torture to another man in the presence of Black, in order that the
latter might fully appreciate what he had to expect if he should remain
contumacious. The poor man referred to had not been gifted with a
robust frame or a courageous spirit. When asked, however, to reveal the
names of some comrades who had accompanied him to a field-preaching he
at first loyally and firmly refused to do so. Then the boot was
applied. It was a wooden instrument which enclosed the foot and lower
limb of the victim. Between it and the leg a wedge was inserted which,
when struck repeatedly, compressed the limb and caused excruciating
agony. In some cases this torture was carried so far that it actually
crushed the bone, causing blood and marrow to spout forth. It was so in
the case of that well-known martyr of the Covenant, Hugh McKail, not
long before his execution.
The courage of the poor man of whom we now write gave way at the second
stroke of the mallet, and, at the third, uttering a shriek of agony, he
revealed, in short gasps, the names of all the comrades he could recall.
Let us not judge him harshly until we have undergone the same ordeal
with credit! A look of intense pity overspread the face of Andrew Black
while this was going on. His broad chest heaved, and drops of
perspiration stood on his brow. He had evidently forgotten himself in
his strong sympathy with the unhappy martyr. When the latter was
carried out, in a half fainting condition, he turned to Lauderdale, and,
frowning darkly, said--
"Thou meeserable sinner, cheeld o' the deevil, an' enemy o' a'
righteousness, div 'ee think that your blood-stained haund can owerturn
the cause o' the Lord?"
This speech was received with a flush of anger, quickly followed by a
supercilious smile.
"We shall see. Get the boot ready there. Now, sir," (turning to
Black), "answer promptly--Will you subscribe the oath of the King's
supremacy?"
"No--that I wull _not_. I acknowledge nae king ower my conscience but
the King o' Kings. As for that perjured libertine on the throne, for
whom there's muckle need to pray, I tell ye plainly that I consider the
freedom and welfare o' Scotland stands higher than the supposed rights
o' king and lords. Ye misca' us rebels! If ye ken the history o' yer
ain country--whilk I misdoot--ye would ken that the Parliaments o' baith
Scotland an' England have laid it doon, in declaration and in practice,
that resistance to the exercise o' arbitrary power is _lawfu'_,
therefore resistance to Chairles and you, his shameless flunkeys, is nae
mair rebellion than it's rebellion in a cat to flee in the face o' a
bull-doug that wants to worry her kittens. Against the tyrant that has
abused his trust, an' upset oor constitution, an' broken a' the laws o'
God and man, I count it to be my bounden duty to fecht wi' swurd an' lip
as lang's I hae an airm to strike an' a tongue to wag. Noo, ye may dae
yer warst!"
At a signal the executioner promptly fitted the boot to the bold man's
right leg.
Black's look of indignant defiance passed away, and was replaced by an
expression of humility that, strangely enough, seemed rather to
intensify than diminish his air of fixed resolve. While the instrument
of torture was being arranged he turned his face to the Bishop of
Galloway, who sat beside Lauderdale silently and sternly awaiting the
result, and with an almost cheerful air and quiet voice said--
"God has, for His ain wise ends, made the heart o' the puir man that has
just left us tender, an' He's made mine teuch, but tak' notice, thou
wolf in sheep's clothing, that it's no upon its teuchness but upon the
speerit o' the Lord that I depend for grace to withstand on this evil
day."
"Strike!" said the Duke, in a low stern voice.
The mallet fell; the wedge compressed the strong limb, and Andrew
compressed his lips.
"Again!"
A second time the mallet fell, but no sign did the unhappy man give of
the pain which instantly began to shoot through the limb. After a few
more blows the Duke stayed the process and reiterated his questions, but
Black took no notice of him whatever. Large beads of sweat broke out on
his brow. These were the only visible signs of suffering, unless we
except the deathly pallor of his face.
"Again!" said the merciless judge.
The executioner obeyed, but the blow had been barely delivered when a
loud snap was heard, and the tortured man experienced instant relief.
Jock Bruce's little device had been successful, the instrument of
torture was broken!
"Thanks be to Thy name, O God, for grace to help me thus far," said
Black in a quiet tone.
"Fix on the other boot," cried Lauderdale savagely, for the constancy as
well as the humility of the martyr exasperated him greatly.
The executioner was about to obey when a noise was heard at the door of
the Council Chamber, and a cavalier, booted and spurred and splashed
with mud, as if he had ridden fast and far, strode hastily up to the
Duke and whispered in his ear. The effect of the whisper was striking,
for an expression of mingled surprise, horror, and alarm overspread for
a few moments even his hard visage. At the same time the Bishop of
Galloway was observed to turn deadly pale, and an air of consternation
generally marked the members of Council.
"Murdered--in cold blood!" muttered the Duke, as if he could not quite
believe the news,--and perhaps realised for the first time that there
were others besides the Archbishop of Saint Andrews who richly deserved
a similar fate.
Hastily ordering the prisoner to be removed to the Tolbooth, he retired
with his infamous companions to an inner room.
The well-known historical incident which was thus announced shall
receive but brief comment here. There is no question at all as to the
fact that Sharp was unlawfully killed, that he was cruelly slain,
without trial and without judicial condemnation, by a party of
Covenanters. Nothing justifies illegal killing. The justice of even
legal killing is still an unsettled question, but one which does not
concern us just now. We make no attempt to defend the deed of those
men. It is not probable that any average Christian, whether in favour
of the Covenanters or against them, would justify the killing of an old
man by illegal means, however strongly he might hold the opinion that
the old man deserved to die. In order to form an unprejudiced opinion
on this subject recourse must be had to facts. The following are
briefly the facts of the case.
A merchant named William Carmichael, formerly a bailie of Edinburgh, was
one of Sharp's favourites, and one of his numerous commissioners for
suppressing conventicles in Fife. He was a licentious profligate,
greedy of money, and capable of undertaking any job, however vile. This
man's enormities were at last so unbearable that he became an object of
general detestation, and his excessive exactions had ruined so many
respectable lairds, owners, and tenants, that at last nine of these (who
had been outlawed, interdicted the common intercourse of society, and
hunted like wild beasts on the mountains) resolved, since all other
avenues of redressing their unjust sufferings were denied them, to take
the law into their own hands and personally chastise Carmichael.
Accordingly, hearing that the commissioner was hunting on the moors in
the neighbourhood of Cupar, they rode off in search of him. They failed
to find him, and were about to disperse, when a boy brought intelligence
that the coach of Archbishop Sharp was approaching.
Baffled in their previous search, and smarting under the sense of their
intolerable wrongs, the party regarded this as a providential
deliverance of their arch-enemy into their hands. Here was the chief
cause of all their woes, the man who, more almost than any other, had
been instrumental in the persecution and ruin of many families, in the
torture and death of innumerable innocent men and women, and the
banishment of some of their nearest and dearest to perpetual exile on
the plantations, where they were treated as slaves. They leaped at the
sudden and unexpected opportunity. They reasoned that what had been
done in the past, and was being done at the time, would continue to be
done in the future, for there was no symptom of improvement, but rather
of increasing severity in the Government and ecclesiastics. Overtaking
the coach, which contained the Prelate and his daughter, they stopped
it, made Archbishop Sharp step out, and slew him there on Magus Moor.
It was a dark unwarrantable deed, but it was unpremeditated, and
necessarily unknown, at first, to any but the perpetrators, so that it
would be inexcusably unfair to saddle it upon the great body of the
Covenanters, who, as far as we can ascertain from their writings and
opinions, condemned it, although, naturally, they could not but feel
relieved to think that one of their chief persecutors was for evermore
powerless for further evil, and _some_ of them refused to admit that the
deed was murder. They justified it by the case of Phinehas. A better
apology lies in the text, "oppression maketh a wise man mad."
This event had the effect, apparently, of causing the Council to forget
our friends Black and Ramblin' Peter for a time, for they were left in
the Tolbooth for about three weeks after that, whereat Andrew was much
pleased, for it gave his maimed limb time to recover. As Peter remarked
gravely, "it's an ill wund that blaws naebody guid!"
A robust and earnest nation cannot be subdued by persecution. The more
the Council tyrannised over and trampled upon the liberties of the
people of Scotland, the more resolutely did the leal-hearted and brave
among them resist the oppressors. It is ever thus. It ever _should_ be
thus; for while an individual man has a perfect right, if he chooses, to
submit to tyranny on his own account, he has no right to stand tamely by
and see gross oppression and cruelty exercised towards his family, and
neighbours, and country. At least, if he does so, he earns for himself
the character of an unpatriotic poltroon. True patriotism consists in a
readiness to sacrifice one's-self to the national well-being. As far as
things temporal are concerned, the records of the Scottish Covenanters
prove incontestably that those long-tried men and women submitted with
unexampled patience for full eight-and-twenty years to the spoiling of
their goods and the ruin of their prospects; but when it came to be a
question of submission to the capricious will of the King or loyalty to
Jesus Christ, thousands of them chose the latter alternative, and many
hundreds sealed their testimony with their blood.
When at last the question arose, "Shall we consent to the free preaching
of the Gospel being suppressed altogether, or shall we assert our rights
at the point of the sword?" there also arose very considerable
difference of opinion among the Covenanters. Many of those who held the
peace-at-almost-any-price principle, counselled submission. Others,
such as Richard Cameron, Donald Cargill, and Thomas Douglas, who
believed in the right of self-defence, and in such a text as "smite a
scorner and the simple will beware," advocated the use of carnal weapons
for _protection alone_, although, when driven to desperation, they were
compelled to go further. Some of the ejected ministers, such as
Blackadder and Welsh, professed to be undecided on this point, and leant
to a more or less submissive course.
Matters were now hastening to a crisis. A lawless Government had forced
a law-abiding people into the appearance, though not the reality, of
rebellion. The bands of armed men who assembled at conventicles became
so numerous as to have the appearance of an army. The council,
exasperated and alarmed, sent forth more troops to disperse and suppress
these, though they had been guilty of no act of positive hostility.
At this crisis, Cargill and his friends, the "ultra-Covenanters," as
they were styled, resolved to publish to the world their "Testimony to
the cause and truth which they defended, and against the sins and
defections of the times." They chose the 29th of May for this purpose,
that being the anniversary of the King's birth and restoration. Led by
Robert Hamilton, a small party of them rode into the royal burgh of
Rutherglen; and there, after burning various tyrannical Acts--as their
adversaries had previously burnt the Covenants--they nailed to the cross
a copy of what is now known as the Declaration of Rutherglen, in which
all their grievances were set forth.
The news of this daring act spread like wildfire, and the notorious
Graham of Claverhouse was sent to seize, kill, and destroy, all who took
any part in this business. How Claverhouse went with his disciplined
dragoons, seized John King, chaplain to Lord Cardross, with about
fourteen other prisoners, in passing through Hamilton, tied them in
couples, drove them before the troops like sheep, attacked the
Covenanters at Drumclog, received a thorough defeat from the
undisciplined "rebels," who freed the prisoners, and sent the dragoons
back completely routed to Glasgow, is matter of history.
While these stirring events were going on, our friend Andrew Black and
Ramblin' Peter were languishing in the unsavoury shades of the Tolbooth
Prison.
One forenoon Andrew was awakened from an uneasy slumber. They bade him
rise. His arms were bound with a rope, and he was led up the Canongate
towards the well-remembered Council Chamber, in company with Ramblin'
Peter, who, owing to his size and youth, was not bound, but merely held
in the grasp of one of the guards.
At the mouth of one of the numerous closes which lead down to the
Cowgate and other parts of the old town stood Will Wallace, Quentin
Dick, David Spence, and Jock Bruce, each armed with a heavy blackthorn.
Bruce had been warned by a friendly turnkey of what was pending--hence
their opportune presence.
As soon as the prison party was opposite the close, the rescue party
made a united rush--and the united rush of four such strapping fellows
was worth seeing. So thought the crowd, and cheered. So thought not
the City Guard, four of whom went down like ninepins. Black's bonds
were cut and himself hurried down the close almost before the guard had
recovered from the surprise. No doubt that guard was composed of brave
men; but when they met two such lions in the mouth of the close as
Wallace and Quentin--for these two turned at bay--they paused and
levelled their pikes. Turning these aside like lightning the lions
felled their two foremost adversaries. The two who followed them met a
similar fate. Thinking that four were sufficient to block the entry, at
least for a few moments, our heroes turned, unlionlike, and fled at a
pace that soon left the enemy far behind.
This delay had given time to Black and his other friends to make good
their retreat. Meanwhile Ramblin' Peter, taking advantage of the
confusion, wrenched himself suddenly free from the guard who held him,
and vanished down another close. The rescue having been effected, the
party purposely scattered. Black's leg, however, prevented him from
running fast. He therefore thought it best to double round a corner,
and dash into a doorway, trusting to having been unobserved. In this,
however, he was mistaken. His enemies, indeed, saw him not, but
Ramblin' Peter chanced to see him while at some distance off, and made
for the same place of refuge.
Springing up a spiral stair, three steps at a time, Black did not stop
till he gained the attics, and leaped through the open doorway of a
garret, where he found an old woman wailing over a bed on which lay the
corpse of a man with a coffin beside it.
"What want ye here?" demanded the old creature angrily.
"Wow! wumman, I'm hard pressed! They're at my heels!" said Black,
looking anxiously at the skylight as if meditating a still higher
flight.
"Are ye ane o' the persecuted remnant?" asked the woman in a changed
tone.
"Ay, that am I."
"Hide, then, hide, man--haste ye!"
"Where?" asked the perplexed fugitive. "There," said the woman,
removing the coffin lid. Andrew hesitated. Just then hurrying
footsteps were heard on the stair. He hesitated no longer. Stepping
into the coffin he lay down, and the woman covered him up.
"Oh, wumman!" said Black, lifting the lid a little, "tak' care ye dinna
meddle wi' the screw-nails. They may--"
"Wheesht! Haud yer tongue!" growled the woman sharply, and reclosed the
lid with a bang, just as Ramblin' Peter burst into the room.
"What want ye here, callant?"
Peter drew back in dismay.
"I'm lookin' for--I was thinkin'--Did 'ee see a man--?"
The lid of the coffin flew off as he spoke, and his master sprang out.
"Man, Peter," gasped the farmer, "yours is the sweetest voice I've heard
for mony a day. I verily thocht I was doomed--but come awa', lad.
Thank 'ee kindly, auld wife, for the temporary accommodation."
The intruders left as abruptly as they had entered. That night the
whole party was reassembled in Mrs. Black's residence in Candlemaker
Row, where, over a supper "o' parritch an' soor mulk," Andrew Black
heard from Jock Bruce all about the Declaration of Rutherglen, and the
defeat of Claverhouse by the Covenanters at Drumclog.
"The thundercloods are gatherin'," said Black with a grave shake of the
head, as the party broke up and were about to separate for the night.
"Tak' my word for 't, we'll hear mair o' this afore lang."
We need scarcely add that on this occasion Andrew was a true prophet.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
BOTHWELL BRIDGE.
Matters had now come to such a pass that it was no longer possible to
defer the evil day of civil war.
Persecuted inhumanly and beyond endurance, with every natural avenue of
redress closed, and flushed with recent victory, the Covenanters
resolved not only to hold together for defensive purposes, but to take
the initiative, push their advantage, and fight for civil and religious
liberty. It was the old, old fight, which has convulsed the world
probably since the days of Eden--the uprising of the persecuted many
against the tyrannical few. In the confusions of a sin-stricken world,
the conditions have been occasionally and partially reversed; but, for
the most part, history's record tells of the abuse of power on the part
of the few who possess it, and the resulting consequence that:--
"Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn--"
Until the down-trodden have turned at bay, and, like the French in 1793,
have taken fearful vengeance, or, as in the case of the Covenanters at
the time of which we write, have reaped only disaster and profounder
woe.
There were, however, two elements of weakness among the Covenanters in
1679 which rendered all their efforts vain, despite the righteousness of
their cause. One was that they were an undisciplined body, without
appointed and experienced officers; while their leader, Robert Hamilton,
was utterly unfitted by nature as well as training for a military
command. The other weakness was, that the unhappy differences of
opinion among them as to lines of duty, to which we have before
referred, became more and more embittered, instead of being subordinated
to the stern necessities of the hour.
The earnest men of God amongst them could no doubt have brought things
to a better state in this crisis if their counsels had prevailed, but
the men whose powers of endurance had at last given way were too many
and strong for these; so that, instead of preparing for united action,
the turbulent among them continued their dissensions until too late.
After Drumclog, Hamilton led his men to Glasgow to attack the enemy's
headquarters there. He was repulsed, and then retired to Hamilton,
where he formed a camp.
The Privy Council meanwhile called out the militia, and ordered all the
heritors and freeholders to join with the Regulars in putting down the
insurrection. A good many people from all quarters had joined the
Covenanters after the success at Drumclog; but it is thought that their
numbers never exceeded 4000. The army which prepared to meet them under
the command of the Duke of Monmouth and Buccleuch was said to be 10,000
strong--among them were some of the best of the King's troops.
The Duke was anxious to delay matters, apparently with some hope of
reconciliation. Many of the Covenanters were like-minded; and it is
said that Mr. Welsh visited the royal camp in disguise, with a view to a
peaceful solution; but the stern spirits in both camps rendered this
impossible. Some from principle, others from prejudice, could not see
their way to a compromise; while the unprincipled on either side "cried
havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!"
It was on Sabbath the 22nd of June that the Duke's army reached Bothwell
Moor; the advanced guards entering Bothwell town within a quarter of a
mile of the bridge which spans the Clyde. The Covenanters lay encamped
on Hamilton Moor, on the southern side of the river.
That morning a company of stalwart young men, coming from the direction
of Edinburgh, had crossed Bothwell Bridge before the arrival of the
royal army and joined the Covenanters. They were preceded by two men on
horseback.
"It seems a daft-like thing," said one horseman to the other as they
traversed the moor, "that the likes o' me should be ridin' to battle
like a lord, insteed o' trudgin' wi' the men on futt; but, man, it's no'
easy to walk far efter wearin' a ticht-fittin' buit--though it was only
for a wee while I had it on. It's a' verra weel for you, Wull, that's
oor eleckit captain, an' can sit yer horse like a markis; but as for me,
I'll slip aff an' fecht on my legs when it comes to that."
"There's no military law, Andrew, against fighting on foot," returned
the captain, who, we need scarcely say, was Will Wallace; "but if you
are well advised you'll stick to the saddle as long as you can. See,
yonder seems to be the headquarters of the camp. We will report our
arrival, and then see to breakfast."
"Ay--I'll be thankfu' for a bite o' somethin', for I'm fair famished;
an' there's a proverb, I think, that says it's ill fechtin' on an emp'y
stammack. It seems to me there's less order an' mair noise yonder than
befits a camp o' serious men--specially on a Sabbath mornin'."
"The same thought occurred to myself," said Wallace. "Perhaps they have
commenced the services, for you know there are several ministers among
them."
"Mair like disputation than services," returned the farmer with a grave
shake of his head.
Finding that Andrew was correct, and that the leaders of the little army
were wasting the precious moments in irrelevant controversy, the
Edinburgh contingent turned aside and set about preparing a hasty
breakfast. This reinforcement included Quentin Dick, Jock Bruce, David
Spence, and Ramblin' Peter; also Tam Chanter, Edward Gordon, and
Alexander McCubine, who had been picked up on the march.
Of course, while breaking their fast they discussed the _pros_ and
_cons_ of the situation freely.
"If the King's troops are as near as they are reported to be," said
Wallace, "our chances of victory are small."
"I fear ye're richt," said Black. "It becomes Ignorance to haud its
tongue in the presence o' Knowledge, nae doot--an' I confess to bein' as
ignorant as a bairn o' the art o' war; but common sense seems to say
that haverin' aboot theology on the eve o' a fecht is no sae wise-like
as disposin' yer men to advantage. The very craws might be ashamed o'
sic a noise!"