Edinburgh Castle (10)

"Bonnie Dundee“ A.D. 1689

 

In the wall which surmounts the western escarpment of the Castle rock is the ancient sally-port (visible in the outer wall, in almost the exact centre of this photo), whose highest honour lies in having given safe exit to the body of Queen Margaret, when in an anxious hour the remains of the royal saint were being borne to honourable burial. But the old postern has a much later claim to special remembrance, and upon a tablet in the wall immediately above there runs an inscription undecipherable from the roadway below (or drone above!) save by the most eagle-eyed which thus sets forth the claim:

 

AT THIS POSTERN

JOHN GRAHAM OF CLAVERHOUSE

VISCOUNT DUNDEE

HELD A FINAL CONFERENCE

WITH THE DUKE OF GORDON,

GOVERNOR OF EDINBURGH CASTLE,

ON QUITTING THE CONVENTION OF ESTATES,

18TH MARCH 1689.

 

The date mentioned saw the climax of a week of crisis in the fortunes of Scotland and of intense moment to the whole of Britain. In England the Revolution of 1688 was an accomplished fact. James II had fled to France, and William, Prince of Orange, now sat upon the English throne of the Stuarts, in accordance with the expressed desire of the English people. But what would Scotland the ancient land of the Stuarts do? Until it should speak, and speak emphatically in his favour, William's tenure of even the English throne was anything but secure. Not for the first time the destinies of Britain lay in Scottish hands.

 

To decide the momentous question a Convention of the Scottish Estates had been summoned to meet in Edinburgh on I4th March 1689, and seldom has the Scottish capital received a more discordant company of visitors. Presbyterian, Episcopalian, and Roman Catholic lords all were there. Men who for twenty years had been bitter enemies, alike on ecclesiastical and political grounds, now met in council in the Parliament Hall, with the old enmities burning as fiercely in their hearts as ever, and chafing in spirit that the swords might not be unsheathed. In the city itself like conditions prevailed. Armed adherents of the rival parties had gathered in large numbers, and went about the streets scowling at each other when they met. Especially numerous were the men from the western shires. Long hunted over the moors for their religion's sake, they had seen, in the political turmoil, the end of their persecutions and the possibility of vengeance on old enemies, and had flocked to the city, eager to strike a blow if need or opportunity should arise; and if one sight which they there beheld was more calculated than another to quicken their lust for vengeance, it was the sight of their arch-persecutor, Graham of Claverhouse, now known as Viscount Dundee.

 

With the change of name there had come to this much-hated and much-lauded soldier, if not a change of nature, at least a welcome alteration in his sphere of duty; and if anything can help to soften the judgment passed by posterity on the brutalities of 'Bloody Clavers,' it is the memory of the gallant loyalty to a fallen cause which was shown so conspicuously by Viscount Dundee. Whatever his defects as a man, disloyalty was not one of them, and at a time when men only too frequently changed their loyalty with the changing fortunes of their Sovereign, this is much to his credit. He was a 'King James man' out and out, and at the very hour when he came to the Convention, he held a Commission from the exiled King as Commander-in-Chief of his Scottish forces. Seeing that these ‘forces' consisted only of some sixty men who accompanied him and the garrison of Edinburgh Castle, which under the Roman Catholic Duke of Gordon still held out for King James, Dundee's daring in risking himself in Edinburgh is apparent. But in daring he never failed. Brave and fearless as ever he came to the Convention, knowing well the risks; and though many a resentful Covenanter, on meeting his old oppressor face to face, might feel murder in his heart, the strong daring glance of Dundee stayed the hand from striking. As sings Sir Walter in one of his most stirring ballads:

 

The cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears

And lang-hafted gullies to kill Cavaliers ;

But they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway left free,

At a toss of the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.

 

In the Convention the course events were to take was apparent as soon as the Duke of Hamilton, the leader of King William's party, by a decisive majority of votes was elected chairman. This meant the deposition of James from the Scottish throne, the succession of William, the overthrow of Episcopacy, and the restoration of Presbyterianism. Each succeeding vote taken saw more and more of the waverers go over to the winning side. Then one after another of King James's own party showed signs of weakening, and when it was rumoured that the Duke of Gordon, despairing of his cause, was responding to negotiations for the surrender of the Castle, Dundee saw that the only hope for his King lay now, not in the council chamber, but on the field of battle. There the sword might achieve what words would never do.

 

But ere taking this decisive step, one last effort was made to change the trend of affairs in the Convention. A secret visit to the Castle, in which he eluded the surrounding guard, enabled Dundee to tell his plans to the Duke of Gordon, who immediately broke off the negotiations for surrender. That was something gained. So long as the great guns of the fortress pointed on Parliament House, much in the way of persuasion might be possible, especially if the armed mob of Cameronian Whigs could be got out of the city. Accordingly next day, the 18th March 1689, Dundee laid information before the Convention of an attempted assassination of himself and Sir George Mackenzie, and requested that, for the sake of public safety, the city be cleared of strangers. But in vain the net was spread in sight of the birds. The majority had no wish to see themselves denuded of armed support, and laid open to the argument of force from the Castle artillery; and when after hearing his complaint they calmly passed on to the business of the day, Dundee knew that his scheme had failed, and that the time for action had arrived. Quitting the Convention with indignant disdain, he proceeded to his lodgings, summoned his men, armed himself as for battle, and with his handful of followers behind him rode out of the city.

 

Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks

Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox!

And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee,

You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me!

 

Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,

Come saddle your horses, and call up your men ;

Come open the West Port, and let us gang free,

And it's room for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee !

 

That leisurely ride of Dundee, enshrined as it has been in ringing verse, will not easily be forgotten by Scotsmen. The calm contempt of it seizes and holds the imagination of men to-day, as it also did with the citizens of Edinburgh who witnessed it, but with feelings very different. They were profoundly thankful that a man so dangerous to staid-living folk should take himself off. Some indeed counselled pursuit;

 

But the Provost, douce man, said, "Just e'en lat him be,

The gude toun is well quit of that deil of Dundee."

 

So through the Nether Bow Port he rode (not the West Port as in the ballad), and thence by Leith Wynd crossing the hollow where now stands Waverley Station, he reached the high ground on the other side of the Nor' Loch, when, wheeling westward, he followed the country road that corresponded to what is now Princes Street, having the Castle in full view, the one fortified place in Scotland of which his Sovereign still was lord.

 

Looking out from the Castle wall, telescope in hand, was the anxious governor. Dundee had apprised him before of his movements in the event of the first part of his scheme failing, and when the Duke descried the little band of riders with the soldierly figure at their head, he knew what had happened. With a sad heart he realised that in all Scotland none but the gallant Dundee and himself now represented the Stuart cause, and, anxious for a final consultation, he fluttered a signal to his brother cavalier. Dundee saw it and understood. At the Kirk Brae Head, near St Cuthbert's Church, he halted his troop, dismounted, and went forward himself on foot to the base of the steep western slope of the Castle rock. High above, at the little postern, the Duke was waiting, and fully armed though he was, Dundee did not hesitate. Up the rugged ascent he scrambled, then much more inaccessible than it is now, when the naked rocks have been largely covered by the accumulated soil of two centuries, and the ascent has been correspondingly simplified. Even now it is a stiff climb, but then, especially to a man in full military equipment, it must have been no small feat. But it was done to the admiration of his followers and to the amazement and terror of the citizens, who saw it from afar, and augured from it terrible consequences.

 

What passed between the two chiefs has never been fully told, but it is safe to say that they strengthened each other's hearts, and gave pledges, each to the other, of fidelity to the cause they served, Dundee exhorting Gordon to hold the Castle until he should return sweeping in triumph from the north, with his Highlanders behind him. One recorded word of their talk has been preserved, and it is suggestive: "Whither goest thou?" asked the Duke. "Where the shade of Montrose may direct me," was the ominous answer, a reply which Sir Walter has carefully preserved, and as true as it is suggestive. Like Montrose, his great kinsman who fought and suffered for an earlier Stuart King, Dundee would seek the Highlands, and there put his fortunes and the fortunes of his Sovereign to the final test:

 

The Gordon demands of him which way he goes

"Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose!

Your Grace in short space shall hear tidings of me,

Or that low lies the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee,

 

"There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth,

If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the North ;

There are wild duniewassals, three thousand times three,

Will cry hoigh ! for the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee."

 

('Duniewassal' definition: a man of good breeding and manners from the Scottish Highlands! There are still some left!!)

 

The conference was over; it was now to be deeds, not words. Dundee scrambled down the rock face, rejoined his troop, and with a farewell wave to the still watching Gordon, rode away to the west, and then to the north, the goal of his hopes and the grave.

 

He waved his proud hand, and the trumpets were blown,

The kettle-drums clashed, and the horsemen rode on,

Till on Ravelston's cliffs and on Clermiston's lea

Died away the wild war-notes of Bonnie Dundee.

 

That ride led far, for it was the first stage in that venturous journey which ended three months later at Killiecrankie. There, the Highlanders amply justified Dundee's trust. With their wild war-cry they descended like an avalanche on the enemy and carried everything before them. But alas for their cause! Their gallant commander was slain in the hour of his victory, and the hopes of the Stuart were ended, for

 

‘Low lay the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.’

 

Done