No More Learning

What little
strength Scotland could under such a system have possessed must, in an
estimate of the resources of Great Britain, have been, not added, but
deducted. So encumbered, our country never could have held, either
in peace or in war, a place in the first rank of nations. We are
unfortunately not without the means of judging of the effect which may
be produced on the moral and physical state of a people by establishing,
in the exclusive enjoyment of riches and dignity a Church loved and
reverenced only by the few, and regarded by the many with religious
and national aversion. One such Church is quite burden enough for the
energies of one empire.

But these things, which to us, who have been taught by a bitter
experience, seem clear, were by no means clear in 1689, even to very
tolerant and enlightened politicians. In truth the English Low Churchmen
were, if possible, more anxious than the English High Churchmen to
preserve Episcopacy in Scotland. It is a remarkable fact that Burnet,
who was always accused of wishing to establish the Calvinistic
discipline in the south of the island, incurred great unpopularity among
his own countrymen by his efforts to uphold prelacy in the north. He was
doubtless in error: but his error is to be attributed to a cause which
does him no discredit. His favourite object, an object unattainable
indeed, yet such as might well fascinate a large intellect and a
benevolent heart, had long been an honourable treaty between the
Anglican Church and the Nonconformists. He thought it most unfortunate
that one opportunity of concluding such a treaty should have been
lost at the time of the Restoration. It seemed to him that another
opportunity was afforded by the Revolution. He and his friends were
eagerly pushing forward Nottingham's Comprehension Bill, and were
flattering themselves with vain hopes of success. But they felt
that there could hardly be a Comprehension in one of the two British
kingdoms, unless there were also a Comprehension in the other.
Concession must be purchased by concession. If the Presbyterian
pertinaciously refused to listen to any terms of compromise where he was
strong, it would be almost impossible to obtain for him liberal terms of
compromise where he was weak. Bishops must therefore be allowed to keep
their sees in Scotland, in order that divines not ordained by Bishops
might be allowed to hold rectories and canonries in England.

Thus the cause of the Episcopalians in the north and the cause of the
Presbyterians in the south were bound up together in a manner which
might well perplex even a skilful statesman. It was happy for our
country that the momentous question which excited so many strong
passions, and which presented itself in so many different points
of view, was to be decided by such a man as William. He listened to
Episcopalians, to Latitudinarians, to Presbyterians, to the Dean of
Glasgow who pleaded for the apostolical succession, to Burnet who
represented the danger of alienating the Anglican clergy, to Carstairs
who hated prelacy with the hatred of a man whose thumbs were deeply
marked by the screws of prelatists. Surrounded by these eager advocates,
William remained calm and impartial. He was indeed eminently qualified
by his situation as well as by his personal qualities to be the umpire
in that great contention. He was the King of a prelatical kingdom. He
was the Prime Minister of a presbyterian republic. His unwillingness
to offend the Anglican Church of which he was the head, and his
unwillingness to offend the reformed Churches of the Continent which
regarded him as a champion divinely sent to protect them against the
French tyranny, balanced each other, and kept him from leaning unduly
to either side. His conscience was perfectly neutral. For it was his
deliberate opinion that no form of ecclesiastical polity was of divine
institution. He dissented equally from the school of Laud and from
the school of Cameron, from the men who held that there could not be a
Christian Church without Bishops, and from the men who held that there
could not be a Christian Church without synods. Which form of government
should be adopted was in his judgment a question of mere expediency. He
would probably have preferred a temper between the two rival systems,
a hierarchy in which the chief spiritual functionaries should have been
something more than moderators and something less than prelates. But he
was far too wise a man to think of settling such a matter according to
his own personal tastes. He determined therefore that, if there was on
both sides a disposition to compromise, he would act as mediator. But,
if it should prove that the public mind of England and the public mind
of Scotland had taken the ply strongly in opposite directions, he would
not attempt to force either nation into conformity with the opinion
of the other. He would suffer each to have its own church, and would
content himself with restraining both churches from persecuting
nonconformists, and from encroaching on the functions of the civil
magistrate.

The language which he held to those Scottish Episcopalians who
complained to him of their sufferings and implored his protection was
well weighed and well guarded, but clear and ingenuous. He wished, he
said, to preserve, if possible, the institution to which they were
so much attached, and to grant at the same time entire liberty of
conscience to that party which could not be reconciled to any deviation
from the Presbyterian model. But the Bishops must take care that they
did not, by their own rashness and obstinacy, put it out of his power to
be of any use to them. They must also distinctly understand that he was
resolved not to force on Scotland by the sword a form of ecclesiastical
government which she detested. If, therefore; it should be found that
prelacy could be maintained only by arms, he should yield to the general
sentiment, and should merely do his best to obtain for the Episcopalian
minority permission to worship God in freedom and safety, [276]

It is not likely that, even if the Scottish Bishops had, as William
recommended, done all that meekness and prudence could do to conciliate
their countrymen, episcopacy could, under any modification, have been
maintained. It was indeed asserted by writers of that generation, and
has been repeated by writers of our generation, that the Presbyterians
were not, before the Revolution, the majority of the people of Scotland,
[277] But in this assertion there is an obvious fallacy. The effective
strength of sects is not to be ascertained merely by counting heads. An
established church, a dominant church, a church which has the exclusive
possession of civil honours and emoluments, will always rank among its
nominal members multitudes who have no religion at all; multitudes who,
though not destitute of religion, attend little to theological disputes,
and have no scruple about conforming to the mode of worship which
happens to be established; and multitudes who have scruples about
conforming, but whose scruples have yielded to worldly motives. On the
other hand, every member of an oppressed church is a man who has a
very decided preference for that church. A person who, in the time
of Diocletian, joined in celebrating the Christian mysteries might
reasonably be supposed to be a firm believer in Christ. But it would be
a very great mistake to imagine that one single Pontiff or Augur in the
Roman Senate was a firm believer in Jupiter. In Mary's reign, every
body who attended the secret meetings of the Protestants was a real
Protestant: but hundreds of thousands went to mass who, as appeared
before she had been dead a month, were not real Roman Catholics. If,
under the Kings of the House of Stuart, when a Presbyterian was excluded
from political power and from the learned professions, was daily annoyed
by informers, by tyrannical magistrates, by licentious dragoons, and
was in danger of being hanged if he heard a sermon in the open air,
the population of Scotland was not very unequally divided between
Episcopalians and Presbyterians, the rational inference is that more
than nineteen twentieths of those Scotchmen whose conscience was
interested in the matter were Presbyterians, and that not one Scotchman
in twenty was decidedly and on conviction an Episcopalian. Against such
odds the Bishops had but little chance; and whatever chance they had
they made haste to throw away; some of them because they sincerely
believed that their allegiance was still due to James; others probably
because they apprehended that William would not have the power, even if
he had the will, to serve them, and that nothing but a counterrevolution
in the State could avert a revolution in the Church.

As the new King of England could not be at Edinburgh during the sitting
of the Scottish Convention, a letter from him to the Estates was
prepared with great skill. In this document he professed warm attachment
to the Protestant religion, but gave no opinion touching those questions
about which Protestants were divided. He had observed, he said, with
great satisfaction that many of the Scottish nobility and gentry with
whom he had conferred in London were inclined to an union of the two
British kingdoms. He was sensible how much such an union would conduce
to the happiness of both; and he would do all in his power towards the
accomplishing of so good a work.

It was necessary that he should allow a large discretion to his
confidential agents at Edinburgh. The private instructions with which he
furnished those persons could not be minute, but were highly judicious.
He charged them to ascertain to the best of their power the real sense
of the Convention, and to be guided by it. They must remember that the
first object was to settle the government. To that object every
other object, even the union, must be postponed. A treaty between two
independent legislatures, distant from each other several days' journey,
must necessarily be a work of time; and the throne could not safely
remain vacant while the negotiations were pending. It was therefore
important that His Majesty's agents should be on their guard against the
arts of persons who, under pretence of promoting the union, might really
be contriving only to prolong the interregnum. If the Convention should
be bent on establishing the Presbyterian form of church government,
William desired that his friends would do all in their power to prevent
the triumphant sect from retaliating what it had suffered, [278]

The person by whose advice William appears to have been at this time
chiefly guided as to Scotch politics was a Scotchman of great abilities
and attainments, Sir James Dalrymple of Stair, the founder of a family
eminently distinguished at the bar, on the bench, in the senate,
in diplomacy, in arms, and in letters, but distinguished also by
misfortunes and misdeeds which have furnished poets and novelists with
materials for the darkest and most heartrending tales. Already Sir James
had been in mourning for more than one strange and terrible death. One
of his sons had died by poison. One of his daughters had poniarded her
bridegroom on the wedding night. One of his grandsons had in boyish
sport been slain by another. Savage libellers asserted, and some of the
superstitious vulgar believed, that calamities so portentous were the
consequences of some connection between the unhappy race and the powers
of darkness. Sir James had a wry neck; and he was reproached with this
misfortune as if it had been a crime, and was told that it marked him
out as a man doomed to the gallows. His wife, a woman of great ability,
art, and spirit, was popularly nicknamed the Witch of Endor. It was
gravely said that she had cast fearful spells on those whom she hated,
and that she had been seen in the likeness of a cat seated on the cloth
of state by the side of the Lord High Commissioner. The man, however,
over whose roof so many curses appeared to hang did not, as far as we
can now judge, fall short of that very low standard of morality which
was generally attained by politicians of his age and nation. In force of
mind and extent of knowledge he was superior to them all. In his youth
he had borne arms: he had then been a professor of philosophy: he
had then studied law, and had become, by general acknowledgment, the
greatest jurist that his country had produced. In the days of the
Protectorate, he had been a judge. After the Restoration, he had made
his peace with the royal family, had sate in the Privy Council, and
had presided with unrivalled ability in the Court of Session. He had
doubtless borne a share in many unjustifiable acts; but there were
limits which he never passed. He had a wonderful power of giving to
any proposition which it suited him to maintain a plausible aspect of
legality and even of justice; and this power he frequently abused.
But he was not, like many of those among whom he lived, impudently and
unscrupulously servile. Shame or conscience generally restrained him
from committing any bad action for which his rare ingenuity could not
frame a specious defence; and he was seldom in his place at the council
board when any thing outrageously unjust or cruel was to be done. His
moderation at length gave offence to the Court. He was deprived of his
high office, and found himself in so disagreeable a situation that he
retired to Holland. There he employed himself in correcting the great
work on jurisprudence which has preserved his memory fresh down to our
own time. In his banishment he tried to gain the favour of his fellow
exiles, who naturally regarded him with suspicion. He protested, and
perhaps with truth, that his hands were pure from the blood of the
persecuted Covenanters. He made a high profession of religion, prayed
much, and observed weekly days of fasting and humiliation. He even
consented, after much hesitation, to assist with his advice and his
credit the unfortunate enterprise of Argyle. When that enterprise had
failed, a prosecution was instituted at Edinburgh against Dalrymple;
and his estates would doubtless have been confiscated had they not
been saved by an artifice which subsequently became common among the
politicians of Scotland. His eldest son and heir apparent, John, took
the side of the government, supported the dispensing power, declared
against the Test, and accepted the place of Lord Advocate, when Sir
George Mackenzie, after holding out through ten years of foul drudgery,
at length showed signs of flagging. The services of the younger
Dalrymple were rewarded by a remission of the forfeiture which the
offences of the elder had incurred. Those services indeed were not to
be despised. For Sir John, though inferior to his father in depth and
extent of legal learning, was no common man. His knowledge was great and
various: his parts were quick; and his eloquence was singularly ready
and graceful. To sanctity he made no pretensions. Indeed Episcopalians
and Presbyterians agreed in regarding him as little better than an
atheist. During some months Sir John at Edinburgh affected to condemn
the disloyalty of his unhappy parent Sir James; and Sir James at Leyden
told his Puritan friends how deeply he lamented the wicked compliances
of his unhappy child Sir John.

The Revolution came, and brought a large increase of wealth and honours
to the House of Stair. The son promptly changed sides, and cooperated
ably and zealously with the father. Sir James established himself in
London for the purpose of giving advice to William on Scotch affairs.
Sir John's post was in the Parliament House at Edinburgh. He was not
likely to find any equal among the debaters there, and was prepared to
exert all his powers against the dynasty which he had lately served,
[279]

By the large party which was zealous for the Calvinistic church
government John Dalrymple was regarded with incurable distrust and
dislike. It was therefore necessary that another agent should be
employed to manage that party. Such an agent was George Melville,
Lord Melville, a nobleman connected by affinity with the unfortunate
Monmouth, and with that Leslie who had unsuccessfully commanded the
Scotch army against Cromwell at Dunbar. Melville had always been
accounted a Whig and a Presbyterian. Those who speak of him most
favourably have not ventured to ascribe to him eminent intellectual
endowments or exalted public spirit. But he appears from his letters
to have been by no means deficient in that homely prudence the want
of which has often been fatal to men of brighter genius and of purer
virtue. That prudence had restrained him from going very far in
opposition to the tyranny of the Stuarts: but he had listened while his
friends talked about resistance, and therefore, when the Rye House plot
was discovered, thought it expedient to retire to the Continent. In his
absence he was accused of treason, and was convicted on evidence which
would not have satisfied any impartial tribunal. He was condemned to
death: his honours and lands were declared forfeit: his arms were torn
with contumely out of the Heralds' book; and his domains swelled the
estate of the cruel and rapacious Perth. The fugitive meanwhile,
with characteristic wariness, lived quietly on the Continent, and
discountenanced the unhappy projects of his kinsman Monmouth, but
cordially approved of the enterprise of the Prince of Orange.

Illness had prevented Melville from sailing with the Dutch expedition:
but he arrived in London a few hours after the new Sovereigns had been
proclaimed there. William instantly sent him down to Edinburgh, in the
hope, as it should seem, that the Presbyterians would be disposed to
listen to moderate counsels proceeding from a man who was attached to
their cause, and who had suffered for it. Melville's second son, David,
who had inherited, through his mother, the title of Earl of Leven, and
who had acquired some military experience in the service of the Elector
of Brandenburg, had the honour of being the bearer of a letter from the
new King of England to the Scottish Convention, [280]

James had intrusted the conduct of his affairs in Scotland to John
Graham, Viscount Dundee, and Colin Lindsay, Earl of Balcarras. Dundee
had commanded a body of Scottish troops which had marched into England
to oppose the Dutch: but he had found, in the inglorious campaign which
had been fatal to the dynasty of Stuart, no opportunity of displaying
the courage and military skill which those who most detest his merciless
nature allow him to have possessed. He lay with his forces not far from
Watford, when he was informed that James had fled from Whitehall, and
that Feversham had ordered all the royal army to disband. The Scottish
regiments were thus left, without pay or provisions, in the midst of a
foreign and indeed a hostile nation. Dundee, it is said, wept with grief
and rage. Soon, however, more cheering intelligence arrived from various
quarters. William wrote a few lines to say that, if the Scots would
remain quiet, he would pledge his honour for their safety; and, some
hours later, it was known that James had returned to his capital. Dundee
repaired instantly to London, [281] There he met his friend Balcarras,
who had just arrived from Edinburgh. Balcarras, a man distinguished
by his handsome person and by his accomplishments, had, in his youth,
affected the character of a patriot, but had deserted the popular cause,
had accepted a seat in the Privy Council, had become a tool of Perth
and Melfort, and bad been one of the Commissioners who were appointed
to execute the office of Treasurer when Queensberry was disgraced for
refusing to betray the interests of the Protestant religion, [282]

Dundee and Balcarras went together to Whitehall, and had the honour of
accompanying James in his last walk, up and down the Mall. He told them
that he intended to put his affairs in Scotland under their management.
"You, my Lord Balcarras, must undertake the civil business: and you, my
Lord Dundee, shall have a commission from me to command the troops. "
The two noblemen vowed that they would prove themselves deserving of his
confidence, and disclaimed all thought of making their peace with the
Prince of Orange, [283]

On the following day James left Whitehall for ever; and the Prince of
Orange arrived at Saint James's. Both Dundee and Balcarras swelled the
crowd which thronged to greet the deliverer, and were not ungraciously
received. Both were well known to him. Dundee had served under him on
the Continent; [284] and the first wife of Balcarras had been a lady of
the House of Orange, and had worn, on her wedding day, a superb pair of
emerald earrings, the gift of her cousin the Prince. [285]

The Scottish Whigs, then assembled in great numbers at Westminster,
earnestly pressed William to proscribe by name four or five men who had,
during the evil times, borne a conspicuous part in the proceedings of
the Privy Council at Edinburgh. Dundee and Balcarras were particularly
mentioned. But the Prince had determined that, as far as his power
extended, all the past should be covered with a general amnesty, and
absolutely refused to make any declaration which could drive to despair
even the most guilty of his uncle's servants.

Balcarras went repeatedly to Saint James's, had several audiences of
William, professed deep respect for his Highness, and owned that King
James had committed great errors, but would not promise to concur in
a vote of deposition. William gave no sign of displeasure, but said at
parting: "Take care, my Lord, that you keep within the law; for, if you
break it, you must expect to be left to it. " [286]

Dundee seems to have been less ingenuous. He employed the mediation
of Burnet, opened a negotiation with Saint James's, declared himself
willing to acquiesce in the new order of things, obtained from William
a promise of protection, and promised in return to live peaceably. Such
credit was given to his professions that he was suffered to travel down
to Scotland under the escort of a troop of cavalry. Without such an
escort the man of blood, whose name was never mentioned but with
a shudder at the hearth of any Presbyterian family, would, at that
conjuncture, have had but a perilous journey through Berwickshire and
the Lothians, [287]

February was drawing to a close when Dundee and Balcarras reached
Edinburgh. They had some hope that they might be at the head of a
majority in the Convention. They therefore exerted themselves vigorously
to consolidate and animate their party. They assured the rigid
royalists, who had a scruple about sitting in an assembly convoked by
an usurper, that the rightful King particularly wished no friend of
hereditary monarchy to be absent. More than one waverer was kept steady
by being assured in confident terms that a speedy restoration was
inevitable. Gordon had determined to surrender the castle, and had begun
to remove his furniture: but Dundee and Balcarras prevailed on him to
hold out some time longer. They informed him that they had received from
Saint Germains full powers to adjourn the Convention to Stirling, and
that, if things went ill at Edinburgh, those powers would be used, [288]

At length the fourteenth of March, the day fixed for the meeting of the
Estates, arrived, and the Parliament House was crowded. Nine prelates
were in their places. When Argyle presented himself, a single lord
protested against the admission of a person whom a legal sentence,
passed in due form, and still unreversed, had deprived of the honours
of the peerage. But this objection was overruled by the general sense
of the assembly. When Melville appeared, no voice was raised against his
admission. The Bishop of Edinburgh officiated as chaplain, and made it
one of his petitions that God would help and restore King James, [289]
It soon appeared that the general feeling of the Convention was by no
means in harmony with this prayer. The first matter to be decided was
the choice of a President. The Duke of Hamilton was supported by
the Whigs, the Marquess of Athol by the Jacobites. Neither candidate
possessed, and neither deserved, the entire confidence of his
supporters. Hamilton had been a Privy Councillor of James, had borne a
part in many unjustifiable acts, and had offered but a very cautious and
languid opposition to the most daring attacks on the laws and religion
of Scotland. Not till the Dutch guards were at Whitehall had he ventured
to speak out. Then he had joined the victorious party, and had assured
the Whigs that he had pretended to be their enemy, only in order that he
might, without incurring suspicion, act as their friend. Athol was
still less to be trusted. His abilities were mean, his temper
false, pusillanimous, and cruel. In the late reign he had gained a
dishonourable notoriety by the barbarous actions of which he had been
guilty in Argyleshire. He had turned with the turn of fortune, and
had paid servile court to the Prince of Orange, but had been coldly
received, and had now, from mere mortification, come back to the party
which he had deserted, [290] Neither of the rival noblemen had chosen
to stake the dignities and lands of his house on the issue of the
contention between the rival Kings. The eldest son of Hamilton had
declared for James, and the eldest son of Athol for William, so that, in
any event, both coronets and both estates were safe.

But in Scotland the fashionable notions touching political morality
were lax; and the aristocratical sentiment was strong. The Whigs were
therefore willing to forget that Hamilton had lately sate in the council
of James. The Jacobites were equally willing to forget that Athol had
lately fawned on William. In political inconsistency those two great
lords were far indeed from standing by themselves; but in dignity and
power they had scarcely an equal in the assembly. Their descent was
eminently illustrious: their influence was immense: one of them could
raise the Western Lowlands: the other could bring into the field an
army of northern mountaineers. Round these chiefs therefore the hostile
factions gathered.

The votes were counted; and it appeared that Hamilton had a majority
of forty. The consequence was that about twenty of the defeated party
instantly passed over to the victors, [291] At Westminster such a
defection would have been thought strange; but it seems to have caused
little surprise at Edinburgh. It is a remarkable circumstance that the
same country should have produced in the same age the most wonderful
specimens of both extremes of human nature. No class of men mentioned in
history has ever adhered to a principle with more inflexible pertinacity
than was found among the Scotch Puritans. Fine and imprisonment, the
sheers and the branding iron, the boot, the thumbscrew, and the gallows
could not extort from the stubborn Covenanter one evasive word on which
it was possible to put a sense inconsistent with his theological system.
Even in things indifferent he would hear of no compromise; and he was
but too ready to consider all who recommended prudence and charity as
traitors to the cause of truth. On the other hand, the Scotchmen of that
generation who made a figure in the Parliament House and in the Council
Chamber were the most dishonest and unblushing timeservers that the
world has ever seen. The English marvelled alike at both classes. There
were indeed many stouthearted nonconformists in the South; but scarcely
any who in obstinacy, pugnacity, and hardihood could bear a comparison
with the men of the school of Cameron. There were many knavish
politicians in the South; but few so utterly destitute of morality, and
still fewer so utterly destitute of shame, as the men of the school of
Lauderdale. Perhaps it is natural that the most callous and impudent
vice should be found in the near neighbourhood of unreasonable and
impracticable virtue. Where enthusiasts are ready to destroy or to
be destroyed for trifles magnified into importance by a squeamish
conscience, it is not strange that the very name of conscience should
become a byword of contempt to cool and shrewd men of business.

The majority, reinforced by the crowd of deserters from the minority,
proceeded to name a Committee of Elections. Fifteen persons were chosen,
and it soon appeared that twelve of these were not disposed to examine
severely into the regularity of any proceeding of which the result had
been to send up a Whig to the Parliament House. The Duke of Hamilton
is said to have been disgusted by the gross partiality of his own
followers, and to have exerted himself, with but little success, to
restrain their violence, [292]

Before the Estates proceeded to deliberate on the business for which
they had met, they thought it necessary to provide for their own
security. They could not be perfectly at ease while the roof under which
they sate was commanded by the batteries of the Castle. A deputation
was therefore sent to inform Gordon that the Convention required him
to evacuate the fortress within twenty-four hours, and that, if he
complied, his past conduct should not be remembered against him. He
asked a night for consideration. During that night his wavering mind was
confirmed by the exhortations of Dundee and Balcarras. On the morrow he
sent an answer drawn in respectful but evasive terms. He was very far,
he declared, from meditating harm to the City of Edinburgh. Least of all
could he harbour any thought of molesting an august assembly which he
regarded with profound reverence. He would willingly give bond for his
good behaviour to the amount of twenty thousand pounds sterling. But he
was in communication with the government now established in England. He
was in hourly expectation of important despatches from that government;
and, till they arrived, he should not feel himself justified in
resigning his command. These excuses were not admitted. Heralds and
trumpeters were sent to summon the Castle in form, and to denounce the
penalties of high treason against those who should continue to occupy
that fortress in defiance of the authority of the Estates. Guards were
at the same time posted to intercept all communication between the
garrison and the city, [293]

Two days had been spent in these preludes; and it was expected that
on the third morning the great contest would begin. Meanwhile the
population of Edinburgh was in an excited state. It had been discovered
that Dundee had paid visits to the Castle; and it was believed that his
exhortations had induced the garrison to hold out. His old soldiers were
known to be gathering round him; and it might well be apprehended that
he would make some desperate attempt. He, on the other hand, had been
informed that the Western Covenanters who filled the cellars of the city
had vowed vengeance on him: and, in truth, when we consider that their
temper was singularly savage and implacable; that they had been taught
to regard the slaying of a persecutor as a duty; that no examples
furnished by Holy Writ had been more frequently held up to their
admiration than Ehud stabbing Eglon, and Samuel hewing Agag limb from
limb; that they had never heard any achievement in the history of their
own country more warmly praised by their favourite teachers than the
butchery of Cardinal Beatoun and of Archbishop Sharpe; we may well
wonder that a man who had shed the blood of the saints like water should
have been able to walk the High Street in safety during a single
day. The enemy whom Dundee had most reason to fear was a youth of
distinguished courage and abilities named William Cleland. Cleland had,
when little more than sixteen years old, borne arms in that insurrection
which had been put down at Bothwell Bridge. He had since disgusted some
virulent fanatics by his humanity and moderation. But with the great
body of Presbyterians his name stood high. For with the strict morality
and ardent zeal of a Puritan he united some accomplishments of which few
Puritans could boast. His manners were polished, and his literary and
scientific attainments respectable. He was a linguist, mathematician,
and a poet. It is true that his hymns, odes, ballads, and Hudibrastic
satires are of very little intrinsic value; but, when it is considered
that he was a mere boy when most of them were written, it must be
admitted that they show considerable vigour of mind.
He was now at
Edinburgh: his influence among the West Country Whigs assembled there
was great: he hated Dundee with deadly hatred, and was believed to be
meditating some act of violence, [294]

On the fifteenth of March Dundee received information that some of the
Covenanters had bound themselves together to slay him and Sir George
Mackenzie, whose eloquence and learning, long prostituted to the service
of tyranny, had made him more odious to the Presbyterians than any
other man of the gown. Dundee applied to Hamilton for protection, and
Hamilton advised him to bring the matter under the consideration of the
Convention at the next sitting, [295]

Before that sitting, a person named Crane arrived from France, with a
letter addressed by the fugitive King to the Estates. The letter was
sealed: the bearer, strange to say, was not furnished with a copy for
the information of the heads of the Jacobite party; nor did he bring any
message, written or verbal, to either of James's agents. Balcarras and
Dundee were mortified by finding that so little confidence was reposed
in them, and were harassed by painful doubts touching the contents of
the document on which so much depended. They were willing, however, to
hope for the best. King James could not, situated as he was, be so ill
advised as to act in direct opposition to the counsel and entreaties
of his friends. His letter, when opened, must be found to contain such
gracious assurances as would animate the royalists and conciliate the
moderate Whigs. His adherents, therefore, determined that it should be
produced.

When the Convention reassembled on the morning of Saturday the sixteenth
of March, it was proposed that measures should be taken for the personal
security of the members. It was alleged that the life of Dundee had been
threatened; that two men of sinister appearance had been watching the
house where he lodged, and had been heard to say that they would use the
dog as he had used them. Mackenzie complained that he too was in danger,
and, with his usual copiousness and force of language, demanded the
protection of the Estates. But the matter was lightly treated by the
majority: and the Convention passed on to other business, [296]

It was then announced that Crane was at the door of the Parliament
House. He was admitted. The paper of which he was in charge was laid on
the table. Hamilton remarked that there was, in the hands of the Earl
of Leven, a communication from the Prince by whose authority the
Estates had been convoked. That communication seemed to be entitled to
precedence. The Convention was of the same opinion; and the well weighed
and prudent letter of William was read.

It was then moved that the letter of James should be opened. The
Whigs objected that it might possibly contain a mandate dissolving the
Convention. They therefore proposed that, before the seal was broken,
the Estates should resolve to continue sitting, notwithstanding any such
mandate. The Jacobites, who knew no more than the Whigs what was in the
letter, and were impatient to have it read, eagerly assented. A vote was
passed by which the members bound themselves to consider any order which
should command them to separate as a nullity, and to remain assembled
till they should have accomplished the work of securing the liberty and
religion of Scotland. This vote was signed by almost all the lords and
gentlemen who were present. Seven out of nine bishops subscribed it. The
names of Dundee and Balcarras, written by their own hands, may still
be seen on the original roll. Balcarras afterwards excused what, on
his principles, was, beyond all dispute, a flagrant act of treason,
by saying that he and his friends had, from zeal for their master's
interest, concurred in a declaration of rebellion against their master's
authority; that they had anticipated the most salutary effects from the
letter; and that, if they had not made some concession to the majority,
the letter would not have been opened.

In a few minutes the hopes of Balcarras were grievously disappointed.
The letter from which so much had been hoped and feared was read with
all the honours which Scottish Parliaments were in the habit of paying
to royal communications: but every word carried despair to the hearts
of the Jacobites. It was plain that adversity had taught James neither
wisdom nor mercy. All was obstinacy, cruelty, insolence. A pardon was
promised to those traitors who should return to their allegiance within
a fortnight. Against all others unsparing vengeance was denounced.
Not only was no sorrow expressed for past offences: but the letter
was itself a new offence: for it was written and countersigned by the
apostate Melfort, who was, by the statutes of the realm, incapable of
holding the office of Secretary, and who was not less abhorred by the
Protestant Tories than by the Whigs. The hall was in a tumult. The
enemies of James were loud and vehement. His friends, angry with him,
and ashamed of him, saw that it was vain to think of continuing the
struggle in the Convention. Every vote which had been doubtful when his
letter was unsealed was now irrecoverably lost. The sitting closed in
great agitation, [297]

It was Saturday afternoon. There was to be no other meeting till Monday
morning. The Jacobite leaders held a consultation, and came to the
conclusion that it was necessary to take a decided step. Dundee and
Balcarras must use the powers with which they had been intrusted. The
minority must forthwith leave Edinburgh and assemble at Stirling. Athol
assented, and undertook to bring a great body of his clansmen from the
Highlands to protect the deliberations of the Royalist Convention. Every
thing was arranged for the secession; but, in a few hours, the tardiness
of one man and the haste of another ruined the whole plan.

The Monday came. The Jacobite lords and gentlemen were actually taking
horse for Stirling, when Athol asked for a delay of twenty-four hours.
He had no personal reason to be in haste. By staying he ran no risk
of being assassinated. By going he incurred the risks inseparable from
civil war. The members of his party, unwilling to separate from him,
consented to the postponement which he requested, and repaired once more
to the Parliament House. Dundee alone refused to stay a moment longer.
His life was in danger. The Convention had refused to protect him. He
would not remain to be a mark for the pistols and daggers of murderers.
Balcarras expostulated to no purpose. "By departing alone," he said,
"you will give the alarm and break up the whole scheme. " But Dundee was
obstinate. Brave as he undoubtedly was, he seems, like many other brave
men, to have been less proof against the danger of assassination
than against any other form of danger. He knew what the hatred of the
Covenanters was: he knew how well he had earned their hatred; and he was
haunted by that consciousness of inexpiable guilt, and by that dread of
a terrible retribution, which the ancient polytheists personified
under the awful name of the Furies. His old troopers, the Satans and
Beelzebubs who had shared his crimes, and who now shared his perils,
were ready to be the companions of his flight.

Meanwhile the Convention had assembled. Mackenzie was on his legs, and
was pathetically lamenting the hard condition of the Estates, at once
commanded by the guns of a fortress and menaced by a fanatical rabble,
when he was interrupted by some sentinels who came running from the
posts near the Castle. They had seen Dundee at the head of fifty horse
on the Stirling road. That road ran close under the huge rock on which
the citadel is built. Gordon had appeared on the ramparts, and had made
a sign that he had something to say. Dundee had climbed high enough to
hear and to be heard, and was then actually conferring with the Duke.
Up to that moment the hatred with which the Presbyterian members of
the assembly regarded the merciless persecutor of their brethren in
the faith had been restrained by the decorous forms of parliamentary
deliberation. But now the explosion was terrible. Hamilton himself,
who, by the acknowledgment of his opponents, had hitherto performed the
duties of President with gravity and impartiality, was the loudest and
fiercest man in the hall. "It is high time," he cried, "that we [should
find] the enemies of our religion and of our civil freedom are mustering
all around us; and we may well suspect that they have accomplices even
here. Lock the doors. Lay the keys on the table. Let nobody go out but
those lords and gentlemen whom we shall appoint to call the citizens to
arms. There are some good men from the West in Edinburgh, men for whom I
can answer. " The assembly raised a general cry of assent. Several
members of the majority boasted that they too had brought with them
trusty retainers who would turn out at a moment's notice against
Claverhouse and his dragoons. All that Hamilton proposed was instantly
done. The Jacobites, silent and unresisting, became prisoners. Leven
went forth and ordered the drums to beat. The Covenanters of Lanarkshire
and Ayrshire promptly obeyed the signal. The force thus assembled had
indeed no very military appearance, but was amply sufficient to overawe
the adherents of the House of Stuart. From Dundee nothing was to be
hoped or feared. He had already scrambled down the Castle hill, rejoined
his troopers, and galloped westward. Hamilton now ordered the doors to
be opened. The suspected members were at liberty to depart. Humbled and
brokenspirited, yet glad that they had come off so well, they stole
forth through the crowd of stern fanatics which filled the High Street.
All thought of secession was at an end, [298]

On the following day it was resolved that the kingdom should be put into
a posture of defence. The preamble of this resolution contained a severe
reflection on the perfidy of the traitor who, within a few hours after
he had, by an engagement subscribed with his own hand, bound himself not
to quit his post in the Convention, had set the example of desertion,
and given the signal of civil war. All Protestants, from sixteen to
sixty, were ordered to hold themselves in readiness to assemble in arms
at the first summons; and, that none might pretend ignorance, it was
directed that the edict should be proclaimed at all the market crosses
throughout the realm, [299]

The Estates then proceeded to send a letter of thanks to William. To
this letter were attached the signatures of many noblemen and gentlemen
who were in the interest of the banished King. The Bishops however
unanimously refused to subscribe their names.

It had long been the custom of the Parliaments of Scotland to entrust
the preparation of Acts to a select number of members who were
designated as the Lords of the Articles. In conformity with this usage,
the business of framing a plan for the settling of the government was
now confided to a Committee of twenty-four. Of the twenty-four eight
were peers, eight representatives of counties, and eight representatives
of towns. The majority of the Committee were Whigs; and not a single
prelate had a seat.

The spirit of the Jacobites, broken by a succession of disasters, was,
about this time, for a moment revived by the arrival of the Duke of
Queensberry from London. His rank was high and his influence was great:
his character, by comparison with the characters of those who surrounded
him, was fair. When Popery was in the ascendent, he had been true to
the cause of the Protestant Church; and, since Whiggism had been in the
ascendent, he had been true to the cause of hereditary monarchy. Some
thought that, if he had been earlier in his place, he might have been
able to render important service to the House of Stuart, [300] Even now
the stimulants which he applied to his torpid and feeble party produced
some faint symptoms of returning animation. Means were found of
communicating with Gordon; and he was earnestly solicited to fire on the
city. The Jacobites hoped that, as soon as the cannon balls had beaten
down a few chimneys, the Estates would adjourn to Glasgow. Time would
thus be gained; and the royalists might be able to execute their old
project of meeting in a separate convention. Gordon however positively
refused to take on himself so grave a responsibility on no better
warrant than the request of a small cabal, [301]

By this time the Estates had a guard on which they could rely more
firmly than on the undisciplined and turbulent Covenanters of the West.
A squadron of English men of war from the Thames had arrived in the
Frith of Forth. On board were the three Scottish regiments which had
accompanied William from Holland. He had, with great judgment, selected
them to protect the assembly which was to settle the government of
their country; and, that no cause of jealousy might be given to a people
exquisitely sensitive on points of national honour, he had purged the
ranks of all Dutch soldiers, and had thus reduced the number of men to
about eleven hundred. This little force was commanded by Andrew Mackay,
a Highlander of noble descent, who had served long on the Continent, and
who was distinguished by courage of the truest temper, and by a piety
such as is seldom found in soldiers of fortune. The Convention passed a
resolution appointing Mackay general of their forces. When the question
was put on this resolution, the Archbishop of Glasgow, unwilling
doubtless to be a party to such an usurpation of powers which belonged
to the King alone, begged that the prelates might be excused from
voting. Divines, he said, had nothing to do with military arrangements.
"The Fathers of the Church," answered a member very keenly, "have been
lately favoured with a new light. I have myself seen military
orders signed by the Most Reverend person who has suddenly become so
scrupulous. There was indeed one difference: those orders were for
dragooning Protestants, and the resolution before us is meant to protect
us from Papists. " [302]

The arrival of Mackay's troops, and the determination of Gordon to
remain inactive, quelled the spirit of the Jacobites. They had indeed
one chance left. They might possibly, by joining with those Whigs who
were bent on an union with England, have postponed during a considerable
time the settlement of the government. A negotiation was actually opened
with this view, but was speedily broken off. For it soon appeared that
the party which was for James was really hostile to the union, and that
the party which was for the union was really hostile to James. As these
two parties had no object in common, the only effect of a coalition
between them must have been that one of them would have become the tool
of the other. The question of the union therefore was not raised, [303]
Some Jacobites retired to their country seats: others, though they
remained at Edinburgh, ceased to show themselves in the Parliament
House: many passed over to the winning side; and, when at length
the resolutions prepared by the Twenty Four were submitted to the
Convention, it appeared that the party which on the first day of the
session had rallied round Athol had dwindled away to nothing.

The resolutions had been framed, as far as possible, in conformity
with the example recently set at Westminster. In one important point,
however, it was absolutely necessary that the copy should deviate from
the original. The Estates of England had brought two charges against
James, his misgovernment and his flight, and had, by using the soft
word "Abdication," evaded, with some sacrifice of verbal precision,
the question whether subjects may lawfully depose a bad prince. That
question the Estates of Scotland could not evade. They could not pretend
that James had deserted his post. For he had never, since he came to
the throne, resided in Scotland. During many years that kingdom had been
ruled by sovereigns who dwelt in another land. The whole machinery of
the administration had been constructed on the supposition that the
King would be absent, and was therefore not necessarily deranged by that
flight which had, in the south of the island, dissolved all government,
and suspended the ordinary course of justice. It was only by letter that
the King could, when he was at Whitehall, communicate with the Council
and the Parliament at Edinburgh; and by letter he could communicate with
them when he was at Saint Germains or at Dublin. The Twenty Four were
therefore forced to propose to the Estates a resolution distinctly
declaring that James the Seventh had by his misconduct forfeited the
crown. Many writers have inferred from the language of this resolution
that sound political principles had made a greater progress in Scotland
than in England. But the whole history of the two countries from the
Restoration to the Union proves this inference to be erroneous. The
Scottish Estates used plain language, simply because it was impossible
for them, situated as they were, to use evasive language.

The person who bore the chief part in framing the resolution, and in
defending it, was Sir John Dalrymple, who had recently held the high
office of Lord Advocate, and had been an accomplice in some of the
misdeeds which he now arraigned with great force of reasoning and
eloquence. He was strenuously supported by Sir James Montgomery, member
for Ayrshire, a man of considerable abilities, but of loose principles,
turbulent temper, insatiable cupidity, and implacable malevolence. The
Archbishop of Glasgow and Sir George Mackenzie spoke on the other side:
but the only effect of their oratory was to deprive their party of the
advantage of being able to allege that the Estates were under duress,
and that liberty of speech had been denied to the defenders of
hereditary monarchy.

When the question was put, Athol, Queensberry, and some of their
friends withdrew. Only five members voted against the resolution which
pronounced that James had forfeited his right to the allegiance of his
subjects. When it was moved that the Crown of Scotland should be
settled as the Crown of England had been settled, Athol and Queensberry
reappeared in the hall. They had doubted, they said, whether they could
justifiably declare the throne vacant. But, since it had been declared
vacant, they felt no doubt that William and Mary were the persons who
ought to fill it.

The Convention then went forth in procession to the High Street. Several
great nobles, attended by the Lord Provost of the capital and by the
heralds, ascended the octagon tower from which rose the city cross
surmounted by the unicorn of Scotland, [304] Hamilton read the vote of
the Convention; and a King at Arms proclaimed the new Sovereigns with
sound of trumpet. On the same day the Estates issued an order that the
parochial clergy should, on pain of deprivation, publish from their
pulpits the proclamation which had just been read at the city cross, and
should pray for King William and Queen Mary.

Still the interregnum was not at an end. Though the new Sovereigns had
been proclaimed, they had not yet been put into possession of the royal
authority by a formal tender and a formal acceptance. At Edinburgh,
as at Westminster, it was thought necessary that the instrument which
settled the government should clearly define and solemnly assert those
privileges of the people which the Stuarts had illegally infringed. A
Claim of Right was therefore drawn up by the Twenty Four, and adopted by
the Convention. To this Claim, which purported to be merely declaratory
of the law as it stood, was added a supplementary paper containing a
list of grievances which could be remedied only by new laws. One most
important article which we should naturally expect to find at the head
of such a list, the Convention, with great practical prudence, but in
defiance of notorious facts and of unanswerable arguments, placed in the
Claim of Right. Nobody could deny that prelacy was established by Act
of Parliament. The power exercised by the Bishops might be pernicious,
unscriptural, antichristian but illegal it certainly was not; and to
pronounce it illegal was to outrage common sense. The Whig leaders
however were much more desirous to get rid of episcopacy than to
prove themselves consummate publicists and logicians. If they made the
abolition of episcopacy an article of the contract by which William was
to hold the crown, they attained their end, though doubtless in a manner
open to much criticism. If, on the other hand, they contented themselves
with resolving that episcopacy was a noxious institution which at some
future time the legislature would do well to abolish, they might find
that their resolution, though unobjectionable in form, was barren of
consequences. They knew that William by no means sympathized with their
dislike of Bishops, and that, even had he been much more zealous for
the Calvinistic model than he was, the relation in which he stood to the
Anglican Church would make it difficult and dangerous for him to declare
himself hostile to a fundamental part of the constitution of that
Church. If he should become King of Scotland without being fettered by
any pledge on this subject, it might well be apprehended that he would
hesitate about passing an Act which would be regarded with abhorrence
by a large body of his subjects in the south of the island. It was
therefore most desirable that the question should be settled while the
throne was still vacant. In this opinion many politicians concurred, who
had no dislike to rochets and mitres, but who wished that William might
have a quiet and prosperous reign. The Scottish people,--so these men
reasoned,--hated episcopacy. The English loved it. To leave William
any voice in the matter was to put him under the necessity of deeply
wounding the strongest feelings of one of the nations which he governed.
It was therefore plainly for his own interest that the question, which
he could not settle in any manner without incurring a fearful amount of
obloquy, should be settled for him by others who were exposed to no
such danger. He was not yet Sovereign of Scotland. While the interregnum
lasted, the supreme power belonged to the Estates; and for what the
Estates might do the prelatists of his southern kingdom could not hold
him responsible. The elder Dalrymple wrote strongly from London to this
effect, and there can be little doubt that he expressed the sentiments
of his master. William would have sincerely rejoiced if the Scots could
have been reconciled to a modified episcopacy. But, since that could not
be, it was manifestly desirable that they should themselves, while
there was yet no King over them, pronounce the irrevocable doom of the
institution which they abhorred, [305]

The Convention, therefore, with little debate as it should seem,
inserted in the Claim of Right a clause declaring that prelacy was an
insupportable burden to the kingdom, that it had been long odious to the
body of the people, and that it ought to be abolished.

Nothing in the proceedings at Edinburgh astonishes an Englishman more
than the manner in which the Estates dealt with the practice of torture.
In England torture had always been illegal. In the most servile times
the judges had unanimously pronounced it so. Those rulers who had
occasionally resorted to it had, as far as was possible, used it in
secret, had never pretended that they had acted in conformity with
either statute law or common law, and had excused themselves by saying
that the extraordinary peril to which the state was exposed had
forced them to take on themselves the responsibility of employing
extraordinarily means of defence. It had therefore never been thought
necessary by any English Parliament to pass any Act or resolution
touching this matter. The torture was not mentioned in the Petition
of Right, or in any of the statutes framed by the Long Parliament.
No member of the Convention of 1689 dreamed of proposing that the
instrument which called the Prince and Princess of Orange to the throne
should contain a declaration against the using of racks and thumbscrews
for the purpose of forcing prisoners to accuse themselves. Such a
declaration would have been justly regarded as weakening rather than
strengthening a rule which, as far back as the days of the Plantagenets,
had been proudly declared by the most illustrious sages of Westminster
Hall to be a distinguishing feature of the English jurisprudence, [306]
In the Scottish Claim of Right, the use of torture, without evidence,
or in ordinary cases, was declared to be contrary to law. The use of
torture, therefore, where there was strong evidence, and where the crime
was extraordinary, was, by the plainest implication, declared to be
according to law; nor did the Estates mention the use of torture among
the grievances which required a legislative remedy. In truth, they could
not condemn the use of torture without condemning themselves. It had
chanced that, while they were employed in settling the government, the
eloquent and learned Lord President Lockhart had been foully murdered in
a public street through which he was returning from church on a Sunday.
The murderer was seized, and proved to be a wretch who, having treated
his wife barbarously and turned her out of doors, had been compelled by
a decree of the Court of Session to provide for her. A savage hatred of
the judges by whom she had been protected had taken possession of his
mind, and had goaded him to a horrible crime and a horrible fate. It
was natural that an assassination attended by so many circumstances
of aggravation should move the indignation of the members of the
Convention. Yet they should have considered the gravity of the
conjuncture and the importance of their own mission. They unfortunately,
in the heat of passion, directed the magistrates of Edinburgh to strike
the prisoner in the boots, and named a Committee to superintend the
operation. But for this unhappy event, it is probable that the law of
Scotland concerning torture would have been immediately assimilated to
the law of England, [307]

Having settled the Claim of Right, the Convention proceeded to revise
the Coronation oath. When this had been done, three members were
appointed to carry the Instrument of Government to London. Argyle,
though not, in strictness of law, a Peer, was chosen to represent the
Peers: Sir James Montgomery represented the Commissioners of Shires, and
Sir John Dalrymple the Commissioners of Towns.

The Estates then adjourned for a few weeks, having first passed a vote
which empowered Hamilton to take such measures as might be necessary for
the preservation of the public peace till the end of the interregnum.

The ceremony of the inauguration was distinguished from ordinary
pageants by some highly interesting circumstances. On the eleventh of
May the three Commissioners came to the Council Chamber at Whitehall,
and thence, attended by almost all the Scotchmen of note who were then
in London, proceeded to the Banqueting House. There William and Mary
appeared seated under a canopy. A splendid circle of English nobles, and
statesmen stood round the throne: but the sword of state as committed to
a Scotch lord; and the oath of office was administered after the Scotch
fashion. Argyle recited the words slowly. The royal pair, holding up
their hands towards heaven, repeated after him till they came to the
last clause. There William paused. That clause contained a promise that
he would root out all heretics and all enemies of the true worship of
God; and it was notorious that, in the opinion of many Scotchmen,
not only all Roman Catholics, but all Protestant Episcopalians, all
Independents, Baptists and Quakers, all Lutherans, nay all British
Presbyterians who did not hold themselves bound by the Solemn League and
Covenant, were enemies of the true worship of God, [308] The King had
apprised the Commissioners that he could not take this part of the oath
without a distinct and public explanation; and they had been authorised
by the Convention to give such an explanation as would satisfy him.
"I will not," he now said, "lay myself under any obligation to be
a persecutor. " "Neither the words of this oath," said one of the
Commissioners, "nor the laws of Scotland, lay any such obligation on
your Majesty. " "In that sense, then, I swear," said William; "and I
desire you all, my lords and gentlemen, to witness that I do so. " Even
his detractors have generally admitted that on this great occasion he
acted with uprightness, dignity, and wisdom, [309]

As King of Scotland, he soon found himself embarrassed at every step by
all the difficulties which had embarrassed him as King of England, and
by other difficulties which in England were happily unknown. In the
north of the island, no class was more dissatisfied with the Revolution
than the class which owed most to the Revolution.