THE CAMPAIGN IN THE HIGHLANDS
(AULDEARN--ALFORD--KILSYTH)
Had Montrose been strong enough to march at once on the capital, it
is possible that he might have found himself master of Scotland, and
his promise to the King fulfilled sooner than he had expected. It is
certain that those in Edinburgh who knew the truth felt that they were
for the moment powerless to stop him. On such a stroke, however, even
he dared not venture. Cavalry he had none, save the few troopers who
barely sufficed for an escort to the Standard, and without cavalry
he could not hope to hold his own in Lowland warfare. Nor for such
warfare could he rely on the Highlanders, even should they consent to
follow him so far from their homes. In the sudden onset, the struggle
hand to hand, the headlong pursuit, a general need wish to lead no
better soldiers; but in the calculated movements of a regular campaign
they could not be trusted. They knew no discipline save obedience to
their own chiefs, no mode of fighting save to shout and fall on. To
rally them after defeat was as difficult as to keep them in hand after
a victory. Montrose therefore held on northwards up the valley of the
Ness, on the road he was marching when he had turned back on Argyll.
The news of his great victory had preceded him. As he advanced,
Seaforth and his Mackenzies fell back, and when he halted at Elgin
the proud chief of Kintail appeared before him as a suppliant for
the royal pardon. Nor was Seaforth the only waverer who had taken to
heart the lesson taught Argyll. Sir James Grant came in with three
hundred of his men, and many of the smaller lairds. Now, too, appeared
a more welcome ally than all the Grants and Mackenzies could furnish.
Nathaniel Gordon's errand had been done. Weary of a yoke at which he
had always secretly fretted, and of a cause which seemed to lead only
to defeat and disgrace, Lord Gordon now frankly offered his sword
to Montrose. Nor did he come alone. His brother Lord Lewis, whom he
brought with him, was destined indeed to prove a hindrance rather than
a help, but a well-mounted and well-furnished troop of the gentlemen
of his house had also followed their young chief. Thus reinforced on
the side where he was weakest, Montrose turned to face his enemies
once more.
The Estates had now recovered from their panic. In the first
transports of their fear, when the news came down from Inverlochy,
they had sought comfort in solemnly pronouncing doom of death and
forfeiture on the traitor James Graham, sometime Earl of Montrose, and
on all who abetted him in his treason; and the Kirk had as solemnly
discharged against him the thunders of its excommunication. For
himself such idle words were nothing to Montrose; but it was not
his cue to pass any accusation of his enemies unchallenged, or to
let any judgment go against him by default. It was on the justice of
his cause, on his own consistency that he wished especially to be
understood to rely. He therefore published an answer to this sentence,
framed on the same lines as his Declaration from Dumfries, but in a
bolder spirit and more explicit terms. He recapitulated the causes
which led Scotland to renew her ancient Covenant "as the only safest
and fairest way for preservation of religion and liberty, which was so
opposed by the prelates and their adherents that, by misinformation,
they moved our dread sovereign to threaten us on both sides with
arms." He reminded his countrymen that for this purpose he had gone
with the Covenant even farther than was strictly warrantable till
the King, "being informed of the lawfulness of our proceedings and
honest intentions," had granted, first at Berwick and afterwards more
fully at Ripon, all that they could fairly and reasonably ask. Thus
far he had gone with them; farther, no true subject of the Crown,
no true lover of his country, no true Covenanter could go. It was
when he found "the prevailing party to intend more than they did
pretend," to the prejudice of religion and liberty, to the ruin of
lawful authority, to the abuse of the real spirit of the National
Covenant,--it was then that he left them. It was then that "we were
constrained to suffer them to deviate without us, with the multitude
misled by them, whose eyes they seal in what concerns religion, and
hearts they steal away in what concerns loyalty,--and there we left
them."[17]
The Estates, however, could not afford to rely on the spiritual arm
alone. James Graham, the excommunicated traitor, was still, outside
the walls of Edinburgh, the Marquis of Montrose; and the Marquis of
Montrose at the head of an army was not a foe to be safely left to the
vengeance of Church and Parliament. The strongest force they had yet
put into the field was despatched northwards under General Baillie,
who had been recalled from England for the purpose, and Sir John
Hurry, a Cavalier who had apparently found in his prison at Newcastle
convincing arguments in favour of the Covenant.
But before the southern march began a heavy blow fell on Montrose
from no earthly hand. His eldest son, a gallant lad in his sixteenth
year, died at Gordon Castle. He had followed his father through the
winter's campaign, and the strain had proved too heavy for his young
constitution. Nor was this all. The second son, a boy of eleven, was
snatched from his lessons by Hurry in a raid on the town of Montrose,
and sent a prisoner to Edinburgh. At the same time old Airlie fell
dangerously sick, and was removed to Strathbogie under a strong escort
of Highlanders. Thus weakened in numbers, and with a heavy heart,
Montrose took the field.
He was now resolved at all hazards to make for the Lowlands. The
answer to his despatch from Inverlochy had urged him to press
southwards with all speed to meet the King, who was now bent on
carrying the war into Scotland, and had promised an immediate
reinforcement of cavalry. The summons matched too well with his own
wishes to be disregarded. But as the days passed, and the little army
drew steadily down the coast to the Tay, no sign could be seen of the
promised succours. And the little army grew daily smaller. Baillie,
a brave man, but a cautious rather than a brilliant soldier, would
not be forced into a battle. Montrose had not spared his enemies by
the way. Royalist and Covenanter made war in the same fashion, and
as Argyll had done, so did Montrose. From Inverness to Stonehaven
his course was marked by blackened walls and wasted fields. From his
strong castle of Dunnottar Marischal saw his broad lands harried by
the soldiers of his old friend whom he had not the courage to join,
and derived what comfort he could from the assurance of the godly Mr.
Cant, that the smoke which he saw rising from his worthless worldly
goods would be a sweet-smelling incense in the nostrils of the Lord.
But an army marching through a hostile country cannot be burdened with
spoil, and the Highlanders, who looked for each morning to bring a
repetition of Inverlochy, deserted daily. Some of the gentlemen asked
leave to return for the protection of their own lands, on which, so
soon as the coast was clear, a summary vengeance was sure to fall,
and the leave could not in prudence be refused. When Montrose reached
Dunkeld he could muster only six hundred foot and two hundred horse.
For the present the Lowlands were safe.
But it was not in Montrose's nature to turn from his enemies without
striking a blow. Dundee was but a day's march, as he had taught his
men to march, from Dunkeld; it was a noted stronghold of rebellion,
on which punishment would not be wasted. Leaving Dunkeld at daybreak
on April 3rd, the next morning saw him before Dundee. The town would
not surrender, and could make little resistance. It was carried by
storm, and Highlanders and Irishmen were soon busy at their favourite
work. In the midst of the tumult came the news that Baillie and
Hurry, who were believed to be far on the other side of the Tay, were
outside the walls. To fight them was impossible with a few hundred
men wild with drink and plunder; to secure a safe retreat in such
conditions seemed equally hopeless. No other man would probably have
thought it worth his while to attempt what Montrose now successfully
performed. He stopped the plundering, sent off his foot in such order
as he could command, and with his cavalry and a few picked musketeers
prepared to cover their retreat. As he marched out of the eastern gate
in the gathering dusk, the enemy entered by the western. Baillie at
once ordered his dragoons to charge, but they were driven back with
some empty saddles. Seeing Montrose heading for the eastern coast,
the wary Covenanter stayed the pursuit, and struck north to bar the
way into the hills. Montrose had divined the move. At Arbroath he
turned abruptly in his tracks, and slipping back past the unconscious
Covenanters in the night, headed straight for the Grampians. The sun
had risen before Baillie discovered his mistake. But Montrose was not
yet safe. He had reached Careston Castle on the Esk; his men, worn
out with the day's plundering and the night's marching, had flung
themselves on the ground and were sleeping soundly when the enemy's
cavalry came in sight. Only a few of the sleepers could be aroused,
but they were enough. The dragoons remembered their reception on
the previous evening, and drew off. Before the foot could come up
Montrose had his men safe among the hills. Of all his extraordinary
exploits none so impressed the great soldiers of Europe with his
consummate generalship as the retreat from Dundee. "I have often,"
wrote Wishart, "heard those who were esteemed the most experienced
officers, not in Britain only but in France and Germany, prefer this
march of Montrose to his most celebrated victories."
But generalship without men will not win battles. The weary work of
recruiting began again. Macdonald had already been sent to his old
ground in the Western Highlands. Lord Gordon was now sent into his own
country, whither his weathercock of a brother had just retired in a
huff. On the other hand, Aboyne had made his way out of Carlisle and
rejoined his chief. A Gordon was always welcome, nor had his young
aide-de-camp yet shown Montrose any trace of those capricious humours
which were destined to eventually wreck the King's cause and his own.
Meanwhile the enemy had divided. Hurry had gone northward to take
order with the Gordons, while Baillie was watching the Highlands from
Perth. Macdonald had now returned with a fresh levy of his kinsmen. If
Montrose could slip between the two armies and join hands with Lord
Gordon, he might fight either at leisure. This was done. At Skene, on
the upper Dee, he met Lord Gordon stronger than before in both foot
and horse. Aboyne made a successful raid on Aberdeen, and returned
with some much-needed powder and ball. By the end of April the King's
Lieutenant was once more ready for battle. The Gordons were now his
very good friends; he decided, therefore, for their sake to attack the
northern army first.
Hurry, for all his inconstancy, was neither a timid nor an unskilful
soldier, and as he far outnumbered the Royalists, he had no wish to
avoid a battle; but he intended to fight on his own ground. He led
Montrose on by cautiously retreating, till he had drawn him into the
heart of a country where not a man called him friend, and then turned
on him. On the evening of May 8th Montrose was encamped at the little
village of Auldearn, midway between Inverness and Elgin. Here Hurry
hoped to surprise him by a night march; but when within a few miles of
the village some of his men discharged their muskets to clear them of
the damp powder, and through the driving wind and rain the Royalist
sentinels caught the sound. Montrose had little time to make his
arrangements, but one glance at the ground in the gray morning light
taught him all he needed to know.
The village of Auldearn stretched north and south along a ridge, and
below the western front of the ridge the ground sloped down to a
marsh. On the upper part of this slope, at its northern end, among
the walled gardens and enclosures of the villagers, Montrose placed
the Irishmen with the royal standard, to give them the appearance
of the main body. The rest of his foot and all the cavalry he kept
out of sight behind the southern end of the ridge. For his centre he
had merely a few men placed in front of the cottages as though they
were the pickets of a larger force. If Hurry fell into the trap,
and Macdonald obeyed orders, Montrose could hurl the whole of his
left wing on the right flank of the Covenanters when engaged with
the Irish, where the ground was open and firm for cavalry. Hurry did
fall into the trap, but Macdonald's rashness nearly caused disaster.
Instead of keeping within his lines, he advanced down the hill to
meet the full brunt of the main attack. The Irish fought bravely,
and Alaster himself performed prodigies of valour. But they were
outnumbered, driven back, and surrounded. It was whispered to Montrose
that his right wing was broken. Any sign of uneasiness might be fatal.
The knowledge that his trained troops were routed might damp the
ardour of the others. He turned gaily to Gordon. "Why are we lingering
here, my dear lord," he said aloud, "when our friend Macdonald is
driving the enemy before him on the right? Shall all the glory of the
day be his?" He then gave the word to advance. The chivalry of the
Gordons sprang forward with their young chief at their head. They
charged not in the old fashion under cover of pistol-fire, but as
Cromwell's Ironsides had charged on Marston Moor. Sword in hand they
rode straight at Hurry's flank, while Montrose and Aboyne brought up
the rest of the infantry. The Covenanting dragoons could not stand the
shock, and their flight threw the right wing into disorder. Montrose
and Aboyne pressed on, while Macdonald rallied his Irishmen and led
them down again on the centre. The day was won. Hurry escaped with
the remnant of his horse to Inverness; most of the foot perished on
the field. No quarter was given, and the pursuit followed fast and
far. A few days before the battle a young Gordon, who had been carried
wounded from a skirmish to a friend's house, had been murdered in his
bed by a party of Covenanters, and this brutal deed had sharpened his
kinsmen's swords. Between two and three thousand of the enemy are
said to have fallen on the field or in the flight. All their baggage,
ammunition, and money remained in the hands of the victors.
In the field the Covenanters seemed powerless to make head against
Montrose, but they could strike a blow at him nearer home. The aged
Napier, now past his seventieth year--"old and not fit for fighting,"
as he pathetically pleaded to the Committee--was heavily fined and
flung into prison. His son, the young Master, had made his escape in
time, and had fought gallantly by his uncle's side at Auldearn; but
his two daughters, Lilias and Margaret, Lady Stirling of Keir, shared
their father's fate. Among their fellow-captives, but not companions
for no intercourse was permitted them, were Keir himself and young
Lord Graham with his tutor. Their imprisonment was close, but their
condition was easy compared with that of Crawford, Ogilvy, and the
other Royalists, who suffered the treatment of the lowest criminals in
the Tolbooth. To this time, too, belongs the only trace of Montrose's
wife that history vouchsafes between the records of her marriage and
her death, in a warrant of the Committee of Estates entrusting her
with the care of her third son Robert. From this it would appear
that she had either contrived to make her peace with her husband's
enemies, or that her sympathies were known to be with her own family.
Southesk and his son Carnegie had always been staunch, though passive,
adherents to the Covenant.
But it was no time to brood on private wrongs, or to redress them.
Hurry with the fragments of his scattered army had rejoined Baillie,
and a fresh force under Lindsay was advancing from the Lowlands.
Montrose had been obliged to pay the usual price of his victories,
and had again retreated to the hills till the gaps in his ranks could
be refilled. But in one respect he was stronger than he had yet been
since he first raised the King's banner in Scotland. A warm friendship
had sprung up between him and the heir of the Gordons, which, on the
younger man's part, showed itself in a chivalrous and unquestioning
devotion. Nothing could now separate him from his general's side; his
father's commands were disregarded; fresh levies were raised, and the
waverers recalled to their duty. Still, without the Highlanders, and
with only half the Irishmen, Montrose could not have shown fight had
not the Covenanters been divided against themselves. Baillie was not
his own master. His movements were not only dictated from Edinburgh,
but were still further hampered by a committee appointed to assist
him in the field. This committee included such experienced commanders
as Argyll, Balfour of Burleigh, and Elcho, and was unlikely therefore
to inspire much confidence in any man who had heard of Inverlochy,
Aberdeen, and Tippermuir. "Armies," it has been pertinently observed
by the historian who has told how another and a worthier Argyll met
his fate, "armies have triumphed under leaders who professed no very
eminent qualifications. But what army commanded by a debating club
ever escaped discomfiture and disgrace?" Moreover Lindsay professed
himself unable to fight with his undisciplined troops, and Baillie was
ordered to supply him with fifteen hundred of his own trained soldiers
in exchange for less than half the number of raw recruits. Even then
Lindsay would not fight, but turning southwards gallantly led his men
to harry the unprotected lands of Athole. Montrose was thus left free
to deal with Baillie and the committee.
Baillie was now in a strong position at Keith in Banffshire, from
which he could neither be dislodged nor tempted by offer of battle.
But the road to the Lowlands lay open, and if the Royalists took that
road the Covenanters could not choose but follow. Montrose therefore
marched due south, and crossing the Don took up his position at
Alford, a small town some ten miles west of Kintore. By this time
Baillie had learned how weak Montrose was, and thought that he might
risk a battle. But when he came in sight of his enemy, on the morning
of July 2nd, he hesitated. Montrose was posted, as at Auldearn, on
the crest of a hill. Between him and the Covenanters lay a marsh, and
beyond the marsh was the river which could be crossed at only one spot
directly in front of his lines. These were conditions in which a more
daring captain than Baillie might have been excused from engaging
such an adversary as Montrose. But the committee would not hear of
retreating, and even Balcarres, who commanded the cavalry, and who was
something of a soldier as well as a brave man, was urgent to fight.
Baillie was powerless to refuse. He gave the orders he could not
withhold, crossed the river and advanced courageously to his fate.
Montrose had placed his few horse on either wing, mixed, as at
Aberdeen, with some Irish musketeers. Lord Gordon commanded on the
right, Aboyne on the left. The centre, where Huntly's Highland
tenants fought, was led by the brave Glengarry, who had never left
Montrose since he had charged at his side down the slopes of Ben
Nevis. Here, too, was the General himself with the royal standard.
The reserve was posted behind the crest of the hill under the Master
of Napier. In infantry the two armies were equal, about two thousand
strong on either side; but Montrose had only two hundred and fifty
horse to meet the six hundred under Balcarres. The battle was begun
by the cavalry. For a time the superior numbers of the Covenanting
dragoons and the gallantry of their leader made the issue doubtful,
till Nathaniel Gordon, who fought with his young chief on the right,
cried to the Irish to throw down their guns and hamstring the enemy's
horses with their swords. This was enough; the left wing broke at
once, and the right, seeing their companions flying, soon followed
their example. The victorious Gordons swept in from either flank on
the centre; Glengarry led his claymores down the hill; Montrose and
his nephew brought up the reserve, and another battle was won for King
Charles.
The victory was complete; but it was dearly bought by the death of
Lord Gordon, who fell, struck by a shot from behind, in the final
charge. Montrose could have lost no more devoted friend or more
staunch ally; and indeed the whole army mourned for the gallant young
soldier, who had endeared himself to all by his courage and courtesy,
his high spirits and winning manners. The body was conveyed under the
escort of the General himself and a chosen guard to Aberdeen, where,
with all the honours that the time permitted, it was laid in what is
now known as the Gordons' aisle in the old cathedral church of St.
Machar.
Matters had now come to a crisis in Scotland. Lindsay was the only
general left in arms for the Covenant, and on Lindsay alone no
reliance could be placed. Parliament had been driven by the plague
from Edinburgh to Stirling. On July 8th, six days after the disaster
at Alford, a vote was passed for levying ten thousand foot and
five hundred horse from the counties south of the Tay. Perth was
appointed for the muster, and on the 24th of the month Parliament was
transferred to that city to watch and hasten the work. Baillie was
retained in command, but against his urgent entreaties, for the same
committee that had driven him to defeat at Alford was to ensure his
failure again.
Meanwhile reinforcements were pouring in to Montrose. Macdonald
had rejoined him with the rest of the Irish and fifteen hundred
Highlanders. Patrick Graham brought up the Atholemen. Stout old
Airlie, now restored to health, rode in with a troop of Ogilvies; and
after some delay Aboyne appeared with a strong following of Gordons.
In the first days of August Montrose was ready to take the field again
with the largest force that had yet been mustered under the King's
banner in Scotland. He was anxious for battle, but he was resolved to
choose his own ground. The King's affairs were now desperate indeed.
Naseby had been lost; Wales was growing cold; there was no hope from
Ireland; a union with Montrose seemed almost the sole chance left. If
Montrose could strike one stout blow south of the Forth that union
might yet be possible. Wherever he led Baillie must follow, or leave
the Lowlands open; and Montrose had a shrewd suspicion that the raw
Perthshire levies might, like his own Highlanders, be unwilling to go
too far or stay too long from their homes. His men were as keen for
battle as their general. Till his reinforcements came in Montrose had
been obliged to content himself with hovering round Perth, at one time
mounting his infantry on baggage and cart horses, to convey the notion
that he was strong in cavalry. In one of the skirmishes provoked by
these demonstrations, a party of the Covenanters had fallen on a body
of women in Methven Wood, near the city, the wives, or, as Captain
Dalgetty would have said, the leaguer-lasses of the Irish soldiers,
and had butchered them all. The men clamoured for vengeance, and
Montrose was now strong enough to promise it. Slipping down from
Dunkeld, he passed almost under the walls of Perth over the ground of
his old triumph at Tippermuir, and, crossing the Forth above Stirling,
came on the evening of August 14th to Kilsyth about nine miles from
Glasgow. Here he learned that Lanark, with a strong muster of the
Hamilton tenantry from Clydesdale, was on the march to join Baillie,
while Eglinton and Glencairn were raising the Western Lowlands. The
blow must be struck before these reinforcements could come up, and
must be struck at once, for Lanark was reported to be only twelve
miles distant.
The Covenanters had not lingered in pursuit, and on the night of the
14th the two armies bivouacked within three miles of each other.
Baillie would have preferred to wait for Lanark, but the committee
overruled him. To delay even an hour was folly. Their enemy lay in
an open space surrounded by hills, in a trap, as these wiseheads
thought, from which there must be no escape. Numbers, too, were on
their side. The Royalists had but a little over four thousand foot
and five hundred horse to set against the six thousand foot and eight
hundred horse nominally commanded by Baillie. Montrose was equally
confident. He had shown his men the enemy, and asked if they would
fight or retreat. The answer was unanimous for fight. He bade his
soldiers strip to their shirts, for the day was hot, and they would
have to charge uphill. He could not suppose that even such generals
as Argyll and Elcho would forego their advantage of ground, while
rough or smooth was all one to his men. Yet even this monstrous
folly was forced on the unfortunate Baillie. The hills surrounding
the meadow in which the Royalists lay were for the most part steep
and rugged, up which a Highlander would scamper like a deer, but the
heavier-footed and heavier-armed Lowland troops would hardly descend
in good order. But on the right of the Covenanters' position lay a
smoother and gentler declivity, by which they might march directly
down upon Montrose's left flank--if Montrose would let them. In vain
Baillie warned his sapient advisers that a flank movement was a
perilous one in the face of an enemy, that it would lead them from
a superior position to one where they would have small advantage if
they gained it, and which the enemy could easily seize first if he
detected their design. In vain he reminded them that this was their
last chance, and that the loss of this day would be the loss of the
kingdom. The committee persisted, and Baillie, disclaiming all further
responsibility, proceeded to carry his fatal orders into effect.
There was only one chance for the Covenanters. By keeping behind the
crest of the hills they might conceal their movements from the enemy
till they had reached their ground. This chance was lost. A party
of soldiers crept down from their ranks over the ridge and attacked
Montrose's advanced guard of Highlanders, which was posted under
Macdonald in some enclosures on the slope above the meadow. Macdonald
easily drove them back, and then started up the hillside in pursuit.
It was done against orders, but it was well done. Right up the hill
pressed the nimble Highlanders, and over it into the very heart of the
straggling column. At the same time Montrose, seeing Baillie's design,
sent some of the Gordon infantry round to the left to anticipate it.
They were not enough, and a party of their mounted kinsmen, whom
Aboyne led to their aid, recoiled before the heavy cuirassiers of the
Covenant. For a time things looked badly for the Royalists in this
quarter, but for a time only. Montrose ordered Airlie to the rescue.
The gallant old Earl led his Ogilvies to the charge up the smoother
ground; Nathaniel Gordon followed with the rest of his cavalry; while
Montrose led his main body up the hill after the Highlanders. The
head and centre of his column being now in hopeless confusion, the
men fighting at random and the officers asking each other what was to
be done, Baillie galloped to the rear to bring up the Fife levies.
They were already in flight. There was nothing now left for those who
could do so but to follow their example. The stupid authors of all
this disaster were among the first to leave the field. Some fled to
Stirling, some to the Firth where they took ship for Berwick. Among
the latter was Argyll, who thus for the third time escaped by water
from the man he dared not face on land. Most of the cavalry were able
to save themselves, but on the luckless foot the slaughter in Methven
Wood was amply avenged. For fourteen miles the ground was strewn with
dead bodies; out of six thousand who had begun the fatal flank march
at morning, scarce one hundred were alive at nightfall. The strength
of the Covenant was broken in pieces like a potter's vessel. Montrose
had fulfilled his boast. He was now in very truth master of all
Scotland.