that kingdom. Eobert the Bruce 
 succeeded to the Crown of Scotland at the death of John Baliol, in pre- 
 ference to the House of Douglas, one docs not know why, and he had only 
 one daughter, who was married to the Steward of Scotland, which signifies, 
 in the Scottish language, Stuart, who succeeded by his wife to the kingdom 
 of Robert de Bruce. The House of Stuart was but little known in the 
 History of Scotland previously to this epoch, which saw them all at onco 
 sovereigns. The House of Douglas always disputed their right to the 
 throne, and William tho Eighth Earl of Douglas, having more than half the 
 kingdom on his side by a confederation which he had formed against James 
 II., this King demanded an interview with him- in tbe Castle of Stirling, 
 and sent Earl Douglas a safe conduct. The Earl, too credulous, confiding 
 in the promises of the ICing, and under the safe conduct which he had 
 
88 
 
 lady, Lady Jean Douglas, was the idol of licr country, endowed 
 with all the good and amiable qualities that could adorn her 
 sex. She was loved, respected, and adored by all that had 
 the advantage of knowing her, and was equally so by the 
 
 received from James II., passed and sealed by the great Seals of the 
 Realm, exposed himself by going to visit the King in the Castle of Stirling, 
 where ho then resided. The king having pressed the Earl of Douglas to 
 break the bond without his being willing to consent to it, drew his poinard 
 and said to him, " If you do not choose to do it, this shall break it," plung- 
 ing at the same time his dagger into the heart of the Earl of Douglas. 
 The vassals of the Earl running to arms, and dragging at the tail of a horse, 
 the safe conduct which the King had given him and violated, they burned 
 the town of Stirling, and threatened to besiege the Castle where the King 
 was. The King and the new Earl of Douglas encountered each other at 
 Aberdoen at the head of their armies ; this Earl of Douglas having a greatly 
 superior ai'my in number and valour to that of the King. "Thus," saya 
 Robertson in his history of Maiy Stuart, from which I take this note, "one 
 single battle ought to have decided whether the otuarts or the Douglasses 
 should possess the Crown of Scotland ; but while the troops of the Earl of 
 Douglas waited with impatience the signal t^ engage, the Earl ordered them 
 to retreat. The army of the Earl of Douglas dispersed themselves that 
 night. Convinced of his want of skill to profit by an opportunity, or his 
 want of coiirago to seize "a Crown, the Earl, despised by everybody, was 
 chased out of the kingdom, and this House, which had been so long the 
 rival and terror of the Crown, strengthened for some time the King. " The 
 Duke of Douglas and Lady Jean Douglas were the descendants of John 
 Baliol by his daughter. The archives of this illustrious house prove their 
 descent from Sholto Douglas, the founder of that house, who received from 
 Solvothius, King o^' Scotland, in 770 the Earldom of Douglas, in recompense 
 for his valour and his success in the war which Solvothius had to wage 
 against Donald, King of the Isles. 
 
 I have some drops of Royal blood in my veins through the House of 
 Douglas, my grandmother having been the daughter by lawful wedlock of 
 Douglas, Baron of Whittingome, a branch of the House of the Duke of 
 Douglas ; and since that the branch of Whittingeme is stinmg from the 
 House of Douglas, one of the ancestors of my grand-uncle, Doviglas of Whit- 
 tingeme, was married to Annabel Stuart, sister of James T., King of Scot- 
 land ; and my grandmother was descended from that Annabel Stuart by 
 lawful wedlock. My father gave me, when parting, a genealogy of this 
 family, which was taken from the Registers of Scotland, and signed bj^ the 
 Chancellor for my grand-uncle, William, Baron of Whittingeme, Lieutenant- 
 General in the -service of Gusta'V'us Adolphus, which I have still presex'ved. 
 
89 
 
 public, who tlid not know her bnt as one of the finest characters 
 and good reputations that ever a woman possessed. SIic liad 
 been in her youth very beautiful, and she still was so at forty- 
 five year-^ of age, concealing at least five years of her age by the 
 uniform, temperate, regular, frugal, and simple life she had 
 always led. She was virtuous, pious, devout, charitable, with- 
 out ostentation ; and her devotion never was affected nor 
 obtrusive ; her affability, her easy politeness, her goodness, 
 her engaging, genteel, and prepossessing manners, effaced in 
 an instant the embarrassment of those who paid their court to 
 her, whom her air, full of grace and dignity, had affected and 
 rendered timid. She had a mind much adorned Avith litera- 
 ture, loved reading with a decided taste, having a greai me- 
 mory, much good sense and spirit, a soimd judgment, and a 
 nice discernment, quick and solid. Her library was full of all 
 the best authors. You would not see in it the trash of 
 romances with which the libraries of females are ordinarily 
 filled. She had a soul elevated and noble, lofty and deter- 
 mined on occasions when it was proper to be so, and sup- 
 porting the dignity of her illustrious birth without prido, 
 without vanity, but in a miinner truly great.* 
 
 The Duke of Douglas, her brother, was lunatic from his 
 infancy, often committing acts of folly the most terrible. He 
 killed his stepfather, M. Kcr, without having ever had any 
 quarrel or altercation with him, by passing his sword through 
 
 * Tho Duke of Douglas, in a rage against my Lady Jean Douglas for 
 having maiTicd, in 1746, Mr. Stuart, a plain gentleman, refused to pay her 
 tho interest of her patrimony, and reduced her thereby to the most dis- 
 agreeable embarrassment. She returned from London in 1752, and having 
 caused herself to be presented to King George, she did not humble herself to 
 demand from him a pension. She told him "that her brother having 
 stopped payment of the interest of her fortune, which was in his hands, His 
 Majesty, knowing the family, had certainly too much spirit ?nd good sense 
 not to know what was duo to a person of her birth. " The King upon the 
 instant caused without delay a considerable pension to be conferred upon 
 my Lady Jean, though ho knew that she had been to visit Prince Edward in 
 his Palace at Edinburtrh 
 
■ 
 
 90 
 
 his body while he -was sleeping ; and my Lady Jean having 
 often escaped being assassinated in these moments of lunacy, 
 the Marquis of Lothian, their uncle, wished to have him de- 
 clared legally lunatic, and to put my Lady Jean in possession 
 of the whole income of liis estate, which amounted to four hun- 
 dred thousand pounds of rent. There would not have been the 
 least difficulty in doing so, the lunacy of the Duke having 
 been known to all the v^orld by the melauchol} [)roofs he had 
 given of it daily ; but my Lady Jean would not for a moment 
 hear it spoken of, loving rather to live retired upon seven or 
 eight thousand a year, an income very small for her rank, and 
 who had the interest of her fortune placed in a fund lost in the 
 hands of her brother, rather than dishonour him, as well as 
 his House. If ever virtue was persecuted without ceasing by 
 Providence, it was in the person of my Lady Jean Douglas, the 
 most worthy of her sex, adorable for her eminent qualities 
 and the most perfect modesty to bo imitated, whose vexation 
 at the persecutions of her brother, joined to the death of her 
 eldest son, whom she loved tenderly, shortened her days at 
 London, Avhere she died in 175(G), a little time before the death 
 of the Duke, her brother, and at the moment when she would 
 have become the heiress of and enjoyed four hundred thousand 
 pounds a year. I do not exaggerate her character.* All those 
 
 * So many references have been made by the Chevalier in these 
 Memoirs to the Lady Jean Douglas, that it may bo interestiiit^ to my 
 readers to know somotliing of her personal history, and I happily have it 
 in my power to gratify this desire by the following extract from the Red- 
 Book of Grandtully, in two volumes, by William Frascr, Esq., Edinburgh, 
 noticed in the Scotsman, June, 1870. 
 
 LADY JEAN DOUGLAS. 
 The story of Lady Jean Douglas forms an interesting episode in the 
 history of the Stuarts of Murthly. Her marriage with Colonel Stuart, 
 afterwards head of the House, took place privately in Edinburgh in 1746 
 — the Colonel at that time being fifty, and Lady Jean forty-eight years of 
 age. The marriage was kept secret till after the birth of twin sons, in 
 1748, when it was intimated to Lady Jean's brother, the Duke of Douglas. 
 The Duke was persuaded that the twins wore suppositions, and neither the 
 
91 
 
 who had the happiness of knowing her and her misfortune 
 regretted her death, said a thousand times more witliout being 
 able to paint the rare merit of this adorable lady, as illustrious 
 as unfortunate, who merited a bc-tter fate, and who was taken 
 from this world at a moment when she was on the eve of a 
 condition the most hapi)y, by the death of her brother. What 
 a mystery of Providence, diiricult to comprehend ! One might 
 often say with Brutus, "0 virtue! I have always adored thee 
 as a true good, but I find thee only a vain shadoAV." Virtue 
 
 earnest appeals of his sister, nor the influence of the Earl of Crawford, and 
 other of their common friends, could shake his opinion. Ho withdrew all 
 support from his sister, her husband was thrown into jail by his creditors, 
 and she and her children were only saved from starvation by a small 
 pension granted her by the King (George II). Lady Joan received a severe 
 shock from the death of one of her sons in U'jS ; and already worn out by 
 the anxiety caused by pecuniary embarrassments, and distress at the scan- 
 dalous imijutations cast upon her character by her brother, sank into her 
 grave a few months after. Her old servant and attached friend declared 
 that she died rf a broken heart, and nothing else. Tlie Duke of Dofiglas, 
 after her death, saw reason to repent his judgment, and in 1761 executed 
 an entail of his whole estate in favour of himself and the heirs whomsoever 
 of his body, whom failing the heirs whomsoever of his father. Upon his 
 death, Archibald Stuart, the only surviving son of Lady Joan, was served 
 heir of entail to his uncle, and shortly after obtained a charter from the 
 Crown, of the estates of Douglas, as heir to his uncle, the Duke of Douglas. 
 The Duke of Hamilton, who was the nearest heir male of the Duke of 
 Douglas, brought action of Reduction of the Sen- ice of Archibald Stuart, 
 and the " Great Douglas Cause," after occupying the Court of Session for 
 several years, was finally decided by it adversely to Stuart. Nothing 
 daunted, Stuart carried the case to the House of Lords, where he ol)tained 
 a reversal of the decision of the Court below, and had the satisfaction of 
 not only clearing his mother's name from all suspicion, but of accjuiring one 
 of the finest properties in Scotland. Mr. Fi-aser gives a very interesting 
 account of the life of Lady Jean, and the subsequent proceedings of her 
 son, which, if space allowed, would well repay a minute examination. A 
 curious corroboration of the parentage of Archibald Stuart-Douglas was his 
 likeness to the Portrait of "Old Grandtully, " which Mr. Fraser says made 
 a great impression on the present proprietor when first introduced tc him. 
 So warmly was the case of Lady Jean Douglas's son taken up by the public 
 that on the news of his success arriving in Edinburgh "The Inhabitants 
 spontaneously gave expression to their joy by a general illumination." 
 
' 
 
 
 
 
 92 
 
 docs not afford to man a shelter from the scourges of nature 
 or the injuries of fortune.* 
 
 My Lady Jean Douglas came to see me, as she had sent 
 me word, and she caused me recount to her all my adventures 
 since the Battle of Culloden. "When I was at the commence- 
 ment of my narration, which related to my sojourn at the 
 house of Samuel, my dream immediately came into my 
 memory, which I had almost forgot through the variety of 
 events wliich had happened to me since my departure from 
 Glenprosene ; and struck with the realization of this dream 
 
 * Wollaston says—" Tho history of the human race is almost nothing 
 else but a scries of sorrowful and frightful events, &c. Among the millions 
 of men who have sutfered extremely, it is impossible to imagine that thei'o 
 has not been a great number of soitows and sufferings that have not ex- 
 ceeded the pleasures which they have enjoyed, without which they would 
 not have been in a condition to evade by their iimocenco, by their prudence, 
 or by any other means tho bitter draughts which they have been made to 
 drink of to tho very dregs ; viz., that is to say, that tho innocent has tho 
 portion wliich most properly belongs but to the criminal and unjust ; and 
 those same share the lot which tho innocent naturally ought to have. This 
 is one of the arguments in proof of the immortality of the Soul." — Outline of 
 I^atural Jieligion, Edition in ito, pro. 8, page 344. 
 
 It may be interesting also to know that the Portrait of Mary, Queen 
 of Scots, engraved from an original painting in possession of the Grand- 
 tully family, represents her in her widow's dress as Queen Dowager of 
 France, holding in her right hand a Crown and in her left a Crucifix. 
 
 We may also mention, as there stated, that tho ancestor of Colonel 
 Stuart, who married Lady Jean Douglas, was Walter Fitzalan, the High 
 Steward of Scotland, who married Marjory, daughter of King Robert 
 Bruce, and on the death of her brother, ICing David 11., in 1370, her son 
 obtained the Crown of Scotland and assumed the title of King Robert tho 
 Second. The Stewards of Grandtully are descended from Alexander, High 
 Steward of Scotland, fourth in descent from Walter, through his second 
 son. Sir John Stuart of Bankill, whose grandson was tho first of the family 
 who possessed Grandtully. He married the daughter of John de Ergadia, 
 Lord of Lorn, and by her had several sons, the eldest of whom married in 
 the Lorn family ; the second was ancestor of the Earls of Athole, Buchan, 
 and Tra(]uair ; while the fourth, Alexander, was ancestor of tho Stuarts of 
 Grandtully. (Alexander died about the year 1449). 
 
93 
 
 from point to point, and in all its circumstances, I pnuscd for 
 a moment in my narrative, confounded and stupefied and 
 mute. I hesitated at first whether I should tell it to my Lady 
 Jean, but it appeared to me so supernatural and incredible 
 that I did not dare to make her privy to it, fearing that she 
 might possibly imagine that I was inclined to impose upon her 
 fictions, which I had no need to do to secure the goodwill of 
 one who had honoured me with her kindness from my infancy. 
 Besides, supposing that she shoidd not believe it, which was 
 very probable, I thought that tlu would show a littleness of 
 soul, endeavouring to catch her or turn her about ; so I 
 resumed my narration. It is certain that this dream saved my 
 life, by my advancing with obstinacy and determination to 
 the south, in place of returning to the mountains with my 
 comrades ; and I shah remember it as long as I shall live 
 as a thing which I could not comprehend without the power 
 of reasoning upon it, and which surpasses my imagination. 
 This action of the mind during the time that the body is in a 
 state of insensibility, as if dead, is of itself even inconceiv- 
 able ; but when we talk in a dream, and when the actions in 
 sleeping are more than realized in the event, and are verified 
 to the letter, what can one think of it ? Can it proceed from 
 a cause purely and simply natural ? The effect is positive, 
 that my dream saved me from the scaffold — I being directed 
 by the dream as if an angel had traced the route which I ought 
 to follow, inspiring me with an assurance of arriving at Edin- 
 burgh, contrary to good sense and the advice of every one, or 
 of perishing. I have never even recoiled a pace, be it to re- 
 turn to the house of M. Graham when the boatmen deserted 
 me, be it to the house of Lillie when the opportunity by Sal- 
 mon was not afforded, or the house of M. Seton. Precipitated 
 by I do not know what impulse, without knowing whether it 
 was for my destruction or for my safety, my mind is plunged 
 into a labyrinth when I try to comprehend it — in so much the 
 more as I had not thought of my Lady Jean Douglas on the 
 
94 
 
 (lay wlien we took counsel at the house of Samuel — the 
 unanimous result of which was to return to the Ilijijhlands ; 
 nor for a long tiii»e before. I thought no more on going to bed 
 than to obtain a sound sleep, and to arise at three o'clock in 
 the morning to depart with my companions. It seemed to mo 
 as if after my dream I was no longer a free agent, and my 
 reflections all the journey on the difFic. ies and insur- 
 mountable obstacles which surrounded me on the road to 
 Edinburgh — served only the more strongly to confirm my 
 resolution. Above all, supposing me to be arrived at Edin- 
 burgh, could I ever hope there to see ray Lady Jean Douglas, 
 and thtvt she would come and pay me a visit at the house 
 of M. Ely the? The whole thing is altogether incompre- 
 hensible.* 
 
 * M. Voltairo says in regard to dreams, " but how is it, all tbe .senses 
 being dormant in sleep, there is in it a medium which is alive ; how is it 
 that your eyes seeing nothing, your oars hearing nothing, in the meantime 
 you both SCO and hear in your dreams ? The dog is at the chase in a dream, 
 &c. ; tho poet makes vei'scs in sleep ; the mathematician figures, &c. Aro 
 those the sole organs of tho machine which act ? J:; it the pure soul which 
 yielding to the empire of tho senses, rejoices in their bonds being at liberty ? 
 If soul organs produce dreams of tho night, why do they not produce ideas 
 of the day ? If the soul, pure and trancjuil in repose of the souses, acts by 
 itself as the sole cause, the sole subject of all ideas which you have in sleep- 
 ing, why is it that these ideas are always irregular, luireasonable, and in- 
 coherent ? You must confess that all your ideas como to you in sleep with- 
 out you and in spite of you. Your will has no part in them. It is then 
 certain that you could think for seven or eight hours on end without having 
 the least desire to think, and without e.ven being sure that you were think- 
 ing. Ponder this, and endeavour to divine what it is that the animal is com- 
 posed of. " But what could be more inconceivable a dream, accompanied with 
 such a variety of circumstances, as mine was in the house of Samuel, and 
 all the particulars of that dream verified to the letter two months afterwards. 
 The human mind does not know how to penetrate through these clouds, which 
 conceal all from weak mortals. Tho fact is true, and happened to me such as 
 I have related it. Would one seek to apprehend the cause ; it is so en- 
 shrouded, like millions of other causes of which we are unable to know tho 
 effects ; and the mind is bewildered and plunged into an abyss without 
 being able to arrive at anything, without being able to penetrate into tho 
 mysteries of nature, where all is to us obscurity and uncertainty ; and ono 
 loses one's self there in reflections. 
 
 tl 
 n 
 
95 
 
 ;1— the 
 ilmids ; 
 
 to bed 
 lock in 
 1 to me 
 xnd my 
 
 insur- 
 •oad to 
 rm my 
 Lt Edin- 
 )oiiglas, 
 le house 
 jompre- 
 
 tlie souses 
 how is it 
 nieantimo 
 1 a dream, 
 , &c. Aro 
 Boul which 
 Lt liberty ? 
 duco ideas 
 C3, acts by 
 re in sleop- 
 le, and in- 
 sloep with- 
 it is then 
 out having 
 vere think- 
 nal is com- 
 )anied with 
 aniuol, and 
 afterwards, 
 auds, which 
 me such as 
 it is so en- 
 ,o know tho 
 ^rss without 
 ,te into tho 
 ,y ; and ono 
 
 Having told my Lady Jcaii tlic adventure of the two ser- 
 geants the day before, which had so much ahirmcd poor 
 Madame Blythe, she replied that I was not safe at tho house 
 of M. Blythe, and sho invited mo to come to stay at her 
 house, where I Avould bo in more security, as no one dared 
 lightly to visit her hotel on mere suspicion, bidding mo 
 come to it that very evening towards six o'clock, and ordering 
 me to keep on my tatterdemalions during the journey — 
 her hotel being half a-lcague from Lcith to tho village of 
 Drumsheugh, the disguise would be absolutely necessary, for 
 fear of meeting any one of my acquaintances. I pleaded all 
 that I could to be allowed to part with my habiliments, which 
 particularly annoyed me. Meanwhile, not daring to say to my 
 Lady Jean that they gave me uneasiness, I was still obliged to 
 wear them to conform to her orders. I took all the precau- 
 tions possible not to have in the long run this villainous dis- 
 ease a second time, having put on two shirts, a waistcoat, and 
 gloves. In spite of the horror I had of these habits, and 
 which I would have given a great deal to see in flames before 
 my Lady Jean came to sec me, they were the most precious 
 that I had ever worn, having greatly contributed to tho 
 saving of my life. I arrived at the door of the hotel of my 
 Lady Jean towards one o'clock in the afternoon, which I 
 found wide open, and the gardener who attended mo the 
 sole domestic whom she had ventured to let into tho secret. 
 He told me that my Lady had ordered him to conduct me into 
 her apartment the moment I arrived, and before T changed 
 my dress — she wishing to see me under my disguise. This 
 was further an annoyance to me, for I feared to infest her 
 chamber with a bad smell. Nevertheless, it was necessary 
 that I should submit to it. I found jM. Stuart and a lady of 
 my family at the house of my Lady Jean, who attended to 
 see my metamorphosis ; they all found me quite unrecognis- 
 able. My Lady told my vhat there was nothing Avanting for 
 my adjustment bi^i to liavc my eyebrows blackened with 
 
 ::m. 
 
96 
 
 charcoal. I engaged in it immediately, and in reality this 
 changed me again considerably. I took leave at midnight, 
 and was conducted by the gardener to the chamber which 
 was destined for me, where no person had been lodged for a 
 long time before, and which was below the summer-house. 
 I went to work immediately by taking off my tatterdemalions, 
 habiliments which I begged the gardener to burn in the 
 garden in order that I might never hear of them any more 
 spoken of, and have nothing more to fear that it would be 
 necessary for me to put them on again. 
 
 No person in the house of my Lady Jean being aware of 
 the secret except the gardener, at the same time that they all 
 knew that nobody lodged in the chamber that I occi;pied, not 
 to make any noise, which would have necessarily discovered 
 me to the domestics, I was obliged not to put on my shoes till 
 one o'clock in the morning, that they were in bed, and I 
 then descended to the garden, where I walked till two o'clock 
 in the morning. I soon accustomed myself to this sedentary 
 and solitary life, seldom seeing anybody but the gardener, 
 who brought me my food. Sometimes I had the felicity of 
 going down to the apartment of my Lady Jean, where I 
 generally found M. Stuart, to pass a couple of hours at night ; 
 but this was rarely, on account of the embarrassment and 
 difficulty of escaping all the domestics, above all her chamber- 
 maid, Mrs. Ker, who my Lady did not wish should know 
 the secret, and who came very inopportunely by curiosity 
 to find out some mystery which she had often occasion 
 to suspect in the house, but without knowing what to make 
 of it. I immediately acquired a taste for reading, having had 
 till then too much dissipation for me to apply myself to it, 
 and my Lady gave me the best historical authors. Thus I 
 passed all my time Avith a book continually in my hand, 
 without feeling myself an instant alone ; and I would have 
 consented to pass all my life in the same condition to have 
 escaped the scaffold. The taste which I then acquired for 
 
 3 
 
97 
 
 ' this 
 aight, 
 which 
 for a 
 bouse, 
 aliens, 
 in the 
 f more 
 »uld be 
 
 vare of 
 
 liey all 
 
 ied, not 
 
 covered 
 
 lioes till 
 
 , and I 
 
 ) o'clock 
 
 cdentary 
 
 ardener, 
 
 ilicity of 
 
 where I 
 night ; 
 
 lent and 
 lamber- 
 Id know 
 curiosity 
 occasion 
 to make 
 iving had 
 self to it, 
 Thus I 
 my hand, 
 ould have 
 n to have 
 [[uired for 
 
 reading has been very useful to me in the end, and a great 
 resource against ennui in the countries where I dwelt many 
 years in America, where society has not the same agreeable- 
 uess as in Europe. 
 
 A few days after I was installed in the House of my Lady 
 Jean Douglas, I read in the Edinburgh Gazette " That the 
 populace at Dubbyside had arrested and conducted to priso i 
 one named David Coussclnaine, who with another certpia 
 person who saved himself, had aided a rebel to effect his 
 escape, and that they had burnt the boat which they had used 
 for crossing the Frith." I was charmed that the poor, gener- 
 ous Seton had had the good fortune to save himself. I felt 
 the greatest regret possible that M. Robertson had lost his 
 boat. But as to Coussclnaine (my hand not being yet whole), 
 I could not lament so much his fate as I would have done 
 had he remained sober ; for, but for his debauch, he would 
 have been able to have returned i o Dubbyside at an earlier 
 hour, and being in a condition to waken us, we woidd have 
 made the passage in less time, and to all appearance he 
 Avould have avoided being taken, being able to return before 
 the inhabitants were up. I raved as any one who sought to 
 save his life, knowing but little of the business, but with 
 Coussclnaine we would have had more than double the speed. 
 M. Seton, the elder, whom I met again at Paris in 1747, told 
 me that Cousselaine was discharged from prison after some 
 weeks, they not having been able to find any evidence 
 against him; and in truth it would have been a great wrong 
 to have condemned him for having saved a rebel, for the 
 animal had no part in it, having done notliiug but sleep dur- 
 ing the whole i)assage, while I was fatigued to death by the 
 force of rowing, and lamed my hands so as not to be able to 
 avail myself of them for some time. 
 
 My Lady Jean Douglas and jny father gave me their ad- 
 vice that I should go to London, not running the risk of 
 being known in that great city, where an infinite number of 
 
98 
 
 strangci*s arrive and depart every day, nor more than in 
 the road going there when I should be distant ten leagues 
 from Edinburgh. All was prepared for my departure, 
 when we learnt that a squadron of the Duke D'Anville 
 had left France, and that it was so formidable that Admiral 
 Anson had not dared to attack it. Nobody in Scotland 
 doubted at first that this squadron was destined to retrieve 
 the affairs of Prince Edward, and the secret course which 
 she took in departing confirmed everybody still more in 
 this belief. It is not doubted that this squadron would have 
 been able to effect a landing in Scotland without meeting 
 there the slightest opposition, and in the face even of the 
 English troops, who would not have dared to attack them ; 
 and the troops which were on board would have been more 
 than sufficient to have retrieved our affairs. The Scotch 
 still concealed in the Highlands would have rushed like 
 a hive of bees ; and many of the clans who had remained 
 neutral, seeing that the Duke of Cumberland had ravaged and 
 sacked their country, without distinction of friend or foe, the 
 army of the Prince would have immediately been more than 
 double the number in the time we were the most numerous ; 
 our army never having exceeded eight thousand men. After 
 having waited with extreme impatience the landing of this 
 squadron in Scotland, which occupied the attention of every- 
 body for many weeks, in the end an English barque dis- 
 covered this squadron in a latitude Avhich left no doubt but 
 that she was destined for America. The fate of this power- 
 ful fleet Avas to perish on the coast of Acadia, without ever 
 effecting an establishment, the object of that armament, at 
 Chibouctou, a paltry town in a most wretched place, full of 
 rocks and stones, which has been colonized since by tlie 
 English under the name of Halifax. This immense arma- 
 ment, which would have easily effected a revolutioii in Eng- 
 land in tlie moment of the crisis when we were in Scotland, 
 was reduced to nothing by tempests, by diseases, by ani- 
 
 I 
 
99 
 
 in 
 
 mosities and disorders between the general officers of the sea 
 and those of tlie land ; in fine, by a total mismanagement of 
 conduct ; in so much that it is related in France, that very little 
 of the wreck of this formidable squadron escaped, without 
 having effected the projected establishment of Chibouctou, and 
 that the expedition was the last attempt of the French maiine. 
 It is a very bad policy — the menaces which they have 
 used for an age against the English, with respect to the 
 House of Stuart, and which could not last for ever. This 
 has been used by so long a practice that the English are no 
 more alarmed at it, and they will never take advantage of it, 
 as they see to-day that France, with the best dispositions 
 possible, is incapable of effecting anything in favour of the 
 House of Stuart, by the destruction and transmigration of 
 their Scotch partisans, and by the coldness of those of Eng- 
 land, and of which we have seen proof in the last war — these 
 pretended invasions not having anything of concert, have not 
 hindered the English from following all their enterprises ; and 
 they have not ansv;ercd any })urpose but to open their eyes to 
 form and discipline a hundred thousand militia to guard their 
 coasts from surprise. If France had been seriously disposed 
 to establish the House of Stuart on the throne, she could have 
 easily accomplished it during our expedition with only three 
 or four thousand troops : and, moreover, with an ally which 
 f^he would have had in Prince Edward, she would liave 
 avoided those eternal wars with England, which would have 
 never ha}>pened during the reign of the House of Stuart ; on 
 the contrary, they would have seen Charles II. ally himself 
 with France in making war on Holland, in spite of the good 
 disposition which the English nation ^ad always entertained 
 for that republic. The king of England had it in his power 
 to make tliese alliances, to declare war or to avoid it whc^- 
 ever he pleased, and he was always sure to have the majority 
 of parliament. 
 
 After a sojourn of two mouths, tranquilly and so philo- 
 
100 
 
 phically, in the house of my Lady Jean Douglas, one of her 
 servants, who returned from Edinburgh with provisions, re- 
 counted in the kitchen to the other domestics, that while she 
 was purchasing meat at the butcher's, the lackey of an Eng- 
 lishman, an officer of the customs, whispered in her ear, " that 
 he knew very well whom she had concealed in the house of 
 her mistress. Lady Jean Douglas, and that they could easily 
 go at the first moment to search her hotel." She added that 
 she had contradicted loudly this calumny. In fact, she could 
 very wall contradict it in good faith — there being no one but 
 the gardener who knew that I was in the house; and he 
 came up in an instant to acquaint my Lady Jean, who came 
 on the spur of the moment into my chamber with M. Stuart, 
 to consult upon that which was to be done, fearing that a de- 
 tachment of troops might come in the course of the day to 
 visit her hotel, and it was then but nine o'clock in the 
 morning. 
 
 I was penetrated with sorrow and vexation ; I trembled 
 with fear, lest the extreme goodness of my Lady Jean in 
 giving me an asylum at her house might involve her in a bad 
 affair with the government ; and I would have rather had a 
 thousand times more diotresses, and consequent troubles, than 
 that should happen to her, she having taken me into her house 
 as if it had been my own. I expressed to her my regrets for 
 the risk I had exposed her to. She answered me with her 
 usual vivacity and promptitude of manner, "My child, if 
 there were no risk in it, you would be under no obligation for 
 it." I could not depart by the hall door on account of the 
 domestics, who would see me from the kitchen ; and having 
 searched all the house without finding any place where I 
 could conceal myself, as they were then making hay in a 
 park belonging to my Lady Jean, M. Stuart proposed to me 
 to conceal myself in a stack of hay. For this operation it 
 becrme necessary to let a lackey into the secret, in order to 
 remain a sentinel on the other domestics, and for us to em- 
 
 ! 
 
101 
 
 ; of her 
 ions, re- 
 rhile she 
 an Eng- 
 ir, "that 
 house of 
 Id easily 
 ded that 
 he could 
 » one but 
 ; and he 
 ;^ho came 
 [. Stuart, 
 hat a de- 
 le day to 
 i in the 
 
 trembled 
 Jean in 
 in a bad 
 er had a 
 3les, than 
 ler house 
 egrets for 
 with her 
 child, if 
 nation for 
 nt of the 
 d having 
 where I 
 hay in a 
 ied to me 
 )eration it 
 order to 
 us to em- 
 
 \ 
 
 brace a favourable moment to depart from the house to 
 enter the park. 
 
 I departed in a jacket with the lackey and gardener, and 
 foUowefl by M. Stuart. As there had to be a great many 
 precautious to take on account of some windows in the village 
 which overlooked the park, we commenced to make all the 
 rolls of hay, one after the other ; then the lackey and the 
 gardener threw themselves, one after the other, on the hay — 
 heaping it upon that which wa? on the ground. This feint 
 having lasted some minutes, I threw myself at full leiigth as if 
 in continuation of tlie same sport,, and they threw over me the 
 hay till that stack in which I was concealed was built of the 
 same height as the others, leaving therein only a small open- 
 ing for me to breathe by ; and they handed to me a bottle of 
 water, and another of wine, then they retired. 
 
 I did not believe that it was possible to suffer more than 
 I had done throughout the day. It was very fine weather, 
 but very hot ; and the excessive heat in the stack made me 
 almost lose my breath, being as in an oven, ready at every 
 moment to be suffocated. M. Stuart came to see me from 
 time to time to console me, preaching patience to me. I had 
 veritably need ; and there Averc moments that I suffered so 
 cruelly that I was tempted to throw the hay to the devil, and 
 expose myself rather to all that could happen ; but considera- 
 tions alone for my Lady .lean Douglas restrained me. After 
 the most terrible sufferings from ten o'clock in the morning 
 till nine at night, ahvays in the same attitude, without the 
 power to stir, and ])Ouring in sweat, they came at last to 
 relieve me at night-fall. When I came out of the stack of 
 hay, I felt my body bruised, and was so weak from the 
 perspiration that it was with difficulty that 1 could walk, by 
 leaning on the arm of M. Stuart. Scarcely could I support 
 myself on my legs. I was enraged at having passed so ter- 
 rible and cruel a time to no purpose — nobody having come to 
 visit the house. I was always of opinion that they durst not 
 
102 
 
 do so upon such an ill-founded information, and they could 
 have had none certain and positive hut through the gardener, 
 whose fidelity my Lady Jean had known for the long time 
 that she had had him in her employment. 
 
 In the certainty that the squadron of the Duke d' Anville 
 was not destined for Scotland, my hopes of re-establishing our 
 affairs vanished into smoke ; and my sufferings during all 
 the time of my being in the stack of hay quite determined me 
 to depart for London sooner ; and my departure being fixed 
 for the next day, M. Colville, man of business of my Lady 
 Jean, brought me next day for my journey on the road a very 
 fine nag, very much to be relied on. I beseeched my Lady 
 Jean very earnestly to exempt me from a second penance 
 in the stack of hay any time that I should have the honour 
 of again staying at her house, adding that I would have stood 
 as a sentinel at the windows of my chamber from morning 
 till evening, with my eyes constantly fixed on the door of 
 the court ; and as soon as I should have seen a detachment 
 enter, if they had had the boldness to come into it, I should 
 have jumped from one of the windows of the first floor to the 
 garden, and straightway passing over the wall of the garden, 
 should have been in the open fields, and under shelter from 
 their pursuit. This dear and amiable lady lamented my 
 sufferings in the stack of hay, but at the same time burst out 
 into a great roar of laughter, seeing the terrible panic I was 
 in for fear of returning into it, and she dispensed with it. It is 
 true that I had had a rough proof of this terrible piniishraent. 
 
 My father came to bid me an eternal adieu, and remained 
 with me till after mid-day. I was vividly overwhelmed 
 with melancholy and affliction at the approach of a separation 
 for ever. I insisted greatly with him, as well as with my 
 Lady Jean Douglas, to permit me to go for an instant to Edin- 
 burgh in order to embrace, for the last time, the most tender of 
 mothers, in her bed-ridden dangerous disease ; but they would 
 not consent to it, seeing the danger to which I would expose 
 
103 
 
 could 
 •dener, 
 g time 
 
 A.nville 
 ing our 
 ing all 
 ned me 
 ig fixed 
 Y Lady 
 I a very 
 y Lady 
 )cnance 
 honour 
 re stood 
 norning 
 door of 
 icliment 
 ' should 
 r to the 
 garden, 
 er from 
 ted my 
 urst out 
 c I was 
 it. It is 
 shment. 
 emaiued 
 vhelmed 
 paration 
 ,vith my 
 to Edin- 
 onder of 
 y would 
 I expose 
 
 I 
 
 myself of being recognised, whether in going tlirough the 
 town, or by the servants of the house. So I was obliged 
 to submit myself, and not to speak of it any more, although I 
 would liave exposed my life a thousand times to see her 
 again. Deplorable situation ! To be within a quarter of a 
 league of a tender sick mother, who had always been dear to 
 me, and not to have it in my power to bid her an eternal 
 adieu. 
 
 I began to disguise myself towards eleven o'clock at 
 night, as one of those merchants who travel through the 
 country, and they furnished me witli a profusion of handker- 
 chiefs which I put into my portmanteau with my linens, 
 wliere I had likewise the breasts of an embroidered vest, 
 which was very beautiful, and very precious, being the work 
 of a lady. Having turned up my hair, I put on a black peri- 
 wig which floated upon my shoulders, and my Lady Jean 
 had blackened my moustaches for me ; but in spite of this 
 disguise I was not so unrecognisable as with my tatterde- 
 malions. This dear Lady, anxious to know that I was dis- 
 tant some leagues from Edinburgh without accidents, where 
 I would not be so exposed to meet my acquaintances as in 
 the environs of that city, sent her lackey upon her saddle 
 horse to conduct me the two first leagues, in order to be 
 informed of my debut. 
 
 I made out six leagues without stopping, finding then a 
 village in which there was a public house, and I set my foot 
 to the ground for the purpose of resting myself there, and 
 having scaething to eat. The landlady begged me earnestly 
 to agree to join myself to a gentleman in the other room, who 
 had just also arrived, so as to dine together. I agreed to it, 
 suspecting that she had not accommodation to serve us sepa- 
 rately. I was confounded on entering the room to find M. 
 Scott, banker, from Edinburgh, a young gentleman, who 
 knew me very well by sight. This was an encounter the 
 more perplexing in as much as he was an out and out parti- 
 
104 
 
 san of the House of Hanover. The mistake made, tliere was 
 no time for me to draw back ; and, sheltering myself under my 
 disguise, I played the part of the merchant, until in distrac- 
 tion he pronounced my name. Not being able any longer to 
 doubt that T was not recognised, 1 endeavoured to deceive 
 him as to the road which I was to follow, there being more 
 roads branching off from this village which fell into the great 
 road from Edinburgh ; and I said to him that I would go to 
 sleep all night at Jedburgh. The road to go thither joined 
 the road to London at this village on turning to the ri^rht. 
 
 o o o 
 
 After he had pronounced my name I could remark that he 
 had an extreme intention to make me believe, in spite of that, 
 that he did not know me, for which I could not divine his 
 motive. I did not fear to be taken in the village, having my 
 pistols, one in each breeches pocket, charged and primed ; 
 but I doubted greatly that on his arrival in the evening at 
 Edinburgh he would inform against me to enable them to 
 write to the magistrates of the different towns on the road to 
 London with orders to make me prisoner. I departed imme- 
 diately after I had dined, taking at first the road to Jedburgh, 
 but after having gone about a league, I found a cross-road 
 upon my left, which I took, and immediately regained the 
 road to London. I arrived in the evening at Kelso, which is 
 eleven leagues from Edinburgh, and I availed myself of a 
 letter of recommendation of M. Stuart, to sleep at the house 
 of a burgess, in order to avoid unpleasant rencounters at an 
 inn. I never passed a journey with so much distress, 
 plunged in melancholy, overwhelmed and absorbed in reflec- 
 tions the most cruel. I reduced my lot to the terrible alter- 
 native — either to perish on the scaffold, or to save myself 
 in some foreign land, never again to revisit my native land, 
 my parents, my friends whom I had left there, who were 
 dear to me \ — in fine, it was actually an eternal adieu to all. 
 The next day I entered England. 
 
 Amid the immense number of prisoners which we made 
 
105 
 
 
 made 
 
 in the different battles we gained over the English, there- 
 were a great many who enlisted not in good faith, into our 
 army, the greater part of them only seeking thereby for 
 means more easily to desert, to rejoin their former troops in 
 the English army. I had taken from thirty to forty of them 
 into my company, of which there remained, at the battle 
 of Cnlloden, but five or six. The unfortunate Dickson, my 
 servant, was of this number, and he had the misfortune to be 
 hung at Edinburgh, during my stay at the house of my Lady 
 Jean Douglas, dying with all the bravery and fortitude pos- 
 sible. He refused his pardon, which was offered him by M. 
 Chapman, his former captain in the 42nd I'cgiment, on con- 
 dition only that he would confess his fault. The fourteenth 
 day after my departure, being two miles from Stamford, 
 where I proposed to pass the night, the sun not being more 
 than an hour above the horizon, and having made good 
 thirteen leagues in the journey, in passing some covered 
 caravans, all at once I heard a voice in one of these caravans 
 cry out — " Look ! look ! see a man on horseback as like our 
 rebel captain as two drops of water." And he named me at 
 the same time. These caravans were going also to Stamford. 
 They told me at the house of my Lady Jean Douglas, that 
 there had passed, eight days before, caravans full of soldiers, 
 wounded at the battle of Cidloden, to convey them to the 
 Hospital of Invalids at Chelsea, near London ; but I believed 
 them too far advanced to be able to find them in my road ; 
 and not reckoning to encounter in England those gentry who 
 recognised me again, I had taken off my grand black peri- 
 wig on account of the excessive heat of the weather, and 
 having on my turned up hat, which covered my visage as if 
 for the purpose of protecting me from the sun, I did not 
 make it appear as if I understood them ; and having passed 
 these caravans, I always continued at the same pace of my 
 horse till I had crossed the toAvn of Stamford ; then I set 
 spurs to my horse, and rode on full eight miles at the gallop, 
 
106 
 
 to obtain the advance of these caravans, in order that they 
 might not see me again. I would have been afraid, by stop- 
 ping all night at Stamford, of the searches which the magis- 
 trates would have been able to make on the reports of these 
 soldiers. 
 
 In the meantime this adventure might have made me lose 
 my horse, which would have reduced me to a situation the 
 most desolate, the mere idea of which made me tremble. 
 Arrived at the inn, as soon as he was entered the stable he 
 lay down without inclining to cat or drink, and he appeared 
 altogether done up. I tormented my imagination how I could 
 continue my journey, if he was no longer in a state to travel, 
 and I had still to dread the arrival next morning of these cara- 
 vans at the same inn, which was the only one in the village. 
 Plunged in uneasiness and chagrin, I did nothing else but 
 come and go continually between the inn and the stable during 
 two hours ; at the last, after much torment of mind, I was 
 agreeably surprised to see my horse in the end eating with a 
 good appetite, and comporting himself to a miracle. The 
 landlord said to me that I had nothing" to fear for him ; 
 offering at the same time to buy him by giving me three times 
 moxC than he had cost me ; reassured also as to the state of 
 my horse, it was a great deliverance for me to be relieved 
 from the most cruel perplexity. He added " that in some 
 hours he would not feel any more his fati'^ues, and that next 
 day in the morning I would be able to depart at such hour 
 as I chose without fearing that he would leave me by the 
 road. I fixed my departure for half-past twu in the 
 morning, under pretext of evading the heat, but in reality 
 for getting in advance of these caravans, which had annoyed 
 me so much. 
 
 The next morning at sunrise, as soon as I arrived at the 
 high-road, a man, well-dressed as a burgess, aged about forty 
 years, mounted upon a very fine bay courser, came across the 
 fields, leaping all the hedges and ditches with an astonishing 
 
 
107 
 
 they 
 stop- 
 lagis- 
 these 
 
 c lose 
 n the 
 smble. 
 blc he 
 scared 
 could 
 travel, 
 3 cara- 
 ,'illage. 
 ,se but 
 during 
 I was 
 with a 
 The 
 
 him ; 
 >e times 
 state of 
 relieved 
 u some 
 lat next 
 ch hour 
 by the 
 iu the 
 
 reality 
 annoyed 
 
 id at the 
 )ut forty 
 cross the 
 onishing 
 
 agility, and ho set himself down at my side, entering all at 
 once into conversation in spite of the little disposition on my 
 part to hold it, as he might have been able to see by my 
 manner of answering him always in monosyllables. Having 
 examined his physiognomy, as he sat on my left, I found iu 
 him a raised and troubled air, tnrning at every instant his 
 head to look on every side. In fine, he had all the signs of a 
 robber, with whom the highways in England were infested. 
 I put, on the instant, my hand into my breeches pocket, hold- 
 ing a pistol in my hand cocked, and my eyes always fixed 
 upon him, determined, upon the least movement which he 
 might make with his hands, that my pistol should be immedi- 
 ately as ready as his. I regulated also the pace of my horse 
 with his, never leaving him behind me, as I perceived that he 
 had some desire to be, by slackening at every moment his 
 pace. I did not iucHne to surrender ray pin-se without a 
 combat. In my position the loss of my money would have 
 ruined me without resource, and I did not know how I 
 should have been able to extricate myself out of such a 
 serious embarrassment. Having travelled in this manner for 
 more than half an hour, always upon the qui vive, forming a 
 thousand broken resolutions, all of a sudden, he wished me 
 good day, and made himself off at the same time, in the same 
 fashion iu which he had come across the fields, crossing the 
 hedges and ditches ; and without appearing to have any other 
 idea in his mind than to get off the highway. Perceiving 
 the bold countenance which I showed to him, he had given 
 up making further questions, and I was very glad to see him 
 depart, for an adventure of that kind might not have failed 
 to be disastrous to me. If I had knocked him on the head, 
 defending myself, I could not have presented myself before a 
 Justice of Peace to make my deposition ; and if he had taken 
 my purse, I do not know how I should have been able to 
 continue my journey, without money. 
 
 During the time that I was dining at a dirty jockey inn, 
 
108 
 
 there entered a man whom I judged by his conversation with 
 the hostess to be a Custom-house ofricer. This man set him- 
 self down abruptly at the table Avith me, Avithout sliewing mo 
 the least politeness or asking my permission. lie passed a 
 quarter of an hour without opening his mouth, making a 
 considerable breach upon a piece of roast veal. Satiated at 
 last, he laid down, with gravity, his knife and fork, with an 
 air content and satisfied. " Sir," said he to me, " I saw you 
 pass by this morning; apparently you have slept at Stamford. 
 I perceived by your horse, of which we have none of that race 
 in England, that you had come from Scotland. Tell me if 
 it is true that they have entirely dispersed the rebels ? It 
 must be confessed that your nation sought with ardour its 
 own destruction ! Have we ever been governed with such 
 mildness and moderation as we are at present by His Majesty 
 King George ? Your nation did not choose to remain quiet 
 till it was totally crushed. Is it ever possible to eradicate 
 from your nation this hereditary spirit of rebellion ? " 
 
 I was uneasy, fearing that this coarse fellow had been sent 
 by the magistrates of Stamford to try to verify the declaration 
 of the soldiers ; and not to lose sight of me until tliey should 
 find an o[)])ortunity to arrest me in the first great inn on the 
 route where I should pass the night. I answered him "that I 
 did not know any news of the rebels, having only come from 
 the province of Annandalc, which is on the frontier of Scot- 
 land close to England, where they were generally altogether 
 ignorant of what had passed in the nortli of Scotland ; that 
 as to the rest, being a pack-merchant I did not occupy 
 myself but with my merchandise, and troubled myself very 
 little with affairs of State." He asked immediately to see 
 my merchandize. I told him that I had sent to London by 
 sea my cloths and other worsted manufactures, and I had 
 only with me a few handkerchiefs. I immediately opened 
 my portmanteau to shew them, and I sold to him a piece 
 without kuoAving the price, for they had forgot to mark it on 
 
109 
 
 a 
 
 
 each piece. It ia true I luul not foreseen these cmbarrnsa- 
 ments in the route to London to oblige me to sell them. In 
 paying me for this piece of handkerchief he bestowed praises 
 on my probity, telling mc that I was a young man of con- 
 science, and that all the other Scotch merchants who 
 travelled daily by the road were real rascals, having made 
 him pay lately for the same pieces of handkerchiefs nearly 
 double what I luid exacted from him. In searching my port- 
 manteau, my embroidered vest appeared, and he had a great 
 desire for it ; but as to it, I told him that it was not in my 
 power to sell it for less than five guineas. He thought no 
 more of it, and I was very glad that he did not torment me 
 more to have my vest, for I would not have given it for all 
 the things in the world. If this man was sent after me, as I 
 had suspected him, at least he would have to render an ac- 
 count that I was a merchant ; and the piece of handkerchief 
 that I sold him, apparently much cheaper than it had cost 
 me, gave him a high idea of my probity. He made me take 
 the addresses of his friends in London, in order that I might 
 sell them similar pieces at the same price. 
 
 I arrived at London at six o'clock in the evening the 
 seventh day after my departure from the house of my Lady 
 Jean Douglas, having made a hundred and forty leagues 
 without too much fatiguing my horse. I set my foot on the 
 ground at a hotel in Grace Street, which M. Stuart had 
 recommended to me for honest people ; and I proceeded, 
 as soon as I had changed my linen, to deliver a letter of re- 
 commendation to a person from whom uU the favour I had to 
 ask, was to find me a furnished room to hire, where I could 
 lodge for the moment, in order to avoid the inconvenience of 
 sleeping at a hotel. Having found him, his excuses surprised 
 me much, at his not being willing to find me a lodging, at the 
 same time that he informed me that the keeper of the hotel 
 being a Scotchman, much suspected by the government, he 
 feared that the Court employed some of his domestics as 
 
110 
 
 spies to give them information of all Scotchmen who might 
 arrive in London. I returned to the hotel very ill pleased 
 with the clown, who did not choose to give himself the trouble 
 to find me a lodging, and very uneasy, after what he had 
 said, to be obliged to pass the night there. I did not shut 
 my eyes the Avhole night with uneasiness, fearing that they 
 miglit apprehend me on the information of these spies at the 
 hotel ; and having risen in the morning, at an early hour, I 
 went out immediately to seek a lodging, without being able 
 to find one in that quarter which would accommodate me, on 
 account of the expense. Impatient and uneasy to depart from 
 the hotel, I recollected myself all at once of a milliner who 
 had profcrred her friendship for me when I found myself in 
 London in 1740 ; and the point was to know, if she had sub- 
 stituted some one in my place, whom she loved better tlian 
 me, or if I could rekindle the same flames wliich I had then 
 been able to inspire her with, after an absence of five years. 
 As she had good sense, feeling, and a great sweetness of 
 character, I was fully persuaded that I woidd risk nothing in 
 trusting my life in her hands : so I at once took a hackney 
 coach and repaired to her house. Having sent back tlic 
 hackney coach at some paces from her house, I entered into 
 her shop under pretext of buying something, imagining that 
 she would not recognize me ; but as soon as she saw me she 
 called me by my name, in a transport of joy to see me again. 
 Her servant being present, I said to her that she had possibly 
 forgot mc, since my name was Leslie. We entered into the 
 saloon, Vidierc I recounted to her my misfortunes, which 
 brought tears to her eyes ; and I could see very well that this 
 amiable, good woman yet loved mc. I added tbat the con- 
 vincing testimonies of her friendship and affection made mo 
 truly believe my life to be in safety in her hands. " Ah ! as 
 to that, yes," cried she, with vivacity ! She embraced mc 
 immediately, and prayed me to be couAinced that she still 
 loved me as before, and that she had often thought of me. 
 
Ill 
 
 again. 
 
 of me. 
 
 She oifered me at once a room in lier house, telling me that 
 I should be doubly secure there, as she had never wished to 
 let her chambers ; and she made me all the entreaties possi- 
 ble to come and occupy them without tarrying a moment, as 
 I was exposed to disagreeable accidents in a hotel. I ac- 
 cepted the obliging offer which she had made me. I went 
 back to the hotel to fetch my portmanteau, and I returned to 
 dine at her house, and to enter into possession of a very fine 
 room on the first floor above ; and having found a stable in 
 the neighbourhood, at night I moved my horse thither myself^ 
 in order that the people of the hotel, if they were spies of 
 the Court, might be ignorant of the quarter I had gone to 
 dwell at. Thus I was then reassured and tranquil on that 
 account. My horse was so jolly that I sold him at once very 
 advantageously, and gained from that source much more than 
 the expense of my journey, with the loss which I had sus- 
 tained on the piece of handkerchief. 
 
 Having remained at London a year, in spring, 1740, I 
 received an order from my father, in consequence of a dis- 
 agreement, to retm'n to Scotland, and he only gave rae three 
 weeks to return thither, under the penalty of not pardoning 
 me again that disobedience. I was at this moment very cri- 
 tically situated with regard to my father, when, in a visit that 
 I made to one of my friends to inform him of my depar- 
 ture, I met at his house with the most beautiful person that 
 ever lived, aged eighteen years, and who had arrived lately 
 from the provinces. She was ignorant even of the perfection 
 of her figure, altogether heavenly, and the power of her 
 charms. She was the niece of my friend — an only daughter. 
 Her father was of an ancient English house, the youngest 
 brancli of which was very illustrious, with the title of Duke. 
 I remained to dinner with her at the house of her uncle, 
 where she staid ; and her engaging manners, her air of sweet- 
 ness, her conversation full of good sense, spirit, modesty, and 
 without affectation, all combined with her beauty to captivate 
 
112 
 
 me, and to make me feel with violence the torments of a 
 rising passion. This adorable beauty reduced me in a mo- 
 ment to suffering the most inexpressible. I could not keep 
 my eyes off this charming object, and the more I admired 
 her the more the subtle poison penetrated my soul. I was as 
 if in a fever — breathing left me — a great movement of blood 
 suffocated me- -and with difficulty could my tongue utter 
 monosyllables. I tried in the meantime to conceal as much 
 as it was possible the distress and disorder with which my 
 soul was devoured. I had never till then felt anything like it. 
 I had found myself often loving, but this love easy to sup- 
 port, which often lost itself without knowing why, and of 
 which a short absence or another beauty would break the 
 chains — making me forget as easily that which had rivetted 
 them ; but this charming person had put me in a frightful 
 state — my wounds were deep — I was thunderstruck — and I 
 no longer knew myself. I did not speak to her of my depar- 
 ture, though that was the object of my visit ; and the uncle 
 invited me to spend the next day with them. 
 
 I returned home distracted, raving, melancholy, over- 
 whelmed, and with her image vividly painted in my imagina- 
 tion as if I continued to see her before me. Sleep did not 
 relieve my pains : I passed the night without shutting my 
 eyes, combating without ceasing crueliy between my love and 
 my duty to my father. Having returned five or six times 
 to her house, returning always more enamoured and more 
 tormented than ever — every visit rendering me less master of 
 myself ; on the other hand, my father agreed to pardon my 
 follies on condition that I should arrive in Edinburgh in three 
 weeks : if I failed to comply with his order I would occasion 
 a second quarrel with him, worse than the first, ready to ex- 
 plode. How distressing my situation was ! My soul was 
 lacerated : my case was truly perplexing. 
 
 I have had a terrible youth to pass ; passionate, obstinate, 
 lively, unruly, uncontrc liable with a great many other 
 
 ex 
 ha 
 lie 
 an 
 he 
 
 wir 
 
 poJ 
 Jiai 
 
113 
 
 over- 
 
 faults ; In the meantime, without having ever done anything 
 against honour, probity, or which could wound the most 
 delicate feelings of a gallant man ; and I was always incap- 
 able of meanness. Too much indulged by the tenderness of 
 my mother, she supplied me with money underhand, which 
 served to feed my extravagances and follies, and I had only 
 to demand from her to receive it. In 1738, then, at the age 
 of eighteen years, the desire seized me of going to Russia to 
 see my two uncles, M. Douglas, Lieutenaut-General and 
 Governor of Revel, and M. Hewitt, brother of my mother, 
 formerly a favourite of the Czar Peter, and President of the 
 College of Commerce ; but he had retired on the death of 
 that emperor with a considerable pension. My father would 
 not consent to this ; but having carried my remonstrances to 
 my Lady Jean Douglas, who was my ordinary resource in my 
 disputes with my father and my oracle, being the only person 
 who could convince me when I was naugiity, and made me 
 desist immediately, she represented to my father, who was 
 greatly annoyed at ray neglecting my studies, and plunging 
 into libertinism, that it was the only means of weaning me 
 from it, to send me away at a distance for some time from 
 my associates, young gentlemen who encouraged one another 
 in their debaucheries ; and thai it was fortunate this idea 
 had come of myself ; so this dear lady obtained my 
 father's consent to it. 
 
 My uncle, Hewitt, was a man of distinguished merit. 
 He had a great deal of good sense, spirit, attainments, and 
 experience. He had been promoted at the Court of Russia, 
 having entered into the service very young ; and in his youth 
 he had been as much a libertine as myself, by consecjuence 
 an excellent pilot to cause me escape the rocks upon which 
 he himself had split. He loved me greatly : he reproved me 
 with mildness, honesty, and patience. In place of the dis- 
 position (caustic, morose, and severe) of my father, who 
 having been always wise and philosophic from his infancy, 
 
 II 
 
IH 
 
 did not know how to sympathise and yield a little to the torrent 
 of a boiling blood, different by temperament from his own. 
 At the end of a year he taught me to think, and stifled a part 
 of the great fire and vivacity which had carried me away, as 
 if in spite of myself. 
 
 I had always had a decided inclination for the military 
 profession ; but my father not wishing that his only son 
 should be cut off by a cannon-ball, contradicted me in that 
 as he did continually in everything that I desired. My 
 uncle, Hew'tt, had been Colonel of a Regiment in Russia ; 
 but at the battle of Narva he was wounded so dangerously 
 by a ball across the neck that he quitted the military service 
 to be at the head of the College of Commerce. He sub- 
 scribed very willingly to my desires of entering the service of 
 Russia; and one day when the Count Gollovine and the 
 Prince Car.'ikin were at dinner at his house, both Secretaries 
 of State and friends of my uncle, he presented mo to them as 
 come from Scotland expressly for the purpose of entering the 
 service of Russia, and begged them to take me under their 
 protection. They responded so well to my wishes that at the 
 end of some days they had a commission as lieutenant made 
 out for me, with all the assurances possible that at the end of 
 the campaign of 1739 against the Turks I should have a com- 
 pany. I imparted to my father this opportunity of making 
 a figure in the world, and over and above, this powerful 
 patronage ; that I had, moreover, that of Field-Marshal Keith, 
 also a friend of my imcle Hewitt, who would render me a ser- 
 vice, and that I was certain to be greatly supported by my 
 uncle Douglas. My luicle wrote him a letter at the same 
 time very pressing to have his consent, but in place of con- 
 senting to it he answered me in a letter conceived in terms the 
 most severe, that I knew very well it was never his intention 
 that I should settle anywhere but in my native country ; 
 that I had been all my life-time disobedient to his wishes, and 
 that if I persisted in acting contrary to them, as I had done, 
 
115 
 
 torrent 
 8 own. 
 I a part 
 way, as 
 
 nilitary 
 ily son 
 
 in that 
 d. My 
 Russia ; 
 ^erously 
 ' service 
 Ee sub- 
 jrvice of 
 and the 
 cretaries 
 
 them as 
 sring the 
 der their 
 lat at the 
 int made 
 lie end of 
 i^e a com- 
 f making 
 
 powerful 
 lal Keith, 
 me a ser- 
 :d by my 
 
 the same 
 36 of con- 
 
 terms the 
 
 intention 
 
 country ; 
 ishes, and 
 had done, 
 
 I might depend upon it that he would disinherit me, and 
 leav3 all his fortune to my sisters. This was a great mis- 
 fortune for a young man, having all the appearance of being 
 one day rich, although riches were often imaginary, to make 
 him lose his fortune ; and it was cruel and unpardonable in a 
 father to conceal from his children the state of his affairs. In 
 yielding obedience to my father, I lost the only opportunity 
 that presented itself in my life of making a brilliant fortune. 
 There are moments when fortune opens the door to men to 
 attain success. Happy those who can discern and seize them 
 at the instant. General Keith pressed me much to avail 
 myself of tlie good inclinations of the two Ministers, reiterat- 
 ing to me his assurances that he would share with me 
 the friendship which he had for my uncle Hewitt. He was 
 then in his bed from the wounds which he had received at the 
 siege of Ockzacow in 1738, where he commanded ; and Lord 
 Marischal, his brother, having come to St. Petersburg to 
 take care of hira, was an agreeable acquaintance which I 
 then made, and which I renewed afterwards at Paris in 
 1751, my Lord being then in that city in quality of Ambas- 
 sador of the King of Prussia. 
 
 Repelled by my father from entering the service of Russia, 
 my sojourn there became disgustful to me ; above all, since a 
 young man, SmoUet, who had come to St. Petersburg in 1739, 
 with a design of entering the service, but who had not found 
 it agreeable to his taste, spoke to me so much of the pleasures 
 and amusements of London, that he gave me immediately a 
 wish to go thither ; and Smollet having himself resolved 
 to return thither, I decided to embark with him in the first 
 vessel that should sail from St. Petorisb urg, without waiting 
 for the consent of my father, his reply not being able to reach 
 me till after the freezing of the navigation of the Baltic, — 
 waiting which, I should have been obliged to remain another 
 year in Russia. My uncle, after having greatly combated 
 my project of going to Loudon, ceased in the end not to im- 
 
116 
 
 portune me with regard to it. But as he saw better than I 
 that my father would be much enraged at my procedure, he 
 offered to advance me such sum as I should wish, on his 
 account, — assuring me that my father would be unable for a 
 much longer time than I believed before he could send me 
 any more. I took only ten or twelve guineas, in the per- 
 suasion that my father would at ouce honour my Bills of 
 Exchange. 
 
 After having secured my passage for London in the same 
 ship in which M. Smollet was to embark, and having agreed 
 as to the price with the captain, Walker, captain of another 
 merchant vessel, which was to depart for London at the 
 same time, came to the coffee-room demanding of me to speak 
 to him particularly. He said to me, that having been informed 
 that I wished to go to London, ho had come to beg me most 
 earnestly to accept my passage in his ship, which would sail 
 in company with that wherein my friend M. Smollet was ; and 
 that far from exacting anything for my passage, he would 
 regard it as an infinite obligation to keep him company ; that 
 fresh provisions would not be wanting on board, since I would 
 only have to give him a state of all that I should wish, and 
 he would furnish them at once ; that as to wine, there was no 
 person better provided than he was, having not only Spanish 
 wine, wine of Bourdeaux and Oporto, but many kinds of 
 wine besides — the last voyage of his vessel having been to 
 traverse all the islands of Greece with some Lords who had 
 freighted her, and he had no other cargo but arms and legs of 
 statues, and a great many pieces of marble with inscriptions, 
 of which he understood nothing ; but above all, wherever he 
 could find good wine, he was careful to lay in a good stock. 
 He added that he was at his ease, without wife or children, 
 having realised seven or eight thousand guineas, which he 
 had in the bank in London ; that his vessel was his own pro- 
 perty, without having any partner ; and that he had decided 
 to sell her on his arrival in London, to pnss the rest of his 
 
 P 
 
 a 
 
117 
 
 han I 
 
 re, he 
 >n his 
 for a 
 ad me 
 e per- 
 ills of 
 
 3 same 
 agreed 
 mother 
 at the 
 3 speak 
 formed 
 le most 
 Lild sail 
 as ; and 
 ! would 
 y ; that 
 I would 
 ,sh, and 
 was no 
 Spanish 
 :inds of 
 jeen to 
 ho had 
 I legs of 
 riptions, 
 •ever he 
 d stock, 
 ihildren, 
 hich he 
 iwn pro- 
 decided 
 t of his 
 
 I 
 
 
 = 
 
 days in a philosophical retreat. I had seen M. Walker many 
 times, and I had always distinguished him much among other 
 mariners for his probity, a great sweetness of character, the 
 most agreeable company, and much experience of the world, 
 and knowledge of good manners, and from fifty to sixty yeai's 
 of age. He begged me to dine with him next day on hoard 
 his ship, and he would engage my friend, M. Smollet, to be of 
 the party, telling me that his captain with whom I had made 
 arrangements for my passage should be there also, and that 
 being his intimate friend he would take upon him to disen- 
 gage me of the word that I had given iiim to proceed with 
 his vessel. He gave us a magnificent repast, and finding him 
 the most agreeable company, I accepted with pleasure his 
 projjosal. 
 
 We departed from St. Petersburg in company with tlie 
 other ship, in which M. Smollet was embarked, and having 
 had much calm weather our parties of pleasure were to belay 
 the two ships together to give a dinner to Smollet and his 
 captain, having been better provided than they in a thousand 
 sweets and little things which afford pleasure at sea. A 
 breeze of wind upon the coasts of Denmark at length sepa- 
 rated us, and we did not see each other again till we were at 
 London, where we arrived after a passage of six weeks. I 
 had all the amusement possible in the vessel. M. Walker 
 was full of continual attentions for me, acting as if I had 
 been his own son ; giving me good advices with much sin- 
 cerity and mildness. He was one of those sweet souls and 
 good hearts which one finds more commonly among the 
 English than anywhere else. Having more experience and 
 foresight than I then had, he ahvays assured me that my 
 reconciliation with my father would not be so easy and 
 prompt as I imagined, according to the character which I had 
 often given him of him, as being extremely harsh and severe ; 
 and on arriving he engaged me to stay at his lioiise in waiting 
 to receive news from my father. This I did, and this was 
 
118 
 
 my good fortune, for having drawn a bill of exchange on my 
 father, and written letter upon letter, he persisted in refusing 
 to answer. Poor Walker took me sincerely into his friend- 
 ship, acting continually towards me with all the affection and 
 feeling of a father, so that I remember well the obligations 
 under which I was laid to him, which were conferred upon 
 me in such a noble and generous manner as not to make rae 
 blush for them. 
 
 M. Walker had placed his vessel in the docks to have her 
 sold after our arrival in London, but not finding any person 
 to purchase her, and having an oifer of a freight for Bour- 
 deaux, he desired to make another voyage before quitting the 
 profession of a mariner. He pressed me strongly to make the 
 voyage with him to keep him company, telling me that money 
 should not be wanting, his purse being at my service witli all 
 his heart, and nothing that could afford me pleasure ; that 
 besides, I would have the pleasure of seeing France, and that 
 it would be a pastime, waiting till my father should grant his 
 pardon. I accepted with pleasure the obliging offer of this 
 worthy man, not seeing any other course to follow on account 
 of the silence and obstinacy of my father not choosing to 
 reply to my letters ; and everything was readv for our depar- 
 ture in two or three days. 
 
 My friend SmoUct, who on his return to London had 
 obtained a lieutenancy in the regiment of Wentworth, lodged 
 in the Court end of the town ; and as I staid always at the 
 house of M. Walker, who had his house at Wa})ping, the 
 quarter of the seafaring people, we wore at the two extremi- 
 ties of London, and I rarely saw him ; but as I was on the 
 eve of my departure with Walker, I went to pass a day with 
 him, and to take leave. Returning from his house about 
 eight o'clock at night, the lamps being lighted, in going along 
 Change Alley — a passage like to that of the Palais Royal, 
 which abuts in the street de Richieleu — absorbed in reflec- 
 tions and plunged in the deepest distractions which my deso- 
 
119 
 
 on my 
 jfusing 
 friciid- 
 on and 
 nut ions 
 I upon 
 ike me 
 
 avc lier 
 person 
 r Bour- 
 ing the 
 lakc the 
 t money 
 with all 
 •c ; that 
 ;ind that 
 ;rant his 
 • of this 
 account 
 osing to 
 ir depar- 
 
 don had 
 1, lodged 
 ys at the 
 oing, the 
 extremi- 
 is on the 
 day with 
 ise about 
 ing along 
 lis Royal, 
 in rcflcc- 
 my deso- 
 
 late situation'^ furnished me, all at at once I was awakened 
 from them by a voice which called me by my name. I turned 
 my head, and I saw M. Whitlock, a young English gentleman 
 whom I had known at St. Petersburg, where he had passed 
 the winter with the design of entering into the naval service 
 of Russia ; but being j)ut out of sorts at St. Petersburg, and 
 his eldest brother not inclining!: to liouour his Bills of Ex- 
 change, he was there also as ill at ease as I then was at 
 London. He engaged mo to go and sup with him at his 
 house ; and having aiTived at his lodging, I recounted to him 
 all my history since I liud seen him, and my unpleasant situa- 
 tion by the obstinate silence of my fatlicr, which put me 
 under the necessity of availing myself of the obliging offer of 
 M. Walker, whom M. "Whitlock had known at St. Petersburg, 
 to accompany him in his voyage to Bourdeaux. M. Whit- 
 lock, after having made me sec how much my father would 
 be enraged a thousand times more against me, although he 
 was inclined to pardon me, when he understood that I was 
 not at London, but running on the seas, he obligingly oifered 
 to lodge me, and to mess together in the same house with him, 
 and that he would not allow me to want for anything while 
 waiting till I had news from my father. He added that he 
 was then at his ease, having got his patrimony out of his 
 brother's hands. He proposed to me to sleep at his house, 
 and I consented to it on condition that we should go next 
 day, at six o'clock in the morning, to see M. Walker, who 
 approved of our reasons for remaining in London. We re- 
 mained to dinner with Walker, and I took leave of this 
 worthy man with tears in our eyes, with a mind penetrated 
 with gratitude for the paternal affection which he had mani- 
 fested to me. 
 
 How was I confounded and petrified when, in reading 
 the Gazette, I found there the tragical fate of this worthy 
 and honourable man ! His vessel went to the bottom in a 
 raging sea, three Aveeks after his departure from London, 
 
120 
 
 and the unfortunate Walker perished with all his e(iuipnge, 
 without a single man in it being saved. How I did lament 
 the fate of this worthy and amiable man ! How I still do 
 so every time that I think of this incomprehensible event ! 
 I shed tears for him in abundance ; at the same time that the 
 remarkable providence of an invisible power, which had pre- 
 vented me, by my meeting Whitlock in Change Alley, from 
 finishing my existence with him, filled my soul with admira- 
 tion and thankfulness. 
 
 Whatever name we may give it — fate, chance, or Pro- 
 vidence — its effects are visible and incomprehensible, as I 
 Lave experienced it in regard to myself, although the veil that 
 covers it from our eyes be impenetrable to feeble mortals. 
 It failed to change his resolution of not going more to sea, 
 and for accomplishing his unfortunate destiny ; no person 
 appeared in six weekd ;,o buy his ship, and having again the 
 offer of an advantageous freiglit for Bourdeaux, Avhich would 
 gain him three or four hundred guineas of pro tit. That I was 
 not at the bottom of the sea, it happened that Whitlock and 
 I should at the same instant walk along Change Alley, 
 where I had never passed before, and that he should have 
 recognized me by the light of the lamps, for I would not have 
 recognized my father at my side — having been then in the 
 deepest abstraction, and absorbed in the most cruel reflections 
 upon my situation. It was necessary that I should have had 
 to take leave of M. Smollet to fall in with Whitlock ; in short, 
 it happened that Whitlock had sufficient friendship for me — 
 not having much frequented his company at St. Petersburg — 
 to offer me his purse, and to cause me at the same time to 
 enter with him in the same lodging-house.* This is a series 
 
 * I have passed all my life, so often preserved as if by miracle from 
 perishing, always in difficulties, overwhelmed with misery, persecuted with- 
 out ceasing by fortune. My life was passed in the service, where I exposed 
 my body to the most excessive fatigues which I put myself to, to render me 
 useful to the service. They have granted me a pension, out of which to 
 furnish me the mere necessaries of life. M. the Duke d'Anville and the 
 
 ; 
 
121 
 
 
 of surprising events that could have never liapponed by pure, 
 blind, irregular chaucc, in the course of its progress. Al- 
 though one were to make reflections all one's life on this stroke 
 of Providence, the more one tries to fathom it, the more will 
 it appear to be involved in darkness. All is enveloped in 
 obscurity, uncertainty and doubts. The worthy but unfortu- 
 nate Walker was a virtuous, good man, of great upriglitncss, 
 generous and compassionate for his fellows in adversity, of 
 a mild and cheerful character, and possessing all the fine 
 qualities that could make him pleasant and agreeable in 
 society. 
 
 My father left me to languish in London five or six 
 weeks more before replying to my letters. He had a great 
 deal of spirit and experiences, very impatient and severe, 
 ignorant of the mildness and reasonableness which it was 
 necessary to have with youth, which are all born with different 
 characters — which they take from bodily constitution. A 
 young man the most lively and wild can be reclaimed by 
 mildness ; but never by a great stoical severity, which only 
 serves to agitate his mind, and to revolt him against his 
 father, whom he would regard more as a tyrant than as his 
 friend, and will not value him. After having exposed me to 
 a thousand perils of every kind, where a young man might 
 fall, delivered to despair, he sent me at length a bill of ex- 
 
 Abbe Terrace came to curtail the funds which I had to sulisist upon. 
 After having been saved so many times miraculously from perishmg, shall I 
 escape in my old age, or die of hunger and misery ? " I do not fear," said 
 Bedoyere, " but that cruel poverty, which breaks the torn heart, enervates 
 the soul, and abases the mind." — Unfortutiutc Spouses, p. 152. Homer says 
 in his Odyssy, " Indigence breaks down the soul, and robs us of half the 
 spirit." Thus it is a truth anciently recognized, and which I have ex- 
 perienced myself. " Fortune," said Charles V., "obliged me to raise the 
 seige of Metz. She is like all women — she confers her favours on the young, 
 and withholds them from grey hairs." She has never been favourable to mo 
 dui-ing all the course of my life. I make a great difference between fortune 
 and Providence. 
 
122 
 
 change to pay my debts, onlcrinp; mc at t'lo same time to 
 return to E(Un])urgh in three weeks, if I wi-^hod to profit by 
 his good dispositions of being reconciled with mc. It was 
 precisely at this critical moment that chance made me en- 
 counter this angelic person. I remained in London in the 
 adoration of this divine beauty till there remained only 
 sufficient money to make my voyage with economy; and, 
 struggling continually between love and reason, I took all at 
 once the resolution of dcj)arting next morning, without scseing 
 her again, to take leave, in spite of myself, and under the fear 
 that sole regard for the charming Miss Peggy might in 
 an instant overturn all my sage and prudent resolutions. 
 In again revisiting her, I should no longer be master of 
 myself, and would involve myself in a new chain of embar- 
 rassment. I arrived at my father's house, the reconciliation 
 immediately took place, and the past was forgotten. 
 
 During six years that I had remairuMl in Scotland 
 absent from the adorable Miss Peggy, the uncertainty of her 
 sentiments in regard to me, the little hope of seeing her 
 again, time which effaces entirely new objects, although one 
 of inferior beauty, had always made me insensibly lose 
 sight of her. But the instant that I found myself again in 
 London, within reach of seeing her again, her image came 
 back again immediately to my soul, my passion rekindled 
 all at once so strongly that the certainty of perishing on 
 the scaffold to see her again would not have hindered me 
 from going to her. I only waited paying her a visit for the 
 clothes which I had ordered from a tailor, and he favoured 
 my impatience by bringing them, with my fine embroidered 
 vest within twenty-four hours. 
 
 Thus habited I took a hackney coach, which I sent back 
 again near to the house of her uncle. Having asked of the 
 lacquey who opened me the door if his master was at home, he 
 answered me not, but that they expected him to dinner. I 
 informed myself if his niece, Mis^ Peggy, was in town or in 
 
 
 
imo to 
 •o(it by- 
 It was 
 mo en- 
 ; ill the 
 (1 only 
 y; and, 
 all Jit 
 it seeing 
 the fear 
 lij^ht in 
 
 lutions. 
 aster of 
 
 cnibar- 
 Hciliation 
 
 Scotland 
 ty of her 
 ;einp; her 
 ough one 
 ihly lose 
 again in 
 igc (;arae 
 rekindled 
 isliing on 
 dcred me 
 sit for the 
 ! favoured 
 ibroidered 
 
 sent back 
 ccd of the 
 t home, he 
 linner. I 
 town or in 
 
 123 
 
 the country. TIic sole reply of the lacquey, " that she was 
 at home," caused me such a palpitation of the heart and a 
 shaking of the nerves that with dilhculty T could support my- 
 self. I entered into the saloon, and I again saw the lacquey 
 to ask if slie was visible, lie returned at once to announce to 
 me that she was just coming down. The presence of this 
 charming person, who appeared more beautiful than ever, 
 redoubled my disorder, and I remained like a statue. It was 
 in vain that I attempted to speak to her ! My mouth aiul 
 my tongue refused their functions. Confused, and as if 
 petrified I had my eyes fixed on her in ecstacy and ad- 
 miration. As soon as I had a little recovered myself and 
 was able to speak, I said to her, that having been engaged 
 in the unfortunate affair of Prince Edward, I had hesitated 
 much Avhether I should present myself at her uncle's house, 
 fearing to expose my friends to troublesome embarrassment 
 in case that I should be discovered -witli them ; that in the 
 meantime the remembrance of the civilities and kindnesses 
 which I had received from her uncle six years ago, had 
 always been impressed so vividly on my mind that I could 
 not resist the temptation of offering him with loud voice the 
 assurances of my gratitude and thanks. During the time 
 that I spake, the adorable Miss Peggy fixed a look full of 
 pity, of compassion, and of sweetness on me, and answered 
 me that her uncle having always had a sincere friendship for 
 me, would (certainly take a deep interest in my misfortune, 
 and would not regard any risk that he might run for the 
 pleasure of seeing me and being usefid to me. Her uncle 
 entered at the moment, greatly surprised at seeing me again, 
 and he embraced me with affection. I related to him my 
 disasters. He remarked to me that it was good for me to 
 wish to be a maker of kings. As for him he cared very 
 little whether King George, King James, or the Devil was 
 upon the throne of England, provided he left him peaceable 
 possessor of his goods, and these he would not choose to lose 
 
124 
 
 for all the kings of the universe. He added that he was 
 greatly affected with my situation ; he counselled me to avoid 
 the roads where I might meet in with my compatriots, offered 
 me his house heartily to wait till I should find an opportunity 
 of saving myself beyond sea, and he begged me to begin from 
 that moment by staying to dine with them. There came a 
 great many persons after mid-day to visit, to whom the uncle 
 presented me under the name of M. Leslie ; and I made one 
 of a party of quadrille with Miss Peggy and two other ladies. 
 How the time glides swiftly with the person you love ! I 
 passed the whole day with her, the most delicious that I had 
 hitherto known, and which appeared to me as but an instant! 
 The uncle said to me at supper that he had remained in the 
 house on my account, and he begged me to be very sure not 
 to stand upon ceremonies, as he would not regard me in 
 future as a stranger at his house. I returned to sleep for the 
 night at the house of my generous friend, the milliner, with 
 my mind well content and satisfied. At parting the uncle 
 invited me to come every day to breakfast, and to pass the 
 day at his house ; and his adorable niece joined in his invita- 
 tions, saying that by coming at an early hour in the morning 
 I should run less risk of encountering any of my acquain- 
 tances who might be able to recognise me. He offered me a 
 room in his house, which I could not accept of, fearing k-st 
 I might occasion him any mal-ad venture in case I should be 
 followed in the streets by any one who might know me and 
 be takeu in his house. 
 
 Having passed five days continually with my adorable 
 Peggy from nine in tbe morning till eleven o'clock at night 
 (at which time I returned to sleep at the house of ray hospi- 
 table friend), her conversation, easy and full of good sense and 
 spirit, her knowledge, which she made appear with modesty 
 and without affectation, truly learned without making it ap- 
 pear ostentatiously, her sweet manners, delicate sentiments, 
 in fine, all astonished me and filled me with admiration at the 
 
lie was 
 avoid 
 offered 
 )rtunity 
 iu from 
 came a 
 le uncle 
 ade one 
 r ladies, 
 ove ! I 
 it I had 
 instant! 
 id in the 
 sure not 
 i me in 
 p for the 
 aer, with 
 he uncle 
 pass the 
 is in vita- 
 morning 
 acquain- 
 rcd me a 
 
 ,ng k-st 
 should be 
 
 me and 
 
 adorable 
 
 at night 
 
 ray hospi- 
 
 sense and 
 
 , modesty 
 dng it ap- 
 entiments, 
 
 ion at the 
 
 125 
 
 perfections of her mind equally beautiful as her figure. I had 
 never yet dared to tell her that I loved her, fearing to shock 
 her. How timid one is when one loves sincerely ! What a 
 change in my character ! I did not know myself again ! I 
 had always been very enterpiizing and bold in presence of 
 the sex; and if I failed to succeed with them I made my 
 retreat -vv ith a good countenance, without being disconcerted ; 
 but in presence of this divine person I lowered my eyes wliei 
 she looked at me, and every time that I wished to raise them 
 to her, my passion immediately brought a trembling on me. 
 I remained stupified. I did not open my mouth. She was 
 to me a superior being whom I feared to lose by revolting her 
 by a declaration of love, in case her sentiments in regard 
 to me might not be in my favour; always terrified at offending 
 her even by the smallest word, and not making her under- 
 stand otherwise my excess of love and tenderness but by the 
 sighs which escaped me, or by my anxieties, which she 
 might well attribute to my unfortunate situation, and not to 
 its true cause. Having passed a whole day tete-a-tete with 
 her, after having suffered a long and cruel conflict in wishing 
 to declare to her the secret of my soul, without 2>ower to 
 overcome my irresolution, ready to suffocate I thrcAV myself 
 all at once at her feet ; I seized her hands in transports, I 
 kissed them both at the same time, I bathed them with my 
 tears. I had not but the power of an incoherent voice, and 
 my lips trembled to tell her that I adored her, — that I did 
 not wish to live but for her, — that my passion was of an old 
 date, my eyes haviug conspired to tell her the situation of my 
 heart in 1740, before my departure for Scotland. She made 
 me rise immediately, telling me coldly that she had always 
 esteemed me much — that she had true regret at seeing mo 
 so absurd in the terrible crisis in which I then foimd myself, 
 between life and death ; that I could see daily some of my 
 comrades whom they led to the scaffold, that from one 
 moment to another I might follow them ready to suffer the 
 
126 
 
 same punishment ; and she exhorted me to think more soHdly 
 and to dream rather of the means of saving myself than to fill 
 myself with chimeras. " Ah ! my angel," answered I briskly, 
 " if you do not condescend to love me, I shall be envious of 
 their lot, and I should choose before that death. It is only you 
 who are able to make me appreciate life, and without you it is 
 not worth the trouble of preserving it." From that moment I 
 had a tacit permission to express to her all the tenderness 
 and affection which the most violent passion could inspire ; 
 but drawing down upon me always the strongest reprimands 
 and counsels to behave more like a reasonable man. 
 
 Her cold and reserved manners dissolved and afflicted me 
 to death ; while in company with other men her gracious, 
 prepossessing, and engaging manners, and comporting herself 
 altogether different than with me, rendered me jealous to 
 excess. I imagined that all those to whom she showed the 
 least politeness and civility were greatly more than me in her 
 good graces and favour. One of these friends had made her 
 a present of a very beautiful tortoiseshell snuff-box, enamelled 
 and set in gold, with a miniature, altogether a beauty, being 
 the first of that kind of snuff boxes that had appeared in 
 England. 
 
 Finding myself tete-a-tete with her, while I spoke to her, 
 I observed her inattentive and often absent, turning round 
 her snuff-box and fixing her attention on examining the minia- 
 ture. My jealousy was roused against the snuff-box. I re- 
 proached her witii bitterness, that certainly I'er mind was not 
 occupied wdth the miniature which she had seen so many 
 times, but that she could think at that moment from it to 
 him that was present ; that he was the happiest of mortals in 
 possessing her heart, while my cruel and miserable lot was 
 altogether calculated to move pity ; overwhelmed with afflic- 
 tion of all kinds, and ready to sink under my misfortunes, 
 I could si'pport with patience her sternnesses and the cold air 
 which she continually testified to me ; but the sole thought 
 
 I 
 
127 
 
 ; solidly 
 la to fill 
 briskly, 
 vious of 
 )Dly you 
 you it is 
 loment I 
 nderness 
 inspire ; 
 primands 
 
 iicted me 
 gracious, 
 jT herself 
 3alous to 
 owed the 
 ne in her 
 made her 
 enamelled 
 ity, being 
 ipeared in 
 
 ke to her, 
 ing round 
 the minia- 
 ox. I re- 
 id was not 
 I so many 
 from it to 
 mortals in 
 lie lot was 
 with afflic- 
 lisfortunes, 
 lie cold air 
 )lc thought 
 
 that she loved .'inother, and the idea of having a fortunate 
 rival lacerated my soul, and broke my heart. My adorable 
 Peggy, in her fir. t movement, threw the snuff-box against the 
 marble chimney- [)iece, which broke it in a thousand pieces, 
 saying to me witli fire and vivacity, that I should never have 
 reason to fear a rival ; that she loved me tenderly, and that 
 she would no l-mger disguise her sentiments for me. She 
 conjured me iii the meantime, on learning her manner 
 of thinking, not to abuse ;., and to keep myself within 
 bounds regarding her love for me, which should be constant 
 and inviolable a • long as she existed. Heavens ! what were 
 my transports. The surprise made me remain for a moment 
 stupified and immoveable, not being able to believe my ears. 
 I seized her in my arms — I pressed her to my bosom — I gave 
 her a thousand tender kisses — shedding, at the same time, 
 tears of joy. I ^wore to her an eternal love and friendship ; 
 that my tendon uss and affection should be unalterable; my 
 fidelity proof agr.iust everything till my last breath. These 
 were the first vcmvs that 1 had made and pronounced in all 
 the sincerity of my soul, and in all truth I adored her. She 
 deserved to be S" by the whole universe as a prodigy ; all the 
 perfections and niiable qualities which one could find in her 
 sex were united in her ; and her ravishing beauty — which 
 none could beli(> d without being captivated — was the least of 
 her charms. Sis '^•e this avowal of my angelic Peggy, I regret- 
 ted every moment that was not passed with her; the hours 
 flew with extreme swiftness, and the hours and days did not 
 appear but as instants. I saw her every day, and the last 
 day seemed the . liortest — the least petty absence appeared to 
 me insupportable, cost me pains, and they were for me sad 
 and mournful mimeuts when I had her not before my eyes to 
 adore her. I did not desire from the Supreme Being any 
 other treasures than those which I possessed, and I had no 
 other prayers to offer up to heaven than to grant me the 
 continuation of llie felicity which I enjoyed, which might serve 
 
128 
 
 as an emblem upon earth of the state in which they represent 
 the blessed. Happy moments tliose which I have passed with 
 my charming Peggy ! the only ones that I have ever known, 
 and the only ones that I shall ever know ; but I have since 
 paid dearly for them by the tears which she has cost me, and 
 which she will yet cost me every time that I recall these 
 delicious hours which fortune has converted into bitterness 
 and regrets for the rest of my life. 
 
 Having heard one day in my chamber a noise in the 
 street, I approached the window, but what was my surprise 
 when I saw a dozen of my comrades escorted by the police, 
 who conducted them to be executed on the scaffold at Ken- 
 nington Common. This was the garrison that Prince 
 Edward had left at Carlisle on our retreat from England, 
 and Messieurs Hamilton and Townley the governors of that 
 town and citadel, were of the number of that unfortunate 
 troop. 1 was so much the more struck at seeing them that 
 but for my obstinacy and firmness I would have then been 
 with them at that moment to perish in their sufferings. M. 
 the Duke of Perth, my Colonel, commanded me, on our 
 retreat, to remain in Carlisle with my company. I answered 
 him that I would fight to the last drop of my blood for Prince 
 Edward, but that never would I be left to be a victim by 
 choice ; and I decamped from his house in a fury, without 
 waiting his rnply. Porsisting in my resolution, I departed 
 next morning with our army ; and upon the ncAvs of the cap- 
 ture of Carlisle by the Duke of Cumberland tAvo days after 
 our departure, the Duke of Perth, who was very narrow- 
 minded, but a very honest and gallant man, said to me that 
 he pardoned me for having disobeyed him, and that he was 
 deceived as to the bad state of that place, believing that it 
 could sustain a siege. I thanked, from the bottom of my 
 heart, the Almighty who had watched over my destiny, for 
 had it not been for my obstinacy my position at that moment 
 would have been melancholy, by finishing in like manner my 
 
129 
 
 days in torments. What a difference of fate ! Not to liavc 
 but a quarter of an hour more to live, or to be the most 
 happy of mortals, as I then was. How the misery or hap- 
 piness of all one's life depends npon small things, and is but 
 the affair of an instant, for ever irrecoverable ! The smallest 
 error of judgment in our decision entails a train of effects, ad 
 'infinitum^ necessary, and inevitable. 
 
 The little attention I had paid to my hospitable friend 
 the milliner, began to aggrieve her mind a little, rendered her 
 imeasy, and put her some times out of hinnour. In fact, she 
 had all the reason possible to be displeased with me, as I 
 passed all my time with my adorable Peggy ; and absent fi-om 
 her, I was thoughtful, heedless, little capable of showing to 
 my hostess all the acknoAvlcdgment she merited, for the essen- 
 tial services which she had rendered me. In short, I was in 
 a mind the most sorrowful and disagreeable for any other 
 than my dear Peggy, in spite of the efforts which I often made 
 upon myself to cause myself appear at least with a forced gaiety, 
 with a sulUciently bad grace, as I had never before known my- 
 self to counterfeit, so that no one could read my displeasure 
 and discontent in my physiognomy. My hostess often made 
 me light reprimands on the subject of my coldness and indif- 
 ference. I blamed myself for it, for she was truly a worthy 
 woman, who merited a better return on my part for the con- 
 tinual attentions which she had shown mc, and the lively 
 and tender interest she had taken in my fate. I always 
 accused my cruel situation for being the cause of it; and I 
 endeavoured to persuade her of the impossibility of being 
 otherwise, when between life and death, seeing my com- 
 panions led daily to the scaffold, and inicertain if I should not 
 soon follow them, as to Avhich my lot in that respect did not 
 depend but upon an unhappy moment of being discovered. 
 This amiable, good woman, who had a great sweetness in her 
 character, and good sense, was suificiently disposed to believe 
 all that I said to her. 
 
130 
 
 Being at lunch one day in my room with my hostess, I was 
 confounded on seeing my charming Peggy enter it, urged by 
 a desire to see my hostess from her want of confidence in me. 
 My poor hostess having regarded at first my angelic Peggy, 
 lowered her eyes, blushed, and remained as if stupified. 
 She wished to go away, but I prevented her. My Peggy 
 having satisfied her curiosity, departed in about a quarter of 
 an hour, and whispered in my ear, descending the stair — 
 that she had nothing to fear. My hostess reproached me 
 immediately, notwithstanding without bitterness, that she 
 was no longer astonished at my indifference ; that she saw 
 well the cause, but that she could not blame me as she was 
 the most beautiful person she had ever beheld, with manners 
 the most engaging, and an air of affability, full of goodness ; 
 adding, that certainly there was no man who could resist her 
 charms. I wished to avail myself of the same arguments as 
 before, but she was no longer the dupe of them. Whatever con- 
 fidence I had in the sweetness and fine disposition of my hostess, 
 It was a matter of prudence to take precautions against the 
 evil effects which might happen to me from this adventure ; 
 so much the more, as she could in a moment of bad humour 
 take a speedy vengeance too fatal and melancholy for me, 
 without giving her any trouble ; she had only to go and in- 
 form against me, and cause me to be arrested on the spot ; 
 also having in view similar instances of resentment on the 
 part of women who believed themselves slighted. So I 
 looked out the same day for another lodging ; and I was 
 sufiicicntly fortunate to find an apartment at the house of a 
 periwig maker, in the neighbourhood of the hotel of my dear 
 Peggy. Having told my landlady, the next morning, that 
 having found an opportunity of saving myself beyond sea, I 
 would move at once ; taking leave of this amiable and good 
 woman, and giving her all the assurances possible of my 
 gratitude and everlasting remembrance of the services she 
 had rendered me. She embraced me with tears in her eyes, 
 
 
 i 
 
181 
 
 ?s, I was 
 irged by 
 e in me. 
 
 itupified. 
 
 y I'eggy 
 
 larter of 
 I stair — 
 cbed me 
 that she 
 she saw 
 she was 
 manners 
 oodness ; 
 •esist her 
 ments as 
 ever con- 
 ^ hostess, 
 ainst the 
 venture ; 
 [ humour 
 for me, 
 and iu- 
 the spot ; 
 it on the 
 I. So I 
 id I was 
 »use of a 
 my dear 
 ing, that 
 )nd sea, I 
 and good 
 e of my 
 vices she 
 her eyes, 
 
 I 
 
 truly afflicted at our separation ; and not having a heart 
 sufficiently hard to resist those beautiful tearful eyes, I was 
 sensibly touched by her sentiments for me. 
 
 One would require to know all the force of love and 
 friendship united, to be able to form an idea of the uninter- 
 rupted felicity which I enjoyed with my charming Peggy ; 
 the moments were too delicious and precious not to banish 
 everything that could molest our tete-a-tetes ; her door was 
 shut to all visits which she paid by the score every day, 
 never being visible to any person, and finding always plaus- 
 ible reasons to justify to her uncle this change in her manner 
 of living. How everything pleases when the mind is satisfied 
 and content ! W-^ sallied forth, often to the environs of 
 London, where Nature even seemed to have changed its 
 countenance. Everything appeared smiling, the solitary walks 
 gay, the verdure beautiful, the colours of the flowers brilliant, 
 the points of view picturesque, the innocence of rustic life to 
 be envied, everything charmed the senses, and offered an 
 agreeable prospect ; it was the presence of ray Peggy that 
 embellished these rural scones. The night often surprised us 
 in our delicious walks without our ever thinking of it, de- 
 ceived by the swiftness of time. I was at the height of my 
 wishes, and insensible to all that did not immediately concern 
 my present happiness, of which I appreciated all the value. 
 All the daily executions of my comrades made no impression 
 upon me. I feared a danger much more friirhtfid than death. 
 It was that of being separated from her, she being all that in- 
 terested me in life, and I declined all the opportunities in my 
 poAver of saving myself in foreign countries, which her uncle 
 and many other persons were occupied continually in procur- 
 ing for me ; believing it impossible ever to survive a separa- 
 tion, with the uncertainty of seeing her again, and the pro- 
 spect of that alone made me shake and tremble, so I had 
 always for a pretext the smallness of the security of the op- 
 portunities which they offered me daily, altliough they were 
 
132 
 
 willing to cjct mc a passport, and signed cvon l)y the Duke of 
 Newcastle, secretary of state, to go to Holland. 
 
 Having learned that one of my relations was newly arrived 
 from Scotland, on returning in the evening from our walk, T 
 mentioned to my Peggy my anxiety to learn the news of my 
 family, and in place of going to sup at her house as was my 
 custom, I took a hackney coach and set myself down at his 
 lodgings. Having found him at home, he began immediately 
 to offer mc his compliments of condolence on the loss I had 
 sustained ; hut I paid no attention to it, imagining he spoke 
 of my misfortunes, which I had in common with all tho^e who 
 were attached to Prince Edward. In the meantime he made 
 me to comprehend quickly that my mother and my sister 
 KoUo had both died a few days after my departure from 
 Scotland, and that my mother had finished her existence by 
 pronouncing as her liist Avords — "I die perfectly content and 
 satisfied, knoAving that my poor and dear sou is saved." H<^ 
 Avas one of those grammatical blockheads aa'Iio [)ossessed a fund 
 of the Greek and Latin languages, but Avho Avere profoundly 
 ignorant of the hnmau heart and the most ordinary circum- 
 stances of life. Had he been capable of reflection, he Avould 
 have prepared mc for receiving a shock so truly overAvhelming. 
 HoAV does Heaven mix its bitterness Avith its SAveets! I 
 remained for a moment stupified and petrilied like a statue ! 
 In the end, T turned my back upon him, and departed preci- 
 pitately Avithout answering a Avord to his sottish compliment. 
 Having resumed my place in the hackney coach Avith difficulty, 
 1 told the coachman to take me back again to my oAvn house. 
 I Avas Avell nigh suffocated in the carriage, Avhere I fainted 
 aAvay for some minutes Avitliout consciousness. Fortunately, 
 on feeling the choking and difficulty of breathing coming on, 
 I all at once loosed my neck ; by detaching also the neck of 
 my shirt, I recovered from my fainting Avith a toiTcnt of tears, 
 Avhich relieved me greatly. The coachman, who knew no- 
 thing of my state, alAvtiys drove on, and I even believe that the 
 
133 
 
 )ukc of 
 
 aiTivcd 
 walk, 1 
 
 3 of luy 
 was my 
 n at his 
 ediiitcly 
 ss I liaxl 
 le spoke 
 OPC who 
 he made 
 ly sister 
 ire from 
 tence by 
 tent and 
 d." He 
 !d a fund 
 ofouiully 
 cireum- 
 le woiikl 
 helminii'. 
 'cets ! I 
 I statue ! 
 ed prcci- 
 ipliment. 
 litlleulty, 
 ,'11 house. 
 I fainted 
 tunately, 
 ming on, 
 c neck of 
 \ of tears, 
 :new no- 
 3 that the 
 
 motion of this ru<k^ vehicle did me good. An-ived at my 
 Itxlging, my landloi-d, Avho had a good and compassionate 
 heart, seeing me in affliction, followed mc into my cliamber, 
 and having learned tiie cause of my being out of order, wished 
 to sympathise with me by preaching all at once morality, and 
 these stupid, old, and usual topics of consolation. I took him 
 like a fury by the shoulders and pushed him rudely out of my 
 chamber. I dared him to enter it again till I recpiired him. 
 Then shutting my door with violence, I threw myself imme- 
 diately upon my bed with my clothes on, and I passed the 
 night in tears and groans without shutting my eyes. I accused 
 myself of having been the innocent cause of the death of the 
 most tender of mothers, by her sorrows and anxieties about me 
 since the Battle of Culloden. I viewed myself as a monster 
 of ingratitude, for luiving been able to remain two months at 
 the house of my Lady Jean Douglas, at a quarter of a league 
 from her, then sick and on her death bed, without exposing a 
 thousand times my life rather than not seeing her again, to 
 embrace her and to bid her an eternal adieu, and to receive her 
 benediction. It appeared to me that this woidd have been to 
 me a great consolation, and that after that I wuuid have 
 seemed to be paying a tribute to natiu'c with patience and 
 resignation. I blamed at the same time my Lady Jean 
 Douglas and my father who had prevented me. This was the 
 most cruel night that it was possible to experience. The death 
 of my mother made me think less of that of my sister Kollo, 
 though I loved her greatly. My father in his letters concealed 
 from me their deaths, fearing to affect me too much, and 
 thinking tiiat my situation gave me sulliciency of troubles 
 without adding to them by this melancholy news. lie was 
 wrong! Had he conununicated it to me with precaution, he 
 would have prevented that surprise Avhich might have been 
 fatal to me, coming as it did like a cla]) of thunder! On 
 coming home, I wrote a note to the uncle of my charming 
 Peggy, letting him know of my afliiction. 
 
13 1 
 
 Tlie next day towards ten o'clock in the moniiiip;, I hoard 
 a knockiii}!; at my door. I was still upon my bed, such as I was 
 on entering the house, Avith all my clothes on, and without 
 haviu'r even chanj^ed the attitiule into which J found I had 
 thrown myself upon my l)ed. Oh, heavens ! what a solace to 
 my sufferings, when instead of my host, whom I believed at 
 the door with the intention of teasing me again with his im- 
 pertinence, I distil.'^ iiished the sweet voice of my adorable 
 Peggy, who came as an angel of consolation to dissipate in an 
 instant the tunudtuous tempests with which my soul was over- 
 whelmed, and to recal me again to life ! My divine beauty had 
 arranged this visit with her uncle, who naturally would not 
 the com])any of aiHicted persons, in order to engage me to love 
 come and pass the day at her house. The moment I saw her, 
 I felt as if a restorative balm had penetrated with swiftness 
 into my mind. My torments and agitations suddenly dimin- 
 ished. My soul on regarding her became immediately serene 
 and tranquil. She loved me tenderly. She partook vividly 
 of my pains, and was penetrated with iny aHliction. She 
 joined her tears with mine, and the precious dro])S which fell 
 from her beautiful eyes, which I wiped away greedily with 
 my lips, pierced my heart. To see her afllicted was a 
 thousand times more insupportable than ray own sorrows and 
 anxieties. My charming Peggy reanimated me by lessons of 
 philosophy different from the pedantic maxims of the schools. 
 She commended my affliction for the loss of a tender mother, 
 and her conversation was more than ever essentially necessary 
 on account of my forced estrangement from my native country. 
 She excused the weaknesses which I had testitied in delivering 
 myself up wholly to my sorroAvs, of Avhich a hard heart could 
 not be susceptible. She pointed out to me with energy that 
 life was too much subject to the dispensations of Providence, 
 and to a chain of perpetual misfortunes, to allow us to mourn 
 with regret those who are beyond the condition of feeling 
 all the bitterness of them; above all, one oppressed with 
 
185 
 
 IS I Avan 
 without 
 I I hiul 
 oliicc to 
 evod at 
 
 his im- 
 idorahle 
 to in an 
 as ovcr- 
 uity had 
 )uhl not 
 } to love 
 mw her, 
 wiftness 
 y diniin- 
 y serene 
 
 vividly 
 )n. She 
 liich fell 
 iily with 
 I was a 
 •ows and 
 essous of 
 ! schools. 
 • mother, 
 lecessary 
 conntry. 
 elivering 
 art could 
 ergy that 
 evidence, 
 to mourn 
 f feeling 
 sed with 
 
 diisease, such as my mother was for many years. She nuule re- 
 flections upon my critical situation, and how very dangerous it 
 was for me to render myself ill at this critical moment by 
 giving myself thus over to sorrows ccjually disagreeable and 
 fruitless. In line, the heavenly and persuasive langusige of 
 my charming Peggy, the relinement aiul delicacy of her 
 reasonings, the eloquence uttered by u mouth so beautifid and 
 so dear, made a greater impression on me in one hour, than all 
 the rigmarole of foolish sennons by their trick would have 
 been able to make upon me for ages. I felt my heart innne- 
 diatcly lightened and balm restored to my soul. She insisted 
 that I should go and dine, and pass the day at her house. 
 There was nothing that I could refuse her, out of sorts as I 
 was, and almost unrecognizable, with my eyes red and much 
 inllamed. As soon as I had changed my linens, 1 repaired to 
 the house of her uncle, who took great part in my allliction ; 
 and my charming Peggy devoted all her attention to dissipate 
 the melancholy and distress with which 1 Avas overwhelmed. 
 Man does not rest long in the same state. All his passions 
 lift up at a time the ocean of his soul, and what inundations 
 of ideas result from this intestine shock ! Tempest stirs this 
 outrageous sea, and the calm which succeeds is not separated 
 but by a slight interval. 
 
 How reciprocal love, and founded on friendsliip, is the 
 most precious gift of fortune ! What is the grandeur of 
 its force and the extent of its power ? It is superior and 
 above all the riches, the honours, the titles, and the other 
 baubles Avhich we seek after, with so much avidity ; at the 
 same time, how invulnerable and insensible to the most 
 embittered stings of adversity ! It blunts the arrows of mis- 
 fortunes the most appalling, and allays the load of pains and 
 sufferings the most insupportable. Content and satisfied by 
 their mutual sentiments of tenderness and affection, they 
 brave fortunes in the midst of persecutions the most en- 
 venomed, resting unshaken, and do not succumb to the 
 
136 
 
 rigours of its power. It is only in the union of the different 
 sexes that one is able to find this true friendship, which is 
 proscribed the society of men. Two sotds so bleiuhMl and 
 incorporated tof^ether, can have but the same sentiment and 
 manner of thiid^in;;- ; the prospect of misery fails to umkc 
 them tremble ! They support it without murmurinj]; ; they 
 erase the scourge of ambition, not having other tlian m 
 contirnialion of their sentiments, which i* their happiness. 
 How many times liave I begged of heaven but the cabin 
 
 and the fare of Samuel, with my Peggy, to be the most happy 
 of mortals ? My dear Peggy has often I'eciprocated the same 
 wishes ; and I am persuaded that there is nothing there that 
 could disturb our satisfaction and contentment. Felicity is 
 an imaginary thing ! Let one suppose himself happy, and he 
 is truly so. Providence has made me know for once in my 
 life that there can exist perfect happiness on eailh, not sub- 
 ject to the reverses and caprices of fortune ; but alas ! this is 
 only to impoison the remainder of my days, by the melancholy 
 recollection of these haj)py moments. 
 
 Some days after, having used my host lewhat harshly, 
 lie sent his servant to say to me tha^ ^. was visible, 
 
 he Avished to have the honour of speaking with me. On 
 entering my chamber, he made a great many apologies for 
 having taken upon him to endeavour to console me, saying 
 that he was so touched with my aflliction, that his heart bled 
 for me. He proposed to me, as a party of pK^asure, to con- 
 duct mo to the house of one of his friends, who had promised 
 him a window upon Tower Hill to see the head taken off, 
 after dinner, of tAvo rebels, the Earl of Kilmarnock and 
 Lord Balmcrino, two Scottish peers. I thanked him for his 
 attention ; but I excused myself to him, saying that he could 
 see well that I had a heart too sensible to take pleasure in 
 that sort of spectacle. He did not imagine that I was as 
 guilty as they, and that there was no other difference between 
 us but the fate which had befallen me in enabling me to 
 escape being made prisoner. 
 
137 
 
 iffon'iil 
 Ax'u'h is 
 ed and 
 jnt and 
 
 niiiko 
 a ; tlicy 
 
 thiiii ii 
 ppincss. 
 10 cabin 
 t happy 
 lie same 
 ero tliat 
 lieity is 
 , and ho 
 ;c in niv 
 lOt sul)- 
 ! this is 
 hincholv 
 
 harshly, 
 visible, 
 no. On 
 (gies for 
 [i, sayino- 
 art bled 
 , to con- 
 )roiniscd 
 ken off, 
 ock and 
 
 1 for his 
 he conld 
 ^asuro in 
 '. was as 
 between 
 2; me to 
 
 A friend came to aiin(»nnce to me that the (•ai)taiii of a ship, 
 Avhose sentiments he knew as those of an honest and fiiith- 
 fnl man, undertook out of regard for him to take me on 
 board his ship under disguise as a sailor, but, in order to 
 avail myself of it, it was necessary for me to embark the 
 next morning. The thought of separating me from all that 
 was dear to me shocked me. (^uit my adorable Peggy ! J 
 shuddered at it ! I answered him that this opportuuliy was 
 not without risk of being discovered, for they had only to 
 examine my hands, too delicate for a sailor, and my not knowing 
 the business, the deceit would be immediately found out. He 
 removed all these olistacles by telling me that the captain had 
 foreseen them, and would cause me pass for an invalid from 
 the moment that 1 should enter his vessel. He insisted 
 much that I should prolit by this opportunity, desiring ar- 
 dently to see me out of danger ; but his reasonings were use- 
 less, and he could not comprehend how I should expose my 
 head to the scaffoKl, while 1 had the means of saving myself 
 from danger. He was ignorant that I loved my Peggy more 
 than life. 
 
 I recounted to my charming Peggy that an op{)ortu- 
 nity had at long ■ presented itself of saving me beyond seas, 
 by a captain of ; nerchant vessel, Avho had offered to take* 
 me on board, disguised as a sailor, next day in the evening, 
 and next day he was to set sail, insomuch that he saw no 
 danger of my being discovered. I did not say to her Avhat I 
 had decided on. She felt immediately, many times changing 
 colour, remaining confused without answering anything, 
 plunged in her reflections, and sustaining a cruel conflict in 
 herself, as I was easily able to see, by her restlessness and 
 embarrassed air. After a moment's silence, she said to mo 
 with liveliness, and, at the sametime, with tears in her eyes, 
 '' Tes, my dear friend, I prefer your safety to my own satis- 
 faction and tranquility ! " In the meantime, she was forced 
 to confess that I was very unfortunate. I did not leave her 
 
138 
 
 an instant longer in pain. I embraced her tenderly ; and 
 said to her that I had not only rejected this op[)ortunity, 
 bnt that I would never avail myself of any one they might 
 propose to me, choosing rather to die a thousand times than 
 to separate myself from her, Avhose absence would be insup- 
 portable and render life a burden. 
 
 While we were dining one day tete-a-tete^ I perceived 
 that all at once she faltered, with an uneasy and embarrassed 
 air, with her eyes continually fixed on the windows of the 
 street, rising at every mome-~t, and without ceasing she left 
 and re-entered the chamber. Having asked several times 
 with parnestness what it was, if she was ill, she answered me 
 in equivocal monosyllables. T supplicated her in the end 
 with clasped hands to tell me frankly the reason of her un- 
 easiness for a quarter of on-hour. " Ah ! my dear friend," 
 exclaimed slie, " you are lost ! Behold a man who is cer- 
 tainly a bowman, whom I have remarked this long time 
 passing and repassing before the house with his eyes fixed 
 incessantly on the door. It is without doubt that he has been 
 sent to keep sight of you, waiting till a detachment should 
 come to make you prisoner. Perhaps some one has recog- 
 nized you this morning, and having followed you to the house 
 without your having perceived it, would all at once inform 
 against you. I have visited the house from the cellar to the 
 garret, and there is not a place where you could be con- 
 cealed." I examined this man, and, positively, it was not a 
 bowman who could have such a villainous look. This ad- 
 venture alarmed me, the more so, that some one had come 
 three days before, dressed and with the air of a street porter, 
 asking for me at her uncle's, and as he did not choose to tell 
 from what person he came, they said to him that I was 
 gone. At the beginning, when I staid at the house of my 
 good friend, the milliner, I had told her very imprudently the 
 address of the uncle of my Peggy, not then foreseeing the 
 consequence. I suspected at first that this was a spice of 
 
y; and 
 L'tuuity, 
 f might 
 BS than 
 insup- 
 
 irceived 
 irrassed 
 
 of the 
 she left 
 lI times 
 ered me 
 the end 
 licr un- 
 friend," 
 
 is cer- 
 Lig time 
 es fixed 
 las been 
 : should 
 5 recog- 
 le house 
 J inform 
 ir to the 
 be con- 
 is not a 
 Dhis ad- 
 ad come 
 i porter, 
 se to tell 
 ; I Avas 
 e of my 
 3ntly the 
 eing the 
 spice of 
 
 139 
 
 vengeance on her part, not having a doubt but that she must 
 have known that I w^as every day in ihe, house of my dear 
 Peggy from morning to night. In the meantime, reflecting 
 upon her great sweetness and goodness of character, I could 
 not bring myself to believe that she could be guilty of such 
 infamy. I went every morning in a hackney coach ingoing to 
 the house of my Peggy with the blinds drawn up ; and thus 
 it was next to impossible to have been known by any one in 
 the streets ; in short, I could not know what to think of it. 
 
 This man not discontinuing liis promenade, and looking 
 always at the door as he passed, I did not know what course 
 to take, luidecided whether I should sally out at once, be- 
 fore the detachment arrived, trusting to my sword and legs 
 (which would cause a terrible uproar in tlie street), or if I 
 should remain quiet in the house to await the upsliot. My 
 charming Peggy, breaking the dilliculty and my embarrass- 
 ment Avith tenderness, said, with lire and vivacity, " No ! 
 they shall never make you die on the scaffold. If I cannot 
 succeed in saving you by the intluence of my parents, who 
 are in favour at Court, I will come and see you in prison, in 
 the evening of the day of your execution, with two doses of 
 poison, and I will take one of them to show you the cxam})le 
 to avail yourself of the other." Oh, heaven ! the idea which 
 my adorable Peggy suggested, made me tremble, and the pro- 
 position filled me with horror.* I did not in the least degree 
 doubt that she would not have been capable of keeping her 
 
 * Althougli an admirer of the works of the celebrated J, J. Rousseau 
 as much as any one, I do not find in the portrait of his hero, St. Preux, in 
 tlic novel, " Heloise," but a brute, whose love is founded solely upon her 
 enjoyment, without which love is baseless. W'lien he is tempted to throw 
 her into the water on coming the better to drown himself with her, it is 
 a frightful jealousy on account of the deprivation of the power of being 
 able brutally to enjoy Madame Wolmar. When one loves truly upon a love 
 founded on friendship, one might well kill himself through despair ; but it 
 is not natural that one who loves sincerely, with friendship and tenderness, 
 could ever think of making the dear object which possesses entirely his soul 
 jjerish. The very idea is revolting. 
 
 11 
 
140 
 
 word, knowing all the violence and ardour. of the English fair 
 sex, above that of every other nation. As to myself personally, 
 poison would have been all that I could have wished for, as 
 the most acceptable after having; been condemned, and a service 
 of soul truly great to have procured it for me. I beseeched 
 my Peggy to go with me again through the house. In going 
 through the same, I observed a window in the storeroom, 
 from which one could get out upon the roof, and go from 
 thence upon the roof of the adjoining house. I sent forth- 
 with my Peggy to remain as a sentinel at the window of the 
 drawing-room, with a silver bell in her hand, to ring as soon 
 as she should see any one approacli the door to knock ; and 
 I agreed with her that that should be the signal for me to go 
 npon the roof. I took off my shoes, fearing that they might 
 make me slide upon the slates, and break my neck, which T 
 put into my pockets, and 1 held the window with both my 
 hands, to be ready to go at the instant I should hear the 
 sound. Having remained for a quarter of an-hour in this 
 position, with all the anxiety possible, my dear Peggy came 
 back with lier countenance changed, and said to me imme- 
 diately, laughing, " The devil take them botii. It is, it ap- 
 pears, the sweetheart of my maid. She has just come to ask 
 of me permission to go out to walk Avith him, and the moment 
 she was in the street she took familiarly his arm. The 
 abominable-looking villain of a man has given us a dreadful 
 alarm." 
 
 A few days after this adventure, being at dinner Avith 
 Peggy and her uncle, the footman told me that there was 
 some one in the ante-chamber who wished to speak to me, 
 I went out immediately, and was very much suri)rised to see 
 there M. Colville, the man of business of Lady Jean Douglas. 
 He told me that she had formed the resolution for some time 
 of going to reside in France, and that he had been sent to 
 London to procure a j)assport, where she could take one 
 tlomestic more than she had, in order to carry me along with 
 
141 
 
 her to save me in Holland ; tliat he had left her at H'mtincr- 
 don, which is about twenty leagues to the north of London, 
 at the house of M. Rate, where she would remain three days 
 to wait me before departing for Harwich ; and that she had 
 in her suite M. Stuart, and Mademoiselle Hewitt. What 
 disagreeable news ! Before knowing my divine Peggy I 
 would have been but too glad to find this opportunity of 
 saving my life ; but the case was changed. I did not live, 
 nor desire to live, but for her. I remained for some moments 
 confounded, and witliout knowing what to answer. I was 
 very decided not to avail myself of the offer of Lady Jean 
 Douglas, at the same time that I was embarrassed to find at 
 once a plausible excuse to justify my refusal, fearing that 
 she would imagine by this extravagant conduct that my 
 head was turned ; for no sensible person could imag^'ne 
 that any one who was in a situation liable to be executed 
 on the scaffold, as soon as he was discovered, should reject 
 an opportunity of saving himself from danger. After a 
 moment's reflection, I said to M. Colville that I should be all 
 my life thankful and penetrated Avith the m.ost lively grati- 
 tude for the kindness of Lady Jean Douglas, but that my 
 friends in London having foiuid many opportunities to enable 
 uie to pass beyond seas, without any danger of being dis- 
 covered, I would not, of all things in the world, expose her lady- 
 shij^ further to those troul^lesome embarrassments after having 
 so much proved her kindness ; and I begged M. Colville to 
 state in his letter to her, not to wait for me at Huntingdon, 
 ]iot having it in my power to avail myself of her generous and 
 obliging offers, seeing the inconveniences to which I should 
 expose her. M. Colville departed immediately, and I returned 
 to the table Avithout, in the meantime, saying what he 
 had been about; I only said that it was Lady Jean Douglas's 
 man of business whom she had sent to learn my news. 
 1 trembled lest the uncle, not knowing Avith Avliom I had 
 been in conference, should not remain in the dining-room 
 
 M 
 
 
142 
 
 to eat by anxiety for me ; and my extravagance having been 
 then discovered, would appear to liim inconceivable, and 
 woidd lead him to entertain suspicions of the true motive of 
 my refusal. When the uncle departed, as he usually did 
 after dinner, I communicated to my dear Peggy the obliging 
 oifer of Lady Jean Douglas, and the difficulty with which I 
 had got clear of it ; adding that I had refiis- 1 it, as I should 
 ever do evcrytliing that could separate me 1 m her. " Ah ! 
 my dear friend," she answered me, " you have done very ill 
 by the refusal. I have continually griefs and anxieties 
 for you, without saying anything to you of them. Your 
 safety makes me tremble, and torments me incessantly ; and 
 there is scarcely a night that I do not dream seeing you in the 
 hands of the executioner. On the last occasion when you had 
 proposed going, not being without danger of being taken, I 
 imagined that it might be to pluck you from me, to drag 
 you immediately to sufferings ; and I was quite charmed that 
 you had refused it ; but this is quite different : Lady Jean 
 Douglas is of a house too illustrious for the Court to make 
 teasing inquiries and affront her by examining her closely 
 upon mere suspicions ; and they never could have positive 
 information on the subject. You could not run any risk with 
 her, and you ought to avail yourself of it." I was penetrated 
 with the most profound grief to liear her wish me to depart ; 
 and interrupted her, accusing her of inconstancy, and reproach- 
 ing her sharply for her indifference. " No," said she to me, 
 " my dear friend, you are mistaken. I am so little changed 
 in my sentiments for you that I have reserved a proof to give 
 you of my affection, stronger than you have had hitherto, and 
 which I do not wish you to mention till a favourable moment 
 occurs to put my project in execution. My resolution is taken 
 for a long time to follow your lot, by abandoning for you my 
 native country, my parents, and every thing which I hold 
 most dear, having waited for this that a safe opportunity 
 might arise to save you without danger, and it has actually 
 
143 
 
 presented itself, such as I have desired, l)y Lady Jean 
 Doughis. I will disguise myself as a man, and cross in the 
 same packet boat with Lady Jean, without making it appear 
 that I know you in the passage. Come, then, let us go 
 immediately to procure dresses at the brokers, to be ready 
 to depart to-morrow morning." She adding — " Providence 
 will give us bread, and I shaU be content in living with you 
 on the cheei' of peasants in preference to all the riches in the 
 universe." I embraced my adorable Peggy with tears in my 
 eyes. I assured her that I loved and adored her more than 
 my life, and that these same sentiments of tenderness and 
 affection which I had avowed for her till my last breath 
 would prevent me for ever from plunging her into ruin and 
 misery ; covering myself at the same time with the contempt 
 and indignation of her family ; that if I had a certainty of 
 having wherewithal to subsist upon independent of the world 
 the case would be diiferent ; but that I did not know what 
 might become of me when I should be saved in a foreign 
 country, nor hoAv to subsist in waiting till I was employed. 
 My dear love seeing me (piitc decided not to allow her thus 
 to throw herself o^'er a precipice, spoke no more to me of my 
 departure ; and we passed the evening together with all the 
 concord and satisfaction, as usual, that two persons devoted 
 to one another could feel without reserve, by ties the most 
 inviolable and the most perfect and sincere friendship. 
 
 Having retired to my lodgings after su})pcr, I laid me 
 down, but without being able to shut my eyes. A thousand 
 reflections lacerated my mind. I examined my position in 
 London, which, independently of danger, where I was ex- 
 posed continually to be taken, was too bad to assure me being 
 able to subsist for any long time, and having already proved 
 the harshness of my father, it was evident that funds would 
 fail me soouer or later. My Peggy had the prospect of being 
 one day rich, but she would not enjoy more than an indepen- 
 dent revenue. As it was my determination to betake myself 
 
144 
 
 lo Russia as soon as I sliould be saved in some foreign 
 country, where my Peggy would know tliat I liad the most 
 powerful protection by the credit of my two uncles, who 
 were still alive, I flattered myself to bo able there to obtain a 
 regiment in that service on my arrival in Russia, or soon 
 after, thus I hoped to find there a favourable lot to partici- 
 pate with her. Then I could make a voyage to England in- 
 (!Ogiiito, to see her again, or to make her come to the foreign 
 country to whose service I might be attached. I thought, 
 further, that as it was for the interest of France on every ac- 
 count that the House of Stuart should be re-established on the 
 English throne, abolishing the ancient system of that nation 
 which had availed itself of this unfortunate house during 
 twenty-four years, as a set-off to the English, a political 
 stroke then practised, and which had not the least effect. She 
 would in the end be able to make an attempt seriously, 
 and to good purpose, in favour of Prince Edward, and then 
 1 should return to England in a brilliant situation to rejoin 
 my Peggy. A thousand considerations made me resolve to 
 avail myself of this opportunity of saving myself with Lady 
 »Jean Douglas, but the more fully that my dear friend wished 
 it quite independently of her oAvn project. 
 
 I rose at an early hour, and went to breakfast at the house 
 «f my Peggy. As soon as her imcle had left the saloon, to 
 dress, I communicated to her my nocturnal reflections, asking 
 at the same time for her advice, and to declare of herself 
 whether I should remain or depart. She rehearsed again 
 her project of accompanying me, but I protested solemnly to 
 her that I woidd never allow it, and that it was quite useless 
 to talk of it any more, that I v^ould much rather perish upon 
 the rack than allow her to precipitate herself into an abyss of 
 ruin and destruction. Seeing that 1 did not yield, she said to 
 me that it was decidedly necessary that I sliould depart with 
 l^ady Jean Douglas, and that she would sacrifice voluntarily 
 her own happiness and tranquillity to see mo out of danger. 
 
foreigti 
 iG most 
 ;s, who 
 ibtain a 
 Di- soon 
 partici- 
 land in- 
 foroign 
 hought, 
 very ac- 
 1 on the 
 ■j nation 
 during 
 political 
 ct. She 
 iriously, 
 md then 
 ;o rejoin 
 isolve to 
 th Lady 
 I wished 
 
 be house 
 iloon, to 
 i, asking 
 
 herself 
 id again 
 2mnly to 
 useless 
 ish upon 
 abyss of 
 e said to 
 )art Avitli 
 luntarily 
 
 danger. 
 
 145 
 
 As the time pressed, not being able to reckon that Lady Jean 
 Douglas would wait for me an instant at Huntingdon, after 
 my applying to M. Colville, ho ordered me to go immediately 
 to the coach offico, to secure a place in the diligence which 
 went in a day from London to Huntingdon, and which de- 
 parted next day at three o'clock in the luorning. At the same 
 time that I should send foi'Avard my luggage, in order that I 
 might have nothing to occupy my mind, and to be all to my 
 Peggy. Her uncle having re-entered the di-awing-room on my 
 return from the coach ofhce, I communicated to him the offer 
 of Lady Jean Douglas, which I was about to avail myself of, 
 and that I should depart next day in the morning, lie made 
 me his compliments, and testified to me a dee]) regret that I 
 should I e going to leave them. I took leave of her uncle 
 immediately after dinner on leaving the table, and I went at 
 once to wait upon my charming Peggy, at the rendezvous we 
 had agreed on, to i)ass the little precious time which remained 
 to us, in some solitary walk out of the city, and not to lose an 
 instant of it. This was the more essential that a separation 
 so truly tender would not admit of witnesses, above all the 
 presence of her uncle, Avho never had the least suspicion of 
 our sentiments. After mid-day, which was the most sorrow- 
 ful we had ever known, it passed in vows and reciprocal oaths 
 of fidelity, and of an eternal constancy, notwithstandiu'i- that 
 it flew with the velocity of lightning. A hundred times I re- 
 tracted my resolution to leave her, and I had need of the forti- 
 tude of my charming Peggy to strengthen me in my resolution 
 to depart. She accompanied me to the coach oOlce, where 
 having remained together till half-])ast eiglit o'clock at ni'dit, 
 she mounted into a carriage. Inanimate and petrified as a 
 statue, I followed the vehicle with my eyes, and when she 
 departed completely, it Avas then that my resolution became 
 Avaveriug and vreak. My first movement Avas to run into the 
 room Avliich they had given me in the coach oilice, to take uj) 
 again my luggage, and cause it to be carried at once to my old 
 
 K 
 
14G 
 
 lodging at the house of the liairclresser, seeing that it was 
 impossible for me to support a separation. I decided not to 
 think any more of my life. Fortunately, reflection came to 
 my aitl, before my luggage was removed, and I became 
 sensible that this step so singular would open the eyes of her 
 uncle and betray and plunge us into an embarrassment the 
 most distressing. Then I returned to the room and threw 
 myself upon the bed to await the departure of the diligence, 
 delivering myself up entirely to despair, and ready to sink 
 under the weight of my aflliction, at the same time that I 
 passcv luider review all my misfortunes, which presented 
 themselves to my troubled mind in crowds, and painted in 
 vivid colours. If I had been able to foresee that this was 
 the last time that I should ever see her again, no considera- 
 tions in the world would have torn me from her, and rather 
 than have departed I would have met with firm step death, 
 with the most excruciating tortures, with which I was threat- 
 ened daily. Vain holies ! vain illusions ! of which my life 
 has proved one continual train without intermission, as Avell 
 as a perpetual series of effects of adverse fortune. The 
 Supremo Being has given a fixed period for the dissolution 
 of all that he has created of matter, but if there is any im- 
 mortality, our two souls wnll be eternally re-united.* 
 
 The diligence departed about two o'clock in the morning, 
 and we arrived at Huntingdon at eight o'clock in the evening. 
 
 ■" It is a remarkable circumstance that notwithstanding all the iDrofes- 
 sions of love which the Chevalier de Johnstone made to his adorable Peggy, 
 and the numerous dcscriiitions of touching and pathetic scenes between them, 
 his admiration of her beauty, virtue, talents, and accomplishments, ho never 
 after this period breathes a sigh for her loss, or even mentions her name, 
 content, as ho himself says, that if there is a hereafter he is confident that 
 souls so knit together in love will be re-united in that happy state — a pious 
 aspiration in accordance with all the other intimations with which the 
 Creator's works abound, and worthy of being laid to heart, and improved 
 amid the luimerous vicissitudes of life to which our mortal state is exjiosed, 
 and of which the Chevalier had his share throughout his checkered career. 
 —Ed. 
 
147 
 
 ; it "vvas 
 I not to 
 came to 
 
 became 
 s of her 
 lent the 
 cl threw 
 iligence, 
 
 to sink 
 3 that I 
 resented 
 intcd in 
 this was 
 •nsidcra- 
 d ratlier 
 sp death, 
 s threat- 
 
 my life 
 , as well 
 e. The 
 ssolution 
 
 any iin- 
 
 tnornnig, 
 evening. 
 
 the i^rofcs- 
 ble Peggy, 
 ivoeii them, 
 ;s, he never 
 ! her name, 
 ifident that 
 te — a pious 
 which the 
 i improved 
 is exposed, 
 sred career. 
 
 Lady Jean Douglas had departed the night before to proceed 
 to Harwich, not believing from the answer of M. Colville that 
 I would repair thither. I took the post the next morning, 
 hoping to join her before her arrival at Harwich ; but 
 the bad post horses had been so fatigued in running at full 
 speed, that I was obliged to stop all night at Newmarket. The 
 next day I found a luggage curricle, and I arrived before sunset 
 at an arm of the sea, which is about a league in breadth, 
 and from which you can see Harwich at the other side; and 
 tliere was a frigate of about forty guns anchored in the 
 middle of the arm of the sea. 
 
 I addressed myself immediately to the master of the 
 barges, who kept an inn, to take me across the frith ; 
 but who, in spite of my prayers, threatenings, and offer to 
 recompense him generously, persisted in refusing it, telling 
 me that the government had prohibited him from taking any- 
 body across after sunset, on account of smuggling, and that 
 that vessel of war was upon the station expressly for pre- 
 venting it. I was furious and inconsolable to find myself in 
 a situation to lose the opportunity of Lady Jean Douglas 
 after the trouble and pains wliich it had cost me to resolve on 
 availing myself of it. I lowered my tone of threatening, in the 
 meantime, without gaining anything upon his obstinacy. He 
 answered mo that the captain of the ship of war, who was 
 then drinking in his tavern with his otiicers, would put him 
 in prison if he did it, and his barge would be confiscated. 
 
 The captain of the vessel having heard my dispute with 
 the master of the barge, came out of the public-house to 
 ([uestion me. I was not put out. I answered that I was 
 a servant of Madame Gray — the name which Lady Jean 
 Douglas had taken to travel with — who ought to be at Har- 
 wich actually ready to embark in the first packet boat which 
 should depart for Holland ; that she had sent me to London 
 to execute her commissions, and that I was uneasy, fearing 
 that she should have departed before I should be able to 
 
148 
 
 arrive tliere to jrive lici" an account, owiiij; to the obstinacy 
 of the master of tlie bar^^e, who wouhl not allow me to pass, 
 neither by my offers to recompenHC liim, nor by my threat - 
 enings to have him punished by makinji^ my complaint to the 
 Governor of Harwich. I beggcid the ca})tain most earnestly 
 to be so good as exercise his authority, to compel him to do 
 so, and that I shonld not fail to make a faithful rej)ort to my 
 mistress of his kindness. lie told me that he had seen my 
 mistress, Madame Gray, arrive the night before ; that she 
 appeared very amiable ; and that lie would be delighted to 
 have it in his power to be of use to her; but that he could 
 do nothing in regard to the master of the barge — that mtui 
 having particular orders not to allow any one to pass the arm 
 of the sea after sunset. He added that she could not be 
 gone, as the wind was not favourable ; and he mude offer to 
 take me with him in his shalloj), and to put me on shore at 
 Harwich, as soon as he was aboard his vessel. I did not 
 hesitate an instant to accept his offer, and without the least 
 dread, I embarked in his shallop with boldness and hardihood, 
 telling him that my mistress wonld be most grateful to him 
 for his kindness and civility. I Avould have been lost without 
 recourse, if I had shown to him timidity or want of conii- 
 deuce. 
 
 We were scarcely distant a pistol-shot from the shore, 
 when the captain made me observe in the shallop, one of the 
 midshipmen, named M. Lockhart, and asked me if 1 knew his 
 family in Scotland. I answered not, and that I had never 
 been in any other service than that of Madame Gray. I was 
 under anxiety, lest Lockhart had recognized me, through the 
 Avindow of the cabin, while I was disputing, and that he had 
 told his captain of it. Having been a comrade at school with 
 his oldest brother, and often at the house of his father, M. 
 Lockhart of CaruAvath, he could have been able very easily to 
 recognize me. He w^as about eighteen years old, and lie had 
 been fom' years in the marine service. His older brother, 
 
149 
 
 stinsioy 
 
 to pSlHS, 
 
 tlireat- 
 t to tliu 
 
 1 mostly 
 m to do 
 t to my 
 oen my 
 hilt f»lie 
 
 ited to 
 ic could 
 liiit man 
 the arm 
 
 not be 
 
 2 offer to 
 sliore at 
 
 did not 
 the least 
 ardihood, 
 ul to him 
 it without 
 of couii- 
 
 the shore, 
 »uc of the 
 [ know his 
 had never 
 ly. I was 
 irough the 
 liat he had 
 ichool with 
 father, M. 
 ry easily to 
 and he had 
 er brother, 
 
 who was very rich, had been f^uilty of the sann^ folly as a 
 thousand others in joining himself to I'rince Edward. 1 suf- 
 fered cruelly by iu)Mgining that the captain of the vessel had 
 no other end in view, by his civilities and offer of his shallop, 
 than to conduct me, with little noise on board his ship, and 
 immediately to make me j)risoner. The young Lockliart had 
 not known that I had beou in the army of Priiu'e Edward. It 
 was a thing too mysterious and equivocal, to see me disguised 
 under the habit of a domestic. 1 behoved in the meantime 
 to submit to my destiny. Heavens ! what a perverse and 
 wretched fate })ursued and persecuted me to the last moment 
 that 1 arrived in Holland ! Was I to exj)ect that a similar 
 adventure would await me at Harwich ? In proj)ortion as 
 the shallop approached the vessel, I counted the minutes that 
 I had to be free before being garrotted and laid in irons, and 
 my heart palpitated terribly, although I always preserved a 
 trancpiil exterior, and while I replied to the thousand (pies- 
 tions which the captain asked me, with sang fro id, calmness, 
 and presence of mind, without being disconcerted, I expected, 
 nevertheless, at every instant that his politeness would cease, 
 that the mask would be taken off, and that the sailors would 
 have orders to seize me by the throat. This was an adventure 
 that I had experienced since the battle of Culloden which 
 occasioned me the most cruel sufferings and agitations, which I 
 could neither foresee nor prevent without giving up the saving 
 of myself in Holland with Lady Jean Douglas. I had often had 
 in my other awkAvard encounters some ray of hope of escaping, 
 whether by defending myself, or by the aid of my limbs, but 
 in this I was like a fish caught in a net. At length arrived at 
 the vessel, the captain, being on board, asked me to come and 
 drink a bumper to the health of my mistress. I regarded 
 this as the deriouemeni of the piece. I answered him that I 
 feared I should find my mistress to bed before my arrival at 
 Harwich, and that I had to give her an account of her com- 
 missions, which Avere most pressing. He relieved all at once 
 
150 
 
 my sufferings, cryirif; to his seamen to laud me at the town, 
 and not to forget his compliments to INIiidame Gray. 
 
 I found Lady Jean Douglas at the iini, and related to her 
 at once the obligation I was nndci to tlu; captain of the vessel, 
 and the purgatory in which I had been jdungcd during the 
 passage, on account of his midshipman, the young Lockhart, 
 son of Carnwath, who certainly could not have failed but to 
 rccogni/o me. She bestowed praises upon me for my iirmness, 
 and liuighed at the singularity of the feat, to have employed 
 the officers of King George to bo accomplices in saving a 
 rebel, who had attempted to wrest the crown from theii- 
 king, to place it on the head of Prince Edward. She said to 
 me that I was certainly born fortunate, and that 1 should be 
 one day happy. I do not know what star presided at ray 
 birth, but my life has only been a continual train of misfor- 
 tunes, of adversity, of pains, of liiiseiy, of Hagrant injustices 
 in the service, which are too hard for a man of sensibility to 
 bear, and for an oilicer experienced in the profession of arms, 
 always ill at ease, and hj;,ving only a pension from the king to 
 subsist on, of which they cut off the third part. I owe 
 nothing to fortune, -which has always persecuted me tlie most 
 cruelly. Providence has often saved my life, as if by miracle, 
 but it has not been up to the present time to enjoy a well 
 being. I have no more ambition than to have ^\ herewithal 
 to furnish me with a frugal subsistence, to have it assured to 
 me for the few short days that I may remain, and to pass them 
 with a tranquillity and serenity of soul, Availing the last period 
 of my life without fearing or desiring it. I should U content 
 with simple necessaries, and should be happv, in spite of per- 
 verse and unworthy fortune, Avhich 1- hs favours 
 ordinarily to the most iufamon- aortals. 
 
 The wind being contrary. ays at Har- 
 
 wich before embarking ; and iig thi jou.a the Gover- 
 
 nor of that town, to whom j.ady J( ai Douglas had been 
 recommended, became our annoyance, uu account of his polite- 
 
151 
 
 le town, 
 
 (1 to her 
 3 vessel, 
 •ing the 
 ackhart, 
 (I hut to 
 irmness, 
 111 ployed 
 aviiig a 
 lu their 
 3 said to 
 lould he 
 1 at ray 
 
 misfor- 
 iijiistices 
 bility to 
 of arms, 
 i king to 
 
 I owe 
 the most 
 miracle, 
 Y a well 
 irewithal 
 ssured to 
 ass them 
 st period 
 
 content 
 e of per- 
 
 ftivours 
 irtals. 
 
 at Ilar- 
 ) Gover- 
 lad been 
 lis polite- 
 
 ness and civilities. lie had received orders from London to bo 
 attentive in doing everything in his power to do her pleasure ; 
 and he came twenty times a-day, and at every hour, to ask of 
 her if she was not in need of his services. 1 always shut 
 the door of the room not to be surprised at table with my 
 mistress ; and it was quite necessary to leave it to wait until 
 I had had the cloth laid, and till the table was arranged for 
 three persons. Having o^jcned the door to the Governor 
 when every thing was arranged, I took my place as domestic 
 behind the chair of Lady Jean Douglas, and her ladyship 
 having asked tlic Governor to taste her wine, I served him 
 at drinking. It was easy to see by his physiognomy that 
 he suspected there was some mystery ; but it would have 
 been disagreeable if he had lightly occasioned troubles to 
 a person of such illustrious birth, without being sure of his 
 mark. The first letter which I received from my charming 
 Peggy told mo that there was a . umour abroad in London 
 that Prince Edward had been saved in Holland with Lady 
 Jean Douglas, disguised as a domestic. It was thus evident 
 that the Governor could have informed the Court of his 
 sus])icioiis ; and it was fortunate that we were departed the 
 next day in the morning before he could have been in posses- 
 sion of an answer, to act on. 
 
 AVe arrived at Ilelvoetsluys in tAventy-four hours. I met 
 in with a pleasant scene in the passage. The Chevalier 
 Clifton, who was in the packet boat, being acquainted with 
 M. Stuart, they made him come into the large room which 
 Lady Jean Douglas had hired for herself amd her suite, and 
 his lackey and myself remained in a very small ante-chamber, 
 where we were very ill at ease, and obliged often to incom- 
 mode one another, which rendered us quite cross-grained, 
 and put us in bad humour ; being both in bed, our legs con- 
 tinually knocked against each other in the small space wliere 
 we were packed up, as it were in a prison ; above all, as 
 there were a good many passengers, and the weather rainy, 
 
152 
 
 whicli made it difficult for them to get upon deck, this little 
 chamber was pent up to suffocation. Every one believing 
 the other to be truly lackeys, our answers were always sharp 
 and in a tone of contem^jt ; and certaiidy the scene would 
 have terminated by some explosion if the hour of dinner of 
 Lady Jean Douglas had not announced M. Clifton, a young 
 gentleman whom she had in her suite, who had been with 
 Prince Edward, whom she wished to make enter the chamber 
 to eat a morsel, M. Clifton said to her that he Avas in the 
 same condition, and that his lackey, M. Carnie, was an 
 officer in the Irish brigade, in the service of France. She 
 made us enter the chamber to dine, and we being informed 
 of our true state, we were both very much surprised, and 
 made reciprocally a thousand apologies for our ribaldries. 
 
 I was absorbed in a profound sleep when the packet boat 
 arrived at the quay of the city of Ilelvoetsluys, and every one 
 was already on shore, when they came to waken me. I de- 
 parted instantly from the packet boat with my eyes still half 
 asleep, and I ran with all my might to get out of the way as if 
 the captain and his crew would arrest me, not being able 
 to persuade myself that I was yet beyond th'^ domination of 
 the English. Lady Jean having laughed heartily at seeing 
 me run, she cried to me that it was quite useless, 'jid that 
 I was actually out of danger. 1 then awoke entirely. IIoav 
 sweet and flattering a moment, beyond expression, to see 
 myself safe, after having been for six months between life 
 and death. It is necessary to have been in my situation 
 to know the excess of pleasure and satisfaction that I ex- 
 perienced in the first instances. Since the battle of Culloden 
 1 had it always vividh'' impressed on my mind that I should 
 finish my days in sufferings on the scaffold. I felt then as 
 if raised from the dead. 
 
 After a stay of eight days at Rotterdam, I departed wiili 
 Lady Jean Douglas for the Hague, and there she fixed her 
 residence. As my resolution had been taken for a long time of 
 
153 
 
 lis little 
 )elieving 
 j'S sharp 
 e would 
 [inner of 
 a young 
 sen with 
 chamber 
 ls in the 
 was an 
 2e. She 
 informed 
 scd, and 
 Iries. 
 ;ket boat 
 XQvy one 
 3. I de- 
 still half 
 way as if 
 sing able 
 nation of 
 [it seeing 
 ^nd that 
 f. IIow 
 1, to see 
 kveen life 
 situation 
 at I cx- 
 Culloden 
 I should 
 ) then as 
 
 I'ted witli 
 Hxcd her 
 g time of 
 
 returning to Russia, I wrote to my uncle to let him knoAv in 
 part of the misfortunes into which I was plunged; and begged 
 of him to inform his friends, the Count Gollovine and the 
 Prince Carakin, that I should be at St. Pt.ersburg in the 
 beginning of June ; and to endeavour to engage them to 
 honour me still with their protection, in order that I might 
 obtain employment the moment of my arrival. If I had 
 followed that resolution it would not have been many years 
 before I should have been a general officer. I was ready to 
 depart to Russia when ^-lady Jean Douglas persuaded me to 
 defer my departure until they should receive positive news of 
 the fate of Prince Edward. Cruel and dismal Fortune, 
 which has deceived mo through all my life by false appear- 
 ances * 
 
 M. Trevor, the English resident in Holland, having pre- 
 sented a note to the States-General demanding that they 
 
 * M. Machiavclli, in citing- this passuf^o from Tit. Livy, " adco olicoccat 
 animos fortuna cum vim suam ingruentem rcfringi non vult," say.s^ " For- 
 tune blinds everybody in a singular manner when she does not wish 
 to be impeded in her designs ; and there is nothing more tiiie. Henco 
 men ought not to bo so much blamed or praised on account of their 
 adversity or prosperity, for one commonly sees some precipitated to their 
 ruin and others advanced to honours by the force and impulse of their lot, 
 Wisdom being of little importance against the misfortunes of the one, and 
 Folly as little against the felicity of the other. When Fortune premeditates 
 some great affair, she makes choice of some one of courage and capacity, in 
 a condition to discern when she presents to him a favourable opportunity ; 
 and, on the other hand, when she projects some great destruction, she has 
 always her instnimonts ready to drive the wheel and aid her designs, and 
 if there is any one in a condition to counteract her measures, she turns him 
 aside and deprives him of all authority, leaving him impotent to do good, 
 &c. In the meantime, I have learned i>y the different circumstances of 
 history in general, that tliere is nothing more true than that men are able 
 to second their fortune, but not to resist it, and to follow the order of her 
 intentions, but not at all to defeat them ; nevertheless men ought not to 
 abandon them because they arc ignorant of their issues, for her ways lieing 
 so unknown and so irregular might possibly in the end be for our good ; 
 thus wo ought always to hope the best, and this hope is for the pur- 
 pose of sustaining us in the misfortunes and distresses which befal us.'" 
 
154 
 
 should arrest and deliver into the hands of the English all 
 the Scotch which were escaped into Holland, to the eternal 
 disgrace of that infamous Republic, they were sufficiently 
 mean to consent to it, contrary to humanity and the law of 
 nations. "VYe were then a score of Scotch in Holland. M. 
 Ogilvic was arrested and sent to London ; the others departed 
 with all speed from this unworthy country ; and as it was 
 necessary for me to remain there to await till I should 
 find an opportunity to go to St. Petersburg, I ran to Leyden 
 to get myself registered in tliat University in quality of a 
 Student of medicine ; its privileges being so extensive that 
 tlie States-General could not dare to arrest a student of that 
 University but for the crime of murder. Having got myself 
 registered by means of some ducats which I paid to Professor 
 Gaubcus, I returned immediately to the Hague, where we 
 learned in a f w days, that Prince Edward was safe in 
 
 "There is not," says Hohhes, " almost any luiman action which may not be 
 the commoncement of a chain of consequences, so long, that there is no 
 human foresight that could be able to discover the end. Accidents, agree- 
 able and vexatious, are combined in a manner so indissoluble, that every 
 one chooses the agreeable, embracing also necessarily the unpleasant which 
 is joined to it, although he cannot foresee it." — Cited by Cumberland, in Jiin 
 ^^Philosophical Treatise on Natural Laws." IJdin., ito, page 7 . "Such are 
 the marvellous ways," says Robertson, "by which the Divine wisdom directs 
 the caprice of human passions, and makes them subservient to the accom- 
 plishment of his own designs." — //wtory of Charles V-, vol. v., ^^aj/e .009. 
 *' However, it is this caprice of passions which decides the fate of man, and 
 renders him happy or miserable for the rest of his days by a series of 
 effects ; and it appears that the will is not free in the choice of the part 
 we take, by a false appearance, taste, inclination, or dei^ression," as says 
 M. Voltaire, " which determine us in our choice by a preference of one 
 thing rather than another, often without knowing why, of which the one 
 conducts to our happiness and prosperity, and the other to render us miser- 
 able by plunging us into an abyss of irremediable misfortunes." " Man," 
 says M. Voltaire, in the Norman Orphan, " is not but a point in the uni- 
 verse, a grain of sand driven into the gulf of fortune, or into the abyss of 
 calamities. Our goods and our ills, our pleasures and our pains, often arise 
 from -^s so imperceptible that it is only an eye much exercised that 
 
 can be able to perceive them." 
 
155 
 
 !;lisli all 
 eternal 
 ficiently 
 ! law of 
 id. M. 
 leparted 
 1 it was 
 should 
 Leyden 
 ity of a 
 ive that 
 of that 
 t myself 
 rofessor 
 liere we 
 safe in 
 
 lay not be 
 liere is no 
 its, agree- 
 liat every 
 lant which 
 and, in Jiis 
 'Such are 
 Dm directs 
 he accom- 
 
 IMf/e 509. 
 
 man, and 
 I series of 
 f the part 
 I," as says 
 ice of one 
 h the one 
 * us iniser- 
 " Man," 
 1 tlio uni- 
 10 abyss of 
 often arise 
 cised that 
 
 France. The desire of seeing liira again, and the hope of an 
 attempt still in his favour, made me abandon my resolution of 
 going to Russia ; and my fate was decided for the rest of ray 
 days by my arrival at Paris towards the end of the year 1746. 
 The pleasures of that city made me immediately forget my 
 past troubles, and blinded me even to the future. I reuuiincd 
 there in a kind of lethargy, allowing opportunities of being 
 advantageously settled in Russia or in Spain to escape, in the 
 hope that the Court of France would still make some attempt 
 in favour of Prince Edward to re-establish his affairs in 
 Scotland; and it was not till the Prince was arrested in 
 1748, and conveyed beyond the realm, in consequence of the 
 Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, that I opened my eyes, forced then 
 to think of the means of subsistence aud of obtaining a situa- 
 tion. Madame the Marchioness of Mezieres Douairiere and 
 Lady Ogiivie having recommended me strongly to M. the 
 Marquis of Puysieulx, then secretary of state for foreign 
 affairs, that minister took me immediately particularly under 
 his protection, aud granted me during the year 1749 two 
 thousand two hundred livres from the fund of forty thou- 
 sand livres which His Majesty had granted to be distributed 
 in annual gifts to the unfortunate Scotch, Avho had had the 
 good fortune of saving themselves in France, Avith the loss of 
 their estates, aud to escape perishing on the scaffold in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Seeing M. Puysieulx very Avell disposed in my favour, and 
 believing that I should still farther ingratiate myself in his 
 esteem and good graces, by entering into the service, in order 
 to render my youth useful, rather than live at Paris in 
 idleness, under the bounty of the king, which this minister 
 had caused me to obtain, I begged him to let me have a 
 company of infantry at St. Domingo or at Martinique. All 
 the Scotch in the suite of Prince Edward having been placed 
 by M. the Count of Argenson Avith the same rank in the ser- 
 vice of France which they had with the Prince in Scotland, 
 
15G 
 
 and beinc: an old captain in his army by my commission of 
 date the 21st of September, 1745, Avbicli the Prince had given 
 me the very evening of the Battle of Gladsmuir (Preston- 
 pans), as soon as we were on our return from Pinkey House, 
 where he passed the niglit, I ha^. every hope of receiving the 
 same treatment ; the more so as the Marquis of Eguille, the 
 ambassador of France to Prince Edward in Scotland, had 
 given repeated assurances to every one, that in case our expe- 
 dition sliould terminate unfavourably, all our commissions 
 from Prince Edward woidd be ratified by the King of France, 
 and that all those who should be saved in France should 
 liave the same rank in the service of tliat Crown as they had 
 had in the army of that Prince in Scotland. But M. Rouille, 
 newly elected minister of marine, and more conversant with 
 the commerce of the Indies than with military affairs, in 
 place of granting me the request of M. Puysieulx, to have my 
 company, caused make out for me a commission as ensign in 
 the trooi)S attached to the marine, at the Isle Royal. I refused 
 it at first with indignation and obstinacy, not being able to 
 endure the thought of that humiliating and revolting degra- 
 dation of an officer who had served well ; and it was not but 
 on the repeated orders of M. Puysieulx, joined to his assur- 
 ances not to leave me a long time siiamefully with a sub- 
 altern's commission, after having served at the head of my 
 company during the whole expedition of Prince Edward 
 in Scotlaiul, of which the progress we had there made, and 
 the battles we had gained, against forces greatly superior in 
 number, had attracted the attention and astonishment of all 
 Europe, that I consented in the end to accept it. I departed 
 forthwith to Rochefort, with full confidence in the promises 
 of M. "'lysieulx, to wait there for my embarkment to the 
 Isle Royal, the worst place there is in the world. 
 
 I found at Rochefort three newly appointed officers, in 
 the Chevalier Montahunbert, the Chevalier Trion, his cousin, 
 and M. Frene, who had obtained their complements also for 
 
157 
 
 ssion of 
 id given 
 ]*rcst()ti- 
 
 Ilouse, 
 v'ing the 
 lille, the 
 Liul, had 
 iir cxpe- 
 missions 
 France, 
 3 should 
 they had 
 Eonille, 
 ant with 
 (fairs, in 
 have my 
 ensign in 
 I refused 
 g able to 
 ig degra- 
 ,s not but 
 lis assur- 
 h a sub- 
 id of my 
 
 Edward 
 iiadc, and 
 iperior in 
 ent of all 
 
 departed 
 
 promises 
 nt to the 
 
 jHicers, in 
 lis cousin, 
 s also for 
 
 Isle Royal. Fricndshi})S are easily contracted among military 
 men, and the same destinatio ' attached us with mutual senti- 
 ments of friendship, so much the more that all the three were 
 of excellent character and of the sweetest society. Our em- 
 barkation having been ordered to be in the "Iphigenie," a mer- 
 chant vessel freighted for ihe king, belonging to M. INIichel 
 Roderick, a ship master of Ivochclle, we departed immediately 
 from llochefort, and on our arrival at Kochelle, we found the 
 crew of the "Iphigenie" revolted, with the carpenter at their 
 head, who wished to makd their declarations at the Admiralty 
 that the vessel was entirely unseaworthy and not at ail in a 
 state to continue the voyage. Koderick asked us to dinner, 
 and during the repast he never ceased to assure us that his 
 vessel was excellent, that if he should go himself to Louis- 
 bourg, of which he was a native, he should ^mbark there- 
 in with his family, in ])reference to every other sliip of 
 Rochelle, and that the bad reputation of the "Iphigenie" was 
 the effect of jealousy of his brother shipmasters, who had 
 seduced his crew and excited them to revolt. However 
 si)ccious was the persuasive eloquence of Roderick, my com- 
 p'uiions did not place entire conlidence in his deluding words, 
 but I was his dupe in full. Thus could it ever be imagined 
 that there existed on earth a man so depraved a*id devoid of 
 all feeling of hunuuiity who, for vile lucre's sake, could expose 
 nearly three hundred persons to perish; having with us two 
 hundred recruits, besides a great many passengers and the 
 crew. Persuaded myself of the good faitli of Roderick, I 
 luid no great dilliculty in bringing over my companions to my 
 opinion that it was only jealousy of the shipowners, wlio had 
 raised these disadvantageous reports of the " Iphigenie," and 
 having allayed the sedition of the sailors, we all embarked 
 on the 28th of June, 17o0, and on the 29th, St. Peter's Day, 
 we weighed anchor at the break of day, and departed imme- 
 diately in fine weather and with a favourable wind. 
 
 The next day after our departure, having doubled Cape 
 
158 
 
 Finistcrrr, we were convinced when too late of the perfidy 
 and bad faith of Roderick, and of the follv of wliich we had 
 been guilty in believing him. The " Iphigenie," which, ac- 
 cording to tliJ declaration of the crew dnring their jnntiny, 
 had made twelve feet cf water per hour in the harbour of 
 Rochelle, being then in full sea, took twenty-four fce( per hour ; 
 and Fremont, the captain of the vessel, who could no longer 
 conceal the de[)lorable state of the ship, came to ask an ar- 
 rangement with us to have our soldiers continually to pump and 
 work the ship. The crew, which consisted only of forty sea- 
 men, good and bad, was not sufficient for it. We had the 
 half of our detachment of two hundred mijii, of which M. 
 Montalambert had the command, who took their turn with the 
 sailors, sixty of Avhom were ordered to the pump, to be re- 
 lieved at every quarter of an hoiu' by the others on the muster 
 roll, by turns. A short time after, we had again a frightful 
 proof of the total rottenness of our ship by the loss of our mizcn- 
 mast, which fell upon the deck, and did not fail in its fall to 
 drag after it our main-mast, the socket, rotten like the rest 
 of the ship, having given way. The foot of the mizcn-mast 
 entered the cabin, plunging rapidly through the partition wall. 
 M. Montalambert, who at that moment was opposite, escaped 
 as by a miracle from being crushed, by jumping aside. It Avas 
 still more fortunate that this disaster happened to us at nine 
 o'clock in the morning, during very fine weather, and with a 
 light favourable breeze, which enabled the sailors to stop up 
 in a short time the rents of the hold, and the mast, and the 
 shrouds ; otherwise we would have run a very great risk of 
 perishing on the spot. 
 
 All our hopes of being able to escape death were in the 
 arms of our two hundred soldiers, and in the fine weather we 
 had, in place of hoping to have, in the fine season. Vain 
 hopes as to the weather ! We had continually to experience 
 blasts of wind the most violent, as if we had been in the very 
 midst of winter, one amongst the others, to the height of 
 
159 
 
 mountains, carried off our top-masts and onr sails, by shiver- 
 ing tlirra as sheets of paper, and a swell of the sea drowned 
 our sheep and fowls, and our other i)rovisions. 
 
 To complete our miseries, our Avater, which, by an atro- 
 cious and hateful rascality of Roderick, had been put into 
 old casks where there had been formerly wine, became so 
 completely corrupt in less than six weeks after our departure, 
 turned black as ink, thick as paste, and so truly infectious as to 
 be no longer fit to be drunk. But these were the least of our 
 misfortunes, compared to our frightful and deplorable situation, 
 having death always before our eyes, and the idea continually 
 impressed strongly on the mind that the "Iphigenie" should 
 plunge us some day into the deep sea ; and when the wind 
 was favourable, they durst not attempt to navigate the ship 
 but with very small sails, fearing lest our other two masts 
 should tumble as our mizen-mast had done. Thus we were 
 without a prospect of quickly seeing a favourable termination 
 to our cruel distresses and sufferings ; but on the contrary, 
 that they would be of long duration, and that we should be 
 for a long time between life and death. 
 
 Having experienced nine different squalls of wind since 
 the 29th of June, that we Avere at sea, heaven reserved us 
 still for- the tenth, a furious tempest on the 10th of Septem- 
 ber, the most frightful. Wo had a dead calm during the 
 whole day of the 9th, but at midnight the wind began to 
 rise, and continued to increase until it became a perfect hur- 
 ricane, and of the most incredible violence. Foaming, it de- 
 scended the cabin at nine o'clock in the morning, to warn us 
 to prepare for death. It told us that there was no other hope 
 of saving ourselves and avoiding to be immediately swallowed 
 up by the sea but by paying our vows. It added that the 
 crew should come to make one to St. Nicholas, with a pro- 
 mise to chant a grand nuiss at Louisbourg, if it pleased God 
 to deliver us from the imminent danger in Avhich avc Avere ; 
 and it invited us to join ours to theirs, as our only 
 
 wot 
 
IGO 
 
 resource for preserving existence. Weak and melancholy 
 resource ! In the meantime we demanded from every one 
 a. crown of six francs to bo put into the contribution which 
 the sailors Avere making for this grand mass.* 
 
 T crawled upon the dock to see what state we were in. My 
 eyes were not able to support but for an instant the horribly 
 frightful views of the sea, which formed monstrous surges 
 like to moiuitains, sliarp and moving, forming many tiers of 
 hills. From their summits rose up grand jets of foam, which 
 sparkled like the colour of the rainbow. They were so 
 elevated that our vessel seemed down in a valley at the foot 
 of the mountains, every surge threatening our destruction, and 
 to precipitate us to tlie bottom of these v.ast abysses.f It is 
 a beautiful and majestic hoi-ror Avhich one would view with 
 admiration in looking upon it on the earth. "We were at the 
 Cape without sails ; the ship could not carry any. That 
 which rendered the rolling terrible was the ship being carried 
 in the water at every surge in a manner certainly calculated 
 to discover the keel on the o])posite side. One must have 
 tried to make weigh witliout a sail of the misery of lightening 
 the ship, but she Avas carried away immediately by the wind 
 like a sheet of paper. 
 
 Having regained the cabin as fast as I could, but not 
 
 * " Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends, 
 And swelled with tempests on the ship descends. 
 White are the decks with foam ; the winds aloud 
 Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud ; 
 Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze with fears. 
 And instant death on every wave appears." 
 
 — Hormr^s lUiad, Bool,; AT'., Line 752, rope's Translation. 
 t Having experienced violent squalls of wind in the Baltic Sea, in re- 
 turning from Russia on board of Walker's vessel, where the whole crew wr.s 
 composed of English, the dillercnce which I foinul between the English 
 sailors atid the French sailors is that the English swear and work at the 
 same time till the last moment, and as long as they Liave the head above 
 the water, but the French have more confidence in their prayers than in 
 their arms. It appears to mo that a middle course would not be amiss. 
 
IGl 
 
 anclioly 
 ery one 
 11 which 
 
 hi. My 
 horribly 
 3 surges 
 
 tiers of 
 1, which 
 were so 
 
 tlie foot 
 tion, and 
 t It is 
 iew with 
 e at the 
 . That 
 ; carried 
 ilcuhited 
 list have 
 ghteniug 
 the wind 
 
 but not 
 
 'translation. 
 Sea, in re- 
 e crew wns 
 ho English 
 ork at the 
 bead above 
 3rs than in 
 amiss. 
 
 without difTiouliy, and without bruises, I there found M. 
 Frene, who knocked with great handcuffs against the partition. 
 " Zounds," said he to me, 'Ms it not terrible to perish in this 
 manner after having escaped an infernal fire at the assault of 
 Berg-op-zoom with the grenadiers of the regiment of Low- 
 endhal?" M. Montalninbert let fly tranquilly a torrent of 
 tears. The Chevalier de Trion, a young man of about twenty 
 years of age, who appeared less affected with our unhappy lot, 
 said to me that he had made his peace before our depart nre 
 from Rochefort. It seemed that the more one had lived, the 
 more ought one to regret to (piit life. This would have been 
 a beautiful subject for a painter, to represent the contrasts in 
 the characters, which even the same event affected differently. 
 T was resigned to die, as I had always been in all my misiid- 
 ventrres during the time that I had fled the scaffold; that is 
 to say, su])mitting myself Avith patience to a fatal destiny 
 which tlicre was no means of evading, sooner or later ; foi- 
 hinnan nature trembles at its destruction in health and in cold 
 blood.* I had a great appearance of tranquillity outwardly, 
 but the mind Avas at the same time lacerated and tormented to 
 imagine Avhat vrould be the last fall of the curtain, by Avhich 
 we Avere shortly going to be enlightened. They came to in- 
 form us that Fremont had fallen doAvu dead, but this Avas only 
 a fainting fit, Avhich passed aAvay at the end of a quarter of 
 an hour. It Avas the ambition of this foolish animal to com- 
 mand a ship, Avhich had plunged us into this disaster; and he 
 Avas as lazy and without spirit in dangers, as he aa^is insolent 
 and impertinent Avhen it Avas fine Aveather. 
 
 r passed all the day reading the Psalms of David, and 
 
 * :\ran, let liim bo who he may, is never glad to die, when he is ul.lo 
 williout disgrace to prolong his days, which are not a burden to hini. 
 Virtue, lal)our, love, duty, glory, and patriotism, may well enable him t(') 
 face death, but he retains always at the Ijottom of his heai-t, that nalural 
 repugnance which makes him tremble, as it were against himself, when lio 
 sees close to him the fatal moment, which is to deprive him of life. This 
 most intrepid man will not deny me this, if ho is sincere. 
 
 a 
 
1G2 
 
 plunged at the same time, into continual reflections on a future 
 existence and the immortality of the soul. I recollected what 
 had been said by Wollaston, who iippears to me the most 
 satisfactory of all those I have read upon the subject, of 
 which no mortal shall ever be able to unveil the darkuess that 
 covers it.* 
 
 * " This faculty of thought," sfiy.s Wollaston, in his Outline of Natural 
 Itdigiov, " which many persons talk to us of, as a quality added by tho 
 almighty i)owcr of God to divers systems of Nature disposed to receive it, 
 ought necessarily, although they always call it so, to dcnoto a suhstanco 
 given to the faculty of thought ; for the faculty of thought of itself alone is 
 not sufficient to form tho idea of soul, which is itself endowed with many 
 other faculties, such as are those of iierceiving, of reflecting, of cojuparing, 
 of judging, of weighing tho coiiseiiucnccs, and of reasoning, of wishing, of 
 connnunicating motion to the hody, of prescn'ing by' its presence the excr- 
 eiso of the animal functions, and of giving life. This is why all that which 
 is added to matter ought to bo endowed with those other faculties ; and 1 
 leave to people who are not hindered the care of deciding, if the faculty of 
 thought and the other facidtics of which we have made the enumeration, 
 are simply the faculties of one facultj', or if they are not rather faculties of 
 a substance, which being by their own admission added to matter, ought 
 consecjuenLly to be dill'erent. But matter can neither think nor was made 
 to think ; for ■when tho faculty of thought is capable of being added to 
 a system of matter, without lieing joined with an immaterial substance, 
 still the body of man is not such a system, because it is certain that it docs 
 not think, and that it is organized in a manner to transmit impressions which 
 it receives of sensible objects even to tho brain, where it is beyond doubt 
 that there resides that which perceives these impressions and reflects on 
 them ; that is why that which in the brain jierceives, thinks, wishes, &c., 
 ought to be tho system of matter to which is added the faculty of thinking ; 
 that the inhabitant is a thinking substance intimately united to some 
 material vehicle very delicate which resides in the brain. The whole is 
 reduced to this — First, the soul of man is a substance v.-hich thinks, which 
 is clothed in a material vehicle, or rather that it is luiited to it, and which is 
 as it were inseparably mixed with it, I was going to say almost incorpo- 
 rated. Second, This soul and this vehicle act in concert, and that which 
 makes an impression upon the one makes also upon tho other. Third, Tho 
 soul is contained in tho body, in the head, or in the brain, by some sj-mpathy 
 or attraction which is between it, and its material receptacle, until some 
 evil accident, some disease, &c., causes the body to fall to ruins, destroy 
 tho dwelling of the .soul, interrupting tho course of natural coherence, 
 which exists between it and its receptacle, or that its tendency is perhaps 
 changed into some antipathy which force has involved it in. Fourth, By 
 
1G3 
 
 , future 
 d what 
 most 
 jcct, of 
 3SS that 
 
 ' Natural 
 i by tho 
 
 •occivo it, 
 aibstanco 
 f alone is 
 ith many 
 riiparinf^, 
 ishing, of 
 the cxcr- 
 tiat wliioh 
 OH ; and 1 
 faculty of 
 nieration, 
 icultios of 
 ;er, ouufht 
 was mado 
 added to 
 mbstance, 
 lat it docs 
 ions which 
 )nd donbt 
 ■cflects on 
 ishcs, kc, 
 thinking ; 
 to some 
 3 whole is 
 iks, which 
 d which is 
 t incoi'iio- 
 ;hat which 
 'bird, Tho 
 sympathy 
 until some 
 IS, destroy 
 coherence, 
 is perhaps 
 ^'ourth, By 
 
 Towards throe o'clock after mid-day, a wave stove in the 
 port holes of the cabin and tnnd)led ui)on the Chevalier Trion, 
 who was sleeping in his bed the length of the windows. As 
 Ins bed was soaked with the sea water, I made him lie down 
 with me in the cabin, which they had given me, at my entry 
 into the saloon. It was with dilliculty that we could get our 
 
 means of this vehicle, tho moniontuni and impressions aro communicated 
 through all parts of tho body. Prop. 8, Tho soul of man subsists after dis- 
 solution of tlic body ; tluit is to say, it is immortal. Tf it is immaterial, it is 
 indivisilile, and is in conse(pionco incapable of being destroyed as bodies are. 
 Huch a body cannot perish Init by annihilation ; that is to say, it will always 
 subsist and always continue to be, yet a being ca})ablo of being amiihilated, 
 but not annihilating itself by a particular act ; tin-! act by which a substance 
 shMI be reduced to nothing requires without dovd)t tho samo pov/er as that 
 by which nothing is changed into something. To introduce a body of mat- 
 ter endowed with the faculty of thought, or actually thinking, this is to 
 introduce a body of matter endowed with a new property and (iontrary to 
 matter ; and this is to introduce a new kind of matter, as essentially 
 different from common matter, and deprived of tho faculty of thinking 
 us some kind let it be what it may, differs from its opposite in the shelter 
 of predicaments, and as the body itself differs from tho spii'it ; for a being 
 endowed with the faculty of thinking anil another which is deprived of it, 
 differ as essentially as cori)oreal beings differ from incorporeal ; if this is so, 
 thinking matter ought to continue to think. Why does not our soul perceive 
 exterior objects during sleep, or during the time of fainting ? It is l)ccau3e 
 the tubes have become impracticable ; that all the avenues arc shut, because 
 tho nerves being deranged and rendered in st)me manner useless, are for 
 some time not in a condition to transmit or make known to the soul the im- 
 pressions mado by them ; wo are able to deduce the immortality of our souls 
 and tho nature even of God ; for if ho is, as no one can doubt, a perfect 
 being, ho cannot as such make anything contrary to right and perfect 
 reason," (and we may add that he cannot cease to be a sentient as well as a 
 thinking being, which he has been from all eternity and must ever remain. 
 — Ed.) "It is therefore imiiossiblo that he should bo tho cause of a_ being 
 or the condition of a being, whoso existence .should bo repugnant to reason ; 
 or which comes to tho same thing, it is impossible that he should act unrea- 
 sonably with tho beings which depend upon his power. If we are of the 
 Kumber of these beings, and if the mortality of our soul is re23Ugnant to 
 right reason, this is suflicient to mako us convinced that it is immortal, 
 or ho who mado the soul of man mortal nuist confess one of two things, 
 either that God is a being unreasonable, unjust, and cruel ; or that every 
 ono in this life, which is subject to adversity, has not participated iu 
 
IGl 
 
 soldiers to rom:\in at tlic; pump, and in fact these poor unfor- 
 tunates had nnu'h to suffer, for at every instant the waves 
 j^uslied over them with viohMice, and often swept them into 
 the sea. The Chevalier Trion made constant bulwarks be- 
 tween the decks to cause them mount on hi;:^h, the Serjeants 
 at this critical moment having lost all their authority over 
 
 a greater proportion of misery than of felicity ; to advance the first of tlioso 
 propositions would bo to contradict ii truth wliich I flatter myself to havo 
 put beyond doiibt. I can, novertheloss, add here that this would bo to enter- 
 tain so unworthy and so iiuiiious ii notion of the Supreme Being that no 
 person would wish to entertain it, without a very great foundation for the 
 last of men, and that the man who defends this opinion knows it to bo 
 false ; for he cannot fail to see and recognise many and incontcstible ex- 
 ampl(>s of the justice and goodness of God, of whicli no une, however, could 
 SCO one, if cruelty and injustice entered into the character of the Sni)reme 
 Being, since ho has the power perfectly to satisfy his wishes, and that he is 
 a being nnifonii in his nature. To allow the second member of the <lil(.'nnna, 
 this would be to give the lie to the luiiversal history of the worlil, iind even 
 to the internal feelings of all men. fjct us consider maturely the teiriblo 
 ell'ects attending wars, &c." (See page 8.) " Jlow could one, then, excid- 
 pato the justice and the reason of the being, upon which those luifortunati; 
 creatures depend, and who would make them by annihilating tlictii suH'cr 
 losses so considerable, if there is not any future life, where there will be a 
 just reward for all their past troubles ? We draw, in short, from this argu- 
 niont these incontestible consequences, if the soul is mortal, or it is not from 
 (tod upon whom it shoidil be dependent, or if this God is unreasonable, or 
 if there nevei- has been a man whose sufferings in this world not having 
 been through his own ftuilt, having surpassed the pleasures which he has 
 enjoyed, or certainly these three propositions are equally untenable ■ thei-o- 
 fore the soul is innnortal." J. J. Bourlamaqui says, to prove the immoi-- 
 tality of the soul— "Such is the nature of expediency, and that onv truth 
 little known by itself acquires force by its natural combination with other 
 truths more known. So natural philosophers doubt not that they have found 
 the tnio when an hypothesis hajipily explains all the phenomena, and an 
 event little known in history does not appear doubtful, when one sees that it 
 serves as the key and the sole base of many other events more certain." — 
 (rrtiicipU's of Nulural llifjht.) "It is ilattering to imagine the inmiortality of 
 the soul, but alas ! as says Diderot, when one has placed human recognition 
 in the balance of Montaigne, one is not far from taking his estimate. Vov 
 what do we know, that it is but matter? By no means. What is it but 
 spirit and thought ? Still less. Is it motion, space, duration ? Not at all. 
 Question mathematicians, in good faith, and they will confess to you that 
 their propositions arc all identical." — Letter tijoon /Saunders. 
 
1G5 
 
 uiifor- 
 
 ^m into 
 irks 1)*.'- 
 LM'jciints 
 ty ovtT 
 
 it of tllt'HO 
 
 ilf to hiivo 
 ) to outer- 
 
 jT tlliVt IK) 
 
 on fui- tilt.' 
 s it. to 1 10 
 'stiblo ox- 
 iver, oouUl 
 B Supreme 
 tlmt lie M 
 i diloiiniifi, 
 , ami even 
 ho terril'K; 
 lien, cxcvil- 
 nfoi'tunato 
 hem siiil'oi- 
 will be ii 
 this iirijii- 
 is not from 
 sonahlc, oi" 
 not having 
 ich ho has 
 ])le ■ thero- 
 o immor- 
 one truth 
 with other 
 lave fonml 
 na, and an 
 sees that it 
 eertain." — 
 iiortality of 
 rec'Oiiuition 
 mate. For 
 Kit is it but 
 Not at all. 
 to vovi that 
 
 :1 
 
 thorn ; and it was not but by tbrcatoning and maltreating 
 tlicni that it was po.ssiblo to obtain the end. They always 
 answered, " that to perish was but to perish, but it was better 
 to perish on the (puirter deck than to be swept away by the 
 waves, or crushed to death on the deck." We had many of 
 our soldiers wouiuled, the surges of the sea coming on deck 
 witli astonishing force, throwing them often from one side of 
 the ship to the other. 
 
 Towards six o'clock at night, our carpenter, who was a 
 pleasant original, and a true harlequin, but very active and 
 laborious at work, having remained working before the door 
 of my cabin, where I was lying in bed with the Chevalier 
 Trioii, having asked him if he had anything new to com- 
 municate, he answered us — " Ah ! yes, gentlemen, great 
 news — very great news ! The fore part of the ship is open, 
 and the water is actually entering it in bucketfuls ; — the 
 isoldicrs having wrought a long time at the pumps without 
 being able to deliver it, it is at length broken ; and there fell 
 ui)on the deck a wave Avhich covered their cbjthes with sand. 
 Thus, gentlemen, we shall be quickly at the devil ; in less 
 than an hour we shall all drink of the same cup." It is 
 singular that there are characters capable of pleasantry even 
 to the last moment of life ; while there are other persons whom 
 the sight of danger deprives of all sensibility, and who are 
 dead a long time before it comes to pass. 
 
 The depression and weariness of my spirits, absorbed all 
 the day in reflections the most serious, made me assume a 
 drowsiness which I wished greatly to encourage. My con- 
 science — as a Chinese author defines it, that internal and 
 concealed light, page 3-4, &c., Ext. — not reproaching me 
 with enormous crimes, but oidy such as the heat and giddi- 
 ness of youth would occasion, through thoughtlessness, I said 
 to the Chevalier Trion that I should be most hai)py if I could 
 make the passage to the other world sleeping ; that I wished 
 to try it. I took leave of him, embraced him, and having 
 
166 ■ 
 
 turned my face to the partition wall, I fell immediately into 
 the most profound sleep, without being interrupted by the 
 frc(|uent comings and goings out of my cabin which the 
 Chevalier Trion occasioned in order to animate and make our 
 soldiers Avork ; and i contiiuicd in one sound sleep from half- 
 past six o'clock at night, tdl seven o'clock the next day in the 
 morning. On my awakening I believed myself more in the 
 other world than in this. The Chevalier immediately said to 
 me, how happy I was ; tliat through the Avhole night they 
 expected the moment when the vessel would sink to the 
 bottom ; and that I had escaped greatly the cruel sufferings 
 whicli I would liave experienced had I been awake ; that 
 they liad liound the shi}) round with cables to prevent her 
 from breaking asunder altogether ; that as soon as the car- 
 })enter had repaired the pamp, the soldiers, who hud wrought 
 all the night like madmen, had come in the end to free her ; 
 that the Aviiul and the sea iiad much abated; and for once 
 they believed us out of danger. There is only but a very 
 short space between pain and pleasure. Fine Aveather, Avith 
 a favourable Avind, which at ten o'clock in the morning 
 succeeded the tempest, revived our spirits immediately, 
 fatigued by their sufferings, Avliich they forgot more easily 
 than these enjoyments. 
 
 We had often doubted Avhethei Fremont was an ignorant 
 or a bad sailor ; but in tlie end Ave Avere convinced that his 
 , ignorance Avould have cost us dear. M. Lion, Avho Avas 
 second in command of the " Iphigenie," told us that by his 
 journal we Avere very near to the laud of the Royal Island, 
 though by the journal of Fremont we were yet distant from 
 it tAVO hundred leagues. This gaA^e us uneasiness ; but in 
 reality it Avould have been a very melancholy fate to perish 
 among tlio rocks, Avith Aviiich all this coast is surrounded, at 
 the moment when A\e had been saved from the tenijjest. I 
 determined to pass the Avhole night on deck ; and I said to my 
 companions, that as they liad Avatched for my safety during 
 
itely into 
 1 by the 
 hich the 
 iiakc oiir 
 •om half- 
 ay in the 
 re in the 
 ly paid to 
 ight they 
 ik to the 
 sufferings 
 tike ; that 
 •event her 
 1 the cfiT- 
 :l wrought 
 free her ; 
 1 for once 
 ut a very 
 ther, with 
 morning 
 mediately, 
 lore easily 
 
 1 ignorant 
 3d that his 
 
 who was 
 hat by his 
 ^al Island, 
 stant from 
 ss ; but in 
 to perish 
 'ounded, at 
 enipest. 1 
 
 said to my 
 ety during 
 
 1G7 
 
 the time that T had enjoyed a profound sleep the past night, T, 
 in my turn, would do the same for them. We were all much 
 more inclined to believe M. Lion than the other; and we 
 hen:ged him to remain on deck with me till the break of 
 day. It Avas a very fine starlight night, without the moon ; 
 but there was a clearness all the night in the heavens like a 
 twilight, to make it possible to distinguish at a consideralde 
 distance. M. Lion, having phiced a seaman on the poop of 
 tlie ship to look out continually a-licad, oh, heavens ! what 
 was our joy when 1his sailor, towards two o'clock in the 
 morning of the 12tli of September, cried to us that he saw 
 land. I ran there with M. Lion, and in less than ten 
 minutes we saw it very distinctly at a distance of about 
 thrc e hundred toises. They innnediately tacked about to port 
 the helm, and I descended (juickly into the saloon to convey 
 the good news to my comrades, awakening them ps agreeably 
 as they luid done me the night before. When it was great 
 daylight,^ Fremont, wlio had already made one voyage to Louis- 
 hourc pretended to recognise this land perfectly as Indieinie, 
 a settlement of the Royal Isle, about six leagues noi-th of 
 Louis' tourg; and he bore towards the south. Having all 
 reason to believe that we should easily reach Louisbourg, in 
 the course of the day, we got on our things, holding ourselves 
 ([uite ready to land ; tut at three o'clock in the afternoon, 
 being at the entry of a port which Fremont took for the port, 
 so long time ardently desired, he cried to a boat which passed 
 near to us, if this was not the poi't of Louisbourg? Tliey 
 answered by demanding the name of the ignorant sot who 
 commanded the ship who mistook Louisbourg for the port of 
 Toulouse, a settlement about twenty leagues to the south of 
 Louisbourg. Thus they knew but too late, that it Avas the 
 port of Louisbourg, which we saw in the morning, but which 
 a fatal destiny bad put a blind before Fremont's nyct^, and 
 which drove us to despair. I insisted much Avith Montalam- 
 bert to land at the port of Tcnlouse Avitli our detachmenl, 
 
1G8 
 
 and make the road bybnd; but Fremont iiffriglitcned him 
 l)y declaring that if he took that course, he woukl be respon- 
 sible for the cargo. We were in the meantime quite in a 
 condition to make it, viewing the vile state of the ship and 
 the danger to Avhich we were exposed, if we were driven for- 
 Avard by an adverse wind. In short, having throughout the 
 whole night fine weather, and a light favourable wind, avo 
 entered into the port of Louisbourg the next morning, the 
 13th of September, to the great astonishment of all the in- 
 habitants of that city, who believed that we had jierishcd. A 
 small vessel left at the same time that we did from Rochellc, 
 on board of which there were embarked Madame Ilagette 
 and two officers of the colony, which had had a passage of 
 fifty days in place of sixty and sixteen, that we were on 
 the sea, had reported to them the bad state of our ship ; 
 and the quays were swarming with people who looked with 
 sur])rise and admiration at the dilapidated state of the 
 '"Iphigenie," coming in front of us to congratulate us on our 
 fortunate deliverance. The next day, the crew of our vessel 
 made a procession quite naked, and having nothing but their 
 shirts on their backs, all the way t'i the church, where grand 
 mass was chanted, without sparing any expense, in conse- 
 quence of their vows during the storm. They wished to take 
 back the " Iphigenie " to France, but the crew having com- 
 plained to the Admir.'ilty, they caused her to be inspected, 
 aiul she was condemned immediately to be cut in pieces.* 
 
 * Wc were a long time at Louisbourg before being informed of the 
 liowcrful patronage of the "Iphigenie." Roderick was in partnership with 
 M. Prevot, commissary of ortbiancc at the Royal Isle, and then with M. P( o, 
 (irst comniissioiicr of the marine chamber. Hence it is not astonishing that 
 the inspectors at Rochcfort shut their eyes to the condition of the ships, 
 which they freighted for the king ; and the unfortunate sailors would have 
 l)een obliged to return to France in this rotten ship, if the officers of the 
 admiralty had not had more uprightness and humanity than the owners, 
 wlio, siii)posing the "Iphigenie" sunk to the bottom of the sea, would have 
 had nothing lost but the ship and cargo, tho whole being insured to their 
 full value, perhaps even to a profit. What monstors does the love of gain 
 produce ! 
 
 ■ 2 
 
ica 
 
 ed bim 
 respon- 
 itc in a 
 ihip und 
 Mill for- 
 lout the 
 ind, Avo 
 iiig, tlic 
 1 the iu- 
 hod. A 
 loclicllc, 
 Ilagettc 
 issiigc of 
 were on 
 ur .ship ; 
 ked Avitii 
 c of the 
 LIS on our 
 3ur vessel 
 but their 
 ere graiul 
 in conse- 
 nd to take 
 I'ing coni- 
 inspected, 
 leces.* 
 
 rnicd of the 
 uorship with 
 ithM. P( % 
 )nishiug that 
 of the ships, 
 s would have 
 jiVicors of the 
 
 tho owners, 
 ,, woulil have 
 ired to their 
 
 luvo of gain 
 
 
 As to Fremont, who had not ceased to give us his imper- 
 lincnce during the whole voyage, the first time that he landed 
 on tho shore, I caused him make another procession, along the 
 whole length of the (juay, Avith cudgel strokes, to the great 
 divertiser^ent of all the corps of ollicers of the Royal Isle, 
 but above all to the great satisfaction of my companions of 
 the voyage, who had partaken daily with myself of his fool- 
 ishness and insolences. This Avas a laughable scene. He 
 drcAV at first his SAVord, but Avhcther it Avas that he feared 
 that I should break the blade of it Avith my stick, Avhich Avas 
 very thick and Aveighty, or Avhether that he dreaded receiving 
 the strokes upon his face every time that I lifted the baton, 
 he made a half turn to the right, presenting to me his shoul- 
 ders, Avith the best grace in the Avorld, to receive them, Avhich 
 cei-tainly ought to have felt the force of them for a long 
 time. I have alAA^ays seen im})ertiuence and coAvardice inse- 
 parably together ; for a man truly brave is inoffensive, and 
 nev^er insults any one, although violent Avhen people do him 
 injuries. M. Coppinot, staff-major of Louisbourg, Avho saAv 
 us at the beginning, retired aside to leave me at liberty, and 
 did not return to order me to give up, until he believed that 
 P^'emont had got enough. I applied the strokes Avith a great 
 deal of force and Avith good Avill, as he Avas the cause of all 
 the bad blood Avhich Ave had in this long and painful voyage, 
 by concealing from us at Rochelle the miserable condition of 
 his vessel, so thoroughly rotten that they Avould have been 
 able to pierce the timbers with their fingers. 
 
 Before a year's sojourn at Louisbourg, I Avas plainly con- 
 vinced of the folly I ha^ w^ .jitted in accepting a connuissioa 
 of cnsigncy, by my siu < ■■■•"■ .o the order of M. Puysieulx, 
 and by the hope of patronage. The despatches of the court 
 having arrived, there AA'^as no mention in them of my promo- 
 ti(m, cud M. Puysieulx having ([uitted the department of 
 foreign affairs, his successor, M. de St. Contest, had not im- 
 mediately put me on the list of annual allowances granted by 
 
 i 
 
 ..iti^te 
 
170 
 
 Ilis Majesty to the Scotch in the suite of Prince Charles 
 Edward. What a stranjxe lot ! Having boon attached to the 
 artillery, with my company dnring the expedition in Scotland, 
 ill a fixed escort, although my commission of captain did not 
 make mention of that appointment, Prince Edward, in the 
 statement which he gave to the Court of France of his offi- 
 cers, having given me the title of captain of artilleiy, I received 
 twelve hundred livres in 1746 ; I had it augmented in 174i) 
 to two thousand some hundred livres ; and in 1751 I found 
 myself at Louisbourg, the only one of the Scotch fidly re- 
 duced to an Ensign, through the ignorance of M. Rouille of 
 military affairs, who had sent to the Royal Isle incompetent 
 officers to occu])y the vacant companies and lieutenancies, 
 wliile he denied me the justice of ratifying my commission of 
 captain by Prince Edward, which the Count of Argenson 
 had conceded to all my comrades, not having, at the same 
 time, but four hundred and twenty-four livres per annum, 
 which did not suffice for paying my lodging in the most mis- 
 erable garret of Louisbourg. Blind Fortune moves itself in 
 a singular manner, and drives ns in spite of ourselves to the 
 lot which she has destined for ns. If I have not succeeded 
 in procuring for myself a livelihood to the end of my days, I 
 cannot accuse myself of an error in judgment, in the means 
 that I employed for attaining it ; for when I recall all the 
 past, I do not see that I could have been able to act other- 
 wise than I have done ; and if it Avcre to do over again, I 
 would follow the same illusions, as havinf^; the appearance of 
 being the most reasonable. Man does not know to judge 
 and take the best possible coiu'se, under appearances the 
 most clearly favourable, to conduct him to the results which 
 he proposes to himself, if by effects, whimsical and impos- 
 sible to foresee, the road he takes, founded upon probability, 
 appears to be the best for conducting to the result, turns out 
 quite the contrary, what can he do but look upon him- 
 self as a grain of sand driven by Chance, that unjust 
 
171 
 
 tyrant wliicli governs and disposes at hh caprice all the 
 actions of men. The climax of the misery which must 
 necessarily actually pursue me even to the end of my days, 
 and which it is beyond the power of fortune itself to remedy 
 now at my age, was to have consented to take a commis- 
 sion of ensigncy in 1750 under the reiterated promises of M. 
 Puysieulx, to watch continually to procure me a company 
 without delay ; M. Rouille being then, according to all a}i- 
 pearance, the only minister of all the Courts of Europe Avho 
 <;ould have disgraced the commission of Prince Edward, by 
 thu i degrading a captain of his Scottish army, the progress 
 of wdiich against the whole united troops of England produced 
 the astonishment and admiration of all Europe. 
 
 How could I fail to have had confidence in the promises of 
 M. Puysieulx after his having given me proofs the most con- 
 vincing of his esteem and good graces ? He had given me in 
 1749 two thousand two hundred livres from the funds granted 
 to Scotchmen ; and this minister was so well disposed in my 
 favour, that if I had demanded of him a permanent situation 
 of five hundred livres per annum out of this fund, he would 
 have granted it to me readily. Miglit it not naturally be 
 l)elieved, that the desire which I had shown to render my 
 youth serviceable to the king and the country, deserved much 
 rather rewards than punishments .' Is it an equal merit in a 
 man to pass his days at Paris in idleness and pleasure, as I 
 woidd have been able to do Avitli my pension on the Scot- 
 tish list, or to embrace a situation the most painful, like that 
 of a military man, who performs well his duties ; exposed 
 continually to dangers of all kinds, his body overwhelmed with 
 excess of fatigues, and his constitution ruined by bad nourish- 
 ment, joined to a thousand other inconveniences which 
 necessarily follow the hard work of war ? Coidd I have ever 
 imagined that in the service of France one would see lazy 
 ollicers, who do no other service but pillage and rob the 
 king, and being enriched by rapine, are received with open 
 
172 
 
 arms in the bureau at Versailles ; at the same lime that the 
 soil of a pastry cook, and another son of a hairdresser, are 
 made to pass right over ofliccrs who have served with dis- 
 interestedness, who have only occupied themselves continually 
 for the good of the service, and to render themselves useful i* 
 I confess that I could have never been able to form an idea 
 of the service of France, such as 1 have experienced it ; 
 having always believed that honour, sentiments, and a great 
 knowledge of the military art, were the only means of suc- 
 ceeding in any service of the world. 
 
 M. Ilerbiers having obtained leave from the Court to be re- 
 lieved, the king's vessel "Happy," commanded by the Chevalier 
 Caumont, was sent to Louisbourg with the Count de Raimond, 
 to replace him in the government of the Royal Isle, and to 
 bring him back to France. Seeing the forgetfulness and ne- 
 glect of my patrons to procure me a suitable situation, joined 
 to the impossibility of being able to live at Louisbourg upon 
 four hundred and twenty-four livres of salary, this worthy and 
 gentlemanly man, who had received me into his friendship, 
 having taken upon himself to cause me to enter into an agree- 
 ment with my new governor, to return with him to Europe in 
 the "Happy," obtained at the same time the permission of M. 
 Caumont for me to embark at once ten or twelve days before 
 the vessel should sail, in order to repair the bad fare which 
 I had had during a year at Lo lisbourg, which ordinarily 
 consisted during the winter solely of cod-fish and hog's lard, 
 and during the summer, fresh fish, bad rancid salt butter, and 
 bad oil. Cross adventures were familiar to me, without fortune 
 ever having mixed with them the fortunate ! Tw^o hours 
 after I had gone on board, at the instant that we were about 
 to place ourselves at table for supper, the vessel was almost 
 blown up in the air ; and in a little, if there had been the 
 least wind, we would have never been able to avoid that dis- 
 mal fate. A vessel at anchor beside the "Happy" had taken 
 * Messieurs Borrangor et Coutereau. 
 
173 
 
 fire, latlsn with rum and oil, and in an instant the ship was 
 all in flames, like the great fire of a furnace. All the ships' 
 boats of the port were collected together quickly with grap- 
 pling irons to haul back the ship on fire, and make her get to 
 a side, beyond the reach of communicating the fire to others; 
 but it was with difRcnlty that we were saved, this ship having 
 passed alongside our board quite close by. If the grappling 
 Irons had been aAvanting, we were gone.* We being replaced 
 at table as soon as the danger was passed, the dear aiul 
 worthy man, M. Ilerbiors, told us that during the time that 
 this catastrophe lasted, ho could not help thinking continually 
 of me, how it should ha])pen luifortunately for me to embai-k 
 precisely at the point of time to encoiuiter death. 
 
 We sailed from Louisbourg in the month of August, ITol, 
 and we arrived in fifty days in the bay of Rochelle, having 
 experienced in the passage but one squall of wind, which 
 endured forty-eight hours, and which alarmed greatly the 
 officers of the ship ; but as it was very far below for the most 
 part those which I had experienced the year before, in the 
 " Jphigenie, ' the vessel being good and in a condition to resist, 
 I was not otherwise disquieted than by the interruption which 
 it occasioned to our good cheer ; for while it lasted it was 
 impossible to cook, and we were reduced to ba^con, with 
 biscuits, in place of fresh bread.f 
 
 * It is incredible tlic disorder that prevailed in the vessel duriuf^- this 
 alarm. Some crying to let j>o the cable, others to cut it, one heard a hun- 
 dred voices with diffei'ciit orders, and nobody doing anything, the crew not 
 knowing whom to obey. It appears to me that if I commanded a vessel in 
 such imn.inent danger with a pair of pistols before me, I should cause per- 
 fect silence bo observed, to enable the orders < the captain to be heard and 
 executed. 
 
 "t* There were twenty officers on board the "Happy," whicli carried 
 sixty four guns, and one above all called Bordet, a great sailoi", but a great 
 drunkard, and always tipsy from seven o'clock in the morning ; the others 
 were very different from him, and had so great a deference for him ami 
 confidence in his knowledge, that they made him mount upon the deck, 
 to command the working of the 'dp even during a gale of wind, but nut 
 being steady on his legs, they caused liim sit don'u upon an arm chair, from 
 
:; 
 
 >' 
 
 174 
 
 Having arrived at Paris, I did my best to get myself re- 
 instated npon the list of bounties granted to the Scotchmen of 
 the suite of Prince Edward, being then well persuaded of the 
 great folly I had been guilty of in quitting it ; but M. St. 
 Contest always replied to all my patrons, that they ought to 
 break the neck of this young man, who would be able to rise 
 in the service. Seeing my shuaI hope of success, I turned all 
 my efforts to get a company ; and INI. Rouille was spiritedly 
 solicitous in my favour, through M. Puysieulx, Prince Con- 
 Htantine of Rohan, now Cardinal, the Prince Montauban his 
 brother, Lord Thomoud, and by Lord Marechal, who was the 
 friend of ray uncle in Russia, and then ambassador at Paris 
 of the King of Prussia. If I had had then as perfect a know- 
 ledge of cabinets as I have since had by experience, I should 
 have been much better able to succeed, with much less pa- 
 tronage ; but I did not then know all the power of clerks, tiu; 
 beaten tracks which it was necessary to follow in order to 
 obtain anything, and the irrcsistable assistance of petticoats, 
 which forces and opens all the barriers to fortune. Knowing 
 even this marvellous key, through which to obtain all, well 
 founded or ill founded, I never found myself the better of 
 it. M. Rouille gave them all the assurances possible to grant 
 their request in my favour, and M. de la Porte assured me at 
 the same time that I should find my commission waiting mo 
 
 whence he gave forth his orders like an Emperor on his throne. It is Incrccl- 
 iblo the magnificence of the table on board the French men-of-war, served 
 with all the elegance that it is possible to do on land, which the captains of 
 English vessels would never be able to imitate, for as soon as they receive 
 orders to sail with the first favourable wind, of which they render an account 
 to the Admiralty, which they do daily in all the jiorts of England, they arc 
 not allowed to remain longer, as the French ships are obliged to do, some 
 times during tlirec weeks, to wait for provisions to the table ; and the 
 English captains arc often sufficiently unfortunoto as to be obliged to con- 
 tent themselves with salt beef and bacon like the sailors, with this difference, 
 that the captains have the choice of the pieces. It is true that the Com- 
 missioners of the Admiralty take great care that the provisions of the ships 
 should be of good (luaiity, well conditioned, and in good case. 
 
175 
 
 at Louisboiirg on my arrival there. This minister sent me at 
 the end of May, an order to depart for Rochfort ; and M. St. 
 Contest having given me a supply to defray in part the ex- 
 pense of my voyage, 1 proceeded thither immediately, hut 
 with no confidence in their promises, for I had believed the 
 same before, in the preceding year, and once deceived, I with 
 ditriculty relied upon them ; but I could not see any other 
 course to follow but return to Louisbourg. If I had been 
 possessed of money, it is not doubtful that I should have then 
 quitted France to seek for service elsewhere ; but the defi- 
 ciency of money formed chains impossible to sever, binding 
 continually to an unfortunate man his unlucky fate, and this 
 is one way that fortune takes to overwhelm and immolate its 
 victims. 
 
 I embarked at Rochelle towards the end of June, 17r)2, 
 on board the " Sultan," a merchant vessel, of 300 tons, 
 freighted for the king, and commanded by M. Roxallc, a man 
 of spirit and education, very gentlemanly, and altogether u 
 contrast to Fremont ; he, and three other passengers on 
 board, M. Pensence, capt.iin at Royal Isle, M. Lory, an 
 officer of Canada, and M. Gaville, son of the commissary of 
 Rouen, who Avas stationed at Louisbourg, having been before 
 in the French Guards. We had a very long and very annoy- 
 ing passage, owing to bad wcatlun- and contrary wind, which 
 prevailed almost continually without interruption, having 
 been twenty-four days at sea. I believe that it was impos- 
 sible for the elements to form a tempest more frightful tlian 
 that which w^e had in the " Iphigcnic " on the IGth of 
 September, 1750 ; but we experienced another still more 
 furious on the 2nd of September, in the "Sultan," of which M. 
 Roxalle, who had passed forty years of his life at sea, had 
 never seen one equal to it. To such a degree had this tem- 
 pest destroyed the tackling of the ship, that he left it on his 
 return to Rochelle. If it had happened to us in the " Iphi- 
 genie," that rotten ship never would have been able to resist 
 
wi 
 
 17G 
 
 it for a moment, jiiul wc Avoukl certainly have pcrislicd witli- 
 out remedy. But the " Sultan " was a new ship, which had 
 not been before but one voyage to the coast of Guinea. The 
 description which M. Roxalle set down in his journal of this 
 tempest, having appeared to me curious, I ohall enter a copy of 
 it, which behold. "From Friday at mid-day, 1st, to Satur- 
 day mid-day, 2nd September, 1752, the wind S.S.E. to S.W., 
 till eight o'clock at night, steering from AV".N.W. two degrees 
 Avest, making in this route sixteen leagues ; the wind then 
 at S.W., and increasing, we crowded all our sails, and placing 
 from the try-sail to the fore-mast, pulled the mizen-mast 
 l)elow. The wind always continued to augment with a 
 violence beyond all expression, the sea being horribly rough 
 and blazing, passing over ns, seemed as if in burning ilamcs. 
 I never, in my lifetime, saAV such frightful weather, and, at the 
 same time, so appalling. We have always, with the help and 
 succour of the Lord, sustained aloft our ship, comporting itself 
 as well as we could have hoped in this terrible weather. And 
 not daring to bear away undei* mizen-mast for fear of being 
 engulphcd by the sea if we had a wind abaft. At ten o'clock 
 the violence of tlie wind drove our main-sail to the wind, we 
 having, thank God, had time to splice it to the rope's end. 
 She tossed much, but Ave saved her. We had the yard pulleil 
 npon the socket. At an hour and a-half after midnight, the 
 wind carried off our mizen-mast. She began to glide by the 
 edge of the sheet, the rest folloAved. There only renuiiiied 
 but the foot ropes. The jib, the false jib, the pcroguet, would 
 have shared the same fate, although they were very well 
 secured; the violence of the wind having shattered and carried 
 them aAvay, and the yard-arm had been broken through tlu^ 
 middle ; hence this last sail being gone it Aveighed doAvn 
 cruelly our mizen-mast. I wished to cut it ; the hatchet was 
 already lifted up, but the Avind having entirely torn the Avhole 
 syil, Ave had, by the grace of God, preserved our mast. 
 About three o'clock, a bloAV of the sea stove in the Avindow 
 
177 
 
 of the starbojird of tlio grciit Ciibiii, and sliippcd a great deal 
 
 of water aboard, falling upon M. J , who was there in 
 
 his bed. At four o'clock, our rudder was broken ; we put ii 
 capstan on the to}) of the helm in the main cabin to hold it, 
 and we had, tliank God, another bar-arm fixed. At six 
 o'clock in tlie morning, the wind began to be less terrible ; 
 aud soon after it abated. At present (mid-day) we hope the 
 squall of wind is at an end ; but we ought to attribute that 
 the goodness and mercy of God has saved us in the immineut 
 peril in Avhich wc found ourselves involved. May it i)loasc 
 Him to continue, by his abundant grace, to have us in His 
 holy keeping. The half of our fowls Avere found drowned in 
 their cribs. We have had the try-sail since eight o'clock in 
 the evening from N.AV. to N.E." 
 
 Being lying in my bed in the main cabin, where there 
 was no light, I heard towards midnight the voice of M. Pcn- 
 seiice, who in tumbling, cried out that he was killed. 1 called 
 to him several times, and receiving no answer, I believed that 
 he was dead, or had fainted. As his servant could not help 
 him, having been lamed a little by a similar fall, I got out t)f 
 bed to fetch a lantern in order to be able to assist him, but I 
 was rather surprised to see him upon deck, and distinguish 
 him under the poop, with M. Roxalle, who there held by the 
 beams of the awning with both his hands, when a wave of the 
 sea fell upon my head and made me drink salt water in abund- 
 ance. I returned immediately to the main cabin as I best 
 could, and in great wrath, and having changed my linen 
 and clothes, I returned to bed, fully determined that if Pen- 
 seuce should break his neck a thousand times, I should not 
 budge again. He was an amiable youth, and so pleasant 
 th^t his exclamations sometimes made me laugh, in spite of 
 our hoiTible situation. He had come into France the year 
 preceding to obtain the Cross of St. Louis, with the design of 
 retiring from the service, to live in his OAvn country, and the 
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 to receive it at Loiiisbourg. During the danger, Pcnsence 
 repeated incessantly — " Cursed and execrable cross ; if I had 
 been able to foresee the horrible position in Avliich we find our- 
 selves, all the orders of Europe should have never tempted 
 me to embark. What have I to do with this miserable cross? 
 Would I not have been able to live peaceably and happily in 
 Gascony without it ! " In short, as long as the storm lasted, 
 these were the same lamentations and regrets. The second 
 drenching which I had, through the windows of the great 
 cabin, despoiled me altogether, being obliged to remain with 
 my clothes dripping, for the wave having fallen upon my 
 mattress at the same time as upon my bed, the wliole was as 
 much steeped in sea water as the wearing apparel that was 
 on my person. A marine officer gave me his cabin, but I 
 was destined not to be in any respect at my ease, during this 
 tempest. Every wave which covered the deck made the 
 water fall continually upon my legs, through a rent which 
 rushed incessantly like the cascade of a river. 
 
 We arrived at Louisbourg on the 14th of September, after 
 a very long and pnnoyiug passage, owing to the bad weather 
 and contrary winds, which prevailed almost without interrup- 
 tion, which but for that would have been more supportable, 
 by the provisions of all kinds which were provided to us by 
 the shi])owner, M. Pascaut, not at all resembling the shabby 
 things of Roderick, who without doubt imagining that the 
 "Iphigenie" ought naturally to sink to the bottom all at once, 
 believed it unnecessary to be at the exiienso of procuring us 
 any delicacies for the vovago. 
 
 The bad climate of Louisbourg, Avhere one does not see 
 the sun sometimes for a month ; the extreme misery which 
 you experience fnmi tluat; not having it in your power to pro- 
 cure a morsel of fresh meat at any price whatever ; the 
 society of the ladies of the place very amiable, but having 
 always cards in their hands, my avocations would not per- 
 mit of nitj daily to make one of their parties, all contributed 
 
179 
 
 Pcnsence 
 ; if I had 
 3 find our- 
 r tempted 
 ble cross? 
 liappily in 
 m lasted, 
 he second 
 the great 
 main with 
 upon my 
 3le was as 
 that was 
 3in, but I 
 urinii: this 
 made the 
 snt which 
 
 iber, after 
 
 d weather 
 
 interrup- 
 
 pportable, 
 
 I to us by 
 be shabby 
 ; that the 
 
 II at once, 
 ►curing us 
 
 js not see 
 ny which 
 'er to pro- 
 iver ; the 
 Lit having 
 not per- 
 )ntributcd 
 
 to cause me acquire a taste for reading and studying pliilo- 
 sophy, very seldom going out of my room except to attend to 
 my duty, of which I acquitted myself with the most scrupu- 
 lous exactitude, or to go once or twice a week to fish for trout 
 with my servant, St. Julien, who was an excellent Jack-of- 
 al'-trades, expert for furnishing my table, bringing generally 
 eight or ten dozen of trouts, in two hours fishing with the line, 
 the streams in the neighbourhood being very full of fish. 
 Puysegur, Polybius, with the Commentaries of Folard, Feu- 
 guiere, Vegetius, the Commentaries of Caesar, Turenne, Mon- 
 tecuculi, Prince Eugene, Josephus, the Roman History, and 
 Vauban, and other books of the same description, served me 
 for killing the time, to dispel the evils of my position, not 
 having obtained my promotion, but only the place of inter- 
 preter to the King, who granted me four hundred livrcs of 
 augmentation annually, and to dissipate the dismal ideas 
 which would have o.herwise plunged me in despair. I had a 
 small garden in front of the windows of my chamber, which 
 St. Julien had cleared to serve me for relaxation, Avhen I was 
 fatigued, and my eyes weakened by reading. I there enjoyed 
 a true and perfect satisfaction from the esteem and friendsliip 
 of all my comrades, which was not an easy matter to secure, 
 for the corps of the Royal Isle, composed of more than a 
 hundred officers, was divided into three factions, the ancients 
 of the country ; those who had come from Canada, and the 
 reformed officers of France, who had their settlement at 
 Louisbourg, and all these three mutually detested each other, 
 and were continually quarrelling; but having entered the 
 corps by declaring that I would not enter into their cabals, 
 Avhich did not mix me up, in any degree, in their disputes and 
 animosities, so that I chose my friends on the whole where I 
 found them to my taste, only taking my part to defend my- 
 self against those who wished to insult me, or who soiiglit to 
 embroil me ^'n a quarrel ; thus by the strict neutrality, which 
 I always observed, I had always the good-wih of every one, 
 
180 
 
 and I heard the horrors which tliese officers, eternally in 
 discord, came to tell me daily, the one against the other, 
 without ever having a bias for one side or another, hearing 
 them without answering them. 
 
 M. the Count of Raimond, who shewed me daily marks 
 of his esteem and favour, having asked my promotion, they 
 sent me a lieutenancy in 1754, by which, with the situation 
 of interpreter to the King, I had more pay than the cap- 
 tains, but I was not flattered by it. Seeing how much I 
 had reason not further to allow myself to be deceived by 
 promises, I took the resolution of repassing into France this 
 year, and of obtaining a company or seeking service else- 
 where ; and I regarded this voyage as much more indis- 
 pensable, because I was at variance with the commissary of 
 ordnance since the first year of my arrival at Louisbourg, 
 who, by his assistants in business, was too powerful in the 
 cabinet of the marine, and alwa}s unremitting against the 
 governors, M. Herbierj and Raimond, who incessantly com- 
 plained of him to the Court, but in vain, respecting his rob- 
 beries of magazines and other knaveries. lie was a finished 
 rascal, vain and proud as a peacock, of the most obscure birth, 
 who had a pretty amiable wife, of whom he was jealous to the 
 last degree. He took every opportunity to thwart me and 
 give me pain, without effect, at Louisbourg, for by acquitting 
 myself of my duties, with all the correctness possible, I 
 always preserved the esteem and friendship of my superiors. 
 Fortune was not wanting to complete my misery, but to join 
 her hatred and her hostility to my other sufferings, by tiie 
 wretched climate and the bad fare. Thus being overcome, 1 
 liad the melancholy satisfaction tliat she could not become 
 worse.* At length the capture of Louisbourg in 1758, de- 
 
 * M. James Provost came to make himself bo abhorred 1)y all the 
 officers, not only of the corps of tho Royal Isle, but also of the regiments of 
 Artois and Bourgogne, no officers of which, from tho commanders to the 
 ensign ever went to his house. When tho English fleet appeared before 
 
181 
 
 ternally iu 
 
 the otliei', 
 
 er, hearing 
 
 [aily marks 
 otion, they 
 e situation 
 Q the cap- 
 w much I 
 eceived by 
 France this 
 rvice clse- 
 lore indis- 
 imissary of 
 iOuisbourji:, 
 I'ful in the 
 igainst the 
 antly com- 
 ig his rob- 
 ! a finished 
 cure birth, 
 lous to th(! 
 rt me and 
 
 acquitting 
 possible, I 
 ' superiors, 
 but to join 
 igs, by tlie 
 vercome, 1 
 lot become 
 
 1758, de- 
 
 d by all the 
 
 regimonts of 
 
 .ndcrs to the 
 
 >eared before 
 
 livered me from a purgatory where I had suffered evils of 
 every description, and not choosing to expose myself to be a 
 prisoner of the same regiments of Lee, Warburton, and 
 Lascelles, who had been our prisoners in Scotland at tlie 
 Battle of Gladsmuir (Prcstonpans), in 1745, after the capitu- 
 lation of that town, I saved myself in Acadia, and from that 
 in Canada. Hostilities having commenced in Acadia in 1754, 
 when I was upon the point of departing for Europe, as they 
 proclaimed an approaching war, it was not proper for me to 
 absent myself in that critical time, and I did not think more 
 than of continuing there, hoping by my zeal and my services to 
 obtain my promotion, which I had never been able to effect 
 from the supineness and weak efforts of my patrons, who were 
 sufficiently powerful to have secured for me a more favour- 
 able situation, if they had chosen to agitate in my favour, as 
 I had reason to hope from their promises, of which I was the 
 dupe, through my credulity. Having had a wherry and fifty 
 Canadians at Miremachie, in Acadia, to conduct forty Englisli 
 prisoners to Quebec, who were among the officers of infantry, 
 and captains of merchant ships, I departed immediately with- 
 
 Louisbourg, in 1757, all the troops marched out upon ,the instant to man 
 the intrenchmonts of Ances in the Bay of Gabainis, iu order to oppose their 
 landing, and M, Guerin, our surgeon-general, having given M. St. Julien 
 a recipe for a sling, some spirits, and other things necessary for dressing 
 wounds, Prcvost replied to M. St. Julien, commandant by seniority of all 
 our troops, "that there was nothing at all in the king's magazines, that if 
 the English forced our intrenchments, it fell to them to take care of our 
 wounded, and if wo repulsed them they would have time to look after 
 them." M, St. Julien reported immediately this affair with his complaints 
 to M. Bois de la Mothe, who at the instant landed at nine o'clock at night, 
 proceeded directly to Provost's house, and having threatened to set it on 
 lire, and to send him back to France, if everything which the store contained 
 was not ready by the next day, in the morning, all was furnished, to the 
 great disappointment of this inhuman monster, who wished from his hatred 
 to all the officers, to make these bravo people perish for want of assistance, 
 and he wept tlu'ough rage. Ho fnmd the means of making himself equally 
 despised and detested l>y all the ofllcers of the ship, and M. tho Prince of 
 Listenois always treated him as tho last of miscreants. 
 
' 
 
 182 
 
 out resting more than two clays. In entering the Gulf of 
 St. Lawrence, we perceived an English squadron^ which gave 
 us chase, and we escaped from being taken by their frigates by 
 saving ourselves in the small harbours, of which there are a 
 great many along this coast. This was a fortunate discovery, 
 for I found M. Echaffaud at the entry of the river, with five 
 ships of the line, wliich were ordered to be ready to set sail 
 for Europe, who, ignorant thai there was an English fleet iu 
 the Gulf, Avould have fallen into their hands ; and to avoid 
 them he passed by the straits of Belle Isle. 
 
 I was welcomed very favourably iu Canada, above all by 
 M. Levis and M. Montcalm, who immediately accorded to me 
 their esteem, confidence, and good graces, iu a distinguished 
 manner, and M. Bigot, the commissary, the contrast of 
 Prevost, wlio made it a pleasure to facilitate and solace the 
 sufferings of unfortunate military men, gave me from the 
 stores a complete outfit, for I was quite naked, having left my 
 rags at Louisbourg, without having taken any other thing 
 with me, but two shirts iu my pocket. M. Levis took me for 
 his aide-de-camp, at the commencement of the campaign of 
 1759 ; and not having a sufficiency of engineers for the im- 
 mense extent of ground which our camp at Quebec occupied, 
 a front upon the banks of the river of about two leagues, to 
 fortify, from the River of St. Charles as far as the Fall Mont- 
 morency, I undertook to trace and conduct the intreuchments, 
 redoubt, and battery on the left of our camp, where M. Levis 
 commanded, on condition that I should execute them agree- 
 ably to my own ideas, and that the engineers shoidd not in- 
 terfere with them ; so my own personal vanity was much 
 flattered when the English made their descent, and attacked 
 on the 31st of July, the works which I had constructed, 
 and were repulsed with the loss of five hundred men. I 
 was ordered at the same time to examine the prisoners, and 
 to translate into French their depositions. My occupations 
 were so multifarious that I never had an hour's sleep iu the 
 
183 
 
 ic Gulf of 
 vhicli gave 
 frigates by 
 there are a 
 discover}', 
 ', witli five 
 to set sail 
 isli fleet in 
 d to avoid 
 
 lOvc all by 
 (led to me 
 tiugiiislied 
 )ntrast of 
 solace the 
 
 from the 
 ig left my 
 her thing 
 ok me for 
 npaigu of 
 or the im- 
 
 occupied, 
 eagues, to 
 "all Mont- 
 iichments, 
 
 M. Levis 
 em agree- 
 Id not in- 
 Y&s much 
 
 attacked 
 iistructed, 
 
 men. I 
 uers, and 
 cnpations 
 !ep iu the 
 
 twenty four ; and it being impossible for M. Levis to furnish 
 me with either coverlet, bed-clothes, or mattress, having left 
 mine at Carillon, I always slept, quite dressed upon chairs or 
 upon boards, in M. Levis's bedchamber, without ever daring 
 to take off my clothes, during tho campaign of 1759, but to 
 change my linen, and very rarely my boots, except to change 
 my stockings. It was my usual in tlie mornings at the break of 
 day to be exposed to cannon shots and musketry, in visiting 
 with M. Levis our advanced posts. Tliese journeys occurred 
 always the same, to carry the orders of M. Levis, or Avith 
 four hundred i)ioncers, and the nights equally employed, to 
 answer orders Avhich were arriving continually, by allowing 
 M. Levis to sleep ut least, unless there was anything of im- 
 portance, or to Avrite de})Ositions, or orders. Every one told 
 me that it would be necessary to have a body of iron to be 
 able to resist it ; but there Avere three things that sustained 
 and encouraged me in my overwhelming fatigue : my ambi- 
 tion to render myself useful in the service of the king, 
 and to rise in it ; my friendship and attachment for M. 
 Levis pers(jnally; and the uncertainty of my fate, if I was 
 taken by the English, many regiments of which had been 
 our prisoners in Scotland, in 1745, made me look upon the pre- 
 servation of this colony the same as my own proper welfare. 
 Pecuniary interest had )io part in it ; for not only did I con- 
 stantly refuse the contract of fascines and gabions, Avliich had 
 yielded to another officer tAventy or thirty thousand livres, but 
 I preferred ahvays that the sergeants Avho served me as pickers 
 should receive from the commissary the payments according to 
 my statements, Avith orders immedhitely to distribute by them- 
 selves the money to the pioneers. Having husbanded for the 
 king the half hours, and even to the days of those avIio Avcre 
 absent on leave, by the roll-calls, Avliich I made four times 
 a-day, this Avould have amounted to a considerable sum Avhich 
 one Avould have had it in his poAver to ai)propriate to himself, 
 according to the then custom of the place, if I had had less 
 
184 
 
 of probity, straightforwardness, and sentiments ; for four hun- 
 dred ])iouc!ers which I had at twenty sols per day, Avouhl not 
 have fallen short sometimes of a fourth by the roll-call. 
 
 M. Levis was sent at the beginning of August to command 
 to Montreal, u[)on a false rumour that a corps of English 
 troops were endeavouring to i)cnetrate into the higher districts 
 of the country ; and my nortu. mteau was already despatched 
 the night before with the baggage, when M. Montcalm came 
 to his house, at the moment wo were going to depart, to beg 
 that he would leave me with him, on account of the knowledge 
 that I had of all our posts to the Fall of Montmoi'ency, and 
 the plans of defence for that quarter. He consented to it ; 
 and as I loved M. Levis with a sincere attachment, I quitted 
 him Avitli very great regret, and tears in my eyes, desiring 
 anicntly to continue in company with him. I accompanied 
 him until we came up with the baggage, in order to bring- 
 back again my portmanteau, and I remained with him to sleep 
 all night, and the next day I returned to M. Montcalm's to 
 continue with him my functions of aide-de-camp. This 
 great man, worthy of a bettor fate, said to me that he knew 
 well the sacrifice I had made in quitting M. Levis, but that I 
 should have no reason to repent it. So he constantly testified 
 to me the same affection and friendship, as if I had been his 
 son. But I repented greatly this chnngc by his premature 
 death, for but for that I would not have knoAvn so particularly 
 his rare merit, and had to deplore his loss all my life. 
 
 The consequences of the death of M. Montcalm, who was 
 killed at the battle of Quebec, the 13th of September, or my 
 usual destiny precipitated me uselessly into a horrible per- 
 plexity, from which I escaped in the end, nearly suffering the 
 same lot. Having finished the campaign of 1759 quicker 
 than Ave had reason to expect, I decided on returning to 
 France Avitli M. Cannon in the fall of the season. This 
 voyage Avas essentially necessary for me, the more so that I 
 found myself the oldest lieutenant of the force in Canada, 
 
185 
 
 four liim- 
 ivould not 
 ■nil. 
 
 command 
 " Engliyli 
 r districts 
 3spatclied 
 ilm came 
 rt, to beg 
 nowledgc 
 iiicy, and 
 ed to it ; 
 [ quitted 
 
 desiring 
 )mpauied 
 
 to bring 
 I to sleep 
 : aim's to 
 ). This 
 he knew 
 ut that I 
 ■ testified 
 
 been his 
 L'emature 
 'ticularly 
 
 who was 
 !r, or my 
 Ible por- 
 jring the 
 quicker 
 I'ning to 
 1. This 
 that I 
 Canada, 
 
 which, alternated with that of the Royal Isle by my com- 
 mission of 1754, and as there were three vacant com- 
 panies of troops in that colony, I thought I had a right 
 naturally to expect by my services to obtain one of these 
 companies. But M. the Marquis of Vaudreuil refused me 
 obstinately my leave, in spite of the requests of M. Levis to 
 obtain it, being afraid apparently that 1 would give the Court 
 a true detail of this campaign, which decided without remedy, 
 the loss of Canada to France. In the meantime, he gave me 
 his word of honour that he would render me justice, and that 
 I should have a company; but insisting always on my getting 
 my leave to go to France, he answered me that if I persisted 
 in seeking my leave I should get nothing. In short, in 
 17 GO, the list of promotions having arrived, I found these 
 companies disposed of, in favour of three officers much junior 
 to me by many years, and no ways distinguished by their 
 services, one of the three T)eing the son of a hairdresser to the 
 king, and, in consequence, the protege of the commissary. 
 What a service is that of the French for a stranger ! I was 
 not at ease at Montreal, while they were settling the general 
 capitulation of the Colony, in the uncertainty of the treatment 
 that I might receive from the English, and having nothing to 
 depend upon from the Marquis of Vaudreuil, it was time that 
 I should bethink me of getting myself out of this bad affair 
 as I best could, my situation having become as embarrassed 
 and perilous as it was after the battle of Cullodcn. M. 
 Young, colonel of an American regiment, found himself at 
 Montreal, having been made prisoner in the battle which M. 
 Levis had gained in the spiing near Quebec. He was 
 cousin-german to my brother-in-law, M. Rollo ; besides, a 
 person very considerable in the English army by his merits, 
 talents, spirit, and character the most amiable ; and all my 
 hopes of being able to escape the evil fate that threatened 
 me were founded upon him. I went to stay at his house, 
 while the French and English generals were negotiating 
 
i'v 
 
 186 
 
 the terms of the capitulation, and there came M. Mills, 
 aide-de-camp to General Amherst, with two other English 
 ofllcers, to sup also at the house of Colonel Young, in Availing 
 there for the answer of M. Vaiidrcuil to the propositions of 
 General Andierst. I was very much disconcerted at supper ; 
 for M. Levis having given me the name of the Chevalier de 
 Montague, Avhile M. Young always culled me that of INIon- 
 tague, the Ladies Erie, daughters of the niorohant in whose 
 liouse we lodged, called me always by my right name ; and 
 this was so often repeated, thnt I perceived the English olficers 
 had remarked it, and 1 made a sign to M. Young tha^ I 
 wished to sj)eak to him in private. Having retired into a closet 
 off the room, I said to him that it api)eared necessary to con- 
 fide quite plainly my secret to M. Mills ; and M. Young 
 having approved my advice, called him immediately to join 
 us. I told him plainly my situation, that I had been with 
 Prince Edward in Scotland ; and I Legged of him to tell me 
 if he thought I ought to wait upon M. Amherst. At the 
 same time M. Young ijiformed M. Mills of our relationship, 
 and of the part which he had taken warmly in my interests, 
 recommending me strongly to his good offices with the General, 
 and to sound his disposition in regard to me, in order that he 
 might give us information of these next day in the morning. 
 This aide-de-camp answered us that General Amherst, being 
 of a character so peculiar that nobody was ever able to pene- 
 trate his intentions, he Avould much better not speak to him 
 of it, the more especially as he would only remain a few days 
 at Montreal, and that M. IMurray, who would command on 
 his departure, would be much more tractable. He added that 
 if the General should take a violent part against me, he would 
 know it immediately, and he gave us his word of honour to 
 inform us of it, in good time, to enable me to save myself in 
 the woods. 
 
 I was in a terrible alarm for some days after the English 
 were in possession of the town. Some one came and knocked 
 
^I. Mills, 
 • English 
 u waiting 
 sitions of 
 t supper; 
 jvalicr tic 
 of :Mon- 
 in whose 
 Line ; and 
 5h oificers 
 ig tha+ I 
 io a closet 
 y to oon- 
 [. Young 
 y to join 
 ccn Avith 
 to tell me 
 At the 
 itionship, 
 interests, 
 General, 
 r that he 
 morning, 
 rst, being 
 ! to pene- 
 k to him 
 few days 
 mand on 
 dded that 
 he would 
 lonour to 
 myself in 
 
 i English 
 I knocked 
 
 187 
 
 rudely at the door of my room towards seven o'clock in the 
 morning, and having o])ened it, 1 remained stui)ilied on seeing 
 a great young man in English uniform, about six feet high, 
 who demanded of me if that was I, calling me by my own 
 name, to whom he had the honour of speaking. Although 1 
 believed that he was come with a detachment to apinvhend 
 me, seeing the impossibility of being able to escai)e, I 
 answered him. "Yes," and asked hiiu at the same time what 
 he wanted, lie told me that he was my near relation, of the 
 same name as myself, son of Lady Girth ead, whom I saw in 
 passing when I entered England with the army of Prince 
 Edward, that he was a captain of artillery, and tliat before 
 rejoining his cannoneers at (Quebec, the first day by water, he 
 had coine to (jffer me his services, begging me to embark with 
 him in his vessels of artillery, where I ayouUI not be reco"-- 
 nized, to remain with him in the house, which he had fur- 
 nished at Beaufort, near Quebec, where he lived with a 
 mistress, until our troops shoidd embark in the transport sliips. 
 I answered him that I was very sensible of his obliging offer, 
 but that i would not for all the things in the world eiH\i"-e 
 him lightly in so mischievous an adventure, and I advised him 
 inmiediately to go to the house of General Murray, Amherst 
 having departed, to tell him ingciuiously that ho had found at 
 Montreal a near relation, who had been in the rebellion of Scot- 
 laud, presently in the service of France ; that he had a great 
 desire to testify his civilities to him by taking him with him 
 to his house at Beaufort, but that he Avould not do anythino- 
 without his permission ; asking him at the same time how he 
 ought to conduct himself in that respect. lie went off on the 
 instant, and returned at the end of two hours to tell me that 
 General Murray had answered him "that he knew for a long 
 time as well as the whole English army, that I was in Canada ; 
 that I might remain quietly at his house without having any- 
 thing to fear on his part ; that if I did not seek him he would 
 not seek me any farther ; and that he offered me cordially his 
 
'I 
 
 
 188 
 
 compliments." INIy pnrticular capitulation being thus very 
 favourably concluded, T inunediatoly left Montreal to ro])air to 
 IJeaufort, and I passed there three weeks, waiting the embark- 
 ment of our troops, wilJi nil the ngreeableness possible; always 
 in feasting, and in companies of English otlicers, eveiy one with 
 his mistress, giving {Uternatcly 'eat banquets at the house of 
 my relative, as well as in theirs, where I was always of the 
 parties ; these officers showing mo every sort of attentions and 
 civilities, with a care continually of calling me M. Montague, 
 although they knew very Avell my history, none of them being 
 surprised that I spoke their language so well. I had great 
 reason to praise their conduct in regard to me. 
 
 An Englishman asked mo one, day the name of the general 
 officer, mounted upon the black horse, who had passed their 
 army at the moment after the defeat of our army, the 13th of 
 September the year preceding. He added that they aimed at 
 his horse in order to dismount him, and make him prisoner ; 
 but that it turned out that his horse was invulnerable, to 
 escape the thousand musket shots which assailed him on all 
 sides. I answered him that it was myself ; that chance had 
 conducted me there without any desire or ambition to attain 
 that salutation, Avorthy in effect of a general officer, but that 
 their soldiers had not followed their orders, for the dis- 
 (^hargc they had aimed at mo fell in the brushwood, I felt the 
 sound of the balls which passed mo at the height of the 
 horizon, like a handful of pease which they had thrown in my 
 face ; and I showed him my dress, in Avhich a ball had carried 
 a piece of cloth from the shoulder. As the English had a much 
 higher opinion of the Freucli regiments than of the troops 
 of the colony, I embarked in a transport vessel destined for 
 the Regiment of royal Roussillon, Avith my friend M. 
 Poularies, Avho placed mo on the muster roll as an officer of 
 that regiment ; and Ave departed from Quebec the IGth of 
 October, Avith all the transport vessels Avhich the English had 
 furnished us Avith, in terms of the capitulation to convey us 
 
189 
 
 to France. Before leaving the river St. Lawrence, wo easily 
 perceived that our ship was old, rotten, and resembling alto- 
 getiier the "Iphigenio"; still we had the hope to keep ourselves 
 afloat, and of having succour in case of need ; but at the end 
 of three days after having left the Gulf, we found our- 
 selves alone, without company, and left to Providence, not 
 being able to proceed so fast as the other vessels ! They left 
 us altogether behind them. The days of All Saints and 
 St. Martin's we had two furious gales of wind at the top of 
 the Azores. Our vessel mtide a flood of water which would 
 have caused us sink to the bottom, if a canvas, which they 
 attached to the end of a rope, had not been plunged into the 
 sea, with a great lump of grease at the handle to block it up, 
 to Avait until good Aveatlicr should allow the carpenter to work 
 at it ; and the ship being open, as the "Iphigenie" had been, 
 they bound it about witli a cable. After these gales of wind 
 we found again a ship of our fleet, in which were M. Mouy, M. 
 DruIIlon, and some other officers of Canada ; and having told 
 them the miserable condition of our vessel, and the danger we 
 were in, expecting at every instant to sink to the bottom, 
 we prayed them earnestly not to part from us. We re- 
 mained together for three days, until another gale of wind 
 separated us. At last we arrived in the roadstead of tlie 
 island of He, the 3rd of December, in the evening, where we 
 anchored at once ; and a pilot came on board to conduct 
 us the next day to Rochclle, which is five leagues from that. 
 
 As it turned out fine Aveather, the English captain, from 
 the vanity of not letting the bad condition of his sliip be known 
 to his acquaintances, loosed immediately the cable and other 
 things which he had made use of to secure tlie ship. At mid- 
 night the wind began to rise, and became in a very short time 
 a most frightful hurricane. TVe let down in a moment two 
 anchors of the three which we had, and the pilot of the Island 
 of Re, who had a melancholy countenance, at finding himself 
 involved so opportunely in our disastrous adventure, told us 
 
<^ 
 
 190 
 
 that the cable of the third anchor woiikl soon be broken as the 
 others, adding that there was no other way of avoiding perish- 
 ing all souls and goods upon the rocks, with which the island 
 was on all sides surrounded, than to endeavour to make a 
 voluntary shipAvrcck in the river of Maraine, the bottom of 
 which is muddy ; and ho told us that for little if the ship Avould 
 carry sufficient sail to be able to go^'ern her, he hoped to save 
 the life of all by conducting her thither. His salutary advice 
 was immediately followed forthwith by the English captain. 
 We cast out immediately our last cable, but the first sail 
 which they set was in an instant shattered in pieces like sheets 
 of paper ; in the meantime having tried the mainsail, which 
 stood better than the other, he dashed us to the side of the 
 entrance which he proposed to take, and our ship entered the 
 basin like as in a pot of butter, without feeling the least «hock ; 
 they then set the sails to fix as far as it was possible the sliip in 
 the basin, fearing that the Avind coming, might throw us to tii'^. 
 other side upon the rocks, and avc were immediately anchored, 
 having nothing more to fear. The next day in the morning, 
 in a calm sea, I reached the land by means of a ladder and 
 planks, which they had placed on the Quay, the 5tli December, 
 1760, and after having kissed the ground Avith good heart, I 
 entered into a naA'al hotel, Avhere I found an abundance of 
 excellent oysters and Avhite Avine, fullv determined not to put 
 myself again in the poAver of Neptune. 
 
 Fortune has not been more faA^ourable to me since my 
 return to France, having always continued her persecutions 
 Avitliout ceasing Avitli an invincible obstinacy ; and there is no 
 appearance at present that she Avill cease to overAvhelm me 
 but by finishing my existence, perhaps from the Avant of the 
 necessaries of life, my lot not being likely to be ameliorated 
 at my age. I can Avell verify AA'hat Artabanes said to Xerxes, 
 Avhen he shed tears, on rcvicAving his innumerable army, 
 at the passage of the Hellespont, by the reflection that in 
 a hundred years there Avould not be one of that great mul- 
 
101 
 
 broken as the 
 liding perish- 
 !h the island 
 
 to make a 
 lie bottom of 
 e ship woiikl 
 aped to save 
 iituiy advice 
 lish captain, 
 he first sail 
 s like sheets 
 Qsail, Avhich 
 
 side of the 
 entered the 
 [east shock ; 
 3 the ship in 
 
 )W us to tiiT 
 
 T anchor<?d, 
 e morninir, 
 ladder and 
 December, 
 od heart, 1 
 mdance of 
 not to put 
 
 titude alive. "But nre we not exposed during life to things 
 more melancholy and pitiable than these? for during the 
 rhort time that he is in the world, there has not been a man 
 so happy as not to have wished many times to die rather than 
 to live.* In fact, diseases and misfortunes disturb the most de- 
 lightful days of life, and are the cause that, moreover, although 
 so short, it is thought long and wearisome. Thus death is to 
 men the wished for refuge of an unhappy life ; and one may 
 say that God, who is immortal, treats us with rigour in giving 
 us life on conditions so anuoying.f" — Herodotus. 
 
 * Tho joys of life, in the experience of most, if not of all men, I should 
 say, preponderate. — Ed. 
 
 + Without approving of the last remark of the heathen Historian, wc 
 may observe that the philosophical and thoughtful reflections of the 
 Chevalier throughoiit this work, and particularly in the notes, hitherto un- 
 published, add a valuj to it, which will be duly ai>preciated by every culti- 
 vated mind, and which has certainly not a little relieved the tedium of the 
 labour in the hands of the Translator. — Ed. 
 
 i snice jny 
 irseeutions 
 there is no 
 whelm me 
 ant of tlie 
 meliorated 
 io Xerxes, 
 ble army, 
 n that in 
 reat mul- 
 
 C. COUXWALL AND SONS, PRINTKUS AND LITHOGllArHKRS, ABERDEEN. 
 
 J