[115]. “They took nothing from him but his tobacco-box and Bible and a few papers. With these they went to a barn near by. Upon the opening of his tobacco-box, a living humming-bee flew out. This either Rathillet or Balfour called his familiar; and some in the company, not understanding the term, they explained it to be a devil. In the box were a pair of pistol ball, parings of nails, some worsted or silk, and some say a paper with some characters, but that is uncertain.”—Russell’s Account, &c. p. 421, note.
Among the papers were found—a gift of non-entries of several gentlemen’s estates in Fife and elsewhere, with instructions and informations how to prosecute in order to turn the present possessors out of the lands; the patent of the bishopric of Dunkeld in favour of Mr Andrew Bruce, archdeacon of St Andrews; several presentations to churches of which the king was patron; instructions to conjunct-deputies; and new gifts of the heritors fines.
Sharpe, when he met his fate, was returning home from Edinburgh, where he had been arranging matters for heating the fiery furnace yet seven times hotter, previously to his going to court, and had there drawn out a proclamation afterwards issued, which, had it been known, would have justified the extremest measures on the part of the proscribed, persecuted wanderers, even had he not previously placed himself out of the protection of the law. By it, whoever should go with any arms to field-meetings, were to be proceeded against as traitors; and lest any should suppose, from the rigour used against such as went to conventicles in arms, that there was any intention to slacken the prosecutions against other field-conventicles, all judges and officers were required to put all former laws and commands in rigorous execution, even against those who frequented field-meetings without arms, repeating as the reason of such severity, the foul and absurd calumny “that those meetings do certainly tend to the ruin and reproach of the Christian religion, and to the introduction of popery and heresy, the subversion of monarchy, and the contempt of all laws and government.”
Thus fell James Sharpe, Archbishop of St Andrews, Primate of Scotland, a man universally detested by those whom he had deserted and betrayed, and not much regarded by those to whose ranks he had gone over. He has left a memory and a fate as woful beacons to religious turncoats, who assume and relinquish the garb of a profession for secular purposes, without feeling the influence or experiencing the consolations of real religion, who find the road disappointment and the end death.
Not less remarkable was the escape of Mr William Veitch, who had been marked out to die by the primate. Having been denounced for being present at Pentland, although he had not been there, he retired to Northumberland, where he had resided with his family for several years, exercising his ministry with great success among a numerous congregation at Harnam-hall, whence he removed to Stauntin-hall in 1677, where he remained till January this year, when he was taken from his bed about eight o’clock in the morning, and carried prisoner to Edinburgh. On the 22d of February, he was brought before a committee of the council, whereof Sharpe was preses. As he was coming along the pavement, the Earl of Mar’s gentleman came to him from his master, desiring him to give the archbishop his titles, as that would likely prevail much with the bishop for his liberty. Veitch sending his service to the Earl, answered that he was resolved to act according to his light. The orders from the king to the council were, that they should proceed against him with all diligence, according to the utmost severity of law, his majesty being fully resolved to put it strictly in execution, in order “to dash the groundless hopes of knaves and fools, who expected a toleration!” The archbishop put many questions to him to see if he could ensnare him, which were urged by Paterson, the Bishop of Edinburgh, one of which was—“Have you taken the covenant?” He answered, “All that see me at this honourable board may easily perceive that I was not capable to take the covenant when you and the other ministers of Scotland tendered it.” At this the whole company fell a laughing, which nettled the bishop. “But,” says he, “did you never take the covenant since?” To which he replied, “I judge myself obliged to covenant away myself to God, and frequently to renew it.” At which Paterson stood up and said—“My lord, you will get no good of this man; he is all for evasions. But,” said he, “was you not at Pentland fight?” To which he replied, “If you will give me power and liberty to seek witnesses to prove it, I was alibi, having been all that night and morning at Edinburgh.”
Being put out a considerable time, he was called in again; and the bishop said—“Hear your confession read.” They had interlined many sentences to make him a criminal, which, when he heard read, he denied that he had spoken, and refused to subscribe. “What!” said the bishop, “will you not subscribe your own confession?” “Not I,” said the prisoner, “unless you write it in mundo, without your additions.” At which they appeared rather irritated, till the Earl of Linlithgow, after some conversation with the others across the table, said, “My lord St Andrews, cause write it in mundo to the young man.” It was then fairly written out, and he subscribed it; but it was found not to contain any thing on which they could found a criminal charge, and he was remanded to prison.
This was not, however, the only villanous attempt against his life. A letter was brought from the king to turn him over to the Justiciary, which was equivalent to a warrant for his execution. He himself had written to Lauderdale, who was his own relation and a professed friend, to give force to which some ladies obtained a letter from Archbishop Paterson to the Duke in his favour; and his brother Sir William brought it open and read it to Mr Veitch. It was directed to Dr Hicks, the Duke’s chaplain, to present, which was done accordingly; but when an answer was called for, Hicks showed a letter he had received per post, forbidding him to present it! Fortunately for the prisoner a representation of his case was laid before the Earl of Shaftesbury by Mr (afterwards Sir) Gilbert Elliot, which he had brought from Scotland, containing the sentiments both of English and Scottish lawyers, all of them declaring the illegality of the procedure against him in both kingdoms. The Earl having shown it to Prince Rupert, the Duke of Monmouth, and several other persons of rank, they concurred with him in petitioning the king to send him back to England that he might be tried there, because he was a naturalized English subject from his long residence, and the law had been violated by his seizure; it would destroy men’s confidence in their protection. But all the answer made by the tyrant was a profane scoff, uttered in the language of his proper prototype—“I have written with my own hand to execute him; and what I have written, I have written.” Upon this the Earl of Shaftesbury told his majesty, that, seeing the petition of so many of the greatest peers in England now standing before him, for a thing so just and equitable, could not be granted, the new parliament for inquiring into the popish plot was now sitting down, and no person that they found guilty, presbyterian or other, should escape death, if the parliament would take his advice and the lords now before the king; and then his majesty should have pears for plums.
On leaving his majesty, the Earl sent his servant to Mr Elliot, who was in waiting for the result, and who immediately on learning it went to the door of the parliament-house and distributed copies of the petition to each of the lords as they went in. Shaftesbury himself followed; and finding their lordships busy reading it, asked what they read; and being told, replied—“O, my lords, is that the text? Come, I’ll give you the sermon upon it;” and explained the minister’s case, which induced many of them to say, if that be truly so, we’ll pass an order immediately when we sit down for his remanding. A Tory lord seeing the impression thus made, taking the petition in his hand, went instantly to the king, and begged his majesty to consider that this was not his sixteen years’ old parliament, and he knew not what they would do; and it was dangerous for him on so mean an account to set two kingdoms by the ears: therefore he begged that he would presently send for Lauderdale to despatch an express to Scotland, and he would report it to the lords to take them off their proposed measure; which was done. And this order to stop proceedings was received by the Justice-General Tarbet, as he was entering the Parliament Close to open the court, where Veitch would have inevitably been condemned; instead of which, the court was dissolved and the prisoner remanded to prison.
His deliverance from jail shows the low arts to which court-intrigue sometimes subjects great men. The Duke of Monmouth took an interest in Veitch. The Duke of York was instigated by his priests against him, on account of his weight as an eminent opponent of popery in the borders, where the emissaries of Rome were numerous and active. Lauderdale disliked Monmouth as a rival, and attached himself to York;[[116]] and so wonderfully are events in providence arranged, that causes sometimes produce effects the very opposite to those we would most naturally expect. Lauderdale’s dislike to Monmouth effected the release of Veitch—a measure which Monmouth had desired and solicited in vain, and which York had so willingly and so successfully resisted. Lord Stair, as he afterwards told Mr Veitch, having the draught of his sentence of banishment[[117]] in his pocket, happened to visit Lauderdale that week Monmouth took post from Scotland, and that his spy had sent him an account of what Monmouth had said when he rose from the council-table respecting the relief of Mr Veitch as soon as he saw the king. Lauderdale giving this letter to Stair to read, he says, “Now, my lord, Monmouth is upon his way, and is like to relieve this prisoner, I think it were best for your lordship to send for the king’s advocate and the rest of the lords who are here, and we will get the sentence of banishment out of the kingdom passed upon him before Monmouth come up; and if the king have any scruple about it, his advocate and the other lords will clear him thereanent. This will be for our credit, and stop the mouths of all in Scotland who reflect on our severity; and if he come and do it, the dirt will lie upon us.” To which Lauderdale replied—“On my conscience, we will do it, and Monmouth shall not have the honour and credit of it. We’ll send for the lords instantly, and tell the king a new story that will make him do it;” which they did; the king superscribing and Lauderdale subscribing the new sentence, and also an order from the king to his council to put the same in execution upon sight. Stair then sent for Mr Elliot the prisoner’s agent, and delivered it to him.[[118]]
[116]. The unfortunate Monmouth, who possessed a kind and feeling disposition, was constantly watched by the Duke of York, who feared and hated him in proportion as he was loved by the English nation. Certainly at one time that nation looked forward with fond expectation to his succession. Lauderdale also had spies around the luckless prince during the time he was in Scotland.