BOOK XX.
A.D. 1684-1685.
Persecutions increase—“Killing Time”—Proscription and plundering—Husbands fined for their wives’ non-attendance at church—Torture—Executions—Campbell of Cessnock—Paton of Meadowhead, &c.—Females sold for slaves—Spence—Carstairs—Baillie of Jarvieswood—Circuit courts—Porterfield of Douchal—Finings—Proceedings of the society-men—Review of the state of the country during this period—Death of Charles.
[1684] The preceding year went down in darkness—the present rose even more gloomily. Religious persecution, like the plague spot, if once it touches the system, grows deeper and deeper, till the whole be infected. It had continued increasing in virulence during the entire reign of “the merry monarch,” which had commenced in hypocritical perjury, and was now about to set in unvarnished blood and massacre. There is one peculiarly disgusting feature in the persecution waged by priests against those who hold opposite opinions, and that is, it descends to the very lowest grade of society—it enters the humblest cottage and tortures the poorest of the poor; and while inflicting mental wretchedness, remorselessly strips its unfortunate victims of every ingredient of earthly happiness.
We now enter upon that period of our history, emphatically designated “Killing Time,” by the persecuted people in the west, from the inhuman practice introduced this year of murdering the wanderers in the fields without trial, if found guilty of having a Bible in their possession, or caught in the act of praying to their God, or refusing to answer ensnaring questions; and we may form some idea of the general severity of the government, when the council, in one of their acts, granting commissions for trying and judging the “rebels,” consider permitting their officers to sentence such as appeared penitent to be banished to the plantations in America, as allowing them to give the poor sufferers “a taste and share of his majesty’s great clemency and mercy.” John Gate, a wright in Glasgow, who also kept a small alehouse, being employed in repairing the roof, some soldiers came in, and calling for ale and brandy, the officers desired the landlord to come and take a glass with them. He came unwillingly, but durst not refuse. When he entered, he was ordered to drink the king’s health. This he modestly declining, was instantly seized and sent to prison—his wife at the same time being apprehended and confined to another room in the same jail. Their family, consisting of eight young children, was scattered; and although several of them were sick of a fever, yet were they barbarously turned out of doors, and every article of furniture sold. The woman being with child, pined in prison, and only got out upon a surgeon’s certificate; but when liberated, the magistrates would not even permit her to return to her own desolate home; and the inhabitants being terrified—as prosecutions for “reset or intercourse with fanatics” were now common, and subjected any who were disposed to show humanity to the sufferers, to be treated themselves as disaffected—this sickly destitute female and her helpless family had no lodging-place but the street, till “the excellent” Lady Ardrey allowed her the use of a brew-house, where three of her children died. Her husband was banished to Carolina, and never returned.
Insatiable in their craving for money, while the avaricious wretches were plundering the fanatics, they were not less assiduous in pilfering the produce of their spoils from each other, and from government, whenever they could find opportunity. Queensberry, therefore, and others of the members of council, who found that the wages of their iniquity were but ill paid, being chiefly stopped on the road by their own minions, equally unprincipled with themselves, procured a letter from his majesty, read in council, January 3d, authorizing them to call all judges and magistrates to account for the fines they had received, and for which they had not reckoned, as well as for the remainder, “left as an awband over the heads of the heritors.” The only result of this call which appears upon the record, is a sum of between eight and nine thousand pounds, Scots, (£685. 16s. sterling,) levied by the magistrates of Edinburgh upon the good town; off which they were allowed £200 sterling for their trouble in collecting—no bad remuneration. Grasping at every farthing they could snatch, the council had perceived that women, who were the great transgressors and chief fomenters of conventicles, called by parliament “rendezvouses of rebellion,” could be restrained by nothing except making their husbands liable for their fines, referred the subject to his majesty. He—as has been often remarked, like all profligates who profess great affection for the persons of women, set no value on their worth and pay as little regard to their feelings—determined against the ladies. But it having been found that this fell heavily upon some of the fiercest loyalists, who were unequally yoked, the privy council sent a letter to the king, requesting to be allowed in particular cases to dispense with the fines imposed upon the husbands for the irregularities of their wives, when there was no proof of their connivance with the refractory dames. His majesty was graciously pleased to authorize the council to dispense with the fines on loyal husbands “who do not connive at their obstinate wives’ ways, and are willing to deliver them prisoners!”
On this subject the Earls of Aberdeen and Queensberry differed—the former being for the milder, the latter for the harsher, measures, and those which would bring cash into the treasury, with which Perth coincided; and the consequence was, that Aberdeen was dismissed from the chancellorship, and Perth installed into the office, to which he had long been aspiring. The elevation of Perth—a man ready to sacrifice every principle of honour or religion to his ambition—augured ill for the cause of the sufferers. Perth was a cold-blooded, heartless politician, who would allow neither the feelings of the man nor the precepts of the religionist to stand in the way of his promotion. Could the Roman Catholic religion be divested of its intimate connection with civil power, the absurdities and the idolatries of its profession would disgust any rational mind; but when interwoven with politics, and presented as a state religion for securing the obedience of the lower ranks to their superiors, then it is viewed in a very different light by these superiors, who willingly unite with the clergy to keep the commonalty in darkness and degradation; and disguise it how we may, the prelacy of Scotland at this period was Roman Catholicism both in spirit and action. Perth knew this; and when he consented to compliment the Duke of York with his religion, it was merely offering the sacrifice of a form for the substantialities of a place. He showed the sincerity of his conversion by flattering York in the most abhorrent part of his religion—remaining to witness the agonies of the tortured. The royal Duke looked calmly on the excruciating torments of the sufferers, as if he had been witnessing some curious or agreeable experiment, when all those who could escape shrunk from the spectacle. Perth superintended and viewed similar inflictions with all the complacency of a thorough-bred inquisitor.
The number of the individuals in lower life subjected to such treatment, under his inspection—the sameness of their tortures—and the similarity of their testimonies—it would be tedious to repeat; because, although these worthies all died in the faith, their holy brotherhood of suffering presents few distinguishing characteristics. But as an example, we may take that of a youth of nineteen, Archibald Stewart:—“I am more willing to die,” said he, “for my lovely Lord Jesus Christ and his truths, than ever I was to live. He hath paved his cross all over with love. Now all is sure and well with me. I am brought near unto God through the blood of his Son Jesus Christ; and I have no more to do but to lay down this life of mine that he hath given me, and take up house and habitation with my lovely Lord.” He was executed at Glasgow, with four others, whose last words were to the same purport. At their execution, one Gavin Black of Monkland, who had discovered some tokens of sympathy, was seized by the soldiers, imprisoned, and, because his answers to the usual inquiries were not deemed satisfactory, was banished to Carolina: and James Nisbet belonging to the parish of Loudon, in Ayrshire, having come to attend their funeral, was recognized as a covenanter by a cousin of his own, a Lieutenant Nisbet, and apprehended. When examined, he refused to own the king’s supremacy, and for this was condemned to suffer. During his confinement, he was treated very harshly, and was executed at the Howgate-head of Glasgow, on the 5th of June this year. He died in much peace and assurance, and expressed his joy that he had been counted worthy to suffer for the cause of his Lord.
Military atrocities, however detestable, do not produce that feeling of contempt which mingles with an abhorrence of legal murder. Neither Dalziel nor Claverhouse, justly as their memories are execrated, awaken the same loathing that the recollection of the bloody Mackenzie’s judicial murders call up, because in the conduct of the latter we see unmingled cowardice in its most revolting personification, safe from danger, and rioting in the spoils of its unfortunate victims. Yet I know not that men suffering for the cause of truth can be called unfortunate.
Sir Hugh Campbell of Cessnock’s memory stands upon an elevation, that his most distant relations might well be proud of being connected with. His persecutors are despised by the humblest of our virtuous peasantry, who still on a solitary Sabbath, between sermons, moralize amid the tombs of the Greyfriar’s churchyard. He was arraigned, March 24th. His indictment stated, “that, having met some runaways from the westland army, (i. e. the covenanters), he said that he had seen more going than coming,” “and that he liked not runaways”—“that they should stick to the cause, and they would get help if they wud bide bye it.” It does not appear that even the words are authenticated. He offered to prove that he was not at the place where the expressions were said to be used; also, that the witnesses bore him ill will. One had said—“if he was out of hell, he would be revenged upon him.” Another had received money to be an evidence against him. All his preliminary defences were, however, rejected, and the process was ordered to proceed. The cause, of course, was deemed hopeless, and the crown counsel, Mackenzie, brought forward his evidence. First, Thomas Ingram: he being sworn, the old and venerable panel rose up, and addressing him, said—“Take heed, now, what you are about to do, and damn not your own soul by perjury; for, as I shall answer to God, and upon the peril of my own soul, I am here ready to declare I never saw you in the face before this process, nor spoke to you.” Struck with the solemnity of the address, the tutored suborned witness declared when examined, that he could not swear distinctly to what the prisoner had said. A loud shout and clapping of hands immediately arose in court, which so irritated the advocate, that he started up in a fury, and said—“He believed Cessnock had hired his friends to make this uproar to confound the king’s witnesses: that he had never heard of such a protestant roar, except upon the trial of Shaftsbury: that he had always had a kindness for their persuasion, till now that he was convinced in his conscience it hugged the most damnable trinkets in nature.” Perth, the justice-general, whose brother, Lord Melford, had received a previous gift of the anticipated forfeiture, repeatedly questioned Ingram as to the truth of his assertion, when Nisbet of Craigintenny, one of the jury, interposing, declared they would only pay attention to the witness’s first deposition, though he should be examined twenty times. Perth, with some warmth, replied—“Sir, you are not judges in this case.”—“Yes, my lord,” said Somervell of Drum, “we are the only competent judges as to the probation, though not of its relevancy!” And the whole jury rising, adhered to what he said. Another witness was brought forward—Crawford. He also could speak nothing with regard to the criminality of Cessnock, not having seen him for a considerable time either before or after Bothwell Bridge. A fresh shout from the spectators announced their sympathy with the prisoner. In vain the justice-general and the advocate stormed. The jury brought in a verdict of—not guilty. Yet was he sent to the Bass, and detained a prisoner for life, and his estate forfeited and given to Melford. The witnesses were laid in irons and the jury charged before the privy council with having created a riot in court. Nor were they dismissed till they made an apology.