M’KAIL, HUGH,
a martyr of the covenant, was born about 1640. He studied, with a
view to the church, at the university of Edinburgh, under the care
of his uncle, one of the ministers of that city, and was afterwards,
for some time, chaplain to Sir James Stewart of Coltness, then lord
provost of Edinburgh. In 1661, he was licensed to preach, being then
in his twenty-first year. On the 1st September 1662, when
400 presbyterian ministers were about to be driven from their
charges for non-compliance with episcopacy, he delivered a discourse
in the High Church of Edinburgh, from the Song of Solomon, i. 7, in
which, speaking of the many persecutions to which the cause of
religion had been subjected in all ages, he said that “the church
and people of God had been persecuted both by an Ahab on the throne,
a Haman in the state, and a Judas in the church.” In those troublous
days, such an illustration was sure to find an application, whether
the preacher meant it or not, parallel to the times. Accordingly the
Ahab on the throne was considered to be Charles II., and Middleton
and Archbishop Sharp took the Haman and Judas to themselves. A few
days thereafter a party of horse was sent to apprehend him, but he
escaped, and went to his father’s house in the parish of Liberton.
Soon after, he took refuge in Holland, where he remained four years,
during which time he studied at one of the Dutch universities.
In 1666 he returned to Scotland, and immediately joined the
resolute and daring band of covenanters who rose in arms in the
west, previous to the defeat at Rullion Green, and continued with
them from the 18th to the 27th of November,
when not being able to endure the fatigue of constant marching, he
left them near Cramond Water. He was on his way to Liberton, when he
was taken by an officer of dragoons, and some countrymen, as he
passed through a place called Braid’s Craigs. He had then a sword or
rapier, which of itself was a circumstance of suspicion against him.
He was conveyed to Edinburgh and searched for letters, but none
being found, he was committed to the tolbooth. Next day, he was
brought before the privy council for examination, and on the 4th
December he was subjected to the torture of the boot, with the
object of extracting information from him relative to a conspiracy,
which the government affected to believe extensively existed; but he
declared that he knew of none, and had nothing to confess. The
strokes were repeated ten or eleven times, when he swooned away, and
was carried back to prison.
The torture and the close confinement brought on a fever, and
as he was ordered to prepare for trial, for having joined in the
insurrection, although he had left the party the day previous to the
battle of Pentland, he petitioned the council for a delay of a few
days, when it was remitted to two physicians and two surgeons to
inquire into his case. His cousin, Mr. Matthew M’Kail, an apothecary
in Edinburgh, afterwards a doctor of medicine, applied to Archbishop
Sharp, to interpose in his behalf, but that treacherous and
unprincipled prelate only desired him to assure the prisoner that he
would befriend him, if he would reveal the mystery of the plot
against the government, and as he was not able to do so, he was put
to the torture. Still the cousin was determined to persevere in his
efforts to save his unfortunate relative, and even followed the
archbishop to St. Andrews. A note to M’Crie’s edition of Veitch’s
Life (pp. 35-37) gives the following minute particulars of his
fruitless journey to and from the primate’s residence in Fife: “Upon
the Thursday thereafter, the bishop went to St. Andrews, and Mr.
Matthew followed him on Friday, but reached only Wemyss that night.
After dinner, he arrived at the bishop’s house on Saturday, and the
servant told that the barber was trimming him, and when he was done,
Mr. Matthew would get access. When Mr. Matthew got access, he
delivered to the bishop ane letter from the marchioness Douglas, in
favour of Mr. Hew (the prisoner) whose brother Mr. Matthew was
governor to her son, Lord James Douglas; and another from the
bishop’s brother, Sir William Sharp his lady; and when he had read
them, he said, ‘The business in now in the justiciaries’ hands, and
I can do nothing; but, however, I shall have answers ready against
the next morning;’ at which time, when Mr. Matthew came, the bishop
called his family together, prayed, and desired Mr. Matthew to come
and dine with him, and then he would give the answer; then he went
to the church, did preach, and inveigh much against the covenant.
Immediately after dinner, he gave the answers to the letters, and
Mr. Matthew said, that he hoped that his travelling that day about
so serious a business would give no offence; to which the bishop
answered that it would give no offence. Then Mr. Matthew went to
enquire for his horse, but the stabler’s family were all gone to
church, so that he could not travel till Monday morning early, and
when he came to Buckhaven, the wind being easterly, the fish-boats
were coming into the harbour, and he hired one of them immediately,
and arrived at Leith in the evening, having sent his horse to
Bruntisland. He went immediately to Archbishop Burnet of Glasgow,
and delivered a letter to him, who did read it, and then said that
the business was in the justiciaries’ hands.”
Next day, being the 18th December, the prisoner was
brought before the court of justiciary, with other three. When
placed at the bar, M’Kail addressed the court, and :Spoke of the
ties and engagements that were upon the land to God; and having
commended the institution, dignity, and blessing of presbyterian
government, he said that the last words of the national covenant had
always great weight on his spirit. Whereupon the king’s advocate
interrupted him, and desired, he would forbear that discourse, since
he was not called in question for his persuasion, but for the crime
of rebellion.” As a matter of course he was found guilty of high
treason, and condemned to be hanged at the market cross of Edinburgh
on December 22, four days after. The three others who were tried
along with him were likewise sentenced to death. On his way back to
the tolbooth he received the greatest sympathy from the people, and
to some women who were lamenting his fate, he said; “Weep not;
though I am but young, and in the budding of my hopes and labours in
the ministry, I am not to be mourned; for one drop of my blood,
through the grace of God, may make more hearts contrite, than many
years’ sermons might have done.” At his request, his father was
allowed to visit him in prison, and the interview between them was
peculiarly affecting. He spent the short time allotted to him in
acts of devotion, and in encouraging and supporting those who were
to suffer with him. He even at times showed considerable
cheerfulness. On a friend, who went to see him, expressing his
sorrow for his mangled limb, he answered that the fear of his neck
made him forget his leg. On the evening before his execution, while
at supper with his fellow prisoners, he said to them gaily, “Eat to
the full, and cherish your bodies, that we may be a fat Christmas
pie to the prelates.” After supper he read to them the 16th
Psalm, and then said. “If there were anything in the world sadly and
unwillingly to be left, it were the reading of the Scriptures,” but,
he added, it was a source of comfort that he would soon be in that
place where even Scripture is no longer necessary. He then wrote his
will, bequeathing his few books to his friends. He slept soundly,
and on awakening, at five o’clock in the morning, one who was to
suffer with him, he said pleasantly, “Up, John, for you are too long
in bed; you and I look not like men going to be hanged this day,
seeing we lie so long.” Before proceeding to the scaffold he bade
farewell to his father, and assured him that his sufferings would no
more hurt to the prelates, and be more edifying to God’s people than
if he were to continue in the ministry for twenty years. On his
appearance on the scaffold the grief of the spectators burst forth
in loud expressions of wailing, so that it is recorded “there was
scarce ever seen so much sorrow in onlookers; scarce was there a dry
cheek in the whole street or windows at the cross of Edinburgh.” On
ascending the ladder he said to his friends, “I care no more to go
up this ladder than if I were going home to my father’s house.
Friends and fellow sufferers, be not afraid; every step of this
ladder is a degree nearer heaven.”
Previous to being turned off, he addressed the spectators at
some length, imputing the persecution of the church to the prelates,
and declaring his readiness to die for the cause of God, the
covenants, and the work of reformation, which had been the glory of
Scotland. He concluded with the following sublime exclamation: “And
now, I leave off to speak any more to creatures, and begin my
intercourse with God, which shall never be broken off. Farewell,
father and mother, friends and relations, farewell the world and all
delights, farewell meat and drink, farewell sun, moon, and stars!
Welcome God and Father; welcome sweet Jesus Christ, the Mediator of
the new covenant; welcome blessed Spirit of Grace, and God of all
consolation; welcome glory, welcome eternal life, and welcome
death!: Such was the fate of Hugh M’Kail, who was only twenty-six
years old at the time of his death, “one of the brightest, purest,
and most sanctified spirits,” says Hetherington, “that ever animated
a mere human form; a victim to prelatic tyranny, and a rejoicing
martyr for Christ’s sole kingly dominion over his church. Till the
records of time shall have melted into those of eternity, the name
of that young Christian martyr will be held in most affectionate
remembrance by every true Scottish presbyterian.”
