The march begins in military state,
And nations on his eyes suspended wait;
Stern famine guards the solitary coast,
And winter barricades the realms of frost.
He comes,--nor want, nor cold, his course delay.
--VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES.
By break of day Montrose received in his cabin old MacEagh, and
questioned him long and particularly as to the means of approaching the
country of Argyle. He made a note of his answers, which he compared with
those of two of his followers, whom he introduced as the most prudent
and experienced. He found them to correspond in all respects; but, still
unsatisfied where precaution was so necessary, the Marquis compared the
information he had received with that he was able to collect from the
Chiefs who lay most near to the destined scene of invasion, and being in
all respects satisfied of its accuracy, he resolved to proceed in full
reliance upon it.
In one point Montrose changed his mind. Having judged it unfit to take
the boy Kenneth into his own service, lest, in case of his birth being
discovered, it should be resented as an offence by the numerous clans
who entertained a feudal enmity to this devoted family, he requested the
Major to take him in attendance upon himself; and as he accompanied
this request with a handsome DOUCEUR, under pretence of clothing and
equipping the lad, this change was agreeable to all parties.
It was about breakfast-time, when Major Dalgetty, being dismissed by
Montrose, went in quest of his old acquaintances, Lord Menteith and the
M’Aulays, to whom he longed to communicate his own adventures, as
well as to learn from them the particulars of the campaign. It may
be imagined he was received with great glee by men to whom the late
uniformity of their military life had rendered any change of society
an interesting novelty. Allan M’Aulay alone seemed to recoil from his
former acquaintance, although, when challenged by his brother, he could
render no other reason than a reluctance to be familiar with one who
had been so lately in the company of Argyle, and other enemies. Major
Dalgetty was a little alarmed by this sort of instinctive consciousness
which Allan seemed to entertain respecting the society he had been
lately keeping; he was soon satisfied, however, that the perceptions of
the seer in this particular were not infallible.
As Ranald MacEagh was to be placed under Major Dalgetty’s protection and
superintendence, it was necessary he should present him to those persons
with whom he was most likely to associate. The dress of the old man had,
in the meantime, been changed from the tartan of his clan to a sort
of clothing peculiar to the men of the distant Isles, resembling a
waistcoat with sleeves, and a petticoat, all made in one piece. This
dress was laced from top to bottom in front, and bore some resemblance
to that called Polonaise, still worn by children in Scotland of the
lower rank. The tartan hose and bonnet completed the dress, which old
men of the last century remembered well to have seen worn by the distant
Islesmen who came to the Earl of Mar’s standard in the year 1715.
Major Dalgetty, keeping his eye on Allan as he spoke, introduced Ranald
MacEagh under the fictitious name of Ranald MacGillihuron in Benbecula,
who had escaped with him out of Argyle’s prison. He recommended him as
a person skilful in the arts of the harper and the senachie, and by no
means contemptible in the quality of a second-sighted person or seer.
While making this exposition, Major Dalgetty stammered and hesitated in
a way so unlike the usual glib forwardness of his manner, that he could
not have failed to have given suspicion to Allan M’Aulay, had not that
person’s whole attention been engaged in steadily perusing the
features of the person thus introduced to him. This steady gaze so much
embarrassed Ranald MacEagh, that his hand was beginning to sink down
towards his dagger, in expectation of a hostile assault, when Allan,
suddenly crossing the floor of the hut, extended his hand to him in the
way of friendly greeting. They sat down side by side, and conversed in
a low mysterious tone of voice. Menteith and Angus M’Aulay were not
surprised at this, for there prevailed among the Highlanders who
pretended to the second-sight, a sort of Freemasonry, which generally
induced them, upon meeting, to hold communication with each other on the
nature and extent of their visionary experiences.
“Does the sight come gloomy upon your spirits?” said Allan to his new
acquaintance.
“As dark as the shadow upon the moon,” replied Ranald, “when she is
darkened in her mid-course in heaven, and prophets foretell of evil
times.”
“Come hither,” said Allan, “come more this way, I would converse with
you apart; for men say that in your distant islands the sight is poured
forth with more clearness and power than upon us, who dwell near the
Sassenach.”
While they were plunged into their mystic conference, the two English
cavaliers entered the cabin in the highest possible spirits, and
announced to Angus M’Aulay that orders had been issued that all should
hold themselves in readiness for an immediate march to the westward.
Having delivered themselves of their news with much glee, they paid
their compliments to their old acquaintance Major Dalgetty, whom they
instantly recognised, and enquired after the health of his charger,
Gustavus.
“I humbly thank you, gentlemen,” answered the soldier, “Gustavas is
well, though, like his master, somewhat barer on the ribs than when you
offered to relieve me of him at Darnlinvarach; and let me assure you,
that before you have made one or two of those marches which you seem to
contemplate with so much satisfaction in prospect, you will leave, my
good knights, some of your English beef, and probably an English horse
or two, behind you.”
Both exclaimed that they cared very little what they found or what they
left, provided the scene changed from dogging up and down Angus and
Aberdeenshire, in pursuit of an enemy who would neither fight nor run
away.
“If such be the case,” said Angus M’Aulay, “I must give orders to my
followers, and make provision too for the safe conveyance of Annot Lyle;
for an advance into M’Callum More’s country will be a farther and fouler
road than these pinks of Cumbrian knighthood are aware of.” So saying,
he left the cabin.
“Annot Lyle!” repeated Dalgetty, “is she following the campaign?”
“Surely,” replied Sir Giles Musgrave, his eye glancing slightly from
Lord Menteith to Allan M’Aulay; “we could neither march nor fight,
advance nor retreat, without the influence of the Princess of Harps.”
“The Princess of Broadswords and Targets, I say,” answered his
companion; “for the Lady of Montrose herself could not be more
courteously waited upon; she has four Highland maidens, and as many
bare-legged gillies, to wait upon her orders.”
“And what would you have, gentlemen?” said Allan, turning suddenly from
the Highlander with whom he was in conversation; “would you yourselves
have left an innocent female, the companion of your infancy, to die by
violence, or perish by famine? There is not, by this time, a roof upon
the habitation of my fathers--our crops have been destroyed, and our
cattle have been driven--and you, gentlemen, have to bless God, that,
coming from a milder and more civilized country, you expose only your
own lives in this remorseless war, without apprehension that your
enemies will visit with their vengeance the defenceless pledges you may
have left behind you.”
The Englishmen cordially agreed that they had the superiority in this
respect; and the company, now dispersing, went each to his several
charge or occupation.
Allan lingered a moment behind, still questioning the reluctant Ranald
MacEagh upon a point in his supposed visions, by which he was greatly
perplexed. “Repeatedly,” he said, “have I had the sight of a Gael, who
seemed to plunge his weapon into the body of Menteith,--of that young
nobleman in the scarlet laced cloak, who has just now left the bothy.
But by no effort, though I have gazed till my eyes were almost fixed
in the sockets, can I discover the face of this Highlander, or even
conjecture who he may be, although his person and air seem familiar to
me.” [See Note II.--Wraiths.]
“Have you reversed your own plaid,” said Ranald, “according to the rule
of the experienced Seers in such case?”
“I have,” answered Allan, speaking low, and shuddering as if with
internal agony.
“And in what guise did the phantom then appear to you?” said Ranald.
“With his plaid also reversed,” answered Allan, in the same low and
convulsed tone.
“Then be assured,” said Ranald, “that your own hand, and none other,
will do the deed of which you have witnessed the shadow.”
“So has my anxious soul a hundred times surmised,” replied Allan. “But
it is impossible! Were I to read the record in the eternal book of fate,
I would declare it impossible--we are bound by the ties of blood, and by
a hundred ties more intimate--we have stood side by side in battle,
and our swords have reeked with the blood of the same enemies--it is
IMPOSSIBLE I should harm him!”
“That you WILL do so,” answered Ranald, “is certain, though the cause be
hid in the darkness of futurity. You say,” he continued, suppressing his
own emotions with difficulty, “that side by side you have pursued your
prey like bloodhounds--have you never seen bloodhounds turn their fangs
against each other, and fight over the body of a throttled deer?”
“It is false!” said M’Aulay, starting up, “these are not the forebodings
of fate, but the temptation of some evil spirit from the bottomless
pit!” So saying, he strode out of the cabin.
“Thou hast it!” said the Son of the Mist, looking after him with an
air of exultation; “the barbed arrow is in thy side! Spirits of the
slaughtered, rejoice! soon shall your murderers’ swords be dyed in each
other’s blood.”
On the succeeding morning all was prepared, and Montrose advanced by
rapid marches up the river Tay, and poured his desultory forces into the
romantic vale around the lake of the same name, which lies at the head
of that river. The inhabitants were Campbells, not indeed the vassals
of Argyle, but of the allied and kindred house of Glenorchy, which
now bears the name of Breadalbane. Being taken by surprise, they were
totally unprepared for resistance, and were compelled to be passive
witnesses of the ravages which took place among their flocks and herds.
Advancing in this manner to the vale of Loch Dochart, and laying waste
the country around him, Montrose reached the most difficult point of his
enterprise.
To a modern army, even with the assistance of the good military road
which now leads up by Teinedrum to the head of Loch Awe, the passage of
these extensive wilds would seem a task of some difficulty. But at this
period, and for long afterwards, there was no road or path whatsoever;
and to add to the difficulty, the mountains were already covered with
snow. It was a sublime scene to look up to them, piled in great masses,
one upon another, the front rank of dazzling whiteness, while those
which arose behind them caught a rosy tint from the setting of a clear
wintry sun. Ben Cruachan, superior in magnitude, and seeming the very
citadel of the Genius of the Region, rose high above the others, showing
his glimmering and scathed peak to the distance of many miles.
The followers of Montrose were men not to be daunted by the sublime, yet
terrible prospect before them. Many of them were of that ancient race
of Highlanders, who not only willingly made their couch in the snow,
but considered it as effeminate luxury to use a snowball for a pillow.
Plunder and revenge lay beyond the frozen mountains which they beheld,
and they did not permit themselves to be daunted by the difficulty of
traversing them. Montrose did not allow their spirits time to subside.
He ordered the pipes to play in the van the ancient pibroch entitled,
“HOGGIL NAM BO,” etc. (that is, We come through snow-drift to drive the
prey), the shrilling sounds of which had often struck the vales of the
Lennox with terror. [It is the family-march of the M’Farlanes, a warlike
and predatory clan, who inhabited the western banks of Loch-Lomond.
See WAVERLY, Note XV.] The troops advanced with the nimble alacrity
of mountaineers, and were soon involved in the dangerous pass, through
which Ranald acted as their guide, going before them with a select
party, to track out the way.
The power of man at no time appears more contemptible than when it
is placed in contrast with scenes of natural terror and dignity. The
victorious army of Montrose, whose exploits had struck terror into all
Scotland, when ascending up this terrific pass, seemed a contemptible
handful of stragglers, in the act of being devoured by the jaws of the
mountain, which appeared ready to close upon them. Even Montrose half
repented the boldness of his attempt, as he looked down from the summit
of the first eminence which he attained, upon the scattered condition
of his small army. The difficulty of getting forward was so great, that
considerable gaps began to occur in the line of march, and the distance
between the van, centre, and rear, was each moment increased in a degree
equally incommodious and dangerous. It was with great apprehension that
Montrose looked upon every point of advantage which the hill afforded,
in dread it might be found occupied by an enemy prepared for defence;
and he often afterwards was heard to express his conviction, that had
the passes of Strath-Fillan been defended by two hundred resolute men,
not only would his progress have been effectually stopped, but his army
must have been in danger of being totally cut off. Security, however,
the bane of many a strong country and many a fortress, betrayed, on this
occasion, the district of Argyle to his enemies. The invaders had only
to contend with the natural difficulties of the path, and with the snow,
which, fortunately, had not fallen in any great quantity. The army no
sooner reached the summit of the ridge of hills dividing Argyleshire
from the district of Breadalbane, than they rushed down upon the devoted
vales beneath them with a fury sufficiently expressive of the motives
which had dictated a movement so difficult and hazardous.
Montrose divided his army into three bodies, in order to produce a wider
and more extensive terror, one of which was commanded by the Captain
of Clan Ranald, one intrusted to the leading of Colkitto, and the third
remained under his own direction. He was thus enabled to penetrate the
country of Argyle at three different points. Resistance there was none.
The flight of the shepherds from the hills had first announced in the
peopled districts this formidable irruption, and wherever the clansmen
were summoned out, they were killed, disarmed, and dispersed, by an
enemy who had anticipated their motions. Major Dalgetty, who had been
sent forward against Inverary with the few horse of the army that were
fit for service, managed his matters so well, that he had very nearly
surprised Argyle, as he expressed it, INTER POCULA; and it was only a
rapid flight by water which saved that chief from death or captivity.
But the punishment which Argyle himself escaped fell heavily upon his
country and clan, and the ravages committed by Montrose on that devoted
land, although too consistent with the genius of the country and times,
have been repeatedly and justly quoted as a blot on his actions and
character.
Argyle in the meantime had fled to Edinburgh, to lay his complaints
before the Convention of Estates. To meet the exigence of the moment,
a considerable army was raised under General Baillie, a Presbyterian
officer of skill and fidelity, with whom was joined in command the
celebrated Sir John Urrie, a soldier of fortune like Dalgetty, who had
already changed sides twice during the Civil War, and was destined to
turn his coat a third time before it was ended. Argyle also, burning
with indignation, proceeded to levy his own numerous forces, in order to
avenge himself of his feudal enemy. He established his head-quarters at
Dunbarton, where he was soon joined by a considerable force, consisting
chiefly of his own clansmen and dependants. Being there joined by
Baillie and Urrie, with a very considerable army of regular forces,
he prepared to march into Argyleshire, and chastise the invader of his
paternal territories.
But Montrose, while these two formidable armies were forming a junction,
had been recalled from that ravaged country by the approach of a third,
collected in the north under the Earl of Seaforth, who, after some
hesitation, having embraced the side of the Covenanters, had now,
with the assistance of the veteran garrison of Inverness, formed
a considerable army, with which he threatened Montrose from
Inverness-shire. Enclosed in a wasted and unfriendly country, and
menaced on each side by advancing enemies of superior force, it might
have been supposed that Montrose’s destruction was certain. But these
were precisely the circumstances under which the active and enterprising
genius of the Great Marquis was calculated to excite the wonder and
admiration of his friends, the astonishment and terror of his enemies.
As if by magic, he collected his scattered forces from the wasteful
occupation in which they had been engaged; and scarce were they again
united, ere Argyle and his associate generals were informed, that the
royalists, having suddenly disappeared from Argyleshire, had retreated
northwards among the dusky and impenetrable mountains of Lochaber.
The sagacity of the generals opposed to Montrose immediately
conjectured, that it was the purpose of their active antagonist to fight
with, and, if possible, to destroy Seaforth, ere they could come to his
assistance. This occasioned a corresponding change in their operations.
Leaving this chieftain to make the best defence he could, Urrie and
Baillie again separated their forces from those of Argyle; and, having
chiefly horse and Lowland troops under their command, they kept the
southern side of the Grampian ridge, moving along eastward into the
county of Angus, resolving from thence to proceed into Aberdeenshire,
in order to intercept Montrose, if he should attempt to escape in that
direction.
Argyle, with his own levies and other troops, undertook to follow
Montrose’s march; so that, in case he should come to action either with
Seaforth, or with Baillie and Urrie, he might be placed between two
fires by this third army, which, at a secure distance, was to hang upon
his rear.
For this purpose, Argyle once more moved towards Inverary, having an
opportunity, at every step, to deplore the severities which the hostile
clans had exercised on his dependants and country. Whatever noble
qualities the Highlanders possessed, and they had many, clemency in
treating a hostile country was not of the number; but even the ravages
of hostile troops combined to swell the number of Argyle’s followers.
It is still a Highland proverb, He whose house is burnt must become a
soldier; and hundreds of the inhabitants of these unfortunate valleys
had now no means of maintenance, save by exercising upon others the
severities they had themselves sustained, and no future prospect of
happiness, excepting in the gratification of revenge. His bands were,
therefore, augmented by the very circumstances which had desolated his
country, and Argyle soon found himself at the head of three thousand
determined men, distinguished for activity and courage, and commanded by
gentlemen of his own name, who yielded to none in those qualities. Under
himself, he conferred the principal command upon Sir Duncan Campbell of
Ardenvohr, and another Sir Duncan Campbell of Auchenbreck, [This last
character is historical] an experienced and veteran soldier, whom he had
recalled from the wars of Ireland for this purpose. The cold spirit
of Argyle himself, however, clogged the military councils of his
more intrepid assistants; and it was resolved, notwithstanding their
increased force, to observe the same plan of operations, and to follow
Montrose cautiously, in whatever direction he should march, avoiding an
engagement until an opportunity should occur of falling upon his rear,
while he should be engaged with another enemy in front.