Sir Walter, of course, knew very well what he was
about; but it did not seem to him necessary to write fiction with the
nice exactness of the historian; nor was he, happily for us, of that
scrupulous order of minds which conceives that a cruel wrong has been
done to the reputation of a man who has been in his grave for nearly a
century and a half by employing the colours of tradition to heighten the
pictures of fancy.
CHAPTER VI.
Could Monmouth's influence have lasted, their defeat at Bothwell Bridge
might have turned out well for the Covenanters. As soon as he had led
his army back into quarters, he hastened to London, where he so strongly
represented the brutal folly and mismanagement of Lauderdale's
government, that he prevailed upon the King to try once more the effect
of gentler measures. An indemnity was granted for the past, and even
some limited form of indulgence for the future. But the unexpected
return of the Duke of York from Holland put an end to all these humane
counsels. Monmouth was himself soon again in disgrace; and Lauderdale,
though his power was now past its height, was still strong enough to
mould to his own will concessions for which the time had now perhaps
irrevocably gone.
The twelve hundred prisoners from Bothwell were marched in chains to
Edinburgh, and penned like sheep in the churchyard of the Grey Friars,
the building which barely forty years before had witnessed the
triumphant birth of that Covenant which was, if ever covenant of man
was, assuredly to be baptized in blood.
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