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Again we have another skirmish of a still
less historical character. During the revolutionary fever of 1820, a
farce of a fight took place a few miles westward of Falkirk, which has
been called the battle of Bonnymuir. Without entering into the details
of the abortive and fatal rebellion, the wretched expedition deserves a
passing word. Thus, at the outset, it may be well to note the deep
political discontent and general disaffection of the kingdom at that
memorable period, when not a few of our patriotic countrymen dared even
to imperil their lives in the assertion of what they deemed their legal
rights. All disorders, political as well as social, have their climax;
and the years of which we speak were, in Scotland at least, the
culminating era of constitutional martyrdom.
The original radical party, who, by the
emissaries of the government, were treacherously decoyed to Bonnymuir,
left Germiston early in the morning of the 25th April.
Following up the treasonable address, which, as the first step of the
infamous plot, was freely posted over Glasgow, one Turner gets a few of
the more impulsive city radicals gathered together, and gives them to
understand that the men at Carron had all struck work for rebellion, and
were moreover just waiting the arrival of a force of
"friends," before seizing from the iron-works a full supply of
arms and ammunition that had been secretly mustered for the radical
service. No doubt their numbers were few to start with, but then they
had the plausible story that a numerous body would be sure to join them
in their route at Condorrat, whither King, another avowed agent of the
provisional government, had gone as forerunner.
Under this delusion,
Hardie, who has been appointed commander of the Germiston party, sets
out hopefully on the radical expedition; and, when within a mile of
Condorrat, puts his little army into regular marching order – forming
a front and rear rank. Reaching the tiny hamlet, no additional force,
however, makes the slightest appearance; but here, King, deceitfully
busy, has made another dupe of a villager named Baird, who, on the faith
that "a party of two hundred well-armed men, all old soldiers, were
on their way from Glasgow," succeeds in persuading some dozen of
his neighbours to turn out and be in readiness with himself, to join the
radical army on their arrival in the village. Of course the few raw
volunteers brought up by Hardie were all that represented the promised
numbers, and the metropolitan leader is now quite chapfallen.
Still
King, with some further diabolical coaxing, gets the deluded party to
continue their offensive expedition, in the likelihood, as he alleged,
of meeting with their truant friends, who, in their marching, had
possibly found it necessary to leave the public thoroughfare. Baird and
Hardie are now made joint-commanders of the thirty men, who walk bravely
eastward, two deep, and have each a pike in hand for the demolition of
the British government. On nearing Bonnybridge, King recommends that the
"army" should take to Bonnymuir – a bleak moorland which lay
a short distance south – and rest there until he returned with a
reinforcement from Camelon.
Again, and we may add finally, were the poor
fellows sold. Not a solitary radical came from the "ancient
city" to strengthen their ranks; and, as for the Carron men, they
too had wit enough to know, as was once expressed by Chief-Baron
Richards, "that the law is too strong for rebels, and that they
always carry the halter around their necks." Both Baird and Hardie
saw forcibly now that it was utterly hopeless to make any movement with
such a mere handful of men. They had, in fact, resolved to return at
once to their homes; and were just on the eve of so doing, when up rode
Lieutenant Hodgson of the 10th hussars, and Lieutenant
Davidson of the Stirlingshire yeomanry, with a detachment of their
respective corps.
The villainous trap was at last clearly seen through;
and we cannot speak of the despicable plot but with unrestrained scorn.
The record of such barbarous thirst for the life-blood of even political
rebels, does not reflect much luster upon the antecedents of our
"glorious constitution." The radical party were naturally
thrown into the greatest consternation on finding themselves face to
face with an enemy fully accoutred and trained to action. For a time
they hold both hussars and yeomanry at bay, taking shelter behind an
adjoining wall; and, for defence, fill the slap with pikemen. Repeatedly
is the attempt made by the military to get through upon the radicals,
but they are successfully repulsed by a thick mustering of pikes.
Eventually, however, the horsemen get round to the rebel ranks, when the
majority of the civilians, on Lieutenant Hodgson calling out for a
surrender, throw down their pikes and run. Resistance by the remaining
few is entirely useless. Eighteen of the radicals, several badly
wounded, are taken prisoners, chief of whom are the leaders – Baird
and Hardie; while two, more seriously injured than the rest, are left on
the field for dead.
One of these latter was a printer from Glasgow,
named Black, who had an uncle in the person of Allan M’Clymont,
weaver, Larbert. According to Black’s own story, he was flying a
fugitive from the muir, when a hussar unhappily overtook him, but who,
simply "dirling" the pike from his hand, told him to make
quickly off. He had not gone far, however, when he encountered three of
the yeomanry; and these, less humane and considerate than the hussar,
cried with one voice, "Cut the radical rascal down!" when the
foremost, suiting the action to the word, wounded him dangerously about
the head and shoulders. He was, in fact, thought finished. But, as good
luck would have it, a neighbouring farmer, at Damhead, named Alexander
Robertson, happened to be about the field shortly after the skirmish,
and seeing Black lying, not lifeless, though evidently at the point of
death, had him carried to his house, and, with his wounds dressed, put
snugly to bed. Restoratives were also prudently administered; and, what
with these and good guiding, Black so far recovered as to be able, with
some little assistance, to leave Damhead for the weaver’s at Larbert
the night following.
The exit arrangements were these: - The uncle and
his son James were trysted to reach Damhead about midnight, when Black
would make his escape by a back-room window, wearing the farmer’s blue
bonnet in lieu of his own battered and haggled hat. The radical’s
object was to get fairly out of the sight of the yeomanry. News of his
proceedings, however, somehow reached the ears of Carnock; and the said
gentleman, as may be guessed, was not long in setting out upon his
track. Yet he got to Larbert just a post behind. The wounded bird had
again fled. M’Clymont’s house, and outhouses were thoroughly
searched by a company of "sour-milkers," and an apprentice
lad, of the name of Craig, who lay sick in the garret with his head
bandaged, was at first sight taken for the wanted fugitive. But the
mistake was soon seen; and after the family had been put on oath, that
they knew nothing of Black’s whereabouts, the yeomen left the house,
emitting a volley of curses.
One would imagine that they might have been
fairly content; for, in their blood-hunting expedition that day, they
had picked up no fewer than three radicals out of Camelon – M’millan,
M’Intyre, and Dawson – all of whom were afterwards tried, and
sentenced to banishment for life. The first-mentioned, was, until lately
at least, enjoying a ripe old age, amid fields of plenty, in the far
uplands of Australia; and a Camelon veteran, who was also apprehended at
the time as a decided radical, but who got off clear, in speaking to the
writer regarding the latest news from his old neighbour and friend,
remarked – "Weel, sir, had I got justice, I micht hae been jist
as guid as him: a laird, tae, abroad."
But to return to Bonnymuir. Such of the
revolutionists as were able for the journey, were at once marched off to
Stirling castle. It was, however, the 13th of July ere the
trial of the political prisoners took place. Hardie, who was first dealt
with, was found guilty on the following counts: - (2) "Levying
war." (4) "Compassing to levy war against the king, in order
to compel him to change his measures." Baird was found guilty only
on the second count; but both prisoners were sentenced to be hanged by
the neck till dead, on the 8th of September, and afterwards
beheaded. The execution was a ghastly spectacle. Yet the poor men went
through the trying ordeal bravely. "Hail, harbinger of eternal
rest!" exclaimed Hardie, as he raised his eyes to the gibbet; and,
just before ascending the grim instrument of death, he prayerfully
wished "a speedy deliverance to his afflicted country."
And what shall we say of the extreme
severity of the government in executing, as traitors, two humble
weavers, who were simply the victims of a diabolical machination? No
doubt both were thoroughly in earnest for the success of the great
political cause. "The rights I want," said Hardie, on his
examination in Stirling castle, "are annual parliaments, and
election by ballot;" and he must have known that he who, by
treason, would subvert the state, is punishable by its laws. Yet theirs,
assuredly, was no bastard patriotism. Then, as now, nothing
intrinsically dreadful could be seen by the mass of the people in the
demand of those popular privileges. The only execution, indeed, the
public feeling of that day would have sanctioned was that of Richmond,
the spy, and his base and cowardly accomplices. As for Andrew Hardie and
John Baird, they were, in the very dignity of their death, regarded as
pure martyrs in the cause of constitutional liberty; and now, in these
more enlightened times – for the conviction that the House of Commons
should be an epitome of our national life was not to be quenched –
when there is an almost general recognition of the fundamental
principles of self-government, which is neither more nor less than the
just and equitable representation in parliament of all classes of the
community; they stand out from the dark pictorial canvas of the British
constitution, in its stormy spring-time, as the gallant pioneers of
reform at last triumphant.
"All the past of time
reveals
A bridal dawn of thunder-peals,
Whenever thought hath wedded fact."
In July, 1868, the Hon. Mr. John Bright,
M.P., thus wrote the present editor of these volumes, relative to the
Bonnymuir skirmish, and after tragedy: -
"A darker page in our history is
scarcely to be found. The ministers who sent Hardie and Baird to the
scaffold, and Richmond who betrayed them to their death, were infinitely
more guilty than the men they legally murdered.
"Scotland now is the surest home of
freedom in the three kingdoms, and I hope before long you will be able
to add more strength to the Liberal party in parliament.
"If England, Wales, and Ireland were
as intelligent and incorrupt as Scotland, we might have the best
government in the world.
"I hope we can see some improvement
throughout the United Kingdom, and that we shall see reform carried into
every department of the state."
In the encounter, Lieutenant Hodgson
received a pike wound through the right hand, and a serjeant in the
hussars was more severely injured by a shot in the side. Five muskets,
two pistols, and about one hundred round of ball cartridge were taken by
the military. This battle, as we have already said, was a miserable
affair, but the result showed the hopelessness of any attempt on the
part of the radicals to cope with regular troops, and the political
disturbances of that period speedily subsided. Note:
You can read more about the 1820 Rising here! |
