“The Martyr’s Hill’s forsaken,
In simmer’s dusk sae calm,
There’s nae gath’ring now, lassie,
To sing the e’ening psalm;
But the martyr’s grave will rise, lassie,
Aboon the warrior’s cairn;
And the martyr soun’ will sleep, lassie,
Aneath the waving fern.”
ORIGIN AND EARLY HISTORY—DUNKELD—1689–1691.
The bigotry which at various times in our world’s history has lighted
the fires of persecution, has always proved itself impotent to make men
righteous or unrighteous. Rather has it entailed a curse upon the tyrant
whilst inflicting a woe upon the people who groaned beneath his rule.
The freedom which the accession of the House of Orange conferred upon
every rank of society, and every phase of belief, established the
sovereignty of William and Mary, not merely over the heads of the
people, but in the love and loyalty of their hearts. We have already
alluded to the origin of the Twenty-fifth as expressive of these
sentiments, and we now turn to the history of the Twenty-sixth, or
Cameronians, as furnishing another exponent of the gratitude and loyalty
of the emancipated Covenanters. The origin of this famous regiment—well
worthy, by the lustre of its deeds, of the pen of a Macaulay to
record—has elicited from that great national historian the following
graphic account, which, as well for the sake of variety as its own
excellence, we are here tempted to quote:—
“The Covenanters of the West were in general unwilling to enlist. They
were assuredly not wanting in courage; and they hated Dundee with deadly
hatred. In their part of the country the memory of his cruelty was still
fresh. Every village had its own tale of blood. The greyheaded father
was missed in one dwelling, the hopeful stripling in another. It was
remembered but too well how the dragoons had stalked into the peasant’s
cottage, cursing and damning him, themselves, and each other at every
second word, pushing from the ingle nook his grandmother of eighty, and
thrusting their hands into the bosom of his daughter of sixteen; how the
adjuration had been tendered to him; how he had folded his arms and said
‘God’s will be done;’ how the colonel had called for a file with loaded
muskets; and how in three minutes the goodman of the house had been
wallowing in a pool of blood at his own door. The seat of the martyr was
still vacant at the fire-side; and every child could point out his grave
still green amidst the heath. When the people of this region called
their oppressor a servant of the devil, they were not speaking
figuratively. They believed that between the bad man and the bad angel
there was a close alliance on definite terms; that Dundee had bound
himself to do the work of hell on earth, and that, for high purposes,
hell was permitted to protect its slave till the measure of his guilt
should be full. But intensely as these men abhorred Dundee, most of them
had a scruple about drawing the sword for William. A great meeting was
held in the parish church of Douglas; and the question was propounded,
whether, at a time when war was in the land, and when an Irish invasion
was expected, it were not a duty to take arms? The debate was sharp and
tumultuous. The orators on one side adjured their brethren not to incur
the curse denounced against the inhabitants of Meroz, who came not to
the help of the Lord against the mighty. The orators on the other side
thundered against sinful associations. There were malignants in
William’s army: Mackay’s own orthodoxy was problematical: to take
military service with such comrades, and under such a general, would be
a sinful association. At length, after much wrangling, and amidst great
confusion, a vote was taken; and the majority pronounced that to take
military service would be a sinful association. There was, however, a
large minority; and, from among the members of this minority, the Earl
of Angus was able to raise a body of infantry, which is still, after the
lapse of more than a hundred and sixty years, known by the name of the
Cameronian Regiment. The first Lieut.-Colonel was Cleland, that
implacable avenger of blood who had driven Dundee from the Convention.
There was no small difficulty in filling the ranks, for many west
country Whigs, who did not think it absolutely sinful to enlist, stood
out for terms subversive of all military discipline. Some would not
serve under any colonel, major, captain, serjeant, or corporal who was
not ready to sign the Covenant. Others insisted that, if it should be
found absolutely necessary to appoint any officer who had taken the
tests imposed in the late reign, he should at least qualify himself for
command by publicly confessing his sin at the head of the regiment. Most
of the enthusiasts who had proposed these conditions were induced by
dexterous management to abate much of their demands. Yet the new
regiment had a very peculiar character. The soldiers were all rigid
Puritans. One of their first acts was to petition the Parliament that
all drunkenness, licentiousness, and profaneness might be severely
punished. Their own conduct must have been exemplary: for the worst
crime which the most austere bigotry could impute to them was that of
huzzaing on the King’s birth-day. It was originally intended that with
the military organisation of the corps should be interwoven the
organisation of a Presbyterian congregation. Each company was to furnish
an elder; and the elders were, with the chaplain, to form an
ecclesiastical court for the suppression of immorality and heresy.
Elders, however, were not appointed; but a noted hill preacher,
Alexander Shields, was called to the office of chaplain. It is not easy
to conceive that fanaticism can be heated to a higher temperature than
that which is indicated by the writings of Shields. According to him, it
should seem to be the first duty of a Christian ruler to persecute to
the death every heterodox subject, and the first duty of a Christian
subject to poinard a heterodox ruler. Yet there was then in Scotland an
enthusiasm compared with which the enthusiasm even of this man was
lukewarm. The extreme Covenanters protested against his defection as
vehemently as he had protested against the Black Indulgence and the oath
of supremacy, and pronounced every man who entered Angus’s regiment
guilty of a wicked confederacy with malignants.”
Immediately after its formation, the regiment, which was raised to a
strength of near 1000 men in a few hours, marched and was stationed in
Edinburgh, where it served to keep under the rebellious schemes of many
a hot-headed Jacobite. Although Dundee appeared the natural enemy of
such a regiment, still it had not the satisfaction of being present at
Killiecrankie, where that great chieftain fell in what may be well
considered the greatest victory of his life. The disasters of the fight,
and the apparent ruin of the Royal cause, called for immediate succour
being sent to Major-General Mackay; but the blunders of those in power
at Edinburgh, distrusting Mackay, and, like too many councils, essaying
to be generals as well as statesmen, very nigh consigned our Cameronians
to a cruel fate. Advancing into the heart of the disaffected districts,
and stationed at Dunkeld, the regiment—but for its dauntless spirit and
heroic endurance, and the incapacity of General Cannon, who had
succeeded Dundee in the command of the rebels—would have been utterly
cut to pieces. The result of the conflict was most glorious, early
displaying the mettle of this gallant regiment. Lord Macaulay thus
summons the rich elegance and might of language to describe the scene:—
“The Cameronian regiment was sent to garrison Dunkeld. Of this
arrangement Mackay altogether disapproved. He knew that at Dunkeld these
troops would be near the enemy; that they would be far from all
assistance; that they would be in an open town; that they would be
surrounded by a hostile population; that they were very imperfectly
disciplined, though doubtless brave and zealous; that they were regarded
by the whole Jacobite party throughout Scotland with peculiar
malevolence; and that in all probability some great effort would be made
to disgrace and destroy them.
“The General’s opinion was disregarded; and the Cameronians occupied the
post assigned to them. It soon appeared that his forebodings were just.
The inhabitants of the country round Dunkeld furnished Cannon with
intelligence, and urged him to make a bold push. The peasantry of Athol,
impatient for spoil, came in great numbers to swell his army. The
regiment hourly expected to be attacked, and became discontented and
turbulent. The men, intrepid, indeed, both from constitution and
enthusiasm, but not yet broken to habits of military submission,
expostulated with Cleland, who commanded them. They had, they imagined,
been recklessly, if not perfidiously, sent to certain destruction. They
were protected by no ramparts: they had a very scanty stock of
ammunition: they were hemmed in by enemies. An officer might mount and
gallop beyond reach of danger in an hour: but the private soldier must
stay and be butchered. ‘Neither I,’ said Cleland, ‘nor any of my
officers will, in any extremity, abandon you. Bring out my horse, all
our horses: they shall be shot dead.’ These words produced a complete
change of feeling. The men answered that the horses should not be shot,
that they wanted no pledge from their brave Colonel except his word, and
that they would run the last hazard with him. They kept their promise
well. The Puritan blood was now thoroughly up; and what that blood was
when it was up had been proved on many fields of battle.
“That night the regiment passed under arms. On the morning of the
following day, the twenty-first of August, all the hills round Dunkeld
were alive with bonnets and plaids. Cannon’s army was much larger than
that which Dundee had commanded, and was accompanied by more than a
thousand horses laden with baggage. Both the horses and baggage were
probably part of the booty of Killiecrankie. The whole number of
Highlanders was estimated by those who saw them at from four to five
thousand men. They came furiously on. The outposts of the Cameronians
were speedily driven in. The assailants came pouring on every side into
the streets. The church, however, held out obstinately. But the greater
part of the regiment made its stand behind a wall which surrounded a
house belonging to the Marquess of Athole. This wall, which had two or
three days before been hastily repaired with timber and loose stones,
the soldiers defended desperately with musket, pike, and halbert. Their
bullets were soon spent; but some of the men were employed in cutting
lead from the roof of the Marquess’s house and shaping it into slugs.
Meanwhile all the neighbouring houses were crowded from top to bottom
with Highlanders, who kept up a galling fire from the windows. Cleland,
while encouraging his men, was shot dead. The command devolved on Major
Henderson. In another minute Henderson fell pierced with three mortal
wounds. His place was supplied by Captain Munro, and the contest went on
with undiminished fury. A party of the Cameronians sallied forth, set
fire to the houses from which the fatal shots had come, and turned the
keys in the doors. In one single dwelling sixteen of the enemy were
burnt alive. Those who were in the fight described it as a terrible
initiation for recruits. Half the town was blazing; and with the
incessant roar of the guns were mingled the piercing shrieks of wretches
perishing in the flames. The struggle lasted four hours. By that time
the Cameronians were reduced nearly to their last flask of powder: but
their spirit never flagged. ‘The enemy will soon carry the wall. Be it
so. We will retreat into the house: we will defend it to the last; and,
if they force their way into it, we will burn it over their heads and
our own.’ But, while they were revolving these desperate projects, they
observed that the fury of the assault slackened. Soon the Highlanders
began to fall back: disorder visibly spread among them; and whole bands
began to march off to the hills. It was in vain that their general
ordered them to return to the attack. Perseverance was not one of their
military virtues. The Cameronians meanwhile, with shouts of defiance,
invited Amalek and Moab to come back and to try another chance with the
chosen people. But these exhortations had as little effect as those of
Cannon. In a short time the whole Gaelic army was in full retreat
towards Blair. Then the drums struck up: the victorious Puritans threw
their caps into the air, raised, with one voice, a psalm of triumph and
thanksgiving, and waved their colours, colours which were on that day
unfurled for the first time in the face of an enemy, but which have
since been proudly borne in every quarter of the world, and which are
now embellished with the ‘Sphinx’ and the ‘Dragon,’ emblems of brave
actions achieved in Egypt and in China.”
“The Cameronians had good reason to be joyful and thankful; for they had
finished the war.” The loss of the regiment did not exceed 70 men,
whilst the rebels lost 300; but the death of their brave Commander,
Colonel Cleland, was a source of great regret to the Cameronians. This
desperate resistance, insignificant in itself, so cooled the fiery zeal
of the clans, that, melting away like snow, General Cannon was compelled
to retreat, and, soon without an army, to submit.
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