It was in the cool of the evening, on Saturday, the last day of May,
when my brother came over to my house, where, with Michael, I had
prepared myself to go with him to Loudon-hill. Our intent was to walk
that night to Kilmarnock, and abide till the morning with our brother
Jacob's widow, not having seen her for a long time.
We had in the course of that day heard something of the publication of
"The Declaration and Testimony," which, through the vehemence of the
preachers before spoken of, had been rashly counselled at Ruglen, the
twenty-ninth of the month; but there was no particulars, and what we did
hear was like, as all such things are, greatly magnified beyond the
truth. We, however, were grieved by the tidings; for we feared some
cause of tribulation would be thereby engendered detrimental to the
religious purposes of our journey.
This sentiment pressing heavily on our hearts, we parted from my family
with many misgivings, and the bodements of further sorrows. But the
outward expression of what we all felt was the less remarkable, on
account of what so lately had before happened in my brother's house. Nor
indeed did I think at the time, that the foretaste of what was ordained
so speedily to come to a head was at all so lively in his spirit, or
that of my son, as it was in mine, till, in passing over the top of the
Gowan-brae, he looked round on the lands of Quharist, and said,--
"I care nae, Ringan, if I ne'er come back; for though we hae lang dwelt
in affection together yon'er, thae that were most precious to me are now
both aneath the sod,"--alluding to his wife who had been several years
dead,--and poor Bell, that lovely rose which the ruthless spoiler had so
trampled into the earth.
"I feel," said Michael, "as if I were going to a foreign land, there is
sic a farewell sadness upon me."
But we strove to overcome this, and walked leisurely on the high road
towards Kilmarnock, trying to discourse of indifferent things; and as
the gloaming faded, and the night began to look forth, from her
watch-tower in the heavens, with all her eyes of beautiful light, we
communed of the friends that we trusted were in glory, and marvelled if
it could be that they saw us after death, or ever revisited the persons
and the scenes that they loved in life. Rebellion or treason, or any
sense of thoughts and things that were not holy, had no portion in our
conversation: we were going to celebrate the redemption of fallen man;
and we were mourning for friends no more; our discourse was of eternal
things, and the mysteries of the stars and the lights of that world
which is above the firmament.
When we reached Kilmarnock we found that Jacob's widow had, with several
other godly women, set out towards the place of meeting, to sojourn with
a relation that night, in order that they might be the abler to gather
the manna of the word in the morning. We therefore resolved not to halt
there, but to go forward to the appointed place, and rest upon the spot.
This accordingly doing, we came to the eastern side of Loudon-hill, the
trysted place, shortly after the first scad of the dawn.
Many were there before us, both men and women and little children, and
horses intermingled, some slumbering, and some communing with one
another; and as the morning brightened, it was a hallowed sight to
behold from that rising ground the blameless persecuted coming with
sedate steps to worship their Maker on the mountain.
The Reverend Mr Thomas Douglas, who was to open the action, arrived
about the rising of the sun with several other ministers, and behind
them four aged men belonging to Strathaven bearing the elements.
A pious lady, whose name I never heard, owing to what ensued, spread
with her own hands a damask tablecloth on the ground, and the bread and
wine were placed upon it with more reverence than ever was in kirk.
Mr Douglas having mounted upon a rock nigh to where this was done, was
about to give out the psalm, when we observed several country lads, that
were stationed as watchers afar off, coming with great haste in; and
they brought word, that Claverhouse and his dragoons were coming to
disperse us, bringing with them the Reverend Mr King, a preacher of the
gospel at Hamilton, and others that they had made prisoners, tied with
cords two and two.
The tidings for a moment caused panic and consternation; but as the men
were armed, and resolved to resist, it was thought, in consideration of
the women and children, that we ought to go forward, and prevent the
adversaries from advancing. Accordingly, to the number of forty
horsemen, and maybe near to two hundred foot, we drew ourselves apart
from the congregation, and marched to meet Claverhouse, thinking,
perhaps, on seeing us so numerous, that he would not come on,--while Mr
Douglas proceeded with the worship, the piety of none with him being
abated by this grievous visitation.
Mr William Clelland, with Mr Hamilton, who had come with Mr Douglas,
were our leaders, and we met Claverhouse on the moor of Drumclog.
The dragoons were the first to halt, and Claverhouse, having ordered his
prisoners to be drawn aside, was the first who gave the word to fire.
This was without any parley or request to know whether we came with
hostile intent or no. Clelland, on seeing the dragoons make ready, cried
to us all to den ourselves among the heather; by which forethought the
shot flew harmless. Then we started up, and every one, with the best aim
he could, fired at the dragoons as they were loading their carabines.
Several men and horses were killed, and many wounded. Claverhouse seeing
this, commanded his men to charge upon us; but the ground was rough, the
heather deep, and the moss broken where peats had been dug, and the
horses floundered, and several threw their riders, and fell themselves.
We had now loaded again, and the second fire was more deadly than the
first. Our horsemen also seeing how the dragoons were scattered, fell in
the confusion as it were man for man upon them. Claverhouse raged and
commanded, but no one now could or would obey. In that extremity his
horse was killed, and, being thrown down, I ran forward to seize him, if
I could, prisoner; but he still held his sword in his hand, and rising
as I came up, used it manfully, and with one stroke almost hewed my
right arm from my shoulder. As he fled I attempted for a moment to
follow, but staggered and fell. He looked back as he escaped, and I
cried--"Blood for blood;" and it has been so, as I shall hereafter in
the sequel relate.
When the day was won, we found we numbered among the slain on the side
of the vanquished nearly twenty of the dragoons: on our side we lost but
one man, John Morton--a ripe saint; but several were wounded; and John
Weir and William Daniel died of their wounds. Such was the day of
Drumclog.
Being wounded, I was carried to a neighbouring farm, attended by my
brother and son, and there put upon a cart and sent home to Quharist, as
it was thought I would be best attended there. They then returned to the
rest of the host, who, seeing themselves thus brought into open war,
resolved forthwith to proceed to Glasgow, and to raise again the banner
of the Covenant.
But Claverhouse had fled thither, burning with the thought of being so
shorn in his military pride by raw and undisciplined countrymen, whom,
if we had been bred soldiers, maybe he would have honoured, but being
what we were, though our honour was the greater, he hated us with the
deadly aversion that is begotten of vanity chastised; for that it was
which incited him to ravage the West Country with such remorselessness,
and which, when our men were next day repulsed at Glasgow with the loss
of lives, made him hinder the removal of the bodies from the streets,
till it was said the butchers' dogs began to prey upon them.
But not to insist on matters of hearsay, nor to dwell at any greater
length on those afflicting events, I must refer the courteous reader to
the history of the times for what followed, it being enough for me to
state here that as soon as the news spread of the battle and the
victory, the persecuted ran flocking in from all quarters, by which the
rope of sand, that the Lord permitted Monmouth to break at
Bothwell-brigg, was soon formed. My brother and my son were both there,
and there my gallant Michael lies. My brother, then verging on
threescore, being among the prisoners, was, after sore sufferings in the
Greyfriars church-yard of Edinburgh, sent on board a vessel as a
bondsman to the plantations in America. His wrongs, however, were
happily soon over; for the ship in which he was embarked perished among
the Orkney islands, and he, with two hundred other sufferers, received
the crown of martyrdom from the waves.
O Charles Stuart, king of Scotland! and thou, James Sharp!--false and
cruel men--But ye are called to your account; and what avails it now to
the childless father to rail upon your memory?