CHAPTER XVI.
With many a stout thwack and many a bang, Hard crab-tree and old iron rang. Hudibras.
Cornet Richard Grahame descended the hill, bearing in his hand theextempore flag of truce, and making his managed horse keep time by boundsand curvets to the tune which he whistled. The trumpeter followed. Fiveor six horsemen, having something the appearance of officers, detachedthemselves from each flank of the Presbyterian army, and, meeting in thecentre, approached the ditch which divided the hollow as near as themorass would permit. Towards this group, but keeping the opposite side ofthe swamp, Cornet Grahame directed his horse, his motions being now theconspicuous object of attention to both armies; and, withoutdisparagement to the courage of either, it is probable there was ageneral wish on both sides that this embassy might save the risks andbloodshed of the impending conflict.
When he had arrived right opposite to those, who, by their advancing toreceive his message, seemed to take upon themselves as the leaders of theenemy, Cornet Grahame commanded his trumpeter to sound a parley. Theinsurgents having no instrument of martial music wherewith to make theappropriate reply, one of their number called out with a loud, strongvoice, demanding to know why he approached their leaguer.
"To summon you in the King's name, and in that of Colonel John Grahame ofClaverhouse, specially commissioned by the right honourable Privy Councilof Scotland," answered the Cornet, "to lay down your arms, and dismissthe followers whom ye have led into rebellion, contrary to the laws ofGod, of the King, and of the country."
"Return to them that sent thee," said the insurgent leader, "and tellthem that we are this day in arms for a broken Covenant and a persecutedKirk; tell them that we renounce the licentious and perjured CharlesStewart, whom you call king, even as he renounced the Covenant, afterhaving once and again sworn to prosecute to the utmost of his power allthe ends thereof, really, constantly, and sincerely, all the days of hislife, having no enemies but the enemies of the Covenant, and no friendsbut its friends. Whereas, far from keeping the oath he had called God andangels to witness, his first step, after his incoming into thesekingdoms, was the fearful grasping at the prerogative of the Almighty, bythat hideous Act of Supremacy, together with his expulsing, withoutsummons, libel, or process of law, hundreds of famous faithful preachers,thereby wringing the bread of life out of the mouth of hungry, poorcreatures, and forcibly cramming their throats with the lifeless,saltless, foisonless, lukewarm drammock of the fourteen false prelates,and their sycophantic, formal, carnal, scandalous creature-curates."
"I did not come to hear you preach," answered the officer, "but to know,in one word, if you will disperse yourselves, on condition of a freepardon to all but the murderers of the late Archbishop of St Andrews; orwhether you will abide the attack of his majesty's forces, which willinstantly advance upon you."
"In one word, then," answered the spokesman, "we are here with our swordson our thighs, as men that watch in the night. We will take one part andportion together, as brethren in righteousness. Whosoever assails us inour good cause, his blood be on his own head. So return to them that sentthee, and God give them and thee a sight of the evil of your ways!"
"Is not your name," said the Cornet, who began to recollect having seenthe person whom he was now speaking with, "John Balfour of Burley?"
"And if it be," said the spokesman, "hast thou aught to say against it?"
"Only," said the Cornet, "that, as you are excluded from pardon in thename of the King and of my commanding officer, it is to these countrypeople, and not to you, that I offer it; and it is not with you, or suchas you, that I am sent to treat."
"Thou art a young soldier, friend," said Burley, "and scant well learnedin thy trade, or thou wouldst know that the bearer of a flag of trucecannot treat with the army but through their officers; and that if hepresume to do otherwise, he forfeits his safe conduct."
While speaking these words, Burley unslung his carabine, and held it inreadiness.
"I am not to be intimidated from the discharge of my duty by the menacesof a murderer," said Cornet Grahame.--"Hear me, good people; I proclaim,in the name of the King and of my commanding officer, full and freepardon to all, excepting"--
"I give thee fair warning," said Burley, presenting his piece.
"A free pardon to all," continued the young officer, still addressing thebody of the insurgents--"to all but"--
"Then the Lord grant grace to thy soul--amen!" said Burley.
With these words he fired, and Cornet Richard Grahame dropped from hishorse. The shot was mortal. The unfortunate young gentleman had onlystrength to turn himself on the ground and mutter forth, "My poormother!" when life forsook him in the effort. His startled horse fledback to the regiment at the gallop, as did his scarce less affrightedattendant.
"What have you done?" said one of Balfour's brother officers.
"My duty," said Balfour, firmly. "Is it not written, Thou shalt bezealous even to slaying? Let those, who dare, now venture to speak oftruce or pardon!"
Claverhouse saw his nephew fall. He turned his eye on Evandale, while atransitory glance of indescribable emotion disturbed, for a second'sspace, the serenity of his features, and briefly said, "You see theevent."
"I will avenge him, or die!" exclaimed Evandale; and, putting his horseinto motion, rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, andthat of the deceased Cornet, which broke down without orders; and, eachstriving to be the foremost to revenge their young officer, their rankssoon fell into confusion. These forces formed the first line of theroyalists. It was in vain that Claverhouse exclaimed, "Halt! halt! thisrashness will undo us." It was all that he could accomplish, by gallopingalong the second line, entreating, commanding, and even menacing the menwith his sword, that he could restrain them from following an example socontagious.
"Allan," he said, as soon as he had rendered the men in some degree moresteady, "lead them slowly down the hill to support Lord Evandale, who isabout to need it very much.--Bothwell, thou art a cool and a daringfellow"--
"Ay," muttered Bothwell, "you can remember that in a moment like this."
"Lead ten file up the hollow to the right," continued his commandingofficer, "and try every means to get through the bog; then form andcharge the rebels in flank and rear, while they are engaged with us infront."
Bothwell made a signal of intelligence and obedience, and moved off withhis party at a rapid pace.
Meantime, the disaster which Claverhouse had apprehended, did not fail totake place. The troopers, who, with Lord Evandale, had rushed down uponthe enemy, soon found their disorderly career interrupted by theimpracticable character of the ground. Some stuck fast in the morass asthey attempted to struggle through, some recoiled from the attempt andremained on the brink, others dispersed to seek a more favourable placeto pass the swamp. In the midst of this confusion, the first line of theenemy, of which the foremost rank knelt, the second stooped, and thethird stood upright, poured in a close and destructive fire that emptiedat least a score of saddles, and increased tenfold the disorder intowhich the horsemen had fallen. Lord Evandale, in the meantime, at thehead of a very few well-mounted men, had been able to clear the ditch,but was no sooner across than he was charged by the left body of theenemy's cavalry, who, encouraged by the small number of opponents thathad made their way through the broken ground, set upon them with theutmost fury, crying, "Woe, woe to the uncircumcised Philistines! downwith Dagon and all his adherents!"
The young nobleman fought like a lion; but most of his followers werekilled, and he himself could not have escaped the same fate but for aheavy fire of carabines, which Claverhouse, who had now advanced with thesecond line near to the ditch, poured so effectually upon the enemy, thatboth horse and foot for a moment began to shrink, and Lord Evandale,disengaged from his unequal combat, and finding himself nearly alone,took the opportunity to effect his retreat through the morass. Butnotwithstanding the loss they
had sustained by Claverhouse's first fire,the insurgents became soon aware that the advantage of numbers and ofposition were so decidedly theirs, that, if they could but persist inmaking a brief but resolute defence, the Life-Guards must necessarily bedefeated. Their leaders flew through their ranks, exhorting them to standfirm, and pointing out how efficacious their fire must be where both menand horse were exposed to it; for the troopers, according to custom,fired without having dismounted. Claverhouse, more than once, when heperceived his best men dropping by a fire which they could noteffectually return, made desperate efforts to pass the bog at variouspoints, and renew the battle on firm ground and fiercer terms. But theclose fire of the insurgents, joined to the natural difficulties of thepass, foiled his attempts in every point.
"We must retreat," he said to Evandale, "unless Bothwell can effect adiversion in our favour. In the meantime, draw the men out of fire, andleave skirmishers behind these patches of alderbushes to keep the enemyin check."
These directions being accomplished, the appearance of Bothwell with hisparty was earnestly expected. But Bothwell had his own disadvantages tostruggle with. His detour to the right had not escaped the penetratingobservation of Burley, who made a corresponding movement with the leftwing of the mounted insurgents, so that when Bothwell, after riding aconsiderable way up the valley, found a place at which the bog could bepassed, though with some difficulty, he perceived he was still in frontof a superior enemy. His daring character was in no degree checked bythis unexpected opposition.
"Follow me, my lads!" he called to his men; "never let it be said that weturned our backs before these canting roundheads!"
With that, as if inspired by the spirit of his ancestors, he shouted,"Bothwell! Bothwell!" and throwing himself into the morass, he struggledthrough it at the head of his party, and attacked that of Burley withsuch fury, that he drove them back above a pistol-shot, killing three menwith his own hand. Burley, perceiving the consequences of a defeat onthis point, and that his men, though more numerous, were unequal to theregulars in using their arms and managing their horses, threw himselfacross Bothwell's way, and attacked him hand to hand. Each of thecombatants was considered as the champion of his respective party, and aresult ensued more usual in romance than in real story. Their followers,on either side, instantly paused, and looked on as if the fate of the daywere to be decided by the event of the combat between these two redoubtedswordsmen. The combatants themselves seemed of the same opinion; for,after two or three eager cuts and pushes had been exchanged, they paused,as if by joint consent, to recover the breath which preceding exertionshad exhausted, and to prepare for a duel in which each seemed conscioushe had met his match.
The Duel--230]
"You are the murdering villain, Burley," said Bothwell, griping his swordfirmly, and setting his teeth close--"you escaped me once, but"--(heswore an oath too tremendous to be written down)--"thy head is worth itsweight of silver, and it shall go home at my saddle-bow, or my saddleshall go home empty for me."
"Yes," replied Burley, with stern and gloomy deliberation, "I am thatJohn Balfour, who promised to lay thy head where thou shouldst never liftit again; and God do so unto me, and more also, if I do not redeem myword!"
"Then a bed of heather, or a thousand merks!" said Bothwell, striking atBurley with his full force.
"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" answered Balfour, as he parriedand returned the blow.
There have seldom met two combatants more equally matched in strength ofbody, skill in the management of their weapons and horses, determinedcourage, and unrelenting hostility. After exchanging many desperateblows, each receiving and inflicting several wounds, though of no greatconsequence, they grappled together as if with the desperate impatienceof mortal hate, and Bothwell, seizing his enemy by the shoulder-belt,while the grasp of Balfour was upon his own collar, they came headlong tothe ground. The companions of Burley hastened to his assistance, but wererepelled by the dragoons, and the battle became again general. Butnothing could withdraw the attention of the combatants from each other,or induce them to unclose the deadly clasp in which they rolled togetheron the ground, tearing, struggling, and foaming, with the inveteracy ofthorough-bred bull-dogs.
Several horses passed over them in the melee without their quitting holdof each other, until the sword-arm of Bothwell was broken by the kick ofa charger. He then relinquished his grasp with a deep and suppressedgroan, and both combatants started to their feet. Bothwell's right handdropped helpless by his side, but his left griped to the place where hisdagger hung; it had escaped from the sheath in the struggle,--and, with alook of mingled rage and despair, he stood totally defenceless, asBalfour, with a laugh of savage joy, flourished his sword aloft, and thenpassed it through his adversary's body. Bothwell received the thrustwithout falling--it had only grazed on his ribs. He attempted no fartherdefence, but, looking at Burley with a grin of deadly hatred,exclaimed--"Base peasant churl, thou hast spilt the blood of a lineof kings!"
"Die, wretch!--die!" said Balfour, redoubling the thrust with better aim;and, setting his foot on Bothwell's body as he fell, he a third timetransfixed him with his sword.--"Die, bloodthirsty dog! die as thou hastlived!--die, like the beasts that perish--hoping nothing--believingnothing--"
"And fearing nothing!" said Bothwell, collecting the last effort ofrespiration to utter these desperate words, and expiring as soon as theywere spoken.
To catch a stray horse by the bridle, throw himself upon it, and rush tothe assistance of his followers, was, with Burley, the affair of amoment. And as the fall of Bothwell had given to the insurgents all thecourage of which it had deprived his comrades, the issue of this partialcontest did not remain long undecided. Several soldiers were slain, therest driven back over the morass and dispersed, and the victoriousBurley, with his party, crossed it in their turn, to direct againstClaverhouse the very manoeuvre which he had instructed Bothwell toexecute. He now put his troop in order, with the view of attacking theright wing of the royalists; and, sending news of his success to the mainbody, exhorted them, in the name of Heaven, to cross the marsh, and workout the glorious work of the Lord by a general attack upon the enemy.
Meanwhile, Claverhouse, who had in some degree remedied the confusionoccasioned by the first irregular and unsuccessful attack, and reducedthe combat in front to a distant skirmish with firearms, chieflymaintained by some dismounted troopers whom he had posted behind thecover of the shrub-by copses of alders, which in some places covered theedge of the morass, and whose close, cool, and well-aimed firegreatly annoyed the enemy, and concealed their own deficiency ofnumbers,--Claverhouse, while he maintained the contest in this manner,still expecting that a diversion by Bothwell and his party mightfacilitate a general attack, was accosted by one of the dragoons, whosebloody face and jaded horse bore witness he was come from hard service.
"What is the matter, Halliday?" said Claverhouse, for he knew every manin his regiment by name--"Where is Bothwell?"
"Bothwell is down," replied Halliday, "and many a pretty fellow withhim."
"Then the king," said Claverhouse, with his usual composure, "has lost astout soldier.--The enemy have passed the marsh, I suppose?"
"With a strong body of horse, commanded by the devil incarnate thatkilled Bothwell," answered the terrified soldier.
"Hush! hush!" said Claverhouse, putting his finger on his lips, "not aword to any one but me.--Lord Evandale, we must retreat. The fates willhave it so. Draw together the men that are dispersed in the skirmishingwork. Let Allan form the regiment, and do you two retreat up the hill intwo bodies, each halting alternately as the other falls back. I'll keepthe rogues in check with the rear-guard, making a stand and facing fromtime to time. They will be over the ditch presently, for I see theirwhole line in motion and preparing to cross; therefore lose no time."
"Where is Bothwell with his party?" said Lord Evandale, astonished at thecoolness of his commander.
"Fairly disposed of," said Claverhouse, in his ear--"the kin
g has lost aservant, and the devil has got one. But away to business, Evandale--plyyour spurs and get the men together. Allan and you must keep them steady.This retreating is new work for us all; but our turn will come roundanother day."
Evandale and Allan betook themselves to their task; but ere they hadarranged the regiment for the purpose of retreating in two alternatebodies, a considerable number of the enemy had crossed the marsh.Claverhouse, who had retained immediately around his person a few of hismost active and tried men, charged those who had crossed in person, whilethey were yet disordered by the broken ground. Some they killed, othersthey repulsed into the morass, and checked the whole so as to enable themain body, now greatly diminished, as well as disheartened by the lossthey had sustained, to commence their retreat up the hill.
But the enemy's van being soon reinforced and supported, compelledClaverhouse to follow his troops. Never did man, however, better maintainthe character of a soldier than he did that day. Conspicuous by his blackhorse and white feather, he was first in the repeated charges which hemade at every favourable opportunity, to arrest the progress of thepursuers, and to cover the retreat of his regiment. The object of aim toevery one, he seemed as if he were impassive to their shot. Thesuperstitious fanatics, who looked upon him as a man gifted by the EvilSpirit with supernatural means of defence, averred that they saw thebullets recoil from his jack-boots and buff-coat like hailstones from arock of granite, as he galloped to and fro amid the storm of the battle.Many a whig that day loaded his musket with a dollar cut into slugs, inorder that a silver bullet (such was their belief) might bring down thepersecutor of the holy kirk, on whom lead had no power.
"Try him with the cold steel," was the cry at every renewedcharge--"powder is wasted on him. Ye might as weel shoot at the AuldEnemy himsell."
[Note: Proof against Shot given by Satan. The belief of the Covenanters that their principal enemies, and Claverhouse in particular, had obtained from the Devil a charm which rendered them proof against leaden bullets, led them to pervert even the circumstances of his death. Howie of Lochgoin, after giving some account of the battle of Killicrankie, adds:
"The battle was very bloody, and by Mackay's third fire, Claverhouse fell, of whom historians give little account; but it has been said for certain, that his own waiting-servant, taking a resolution to rid the world of this truculent bloody monster, and knowing he had proof of lead, shot him with a silver button he had before taken off his own coat for that purpose. However, he fell, and with him Popery, and King James's interest in Scotland."--God's Judgment on Persecutors, p. xxxix.
Original note.--"Perhaps some may think this anent proof of a shot a paradox, and be ready to object here, as formerly, concerning Bishop Sharpe and Dalziel--'How can the Devil have or give a power to save life?' Without entering upon the thing in its reality, I shall only observe, 1st, That it is neither in his power, or of his nature, to be a saviour of men's lives; he is called Apollyon the destroyer. 2d, That even in this case he is said only to give enchantment against one kind of metal, and this does not save life: for the lead would not take Sharpe or Claverhouse's lives, yet steel and silver would do it; and for Dalziel, though he died not on the field, he did not escape the arrows of the Almighty."--Ibidem.]
But though this was loudly shouted, yet the awe on the insurgents' mindswas such, that they gave way before Claverhouse as before a supernaturalbeing, and few men ventured to cross swords with him. Still, however, hewas fighting in retreat, and with all the disadvantages attending thatmovement. The soldiers behind him, as they beheld the increasing numberof enemies who poured over the morass, became unsteady; and, at everysuccessive movement, Major Allan and Lord Evandale found it more and moredifficult to bring them to halt and form line regularly, while, on theother hand, their motions in the act of retreating became, by degrees,much more rapid than was consistent with good order. As the retiringsoldiers approached nearer to the top of the ridge, from which in soluckless an hour they had descended, the panic began to increase. Everyone became impatient to place the brow of the hill between him and thecontinued fire of the pursuers; nor could any individual think itreasonable that he should be the last in the retreat, and thus sacrificehis own safety for that of others. In this mood, several troopers setspurs to their horses and fled outright, and the others became sounsteady in their movements and formations, that their officers everymoment feared they would follow the same example.
Amid this scene of blood and confusion, the trampling of the horses, thegroans of the wounded, the continued fire of the enemy, which fell in asuccession of unintermitted musketry, while loud shouts accompanied eachbullet which the fall of a trooper showed to have been successfullyaimed--amid all the terrors and disorders of such a scene, and when itwas dubious how soon they might be totally deserted by their dispiritedsoldiery, Evandale could not forbear remarking the composure of hiscommanding officer. Not at Lady Margaret's breakfast-table that morningdid his eye appear more lively, or his demeanour more composed. He hadclosed up to Evandale for the purpose of giving some orders, and pickingout a few men to reinforce his rear-guard.
"If this bout lasts five minutes longer," he said, in a whisper, "ourrogues will leave you, my lord, old Allan, and myself, the honour offighting this battle with our own hands. I must do something to dispersethe musketeers who annoy them so hard, or we shall be all shamed. Don'tattempt to succour me if you see me go down, but keep at the head of yourmen; get off as you can, in God's name, and tell the king and the councilI died in my duty!"
So saying, and commanding about twenty stout men to follow him, he gave,with this small body, a charge so desperate and unexpected, that he drovethe foremost of the pursuers back to some distance. In the confusion ofthe assault he singled out Burley, and, desirous to strike terror intohis followers, he dealt him so severe a blow on the head, as cut throughhis steel head-piece, and threw him from his horse, stunned for themoment, though unwounded. A wonderful thing it was afterwards thought,that one so powerful as Balfour should have sunk under the blow of a man,to appearance so slightly made as Claverhouse; and the vulgar, of course,set down to supernatural aid the effect of that energy, which adetermined spirit can give to a feebler arm. Claverhouse had, in thislast charge, however, involved himself too deeply among the insurgents,and was fairly surrounded.
Lord Evandale saw the danger of his commander, his body of dragoons beingthen halted, while that commanded by Allan was in the act of retreating.Regardless of Claverhouse's disinterested command to the contrary, heordered the party which he headed to charge down hill and extricate theirColonel. Some advanced with him--most halted and stood uncertain--manyran away. With those who followed Evandale, he disengaged Claverhouse.His assistance just came in time, for a rustic had wounded his horse in amost ghastly manner by the blow of a scythe, and was about to repeat thestroke when Lord Evandale cut him down. As they got out of the press,they looked round them. Allan's division had ridden clear over the hill,that officer's authority having proved altogether unequal to halt them.Evandale's troop was scattered and in total confusion.
"What is to be done, Colonel?" said Lord Evandale.
"We are the last men in the field, I think," said Claverhouse; "and whenmen fight as long as they can, there is no shame in flying. Hectorhimself would say, 'Devil take the hindmost,' when there are but twentyagainst a thousand.--Save yourselves, my lads, and rally as soon as youcan.--Come, my lord, we must e'en ride for it."
So saying, he put spurs to his wounded horse; and the generous animal, asif conscious that the life of his rider depended on his exertions,pressed forward with speed, unabated either by pain or loss of blood.
[Note: Claverhouse's Charger. It appears, from the letter of Claverhouse afterwards quoted, that the horse on which he rode at Drumclog was not black, but sorrel. The author has been misled as to the colour by the many extraordinary traditions current in Scotl
and concerning Claverhouse's famous black charger, which was generally believed to have been a gift to its rider from the Author of Evil, who is said to have performed the Caesarean operation upon its dam. This horse was so fleet, and its rider so expert, that they are said to have outstripped and coted, or turned, a hare upon the Bran-Law, near the head of Moffat Water, where the descent is so precipitous, that no merely earthly horse could keep its feet, or merely mortal rider could keep the saddle.
There is a curious passage in the testimony of John Dick, one of the suffering Presbyterians, in which the author, by describing each of the persecutors by their predominant qualities or passions, shows how little their best-loved attributes would avail them in the great day of judgment. When he introduces Claverhouse, it is to reproach him with his passion for horses in general, and for that steed in particular, which was killed at Drumclog, in the manner described in the text:
"As for that bloodthirsty wretch, Claverhouse, how thinks he to shelter himself that day? Is it possible the pitiful thing can be so mad as to think to secure himself by the fleetness of his horse, (a creature he has so much respect for, that he regarded more the loss of his horse at Drumclog, than all the men that fell there, and sure there fell prettier men on either side than himself?) No, sure--could he fall upon a chemist that could extract the spirit out of all the horses in the world, and infuse them into his one, though he were on that horse never so well mounted, he need not dream of escaping."--The Testimony to the Doctrine, Worship, Discipline, and Government of the Church of Scotland, as it was left in write by that truly pious and eminently faithful, and now glorified Martyr, Mr John Dick. To which is added, his last Speech and Behaviour on the Scaffold, on 5th March, 1684, which day he sealed this testimony. 57 pp. 4to. No year or place of publication.
The reader may perhaps receive some farther information on the subject of Cornet Grahame's death and the flight of Claverhouse, from the following Latin lines, a part of a poem entitled, Bellum Bothuellianum, by Andrew Guild, which exists in manuscript in the Advocates' Library.]
A few officers and soldiers followed him, but in a very irregular andtumultuary manner. The flight of Claverhouse was the signal for all thestragglers, who yet offered desultory resistance, to fly as fast as theycould, and yield up the field of battle to the victorious insurgents.