to what they themselves so vehemently
desired. Two Acts were quickly passed: one reversing many of the acts
of its predecessors and confirming the considerations: the other, known
in history as the Act of Classes, defining the various misdemeanours
which were to exclude men from sitting in Parliament or holding any
public office, for a period measured by their offences, and practically to
be determined by the judicatories of the Kirk.
This Mauchline Convention was popularly known at the time as the
Whiggamores' Raid, a name memorable as the first introduction into
history of a word soon to become only too familiar, and still a part of
our political vocabulary.[8] Its immediate result was to throw the
direction of affairs still more exclusively into the hands of the clergy:
indirectly, but no less surely, it was the cause of the Pentland Rising
and the savage persecution which followed, of the murder of
Archbishop Sharp, of the battles of Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge,
and of those terrible years still spoken of in Scotland as the
"killing-time." It was, in short, like the wrath of Achilles, the spring of
unnumbered woes.
Then followed the execution of Charles. Against this the whole body of
Presbyterians joined in protesting. The hereditary right of kings was,
indeed, as much a principle of the Covenant as their divine right was
opposed to it; and the execution at Whitehall on January 30th, 1649,
was regarded with as much horror by the Presbyterians of England as
by the Presbyterians of Scotland.
The first act of the Estates was to proclaim the Prince of Wales king of
Great Britain, their next to send a deputation to Holland to invite him to
take possession of his kingdom. It had been better both for Charles and
for Scotland that the invitation had never been accepted. The terms on
which alone the Scots would see the son of Charles Stuart back among
them as crowned king were such as only the direst necessity could have
induced him to accept: they were such as it seems now amazing that
even the most bigoted and inexperienced could really have believed
that the son of his father, or, indeed, any man in his position, would
keep one moment longer than circumstances compelled him. But his
advisers, led on by Wilmot and Buckingham, bid him sign--sign
everything, or all would be lost. He signed everything. First he put his
hand to the Solemn League and Covenant: then to a second declaration
promising to do his utmost to extirpate both Popery and Prelacy from
all parts of his kingdom: finally, he consented to figure as the hero of a
day of public fasting and humiliation for the tyranny of his father and
the idolatry of his mother. And while he was acquiescing to each fresh
demand with a shrug of his shoulders and a whispered jest to
Buckingham, and in his heart as much hatred for his humiliators as he
was capable of feeling for anybody, he was all the while urging on
Montrose to strike that wild blow for his crown which was to lead the
brave marquis to the scaffold. The deaths of Hamilton and Huntly had
preceded the death of Montrose by a few weeks: a few more weeks and
Charles was in Scotland, a crowned king in name, virtually a prisoner.
Within little more than a year the fight at Dunbar, and the "crowning
mercy" of Worcester, had bitterly taught him how futile was all the
humiliation he had undergone.
It will be enough to briefly recall the main incidents of the years which
intervened between the battle of Worcester and the Restoration. After
the establishment of the Protectorate an Act of Indemnity was passed
for the Scottish people. From this certain classes were excepted. All of
the House of Hamilton, for instance, and some other persons of note,
including Lauderdale: all who had joined the Engagement, or who had
not joined in the protestation against it: all who had sat in Parliament or
on the Committee of Estates after the coronation of Charles at Scone:
all who had borne arms at the battle of Worcester. From this proscribed
list, however, Argyle managed to extricate himself. He had fortified
himself at Inverary, and summoned a meeting of the Estates to which
the chiefs of the Royalist party had been bidden. To conquer him in his
own stronghold would have been difficult, perhaps impossible, to
English soldiers unused to such warfare. Cromwell wisely preferred to
negotiate, and Argyle was not hard to bring to terms. He bound himself
to live at peace with the Government, and to use his best endeavours to
persuade others to do so. In return he was to be left unmolested in the
free enjoyment of his estates, and in the exercise
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