The council-room was full of people when I was taken thither, and the
Lord Kelburne, who sat at the head of the table, was abetted in the
proceedings by Murray, an advocate from Edinburgh. They were sitting at
a wide round table, within a fence which prevented the spectators from
pressing in upon them. There were many papers and letters folded up in
bundles lying before them, and a candle burning, and wax for
sigillation. Besides Lord Kelburne and his counsellor, there were divers
gentlemen seated at the table, and two clerks to make notations.
Lord Kelburne, in his appearance, was a mild-looking man, and for his
years his hair was very hoary; for though he was seemingly not passing
fifty, it was in a manner quite blanched. In speech he was moderate, in
disposition indulgent, and verily towards me he acted in his harsh duty
with much gentleness.
But Murray had a doure aspect for his years, and there was a smile among
his features not pleasant to behold, breeding rather distrust and dread
than winning confidence or affection, which are the natural fruit of a
countenance rightly gladdened. He looked at me from aneath his brows as
if I had been a malefactor, and turning to the Lord Kelburne, said,--
"He has the true fanatical yellow look."
This was a base observe; for naturally I was of a fresh complexion, but
my long illness, and the close air of the prison, had made me pale.
After some more impertinences of that sort, he then said,--
"Ringan Gilhaize, you were at the battle of Bothwell-brigg."
"I was not," said I.
"You do not mean to say so, surely?"
"I have said it," was my answer.
Whereupon one of the clerks whispered to him that there were three of
the name in the list.
"O!" cried he, "I crave your pardon, Ringan; there are several persons
of your name; and though you were not at Bothwell yourself, maybe ye ken
those of your name who were there,--Do you?"
"I did know two," was my calm answer; "one was my brother, and the other
my son."
All present remained very silent as I made this answer; and the Lord
Kelburne bending forward, leant his cheek on his hand as he rested his
elbow on the table, and looked very earnestly at me. Murray resumed,--
"And pray now, Ringan, tell us what has become of the two rebels?"
"They were covenanted Christians," said I; "my son lies buried with
those that were slain on that sore occasion."
"But your brother; he was of course younger than you?"
"No; he was older."
"Well, well, no matter as to that; but where is he?"
"I believe he is with his Maker; but his body lies among the rocks at
the bottom of the Orkney seas."
The steadiness of the Lord Kelburne's countenance saddened into the look
of compassion, and he said to Murray,--
"There is no use in asking him any more questions about them; proceed
with the ordinary interrogatories."
There was a murmur of satisfaction towards his Lordship at this; and
Murray said,--
"And so you say that those in the late rebellion at Bothwell were not
rebels?"
"I said, sir, that my son and my brother were covenanted Christians."
This I delivered with a firm voice, which seemed to produce some effect
on the Lord Kelburne, who threw himself back in his chair, and crossing
his arms over his breast, looked still more eagerly towards me.
"Do you mean then to deny," said Murray, "that the late rebellion was
not a rebellion?"
"It would be hard, sir, to say what it was; for the causes thereto
leading," replied I, "were provocations concerning things of God, and to
those who were for that reason religiously there, I do not think, in a
right sense, it can be called rebellion. Those who were there for
carnal motives, and I doubt not there were many such, I fancy every
honest man may say it was with them rebellion."
"I must deal more closely with him," said Murray to his Lordship; but
his Lordship, before allowing him to put any more questions, said
himself to me,--
"But you know, to state the thing plainly, that the misguided people who
were at Bothwell had banded themselves against the laws of the realm,
whether from religious or carnal motives is not the business we are here
to sift, that point is necessarily remitted to God and their
consciences."
Murray added, "It is most unreasonable to suppose that every subject is
free to determine of what is lawful to be obeyed. The thought is
ridiculous. It would destroy the end of all laws which are for the
advantage of communities, and which speak the sense of the generality,
touching the matter and things to which they refer."
"My Lord," said I, addressing myself to Lord Kelburne, "it surely will
ne'er be denied that every subject is free to exercise his discretion
with respek to his ain conduct; and your Lordship kens vera weel that it
is the duty of subjects to know the laws of the land; and your Lordship
likewise knows that God has given laws to all rulers as well as
subjects, and both may and ought to know His laws. Now if I, knowing
both the laws of God and the laws of the land, find the one contrary to
the other, undoubtedly God's laws ought to hae the preference in my
obedience."
His Lordship looked somewhat satisfied with this answer; but Murray said
to him,--
"I will pose him with this question. If presbyterian government were
established, as it was in the year 1648, and some ministers were not
free to comply with it, and a law were made that none should hear them
out o' doors, would you judge it reasonable that such ministers or their
people should be at liberty to act in contempt of that law."
And he looked mightily content with himself for this subtlety; but I
said,--
"Really, sir, I canna see a reason why hearkening to a preaching in the
fields should be a greater guilt than doing the same thing indoors."
"If I were of your principles," said the advocate, "and thought in my
conscience that the laws of the land were contrary to the laws of God,
and that I could not conform to them, I would judge it my duty rather to
go out of the nation and live elsewhere, than disturb the peace of the
land."
"That were to suppose two things," said I; "first, that rulers may make
laws contrary to the laws of God, and that when such laws are once made,
they ought to be submitted to. But I think, sir, that rulers being under
the law of God act wickedly and in rebellion to Him, when they make
enactments contrary to His declared will; and surely it can ne'er be
required that we should allow wickedness to be done."
"I am not sure," said Murray to his Lordship, "that I do right in
continuing this irrelevant conversation."
"I am interested in the honest man's defence," replied Lord Kelburne;
"and as 'tis in a matter of conscience, let us hear what makes it so."
"Well, then," resumed the advocate, "what can you say to the barbarous
murder of Archbishop Sharp?--You will not contend that murder is not
contrary to the law of God?"
"I ne'er contended," said I, "that any sin was permitted by the law of
God--far less murder, which is expressly forbidden in the Ten Commands."
"Then ye acknowledge the murder of the Archbishop to have been murder?"
"That's between those that did it and God."
"Hooly, hooly, friend!" cried Murray; "that, Ringan, winna do; was it or
was it not murder?"
"Can I tell, who was not there?"
"Then to satisfy your conscience on that score, Ringan, I would ask you,
if a gang of ruffians slay a defenceless man, do or do they not commit
murder?"
"I can easily answer that."
Lord Kelburne again bent eagerly forward, and rested his cheek again on
his hand, placing his elbow on the table, while I continued,--
"A gang of ruffians coming in wantonness, or for plunder, upon a
defenceless man, and putting him to death, there can be no doubt is
murder; but it has not yet been called murder to kill an enemy in
battle; and therefore, if the captain of a host go to war without arms,
and thereby be defenceless, it cannot be said that those of the adverse
party, who may happen to slay him, do any murder."
"Do you mean to justify the manner of the death of the Archbishop?"
exclaimed the advocate, starting back and spreading out his arms in
wonderment.
"'Deed no, sir," replied I, a little nettled at the construction he
would put upon what I said; "but I will say, even here, what Sir Davie
Lindsay o' the Mount said on the similar event o' Cardinal Beaton's
death,--
'As for this Cardinal, I grant
He was the man we might well want;
God will forgive it soon:
But of a truth, the sooth to say,
Although the loon be well away,
The fact was foully done.'"
There was a rustle of gratification among all in the court as I said the
rhyme, and Lord Kelburne smiled; but Murray, somewhat out of humour,
said,--
"I fancy, my Lord, we must consider this as an admission that the
killing of the Archbishop was murder."
"I fear," said his Lordship, "that neither of the two questions have
been so directly put as to justify me to pronounce any decision, though
I am willing to put the most favourable construction on what has
passed." And then his Lordship, looking to me, added,--
"Do you consider the late rebellion, being contrary to the King's
authority, rebellion?"
"Contrary to the King's right authority," replied I, "it was not
rebellion; but contrary to an authority beyond the right taken by him,
despite the law of God, it was rebellion."
"Wherefore, honest man," rejoined his Lordship kindly, "would you make a
distinction that may bring harm on your own head? Is not the King's
authority instituted by law and prerogative, and knowing that, cannot ye
say that those who rise in arms against it are rebels?"
"My Lord," said I, "you have my answer; for in truth and in conscience I
can give none other."
There was a pause for a short space, and one of the clerks looking to
Lord Kelburne, his Lordship said, with a plain reluctance, "It must even
be so; write down that he is not clear the late rebellion should be
called a rebellion;" and casting his eyes entreatingly towards me, he
added, "But I think you acknowledge that the assassination of Archbishop
Sharp was a murder?"
"My Lord," said I, "your questions are propounded as tests and
therefore, as an honest man, I cannot suffer that my answers should be
scant, lest I might be thought to waver in faith and was backward in my
testimony. No, my Lord, I will not call the killing of Sharp murder; for
on my conscience, I do verily think he deserved the death: First,
because of his apostacy; second, because of the laws of which he was the
instigator, whereby the laws of God have been contravened; and, third,
for the woes that those laws have brought upon the land, the which
stirred the hearts of the people against him. Above all, I think his
death was no murder, because he was so strong in his legalities, that he
could not be brought to punishment by those to whom he had caused the
greatest wrong;" and I thought, in saying these words, of my brother's
desolated daughter--of his own sad death in the stormy seas of the
Orkneys--and of my brave and gallant Michael, that was lying in his
shroudless grave in the cold clay of Bothwell.
Lord Kelburne was troubled at my answer, and was about to remonstrate;
but seeing the tear start into my eye as those things came into my mind,
he said nothing, but nodding to the clerk, he bade him write down that I
would not acknowledge the killing of the Archbishop a murder. He then
rose and adjourned the court, remanding me to prison, saying that he
would send me word what would be the extent of my punishment.