Early in June, the justiciary courts set out on their bloody circuit. At Stirling, one Boog, when brought before them, produced a testificate under Sir William Paterson, the clerk of the council’s hand, that he had taken the bond within the specified time; yet refusing to promise not to rise in arms hereafter, “was coney-catched,” as Fountainhall terms it, by that blood-thirsty crew; and the day they sat down at Glasgow was marked by the execution of two persons, John Macwharry and James Smith—a deed singular for its injustice and cruelty, even in these times. A party of soldiers, in conveying one Alexander Smith to Edinburgh, were attacked by some of his friends near Inchbelly Bridge, who released the prisoner and killed one of the party. After they had retired, the soldiers rallied, and in revenge—as cowards are always cruel—seized these two unarmed countrymen, who were sitting quietly together in a wood not far distant, and carried them to Glasgow, where, without any other evidence of guilt, than their being taken near the place, they were condemned to have their right hands cut off, then to be hanged, and their bodies afterwards hung in chains. They are represented as having been most pious and exemplary persons; and the letters they addressed to their fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters, upon this occasion, breathe a tender spirit of filial affection and ardent piety. “It is worthy recording to the praise of his grace, for whose royal dignity they witnessed, that they endured all these hardships with a great deal of Christian magnanimity, even to the conviction of enemies.” They rejoiced in their bonds and joyed in their tribulations. When Macwharry’s hand was cut off, he held up the stump, and said—“This and other blood shed through Scotland will yet raise the burnt covenants.”
Pre-eminent in infamy were the clerical informers; and among them, one Fenwick, the curate of Cathcart; Abercrombie, in Carrick; and Joseph Clelland, in Dalserf—to enumerate even a tithe of the non-conformist heritors and commonalty who were persecuted by these incapables—for they were grossly illiterate as well as immoral—would require a folio; but some idea may be formed of the nature of the inflictions from one or two cases, resulting from their informations. William Boswell of Auchinleck, a very young gentleman, having accidently, when taking a ride, met a company going to join the west country folks, merely stopt his horse to see them draw up, was for this crime obliged to take the test and pay one thousand merks fine, to preserve his estate from forfeiture. William Muir, laird of Glanderston, when in a fever, having been blooded by Mr Spreul the apothecary, was imprisoned for holding converse with rebels, and was only released by an act of the justiciary.
The only person who suffered for being directly concerned in Sharpe’s death, was one Andrew Guillan, a weaver, near Magusmuir, who was executed at the cross of Edinburgh in July this year. His conviction occurred in rather a curious manner. After the transaction, he had fled south and settled in the neighbourhood of Cockpen, where he worked as a day-labourer. While at work, the curate of the parish coming past, went to him, and asked where he was on the Lord’s day? and if he kept the church? Andrew replied, that he did not own him, and would give no account of himself; on which the curate called for some people thereabout and seized him, and took him to the village, where he was pressed to drink the king’s health, which he refusing, as he said he drank no healths, he was carried to Dalkeith, and there put in prison, and from thence to Edinburgh, where, after examination, he was put into the iron-house. While there, some rumour arose of his having been present at the act, but there was no proof till the advocate charging him, at one of his examinations, with the crime, and aggravating its cruelty by every exaggeration, turned to Andrew, and exclaimed—“What a horrid deed to murder the holy bishop when he was on his knees praying.” This so touched the simple countryman, that, lifting up his hands, he cried out—“O dreadful! he would not pray one word for all that could be said to him!” This was sufficient; he was immediately found guilty on his own confession, and sentenced to be taken to the cross of Edinburgh, to have both his hands cut off at the foot of the gallows, and then hanged; his head to be fixed at Cupar, and his body to be carried to Magusmuir, and to be hung in chains. He endured the infliction with great courage, and denied that he was a murderer, although he joined with those who executed justice upon Judas, who sold the kirk of Scotland for fifty thousand merks a-year. He received nine strokes before his hands were amputated; and after the right hand was cut off, he held out the bleeding stump, and exclaimed—“My blessed Lord sealed my salvation with his blood, and I am honoured this day to seal his truths with my blood.” Along with Guillan was executed Edward Aitken, who was condemned on the narrowed points of converse with, and harbouring, Gordon of Earlston.
About this time, what has been called the Rye-house plot was discovered, which enabled Charles to crush the friends of liberty in England, who had projected an insurrection in case of his death, in order to exclude the Duke of York from succeeding to the throne, and had entered into a correspondence with the Scottish exiles abroad, and a number of the leaders among the sufferers at home. These were, the Earl of Loudon, Lord Melville, Sir John Cochrane of Ochiltree and his son, Sir Hugh Campbell of Cessnock and his son, Baillie of Jerviswood, Stuart of Coltness, and Crauford of Craufordland. Several meetings had taken place in London, but nothing had been definitely arranged, when one of the inferior agents, or government spies, revealed the whole; or rather invented a plot of his own, which he communicated to the government—ever on the alert after conspiracies—for the sake of a reward. On this vile denunciator’s testimony chiefly, Russell and Sidney suffered; and a number of the Scottish partizans were secured, and sent to Edinburgh to be tortured and executed.
Besides these, Gordon of Earlston, who had been seized at Newcastle, was also sent to Scotland. Having been attainted in his absence, he was brought to the bar of the justiciary; and his former sentence being read, he was ordered for execution; but there was produced a letter from the king, ordering him first to be put in the boots. The council wrote back to his majesty, that it was not either regular or usual to torture malefactors after they were condemned; but the royal commands were peremptory, and he was accordingly brought into the Council-chamber to be tortured, when “he, through fear or distraction, roared out like a bull, and cried and struck about him, so that the hangman and his man durst scarce lay hands on him.” At last he fell into a swoon, from which when he recovered he spoke in the most incoherent manner. The council differing in opinion, some calling it real, and some affected madness, physicians were ordained upon soul and conscience to report upon his condition, which they did, affirming that he was affected by that distemper, called alienatio menti, and advised he should be sent to the Castle, which was accordingly done; and afterwards he was conveyed to the Bass, where he remained till the Revolution set him free.
Shortly after, undeterred by the gathering storm, Mr James Renwick again raised the gospel standard on the mountains and muirs of his country. Having been ordained at Groningen, he immediately embarked at the Brill in a vessel bound for Ireland. During his voyage the ship was forced by a storm to put into Rye, just at the time when the noise about the plot was at its height, but he escaped without trouble, and arrived in his native land safely, in time to attend the general meeting appointed to be held at Darmede on the 3d of October, by whom he was called and received as their minister. James Nisbet, son of Nisbet of Hardhill, in his memoirs, gives the following account of his manner of preaching:—“After this I went sixteen miles to hear a sermon preached by the great Mr James Renwick, a faithful servant of Christ Jesus, who was a young man, endued with great piety, prudence, and moderation. The meeting was held in a very large desolate muir. The minister appeared to be accompanied with much of his master’s presence. He prefaced on the 7th Psalm, and lectured on 2 Chron. chap. xix., from which he raised a sad applicatory regret that the rulers of our day were as great enemies to religion as those of that day were friends to it. He preached from Mark xii. 34, in the forenoon. After explaining the words, he gave thirteen marks of a hypocrite, backed with pertinent and suitable applications. In the afternoon, he gave the marks of a sound believer, backed with a large, full, and free offer of Christ to all sorts of perishing sinners that would come and accept of him for their Lord and Saviour, and for their Lord and Lawgiver. His method was both plain and well-digested, suiting the substance and simplicity of the gospel. This was a great day of the Son of Man to many serious souls, who got a Pisgah view of the Prince of Life, and that pleasant land that lies beyond the banks of death—Jordan.”
That such preaching, attended by such numbers as came to hear, and accompanied by such power on those who heard, should attract the attention and hatred of men like those, the then rulers in church and state, was exactly what was to be expected. The council no sooner got intelligence of the revival of field-preaching, which they thought they had crushed for ever, than they sent Mr Cargill to his reward, and recommended their efforts to suppress them; and because Renwick had preached and baptized some children on the lands of Dundas, in the parish of New Monkland—the superiority of which belonged to the Laird of Dundas and the Trades of Glasgow—they fined both parties in £50 sterling each. Nor did the opposition rest here. Mr Hog and Mr Wilkie, two ministers, were fined, the one in five thousand, and the other in ten thousand merks, for having been at this or similar conventicles. In the same month, and for the same crime, several women as well as men were sent to New Jersey and to Jamaica, to be sold as slaves. Searchers were also appointed in the west, particularly in Glasgow, by whom every house, from the cellar to the garret, was examined for suspicious strangers, who were also empowered to interrogate whoever they chose, and apprehend such as did not give what they deemed satisfactory answers.
While the work of blood went forward at Edinburgh, three plain countrymen were, in the latter end of November, brought before the justiciary:—John Whitelaw in New Monkland, Arthur Bruce in Dalserf, and John Cochrane, a shoemaker in Lesmahago. They were persons from whom government had nothing to fear; “and their blood was shed,” says Wodrow, “for what I can see, merely out of love to blood.” Their confessions were the only proof of their guilt; and the depth of their criminality may be judged of from that of the first, with which all the rest essentially agreed. “John Whitelaw declares he thinks Bothwell Bridge lawful, that rising being in defence of the gospel. He thinks himself and these three nations bound by the Covenants. That it is above his reach to tell whether the king be lawful king or not. Confesseth that he was some time with the rebels at Bothwell, but not at the battle, and that he had a sword. Refuses to say—“God save the king,” this not being a proper place for prayer; and if it mean his owning his authority, he has spoken to that already. Being interrogate if his judges were lawful judges, and the bishop’s death murder? he declared these were questions above his reach.” Bruce, when required to say—“God save the king,” replied by saying—“God save all the election of grace.” They were all three executed within three days, and died rejoicing in hope. Cochrane, in his last speech, remarks, that suffering was no discouragement to him, for “when the storm blew hardest, the smiles of my Lord were at the sweetest. It is matter of rejoicing unto me to think how my Lord hath passed by many a tall cedar, and hath laid his love upon a poor bramble-bush like me; and now I am made to say, the Lord hath done all things well, and holy is his name.” “Moreover, I leave my wife and six small children to the care and protection of Almighty God, who hath promised to be a father to the fatherless and an husband to the widow; and my soul to God who gave it, and for whose cause I now willingly lay down my life.”
Another general search was made at Glasgow at the close of the year, but, with jesuitical policy, it was allowed to transpire some days before that such a thing was to take place, in order that “suspected persons” might take the alarm. In the mean time, however, soldiers were stationed at some little distance around the town in all directions, to seize such as should attempt to escape; but it does not appear that any person was apprehended, except John Buchanan, a student, who, after being imprisoned a while, was transported to Carolina. At the same time, a singularly affecting case occurred in the parish of Dalmellington. James Dun, a very peaceable and pious man, had four sons, one of whom, with a brother-in-law, was murdered by the soldiers; another was banished; a third was hunted on the mountains; the fourth, a lad not fourteen years of age, was seized and imprisoned at Ayr. Nothing could be laid to his charge, except non-conformity; yet was not his father able to procure his liberation till he paid two hundred and forty pounds, and even after this, he was taken, sent to the plantations, and sold for a slave!