violent flames of treachery and tyranny against him, above all
others, retired for about three months to England, where the Lord
blessed his labours to the conviction and edification of many. In
the time of his absence that delusion of the Gibbites arose, from
one John Gib sailor In Borrow-stounness, who, with other three
men, and twenty six women, vented and maintained the most strange
delusions. Some time after, Mr Cargill returned from England, and
was at no small pains to reclaim them, but with little success.
After his last conference with them, at Darngavel, in Cambusnethen
parish, he came next Sabbath, and preached at the Underbank wood,
below Lanark, and from thence to Loudon-hill, where he preached
upon a fast day, being the 5th of May. Here he intended only to
have preached once, and to have baptized some children. His text
was, ‘No man that hath followed me in the regeneration, &c.’ When
sermon was over, and the children baptized, more children came up;
whereupon friends pressed him to preach in the afternoon; which he
did, from these words, ‘Weep not for me,’ &c. In the mean while the
enemy at Glasgow getting notice of this meeting, seized all the
horses in and about the town, that they could come by, and mounted
in quest of him; yea, such was their haste and fury, that one of
the soldiers, who happened to be behind the rest, riding furiously
down the street called the Stockwell, at mid-day, rode over a
child, and killed her on the spot. Just as Mr Cargill was praying
at the close, a lad alarmed them of the enemy’s approach. They
having no sentinels that day which was not their ordinary, were
surprised, so that some of them who had been at Pentland, Bothwell,
Airs-moss, and other dangers, were never so seized with fear, some
of the women, throwing their children from them. In this confusion
Mr Cargill was running straight on the enemy; but Gavin Wotherspoon
and others haled him to the moss, unto which the people fled. The
dragoons fired hard upon them, but there were none either killed or
taken that day.
About this time, some spoke to Mr Cargill of his preaching and
praying short. They said, “O Sir, it is long betwixt meals, and we
are in a starving condition; all is good, sweet, and wholesome,
that you deliver, but why do you so straiten us?” He said, “Ever
since I bowed a knee in good earnest to pray, I never durst preach,
and pray with my gift; and when my heart is not affected, and comes
not up with my mouth, I always think it time to quit it. What comes
not from the heart, I have little hope it will go to the hearts of
others:” Then he repeated these words in the 51st psalm, “Then will
I teach transgressors thy way, &c.”
From Loudon hill he took a tour through Ayrshire to Carrick and
Galloway, preaching, baptizing, and marrying some people; but staid
not long until he returned to Clydesdale. He designed, after his
return, to have preached one day at Tinto-hill, but the Lady of
St John’s Kirk gave it out to be at Home Common. He being in the
house of John Liddel, near Tinto, went out to spend the Sabbath
morning by himself; and seeing the people all passing by, he
inquired the reason; which being told, he rose and followed them
five miles. The morning being warm, (about the 1st of June,) and
the heights steep, he was very much fatigued before he got to the
place, where a man gave him a drink of water out of his bonnet,
and another between sermons; this being the best entertainment
he got that day, for he had tasted nothing in the morning. Here
he lectured on the 6th of Isaiah, and preached on these words,
“Be not high minded, but fear, &c.” From thence he went to Fyfe,
and baptised many children, and preached one day at Daven common,
and then returned to the Benry-bridge in Cambusnethan, where
he received a call from the hands of two men, to come back to
Galloway, but got it not answered.
Mr Cargill in that short time, had run very fast towards his end,
which now hastens apace. Having left the Benry-bridge, he preached
one day at Auchingilloch, and then came to preach his last sermon
on Dunsyre common, between Clydesdale and Lothian, upon the text
Is. xxvi. 20. “Come my people and enter into your chambers, &c.”
Some time that night, through the persuasion of Mr Smith and Mr
Boig, he went with the Lady of St. John’s Kirk, as far as Covington
mill, to the house of one Andrew Fisher. In the mean time, James
Irvine of Bonshaw, having got a general commission, marched with a
party of dragoons from Kilbride, and next morning, by sun-rising,
came to St John’s Kirk, and having searched it, he searched also
the house of one Thomson, and then came to Covington-mill, and
there apprehended him, Mr Smith, and Mr Boig. Bonshaw, when he
found them, cried out, O blessed Bonshaw! and blessed day that ever
I was born! that has found such a prize! a prize of 5000 merks for
apprehending him this morning! They marched hard to Lanark and put
them in jail, until they got some refreshment and then brought
them out in haste, got horses and set the prisoners on their bare
backs. Bonshaw tied Mr Cargill’s feet below the horse’s belly, with
his own hand, very hard; at which this man looked down to him, and
said, “Why do you tie me so hard, your wickedness is great. You
will not long escape the just judgement of God; and, if I be not
mistaken it will seize you in this very place.” Which accordingly
next year came to pass: for having got this price of blood, one of
his comrades, in a rage ran him through with a sword at Lanark:
and his last words were, “G--d d----n my soul eternally, for I am
gone.” Mischief shall hunt the violent man.
They came to Glasgow in haste, fearing a rescue of the prisoners:
and while waiting at the tolbooth, till the magistrates came to
receive them, one John Nisbet, the Archbishop’s factor, said to Mr
Cargill in ridicule, three times over, Will you give us one word
more? (alluding to an expression he used sometimes when preaching);
to whom Mr Cargill said with regret, “Mock not, lest your lands be
made strong. The day is coming, when you shall not have one word
to say though you would.” This also came quickly to pass; for,
not many days after, he fell suddenly ill, and for three days his
tongue swelled, and though he was most earnest to speak, yet he
could not command one word, and died in great torment, and seeming
terror.
From Glasgow they were taken to Edinburgh, and, July 15th, were
brought before the Council. Chancellor Rothes (being one of those
whom he excommunicated at Torwood) raged against him, threatening
him with torture and a violent death. To whom he said, “My Lord
Rothes, forbear to threaten me, for die what death I will, your
eyes shall not see it.”--Which accordingly came to pass; for he
died the morning of that day, in the afternoon of which Mr Cargill
was executed.
When before the Council, he was asked, if he acknowledged the
King’s authority, &c. he answered as the magistrate’s authority is
now established by act of parliament, and explanatory act, that
he denied the same. Being also examined anent the excommunication
at Torwood, he declined to answer, as being an ecclesiastical
matter, and they a civil judicatory. He owned the lawfulness of
defensive arms, in cases of necessity, and denied that those that
rose at Bothwell, &c. were rebels: and being interrogated anent the
Sanquhar declaration, he declined to give his judgment until he had
more time to consider the contents thereof. He further declared, he
could not give his sense of the killing of the Bishop; but that
the scriptures say, upon the Lord’s giving a call to a private man
to kill, he might do it lawfully; and gave the instances of Jael
and Phinehas. These were the most material points on which he was
examined.
While he was in prison, a gentlewoman who came to visit him, told
him, weeping, “That these Heaven daring enemies were contriving a
most violent death for him; some, a barrel with pikes to roll him
in; others an iron-chair, red-hot, to roll him in,” &c. But he
said, “Let you nor none of the Lord’s people be troubled for these
things, for all that they will get liberty to do to me, will be to
knit me up, cut me down, and chop off my old head, and then fare
them well; they have done with me, and with them for ever.”
He was again before the Council on the 19th, but refusing to
answer their questions, except anent the excommunication. There
was some motion made to spare him, as he was an old man, and send
him prisoner to the Bass during life; which motion being put to a
vote, was, by the casting vote of the Earl of Rothes, rejected; who
doomed him to the gallows, there to die like a traitor.
Upon the 26th he was brought before the justiciary, and indicted in
common form. His confession being produced in evidence against him,
he was brought in guilty of high treason, and condemned, with the
rest, to be hanged at the cross of Edinburgh, and his head placed
on the Nether Bow. When they came to these words in his indictment,
viz. having cast off all fear of God, &c. he caused the clerk to
stop, and, pointing to the Advocate, Sir George M’Kenzie, said,
“The man that hath caused that paper to be drawn up hath done it
contrary to the light of his own conscience, for he knoweth that I
have been a fearer of God from mine infancy; but that man, I say,
who took the Holy Bible in his hand, and said, It would never be
well with the land, until that book was destroyed, &c. I say, he is
the man that hath cast off all fear of God.” The Advocate stormed
at this, but could not deny the truth thereof.
When they got their sentence announced by sound of trumpet he said,
“That is a weary sound, but the sound of the last trumpet will be a
joyful sound to me, and all that will be found having on Christ’s
righteousness.”
Being come to the scaffold, he stood with his back to the ladder,
and desired the attention of the numerous spectators; and after
singing from the 16th verse of the 118th psalm, he began to speak
to three sorts of people; but being interrupted by the drum, he
said, with a smiling countenance, “Ye see we have no liberty to
speak what we would, but God knoweth our hearts.” As he proceeded,
he was again interrupted. Then, after a little pause or silence, he
began to exhort the people; and to show his own comfort in laying
down his life, in the assurance of a blessed eternity, expressing
himself in these words: “Now, I am as sure of my interest in
Christ, and peace with God, as all within this Bible and the Spirit
of God can make me; and I am fully persuaded, that this is the very
way for which I suffer, and that he will return gloriously to
Scotland; but it will be terrifying to many; therefore, I entreat
you, be not discouraged at the way of Christ and the cause for
which I am to lay down my life, and step into eternity, where my
soul shall be as full of him as it can desire to be; and now this
is the sweetest and most glorious day that ever mine eyes did see.
Enemies are now enraged against the way and people of God, but
ere long they shall be enraged one against another, to their own
confusion.” Here the drums did beat a third time. Then setting his
foot on the ladder, he said, “The Lord knows I go on this ladder
with less fear, and perturbation of mind, than ever I entered the
pulpit to preach.”--When up, he sat down, and said, “Now I am near
the getting of the crown, which shall be sure, for which I bless
the Lord, and desire all of you to bless him, that he hath brought
me here, and made me triumph over devils, men, and sin. They shall
wound me no more. I forgive all men the wrongs they have done me;
and I pray the sufferers may be kept from sin, and helped to know
their duty.” Then having prayed a little within himself, he lifted
up the napkin, and said, “Farewell all relations and friends in
Christ; farewell acquaintances and earthly enjoyments; farewell
reading and preaching, praying and believing, wanderings, reproach,
and sufferings. Welcome Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; into thy hands
I commit my spirit.” Then he prayed a little, and the executioner
turned him over as he was praying; and so he finished his course,
and the ministry that he had received of the Lord.
Take his character from Sir Robert Hamilton of Preston, who was his
contemporary. He was affectionate, affable, and tender-hearted, to
all such as he thought had any thing of the image of God in them;
sober and temperate in his diet, saying commonly, It was well won
that was won off the flesh; generous, liberal and most charitable
to the poor; a great hater of covetousness; a frequent visitor of
the sick; much alone, loving to be retired; but when about his
Master’s public work, laying hold of every opportunity to edify;
in conversation, still dropping what might minister grace to the
hearers: his countenance was edifying to beholders; often sighing
with deep groans: preaching in season, and out of season, upon all
hazards; ever the same in judgment and practice. From his youth,
he was much given to the duty of secret prayer, for whole nights
together; wherein it was observed, that, both in secret and in
families, he always sat straight upon his knees, with his hands
lifted up; and in this posture (as some took notice) he died with
the rope about his neck.
Besides his last speech and testimony, and several other religious
letters, with the lecture, sermon, and sentence of excommunication
at Torwood, which, are all published, there are also several other
sermons, and notes of sermons, interspersed among some peoples
hands, in print and manuscript, some of which have been published.
Yet if we may believe Walker, in his remarkable passages, &c. who
heard severals of them preached, they are nothing to what they
were when delivered; and however pathetical, yet doubtless far
inferior to what they would have been, had they been corrected and
published by the worthy author himself.
AN ACROSTIC ON HIS NAME.
Most sweet and savoury is thy fame,
And more renowned is thy name,
Surely than any can record,
Thou highly favoured of the Lord.
Exalted thou on earth didst live;
Rich grace to thee the Lord did give.
During the time thou dwelt below,
On in a course to heaven didst go.
Not casten down with doubts and fears,
Assur’d of heaven near thirty years.
Labour thou didst in Christ’s vineyard;
Diligent wast, no time thou spar’d.
Christ’s standard thou didst bear alone,
After others from it were gone.
Right zeal for truth was found in thee,
Great sinners censurd’st faithfully.
In holding truth didst constant prove,
Laidst down thy life out of true love.
June 21, 1741. W. W.
FINIS.
NARRATIVE
OF THE BATTLES
OF
DRUMCLOG,
AND
BOTHWELL BRIDGE.
[Illustration]
GLASGOW:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
THE
BATTLE OF DRUMCLOG.
The following Account of the Battles of Drumclog and Bothwell
Bridge, is taken from an American Newspaper, entitled the
‘National Gazette.’ It is written by the Laird of Torfoot, an
officer in the Presbyterian army, whose estate is at this day in
the possession of his lineal descendants of the fifth generation.
“It was a fair Sabbath morning, 1st June 1679, that an assembly of
the Covenanters sat down on the heathy mountains of Drumclog. We
had assembled not to fight, but to worship the God of our fathers.
We were far from the tumult of cities.--The long dark heath waved
around us; and we disturbed no living creatures, saving the
pees-weep and the heather-cock. As usual, we had come armed. It was
for self-defence. For desperate and ferocious bands made bloody
raids through the country, and, pretending to put down treason,
they waged war against religion and morals. They spread ruin and
havoc over the face of bleeding Scotland.
The venerable Douglas had commenced the solemnities of the day.
He was expatiating on the execrable evils of tyranny. Our souls
were on fire at the rememberance of our country’s sufferings and
the wrongs of the church. In this moment of intense feeling, our
watchman posted on the neighbouring heights fired his carabine and
ran towards the congregation. He announced the approach of the
enemy. We raised our eyes to the minister. “I have done,” said
Douglas with his usual firmness--“You have got the theory,--now for
the practice; you know your duty; self-defence is always lawful.
But the enemy approaches.” He raised his eyes to heaven and uttered
a prayer--brief and emphatic--like the prayer of Richard Cameron,
“Lord, spare the green, and take the ripe.”
The officers collected their men, and placed themselves each at
the head of those of his own district. Sir Robert Hamilton placed
the foot in the centre, in three ranks. A company of horse, well
armed and mounted, was placed on the left; and a small squadron
also on the left. These were drawn back, and they occupied the more
solid ground; as well with a view to have a more solid footing, as
to arrest any flanking party that might take them on the wings. A
deep morass lay between us and the ground of the enemy. Our aged
men, our females and children retired; but they retired slowly.
They had the hearts and the courage of the female and children in
those days of intense religious feeling and of suffering. They
manefested more concern for the fate of relatives, for the fate
of the church than for their own personal safety. As Claverhouse
descended the opposite mountain, they retired to the rising ground
in the rear of our host. The aged men walked with their bonnets
in hand. Their long grey hairs waving to the breeze. They sang a
cheering psalm. The music was that of the well-known tune of “The
Martyrs;” and the sentiment breathed defiance.--The music floated
down on the wind,--our men gave them three cheers as they fell into
their ranks. Never did I witness such animation in the looks of
men. For me, my spouse and my little children were in the rear. My
native plains, and the hills of my father, far below, in the dale
of Aven, were in full view from the heights which we occupied. My
country seemed to raise her voice--the bleeding church seemed to
wail aloud. ‘And these,’ I said, as, Clavers and his troops winded
slowly down the dark mountain’s side, ‘these are the unworthy
slaves, and bloody executioners, by which the tyrant completes our
miseries.’
Hamilton here displayed the hero. His portly figure was seen
hastening from rank to rank. He inspired courage into our raw and
undisciplined troops. The brave Hackstone, and Hall of Haughhead,
stood at the head of the foot, and re-echoed the sentiments of
their Chief. Burley and Cleland had inflamed the minds of the
horsemen on the left to a noble enthusiasm. My small troop on the
right needed no exhortation; we were a band of brothers, resolved
to conquer or fall.
The trumpet of Clavers sounded a loud note of defiance--the
kettle drum mixed its tumultuous roll--they halted--they made a
long pause. We could see an officer with four file, conducting
15 persons from the ranks, to a knoll on their left. I could
perceive one in black: it was my friend King, the Chaplain at Lord
Cardross, who had been taken by Clavers at Hamilton. ‘Let them be
shot through the head,’ said Clavers, in his usual dry way, ‘if
they should offer to run away.’ We could see him view our position
with great care. His officers came around him. We soon learned
that he wished to treat with us. He never betrayed symptoms of
mercy or of justice, nor offered terms of reconciliation, unless
when he dreaded that he had met his match; and, even then, it was
only a manœuvre to gain time or to deceive. His flag approached
the edge of the bog. Sir Robert held a flag sacred; had it been
borne by Clavers himself he had honoured it. He demanded the
purpose for which he came. ‘I come,’ said he, ‘in the name of his
sacred Majesty, and of Colonel Graham, to offer you a pardon,
on condition that you lay down your arms, and deliver up your
ringleaders.’--‘Tell your officer,’ said Sir Robert, ‘that we
are fully aware of the deception he practices. He is not clothed
with any powers to treat, nor was he sent out to treat with us,
and attempt reconciliation. The Government against whom we have
risen, refuses to redress our grievances, or to restore to us our
liberties. Had the tyrant wished to render us justice, he had not
sent by the hand of such a ferocious assassin as Claverhouse. Let
him, however, show his powers, and we refuse not to treat; and we
shall lay down our arms to treat, provided that he also lay down
his. Thou hast my answer.’--‘It is a perfectly hopeless case,’ said
Burley, while he called after the flag-bearer.--‘Let me add one
word by your leave, General. Get thee up to that bloody dragoon,
Clavers, and tell him, that we will spare his life, and the lives
of his troops, on condition that he, your Clavers, lay down his
arms, and the arms of these troops. We will do more, as we have
no prisoners on these wild mountains, we will even let him go on
his parole, on condition that he swear never to lift arms against
the religion and the liberties of his country.’ A loud burst of
applause re-echoed from the ranks; and after a long pause in deep
silence, the army sung the following verses of a psalm:--
‘The arrows of the bow he brake:
The shield, the sword, the war.
More glorious thou than hills of prey,
More excellent art far.
Those that were stout of heart are spoil’d,
They sleep their sleep outright;
And none of these their hands did find,
That were the men of might.’
When the report was made to Claverhouse, he gave word with a savage
ferocity, ‘Their blood be on their own heads. Be--_no quarter_--the
word this day.’ His fierce dragoons raised a yell, and ‘No quarter’
re-echoed from rank to rank, while they galloped down the mountain
side. It is stated, that Burleigh was heard to say, ‘Then be it so,
even let there be ‘no quarter’--at least in my wing of the host. So
God send me a meeting,’ cried he aloud, ‘with that chief under the
white plume.--My country would bless my memory, could my sword give
his villainous carcase to the crows.’
Our raw troops beheld with firmness the approach of the foemen; and
at the moment when the enemy halted to fire, the whole of our foot
dropped on the heath. Not a man was seen down when the order was
given to rise, and return the fire. The first flank fired, then
kneeling down while the second fired. They made each bullet tell.
As often as the lazy rolling smoke was carried over the enemy’s
head, a shower of bullets fell on his ranks. Many a gallant man
tumbled on the heath. The fire was incessant. It resembled one
blazing sheet of flame, for several minutes, along the line of the
Covenanters. Clavers attempted to cross the morass, and break our
centre. ‘Spearmen! to the front,’--I could hear the deep-toned
voice of Hamilton say, ‘Kneel, and place your spears to receive the
enemy’s cavalry; and you, my gallant fellows fire--_God and our
country_ is our word.’--Our officers flew from rank to rank. Not a
peasant gave way that day. As the smoke rolled off, we could see
Clavers urging on his men with the violence of despair. His troops
fell in heaps around him, and still the gaps were filled up. A
galled trooper would occasionally flinch; but ere he could turn or
flee, the sword of Clavers was waving over his head. I could see
him in his fury, strike both man and horse. In the fearful carnage
he himself sometimes reeled. He would stop short in the midst of
a movement, then contradict his own orders, and strike the man,
because he could not comprehend his meaning.
He ordered the flanking parties to take us on our right and left.
“In the name of God,” cried he, “cross the bog, and charge them on
the flanks till we get over the morass. If this fail we are lost.”