But the crowning act, that was to confound their enemies and confirm their friends, took place on the following day. The whole party assembled after breakfast, but without hounds or huntsmen.
A dozen sturdy bagpipers made the court ring with their shrill strains, announcing that the Earl of Mar was about to proceed to Castletown, which was not more than a mile off, attended by all the nobles and chiefs, and all their vassals and retainers, to set up the standard and proclaim King James.
The principal personages were on horseback—the rest on foot. At the head of the cavalcade was the Earl of Mar, and on his right rode Lord Charles Murray, who carried the standard.
The standard, which made a very splendid appearance, and excited general admiration, was of blue satin, embroidered on one side with the arms of Scotland, in gold. On the other side was a thistle, underneath which were the words, “No Union.”
Pendants of white ribbon were attached to the banner: one of them bore the inscription, “For our wronged king and oppressed country:” the other, “For our lives and liberties.”
The pipers marched on in advance, playing vigorously.
The morning was fine, but gusty, and Craigendarroch seemed to frown upon them. Several Highlanders joined the party as they marched on, and some old men, bare-legged women, young girls, and children, followed at a distance. But there were few inhabitants in that wild region.
On reaching Castletown, the cavalcade rode into the market-place, where all the townsfolk were assembled, and the pipers, who had marched in first and taken up a good position, played with redoubled vigour, while the standard was set up on the market-cross.
A loud shout was then raised by the whole concourse, after which silence was authoritatively enjoined, and a trumpet being sounded, the Earl of Mar read the proclamation in a loud clear voice that vibrated through every breast.
“By the decease of the late King James the Seventh, the imperial crown of these realms has lineally descended to his lawful heir and son our sovereign James the Eighth, and we the lords and others do accordingly declare him to be the lawful king over Scotland, England, and Ireland. We are bound by unalienable right to his family and person, and it is to be lamented that our fundamental constitution has been destroyed by factions. The unhappy Union of Scotland and England is also to be deeply lamented-with many other matters, such as the bringing in a foreign prince unacquainted with British manners, customs, and language-the support of his designs by foreign troops-and the contempt with which the military services of British troops are treated. We are determined to resort to the last extremities, in order to remedy these grievances, and have our laws, liberties, and properties secured by the Parliaments of both kingdoms. In conclusion, we hope that undisturbed by a Usurper’s interests and council from abroad, or by a restless faction at home, the blessing and aid of Heaven will be extended to the succour of the Royal Family of Stuart and their country from sinking under oppression.”
The foregoing manifesto produced a very powerful effect, and the whole assemblage, having listened to it with profound attention, were about to give vent to their feelings, when a circumstance occurred that filled them all with superstitious terror.
By a sudden and violent gust, the silken banner was rent, and the gilded ball blown from the point of the spear, and falling at the feet of Mar’s horse, caused the animal to rear.
The greatest consternation was occasioned by this inauspicious occurrence.
Nothing but blanched faces were seen around, and the shouts died away on every lip. Men shook their heads, and said it was ominous of ill, and even Mar himself was not free from uneasiness.
“When King Charles the First’s standard was blown down at Nottingham,” observed Lord Charles Murray to Brigadier Mackintosh, “it was thought to presage ill. What does this signify?”
The brigadier made no answer, but looked very grave.
The ill-omened incident cast a gloom over the party, from which they did not recover as long as they stayed together.
On quitting Castletown, the nobles and chiefs took leave of their host, and departed each to his respective home, to get together his men, and make all needful preparations for taking the field.