He heard his sentence with equanimity. The Earl of Crawford, who pronounced it in absence of the Chancellor, told him he must receive it kneeling, and he immediately knelt, saying, “That I will with all humility.” When rising, he remarked, “I had the honour to put the crown upon the king’s head, may God bestow on him a crown of glory. Now he hastens me to a better crown than his own.”[[14]] Then addressing the commissioner and parliament, “you have the indemnity of an earthly king,” said he, “among your hands, and have denied me a share in that; but you cannot hinder me from the indemnity of the King of kings; and shortly you must be before his tribunal. I pray he may not mete out such measure to you as you have done to me, when you are called to account for all your actings, and this among the rest.”
[14]. Kirkton, p. 103, et seq.
After sentence, he was conducted to the common jail, where his lady was waiting for him. “They have given me,” said he as he entered, “till Monday, my dear, to be with you; let us improve it.” As she embraced him, she sobbed out—“The Lord will require it! The Lord will require it!” and wept bitterly. Nor could the officer who attended him, nor any who were present, avoid shedding tears at the scene. The Marquis, too, was at first considerably affected, but becoming composed, “Forbear!” said he affectionately to the Marchioness, “forbear! truly I pity them—they know not what they are doing. They may shut me in where they please, they cannot shut out God from me; for my part, I am as content to be here as in the Castle. I was as content in the Castle as in the Tower of London; and as content there as when at liberty; and I hope to be as content on the scaffold as in any of them all.” He then added, “he remembered a text that had been cited to him by an honest minister—‘When Ziglag was taken and burnt, the people spake of stoning David; but he encouraged himself in the Lord.’”
The solemn interval he spent in exercises befitting a dying Christian; and though rather of a timid disposition, yet during the short space that now separated him from eternity, and with the immediate prospect of a violent death, his mind was elevated above his natural temper, and he desired those about him to observe “that the Lord had heard his prayers, and removed all fear from him.” To some ministers permitted to attend him, he said, “that they would shortly envy him who had got before,” adding, “mind I tell it you; my skill fails me if you who are ministers will not either suffer much or sin much; for though you go along with these men in part, if you do it not in all things, you are but where you were, and so must suffer; and if you go not at all with them you can but suffer.” Mr Robert Douglas and Mr George Hutchison preached in the tolbooth, at his desire, on the Lord’s day; and at night his lady, at his particular request, took leave. Mr David Dickson spent the last night with him that he spent on earth, which passed delightfully in prayer, praise, and spiritual conversation, except a few hours he enjoyed of calm and tranquil repose. On Monday, he rose early, and was much occupied in settling his worldly affairs; but, while signing some conveyances, his spiritual joy was such, that he exclaimed with rapture before the company, “I thought to have concealed the Lord’s goodness, but it will not do. I am now ordering my affairs, and God is sealing my charter to a better inheritance, saying, ‘Son, be of good cheer; thy sins are forgiven thee.’” He wrote a letter to the king, expressing his satisfaction that nothing had been proved against him but his being forced to submit to the unlawful power of usurping rebels—the epidemic and fault of the time—praying his majesty’s princely goodness and favour to his wife and family after his decease, and requesting that his just debts might be allowed to be paid out of his estate. He dined with a number of friends at twelve o’clock; after which he retired a little, and returned from his private devotions in a holy rapture. A sense of the forgiveness of his sins made the tears of joy run from his eyes; and, turning to Mr Hutchison, “I think,” said he, “His kindness overcomes me, but God is good to me; he lets not out too much of it here, for he knows I could not bear it;” and, thinking the time was expired, added, “Get me my cloak—let us go;” but being told that the clock had been put back, he answered they were far in the wrong, and kneeled down and prayed. As he ended, notice was sent that the bailies waited him, upon which he called for a glass of wine, and asked a blessing. Then he declared his readiness—“Now let us go, and God go with us.” When leaving the room, he said to those who remained, “I could die like a Roman, but choose rather to die as a Christian. Come away, gentlemen; he that goes first goes cleanliest.” Calling Mr Guthrie as he went down, he embraced him and took farewell. Mr Guthrie’s parting benediction was—“My lord, God hath been with you, he is with you, and He will be with you; and such is my respect for your lordship, that, if I were not under the sentence of death myself, I could cheerfully die for your lordship.”
The Marquis was accompanied to the place of execution by several noblemen and gentlemen in mourning. He walked steadily down the street, and, with the greatest serenity, mounted the scaffold, which was filled with his friends, of whom he had given in a list, and whose names were contained in a warrant subscribed by the commissioner. After Mr Hutchison had prayed, his lordship addressed the spectators. He did not attempt any explanation of his conduct. “I came not here,” were his humble expressions, “to justify myself but the Lord, who is holy in all his ways and righteous in all his works; holy and blessed is his name. Neither came I to condemn others. I know many will expect that I should speak against the hardness of the sentence pronounced against me, but I will say nothing of it. I bless the Lord, I pardon all men, as I desire to be pardoned of the Lord myself: let the will of the Lord be done.” He then, as in the presence of God, disclaimed having entered upon the work of reformation from any motive of self-interest or personal dissatisfaction with the government. He had ever been cordial in his desires to bring the king home, and in his endeavours for him when he was at home; nor had he ever corresponded with his enemies during the time he was in the country. “I confess,” he continued, “many look on my condition as a suffering condition; but I bless God, He who hath gone before, hath trode the wine-press of the Father’s wrath, by whose sufferings I hope my sufferings shall not be eternal. I shall not speak much to those things for which I am condemned, lest I seem to condemn others. I wish the Lord to pardon them. I say no more.”
Then changing the subject, he continued—“There are some, and those not openly profane, who, if their private interest go well, they care not whether religion or the church of God sink or swim. But, whatever they think, God hath laid engagements on Scotland. We are tyed by covenants to religion and reformation, and it passeth the power of all magistrates under heaven to absolve a man from the oath of God. It is the duty of every Christian to be loyal; but God must have his as well as Cæsar. Religion must not be secondary. They are the best subjects who are the best Christians. These times are like to prove very sinning times or very suffering times; and let Christians make their choice; and truely he that would choose the better part would choose to suffer. Others that will choose to sin will not escape suffering. Yet I cannot say of mine own condition, but that the Lord in his providence hath mind of mercy to me even in this world; for if I had been more favourably dealt with, I fear I might have been overcome with temptations, as many others are, and many more I fear will be; yea, blessed be his name, I am kept from present evil and evil to come! I have no more to say but to beg the Lord, since I go away, he would bless them who stay behind.”[[15]]
[15]. Sir George M’Kenzie, an unquestionable evidence, says—“At his death he showed much stayedness, as appeared by all his gestures, but especially by his speaking to the people, without any commotion, and with his ordinary gestures.” History, p. 47.
Having again spent some time in devotion, he distributed some last tokens of remembrance to the friends who were with him. To the Earl of Caithness, his son-in-law, he gave his watch, saying, with a smile, it was fit for men to pay their debts; and having promised him that watch, he now performed it. After his doublet was off, and immediately before he laid his head upon the block, he addressed those near him—“Gentlemen, I desire you and all that hear me, again to take notice and remember, that, now when I am entering into eternity and to appear before my Judge, and as I desire salvation and expect eternal happiness from him, I am free from any accession, by knowledge, contriving, counsel, or any other ways, to his late majesty’s death; and I pray the Lord to preserve our present king his majesty, and to pour his best blessings upon his person and government; and the Lord give him good and faithful councillors.” Mr Hutchison, his attendant minister, on bidding him finally adieu, used a Scottish phrase, peculiarly emphatic—“My lord, now hold your grip sicker.” The appropriate force of the expression was felt by the sufferer. “You know, Mr Hutchison, what I said to you in the chamber, I am not afraid to be surprised with fear;” and the Laird of Skelmorlie, who took him by the hand at this awful moment, felt that no tremour in his veins belied the assertion. He then knelt, offered up his last prayer, and upon dropping his hands, the appointed signal, the axe of the maiden fell, and his spirit fled to his God and Saviour. His body was carried to Dunoon, and buried in Kilmun church.
Argyle has ever, by the unanimous verdict of his Presbyterian countrymen, been considered a martyr, not for the form, but for the reality of their religion. The form, perhaps, he might have consented to modify—the essence he never durst think of forsaking. There was a consistency in his adherence to his principles that claims our admiration, especially as he sealed his testimony by his blood. He may have given, as many of the excellent men of his day did, an undue importance to points of inferior moment, but the fundamental truths of the gospel were his hope, as, in so far as we can trust the testimony of his friends, its precepts had been the rule of his life. It is refreshing to know that his persecutors did not share his spoil. Through the intercession of Lauderdale, Lorn procured from the king all his father’s estates and titles, except that of Marquis.
Mr James Guthrie, minister at Stirling, remarkable for his piety, zeal, and consistency in the cause of reformation-principles, followed his friend to trial and judgment.[[16]] He was peculiarly obnoxious to Middleton, having pronounced sentence of excommunication upon him, and was considered the chief of the remonstrators, who had uniformly resisted communion with the malignants; but he was no less distinguished for his intrepid opposition to the government of Cromwell, whom he had boldly stigmatized as an usurper, at the time when all those who now made such flaming professions of loyalty had crouched before him. Revered and popular among the lower ranks, he was not less respected among the worthy of the higher; for, although constrained by terror to condemn, no political victim was ever sacrificed with more reluctance by the subordinate ranks of the priesthood of mammon, than was James Guthrie; and even the Moloch at whose shrine he was immolated, expressed his regret, and bore testimony to his worth—“Had I known,” said the callous-hearted Charles, when he heard of Mr Gillespie being suffered to live, “that they would have spared Gillespie, I would have saved Guthrie!”—a noble testimony, but happily too late to deprive that holy man of the honour his Lord had provided for him with them who were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held. He was arraigned before a court, of which the director and the president were his personal enemies, and of which a majority had already prejudged his case. His pursuers were men who had yielded to the blast that he had braved, who had deserted their prince in the hour of his extremity, had flattered the very powers that he had withstood, yet now came forward with a flagrant effrontery to charge him with favouring an usurpation to which they had done homage, but which he had suffered for withstanding.