“Man’s inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn—”
Until the down-trodden have turned at bay, and, like the French in 1793, have taken fearful vengeance, or, as in the case of the Covenanters at the time of which we write, have reaped only disaster and profounder woe.
There were, however, two elements of weakness among the Covenanters in 1679 which rendered all their efforts vain, despite the righteousness of their cause. One was that they were an undisciplined body, without appointed and experienced officers; while their leader, Robert Hamilton, was utterly unfitted by nature as well as training for a military command. The other weakness was, that the unhappy differences of opinion among them as to lines of duty, to which we have before referred, became more and more embittered, instead of being subordinated to the stern necessities of the hour.
The earnest men of God amongst them could no doubt have brought things to a better state in this crisis if their counsels had prevailed, but the men whose powers of endurance had at last given way were too many and strong for these; so that, instead of preparing for united action, the turbulent among them continued their dissensions until too late.
After Drumclog, Hamilton led his men to Glasgow to attack the enemy’s headquarters there. He was repulsed, and then retired to Hamilton, where he formed a camp.
The Privy Council meanwhile called out the militia, and ordered all the heritors and freeholders to join with the Regulars in putting down the insurrection. A good many people from all quarters had joined the Covenanters after the success at Drumclog; but it is thought that their numbers never exceeded 4000. The army which prepared to meet them under the command of the Duke of Monmouth and Buccleuch was said to be 10,000 strong—among them were some of the best of the King’s troops.
The Duke was anxious to delay matters, apparently with some hope of reconciliation. Many of the Covenanters were like-minded; and it is said that Mr Welsh visited the royal camp in disguise, with a view to a peaceful solution; but the stern spirits in both camps rendered this impossible. Some from principle, others from prejudice, could not see their way to a compromise; while the unprincipled on either side “cried havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!”
It was on Sabbath the 22nd of June that the Duke’s army reached Bothwell Moor; the advanced guards entering Bothwell town within a quarter of a mile of the bridge which spans the Clyde. The Covenanters lay encamped on Hamilton Moor, on the southern side of the river.
That morning a company of stalwart young men, coming from the direction of Edinburgh, had crossed Bothwell Bridge before the arrival of the royal army and joined the Covenanters. They were preceded by two men on horseback.
“It seems a daft-like thing,” said one horseman to the other as they traversed the moor, “that the likes o’ me should be ridin’ to battle like a lord, insteed o’ trudgin’ wi’ the men on futt; but, man, it’s no’ easy to walk far efter wearin’ a ticht-fittin’ buit—though it was only for a wee while I had it on. It’s a’ verra weel for you, Wull, that’s oor eleckit captain, an’ can sit yer horse like a markis; but as for me, I’ll slip aff an’ fecht on my legs when it comes to that.”