But the death of Sharpe, however it might be justified or extenuated, was altogether accidental at the time, and cannot be traced to any other source than his own atrocious tyranny. His agents were extremely active in Fife; for the numerous conventicles held in his own diocese particularly annoyed him. One of his especial “familiars” was William Carmichael, a bankrupt merchant, formerly a bailie in Edinburgh, now one of the commissioners for suppressing conventicles, of licentious and profligate habits, consequently greedy of money, and fit for any vile job to procure it. His enormities had rendered him an object of general detestation, but his excessive exactions had ruined many respectable heritors and tenants, to whom he was become particularly obnoxious. Several of these individuals, some of whom were gentlemen of good families, interdicted the common intercourse of society, and hunted like wild beasts on the mountains, determined to take personal vengeance on this vile instrument of their unjust suffering;[[113]] and for this purpose, nine of them, pretty early on Saturday morning, the 3d of May, had traversed the fields about Cupar for a considerable time, in search of the commissioner, who they understood was hunting on the moor; but a shepherd had informed him that some gentlemen on horseback were inquiring after him; and he not being very anxious to encounter them, left his sport abruptly, and returned home.
[113]. At a meeting held April 11, “at John Nicholson’s house, colier, beside Lathons, the persons who had been poinded and otherways maltreated, judged it their duty to take some course with Carmichael to scarr him from his cruel courses; and advising how to get him, resolved to wait on him either in his coming or going from St Andrews, or other place in the shire, [he] being to sit in all the judicatures in the shire, for taking course with the honest party; and they resolved to fall upon him at St Andrews. Some objected, what if he should be in the prelate’s house, what should be done in such a case? Whereupon all present judged duty to hang both over the post, especially the bishop, it being by many of the Lord’s people and ministers judged a duty long since, not to suffer such a person to live, who had shed and was shedding so much of the blood of the saints, and knowing that other worthy Christians had used means to get him upon the road before.”—Russell’s Account, p. 110.
They also, tired of their fruitless search, were talking about their further proceedings, when a boy came from Baldinny—Robert Black’s farm—and said the goodwife had sent him to see how they had sped. They told him they had missed him, and asked in return if he knew any thing of three of their number who had not joined them. He told them they were gone. They desired him to go back and see where they were gone to, which he did, but quickly returning, said—“Gentlemen, there is the bishop’s coach; our gudewife desired me to tell you,” which they seeing betwixt Ceres and Blebo-hole, said—“Truly this is of God, and it seemeth that God hath delivered him into our hands; let us not draw back but pursue.”
Whereupon all agreed to follow; but the question was started, what should be done with him? “I will not move one foot farther,” said George Fleming, “for if we spare his life our hazard shall be no less, and likewise his cruelty shall be greater; surely we have a clear call to execute God’s justice upon him, now when in such a capacity.” So said several others. Hackston of Rathillet opposed the shedding of blood; and besides, he thought it was an act of the last consequence to the nation and the church, and what required much greater deliberation. James Russell, who writes the account, said “it had been born in upon his spirit some days before in prayer, that the Lord would employ him in some piece of service or it was long, and that there would be some great man who was an enemy to the kirk of God cut off.” “He was forced to devote himself to God, and enter in a covenant with the Lord, and renewed all his former vows and engagements against papists, prelates, indulgences, and all that was enemies to the work of God and opposed the flourishing of Christ’s kingdom; and that he should not refuse nor draw back whenever the Lord should call him to act for him, as far as the Lord should enable him and give him strength, though there should be never so much seeming hazard.”
After alluding to the case of Mitchell, he was asked what they should do with the bishop. He replied, he durst not but execute the justice of God upon him “for the innocent blood he had shed.” William Danziel spoke to the same purpose. Then they all with one consent urged Rathillet to command them that they might not delay.[[114]] Rathillet declined. “The Lord,” he said, “was his witness, he was willing to venture all he had for the interest of Christ, yet he durst not lead them on to that action, there being a known prejudice betwixt the bishop and him, which would mar the glory of the action; for it would be imputed to his particular revenge, and that God was his witness he did nothing on that account; but he would not hinder them from what God had called them to, and that he would not leave them.” On hearing this, John Balfour cried out—“Gentlemen! follow me!” Immediately they all set off at the gallop across the hills for Magus moor. James Russell outrode the others; and seeing the bishop, who had taken the alarm, and was looking out at the door, cast away his cloak, and cried “Judas be taken.” The bishop screamed violently to the coachman—“Drive! drive! drive!” The coachman drove furiously, endeavouring to keep off the pursuer by striking his horse with his whip, on which Russell fired, and called to his companions to come up. They throwing away their cloaks, put their horses to the speed, and kept firing at the coach, several shots passing through it. One of the servants having cocked his carabine, was about to fire when Alexander Henderson gripped him by the neck, threw him down, and pulled it out of his hand. Andrew Henderson outran the coach and struck the horse in the face with his sword. Russell at the same time ordered the postilion to stand, which he refusing, he struck him on the face, dismounted him, and cut the traces of the coach, which stopped it till the rest came up.
[114]. The names of the persons present were—David Hackston of Rathillet, John Balfour of Kinloch, James Russell in Kettle, George Fleming in Balbathie, Andrew Henderson, Alexander Henderson in Kilbrachmont, William Danziel in Caddam, James, Alexander, and George Balfour in Gilston, Thomas Ness in P——, and Andrew Guillan, weaver in Balmerinock, who had been put out of Dundee for not hearing of the curate.—Russell’s Account of Archbishop Sharpe’s Death, p. 111, 112.
They found the bishop in the coach with his daughter, both unhurt, though several shots had passed through the carriage. Opening the door, Russell, who took the lead, again desired him to come out, that no prejudice might befall his daughter, whom they would not willingly hurt. He still hesitated, protesting that he never wronged any of them. Russell declared before the Lord that it was no particular interest, nor yet for any wrong that he had done to him, but because he had betrayed the church, like Judas, and for eighteen years had wrung his hands in the blood of the saints. John Balfour, on horseback, said—“God is our witness, it is not for any wrong thou hast done to me, nor yet for any fear of what thou couldest do to me, but because thou hast been a murderer of many a poor soul in the kirk of Scotland, and a betrayer of the church, and an open enemy and persecutor of Jesus Christ and his members, whose blood thou hast shed like water on the earth, and therefore thou shalt die;” and fired a pistol. James Russell desired him the third time to come forth, and prepare for death, judgment, and eternity. The bishop said, “Save my life, and I will save yours.” The other replied, “I know it is neither in your power to save us or to kill us; and I again declare, it is not for any particular feud of quarrel I have at you which moves me to this attempt, but for the blood shed, not only after Pentland, but several times since, and for your perjury and shedding the blood of Mr James Mitchell, and having a hand in the death of James Learmont, which crimes cry with a loud voice to Heaven for vengeance; and we are this day to execute it,” and thrust his shabel at him. He then offered money. “Thy money perish with thee,” was the reply; and one of the company remarked, “seeing there have been so many lives taken for him, for which their is no sign of repentance, we will not be innocent if any more be taken that way.” Another wounded him with a sword, and he cried, “Fy, fy, I am gone.”
Being called to come out of the coach, “I am gone already,” he said, “what need more.” He was desired to pray; but, turning towards the captain, he said, “Save my life; for God’s sake, save my life! save my life!” offering him money, and promising to lay down his Episcopal function. He told him he had shown no mercy, and needed expect none. Seeing Rathillet at a distance, he crept on his hands and his knees towards him, saying, “I know you are a gentleman, you will protect me.” Mr Hackston said, “I shall never lay a hand on you,” and retired a little. He then turned to the others, and piteously entreated that they would save the life of an old man, and he would obtain them a remission. Balfour told him they could not spare him; and if he would not call on God, they knew what to do.
His daughter attempted to interpose, as she had done before, between her father and his antagonists, when Andrew Guillan kept her back, to secure her from hurt or danger. She fell on her knees, and, weeping bitterly, joined her entreaties with those of her father. Guillan also pleaded for his life; but it was now impossible for them to listen to any supplication. The bishop was a man whose most sacred oaths could not be trusted; and, to save their own lives, they were under the cruel necessity of taking his. Another volley of shot was their answer to his supplications, and he fell back and lay as dead. They then went off a little; and his daughter attempting to raise him, exclaimed—“Oh! there is life in him yet;” which they hearing returned, and James Russell “haked his head in pieces.” His daughter, the miserable spectatress of this sad event, cursed him, and called him a bloody murderer. He answered, they were not murderers, for they were sent to execute God’s vengeance on him.
As soon as they had finished the unfortunate primate, they went to the coach, and took a pair of pistols and a trunk, which upon opening, they found contained only his daughter’s clothes, and left untouched, but took from another a little box and all the papers they could find.[[115]] They likewise disarmed his attendants, five in number, and carried away their arms. It was not a little remarkable, that though this tragedy was acted at noon, in broad day, and parties of soldiers were constantly patrolling the country, along with numbers of sheriff-officers’ underlings and the archbishop’s own numerous myrmidons; yet the actors were not interrupted in their performance, nor did any of them ever suffer for the part they played. Two only, who were present as spectators, were executed, and one of them, the poor weaver Guillan, had been called, most unexpectedly on his part, to hold the horses.