As meets a rock a thousand waves, so Inisfail met Lochlin.
--OSSIAN.
The trumpets and bagpipes, those clamorous harbingers of blood and
death, at once united in the signal for onset, which was replied to
by the cry of more than two thousand warriors, and the echoes of the
mountain glens behind them. Divided into three bodies, or columns,
the Highland followers of Montrose poured from the defiles which had
hitherto concealed them from their enemies, and rushed with the utmost
determination upon the Campbells, who waited their charge with the
greatest firmness. Behind these charging columns marched in line the
Irish, under Colkitto, intended to form the reserve. With them was the
royal standard, and Montrose himself; and on the flanks were about fifty
horse, under Dalgetty, which by wonderful exertions had been kept in
some sort fit for service.
The right column of Royalists was led by Glengarry, the left by Lochiel,
and the centre by the Earl of Menteith, who preferred fighting on foot
in a Highland dress to remaining with the cavalry.
The Highlanders poured on with the proverbial fury of their country,
firing their guns, and discharging their arrows, at a little distance
from the enemy, who received the assault with the most determined
gallantry. Better provided with musketry than their enemies, stationary
also, and therefore taking the more decisive aim, the fire of Argyle’s
followers was more destructive than that which they sustained. The royal
clans, perceiving this, rushed to close quarters, and succeeded on two
points in throwing their enemies into disorder. With regular troops
this must have achieved a victory; but here Highlanders were opposed to
Highlanders, and the nature of the weapons, as well as the agility of
those who wielded them, was equal on both sides.
Their strife was accordingly desperate; and the clash of the swords
and axes, as they encountered each other, or rung upon the targets, was
mingled with the short, wild, animating shrieks with which Highlanders
accompany the battle, the dance, or indeed violent exertion of any kind.
Many of the foes opposed were personally acquainted, and sought to match
themselves with each other from motives of hatred, or a more generous
emulation of valour. Neither party would retreat an inch, while the
place of those who fell (and they fell fast on both sides) was eagerly
supplied by others, who thronged to the front of danger. A steam, like
that which arises from a seething cauldron, rose into the thin, cold,
frosty air, and hovered above the combatants.
So stood the fight on the right and the centre, with no immediate
consequence, except mutual wounds and death.
On the right of the Campbells, the Knight of Ardenvohr obtained some
advantage, through his military skill and by strength of numbers. He had
moved forward obliquely the extreme flank of his line at the instant the
Royalists were about to close, so that they sustained a fire at once
on front and in flank, and, despite the utmost efforts of their leader,
were thrown into some confusion. At this instant, Sir Duncan Campbell
gave the word to charge, and thus unexpectedly made the attack at
the very moment he seemed about to receive it. Such a change of
circumstances is always discouraging, and often fatal. But the disorder
was remedied by the advance of the Irish reserve, whose heavy and
sustained fire compelled the Knight of Ardenvohr to forego his
advantage, and content himself with repulsing the enemy. The Marquis
of Montrose, in the meanwhile, availing himself of some scattered birch
trees, as well as of the smoke produced by the close fire of the Irish
musketry, which concealed the operation, called upon Dalgetty to follow
him with the horse, and wheeling round so as to gain the right flank and
even the rear of the enemy, he commanded his six trumpets to sound
the charge. The clang of the cavalry trumpets, and the noise of the
galloping of the horse, produced an effect upon Argyle’s right wing
which no other sounds could have impressed them with. The mountaineers
of that period had a superstitious dread of the war-horse, like that
entertained by the Peruvians, and had many strange ideas respecting the
manner in which that animal was trained to combat. When, therefore, they
found their ranks unexpectedly broken, and that the objects of their
greatest terror were suddenly in the midst of them, the panic, in spite
of Sir Duncan’s attempts to stop it, became universal. Indeed, the
figure of Major Dalgetty alone, sheathed in impenetrable armour, and
making his horse caracole and bound, so as to give weight to every
blow which he struck, would have been a novelty in itself sufficient to
terrify those who had never seen anything more nearly resembling such
a cavalier, than a SHELTY waddling under a Highlander far bigger than
itself. The repulsed Royalists returned to the charge; the Irish,
keeping their ranks, maintained a fire equally close and destructive.
There was no sustaining the fight longer. Argyle’s followers began
to break and fly, most towards the lake, the remainder in different
directions. The defeat of the right wing, of itself decisive, was
rendered irreparable by the death of Auchenbreck, who fell while
endeavouring to restore order.
The Knight of Ardenvohr, with two or three hundred men, all gentlemen of
descent and distinguished gallantry,--for the Campbells are supposed to
have had more gentlemen in their ranks than any of the Highland clans,
endeavoured, with unavailing heroism, to cover the tumultuary retreat
of the common file. Their resolution only proved fatal to themselves,
as they were charged again and again by fresh adversaries, and forced to
separate from each other, until at length their aim seemed only to be to
purchase an honourable death by resisting to the very last.
“Good quarter, Sir Duncan,” called out Major Dalgetty, when he
discovered his late host, with one or two others, defending himself
against several Highlanders; and, to enforce his offer, he rode up to
him with his sword uplifted. Sir Duncan’s reply was the discharge of a
reserved pistol, which took effect not on the person of the rider, but
on that of his gallant horse, which, shot through the heart, fell dead
under him. Ranald MacEagh, who was one of those who had been pressing
Sir Duncan hard, took the opportunity to cut him down with his
broadsword, as he turned from him in the act of firing the pistol.
Allan M’Aulay came up at this moment. They were, excepting Ranald,
followers of his brother who were engaged on that part of the field,
“Villains!” he said, “which of you has dared to do this, when it was my
positive order that the Knight of Ardenvohr should be taken alive?”
Half-a-dozen of busy hands, which were emulously employed in plundering
the fallen knight, whose arms and accoutrements were of a magnificence
befitting his quality, instantly forbore the occupation, and half the
number of voices exculpated themselves, by laying the blame on the
Skyeman, as they called Ranald MacEagh.
“Dog of an Islander!” said Allan, forgetting, in his wrath, their
prophetic brotherhood, “follow the chase, and harm him no farther,
unless you mean to die by my hand.” They were at this moment left almost
alone; for Allan’s threats had forced his own clan from the spot, and
all around had pressed onwards toward the lake, carrying before them
noise, terror, and confusion, and leaving behind only the dead and
dying. The moment was tempting to MacEagh’s vengeful spirit.--“That I
should die by your hand, red as it is with the blood of my kindred,”
said he, answering the threat of Allan in a tone as menacing as his own,
“is not more likely than that you should fall by mine.” With that, he
struck at M’Aulay with such unexpected readiness, that he had scarce
time to intercept the blow with his target.
“Villain!” said Allan, in astonishment, “what means this?”
“I am Ranald of the Mist!” answered the Islesman, repeating the blow;
and with that word, they engaged in close and furious conflict. It
seemed to be decreed, that in Allan M’Aulay had arisen the avenger of
his mother’s wrongs upon this wild tribe, as was proved by the issue of
the present, as well as of former combats. After exchanging a few blows,
Ranald MacEagh was prostrated by a deep wound on the skull; and M’Aulay,
setting his foot on him, was about to pass the broadsword through his
body, when the point of the weapon was struck up by a third party,
who suddenly interposed. This was no other than Major Dalgetty, who,
stunned by the fall, and encumbered by the dead body of his horse, had
now recovered his legs and his understanding. “Hold up your sword,” said
he to M’Aulay, “and prejudice this person no farther, in respect that
he is here in my safeconduct, and in his Excellency’s service; and in
regard that no honourable cavalier is at liberty, by the law martial, to
avenge his own private injuries, FLAGRANTE BELLO, MULTO MAJUS FLAGRANTE
PRAELIO.”
“Fool!” said Allan, “stand aside, and dare not to come between the tiger
and his prey!”
But, far from quitting his point, Dalgetty stept across the fallen body
of MacEagh, and gave Allan to understand, that if he called himself
a tiger, he was likely, at present, to find a lion in his path. There
required no more than the gesture and tone of defiance to turn the whole
rage of the military Seer against the person who was opposing the course
of his vengeance, and blows were instantly exchanged without farther
ceremony.
The strife betwixt Allan and MacEagh had been unnoticed by the
stragglers around, for the person of the latter was known to few of
Montrose’s followers; but the scuffle betwixt Dalgetty and him, both so
well known, attracted instant attention; and fortunately, among others,
that of Montrose himself, who had come for the purpose of gathering
together his small body of horse, and following the pursuit down
Loch-Eil. Aware of the fatal consequences of dissension in his little
army, he pushed his horse up to the spot, and seeing MacEagh on the
ground, and Dalgetty in the attitude of protecting him against M’Aulay,
his quick apprehension instantly caught the cause of quarrel, and as
instantly devised means to stop it. “For shame,” he said, “gentlemen
cavaliers, brawling together in so glorious a field of victory!--Are you
mad? Or are you intoxicated with the glory which you have both this day
gained?”
“It is not my fault, so please your Excellency,” said Dalgetty. “I
have been known a BONUS SOCIUS, A BON CAMARADO, in all the services of
Europe; but he that touches a man under my safeguard--”
“And he,” said Allan, speaking at the same time, “who dares to bar the
course of my just vengeance--”
“For shame, gentlemen!” again repeated Montrose; “I have other business
for you both,--business of deeper importance than any private quarrel,
which you may easily find a more fitting time to settle. For you, Major
Dalgetty, kneel down.”
“Kneel!” said Dalgetty; “I have not learned to obey that word of
command, saving when it is given from the pulpit. In the Swedish
discipline, the front rank do indeed kneel, but only when the regiment
is drawn up six file deep.”
“Nevertheless,” repeated Montrose,--“kneel down, in the name of King
Charles and of his representative.”
When Dalgetty reluctantly obeyed, Montrose struck him lightly on the
neck with the flat of his sword, saying,--“In reward of the gallant
service of this day, and in the name and authority of our Sovereign,
King Charles, I dub thee knight; be brave, loyal, and fortunate. And
now, Sir Dugald Dalgetty, to your duty. Collect what horsemen you can,
and pursue such of the enemy as are flying down the side of the lake. Do
not disperse your force, nor venture too far; but take heed to prevent
their rallying, which very little exertion may do. Mount, then, Sir
Dugald, and do your duty.”
“But what shall I mount?” said the new-made chevalier. “Poor Gustavus
sleeps in the bed of honour, like his immortal namesake! and I am made a
knight, a rider, as the High Dutch have it, just when I have not a horse
left to ride upon.” [In German, as in Latin, the original meaning of the
word Ritter, corresponding to Eques, is merely a horseman.]
“That shall not be said,” answered Montrose, dismounting; “I make you a
present of my own, which has been thought a good one; only, I pray you,
resume the duty you discharge so well.”
With many acknowledgments, Sir Dugald mounted the steed so liberally
bestowed upon him; and only beseeching his Excellency to remember that
MacEagh was under his safe-conduct, immediately began to execute the
orders assigned to him, with great zeal and alacrity.
“And you, Allan M’Aulay,” said Montrose, addressing the Highlander, who,
leaning his sword-point on the ground, had regarded the ceremony of his
antagonist’s knighthood with a sneer of sullen scorn,--“you, who are
superior to the ordinary men led by the paltry motives of plunder, and
pay, and personal distinction,--you, whose deep knowledge renders you so
valuable a counsellor,--is it YOU whom I find striving with a man like
Dalgetty, for the privilege of trampling the remains of life out of so
contemptible an enemy as lies there? Come, my friend, I have other work
for you. This victory, skilfully improved, shall win Seaforth to our
party. It is not disloyalty, but despair of the good cause, that has
induced him to take arms against us. These arms, in this moment of
better augury, he may be brought to unite with ours. I shall send my
gallant friend, Colonel Hay, to him, from this very field of battle,
but he must be united in commission with a Highland gentleman of rank,
befitting that of Seaforth, and of talents and of influence such as
may make an impression upon him. You are not only in every respect
the fittest for this most important mission, but, having no immediate
command, your presence may be more easily spared than that of a Chief
whose following is in the field. You know every pass and glen in
the Highlands, as well as the manners and customs of every tribe. Go
therefore to Hay, on the right wing; he has instructions, and expects
you. You will find him with Glenmorrison’s men; be his guide, his
interpreter, and his colleague.”
Allan M’Aulay bent on the Marquis a dark and penetrating glance, as
if to ascertain whether this sudden mission was not conferred for some
latent and unexplained purpose. But Montrose, skilful in searching
the motives of others, was an equal adept in concealing his own. He
considered it as of the last consequence, in this moment of enthusiasm
and exalted passion, to remove Allan from the camp for a few days, that
he might provide, as his honour required, for the safety of those
who had acted as his guides, when he trusted the Seer’s quarrel with
Dalgetty might be easily made up. Allan, at parting, only recommended
to the Marquis the care of Sir Duncan Campbell, whom Montrose instantly
directed to be conveyed to a place of safety. He took the same
precaution for MacEagh, committing the latter, however, to a party of
the Irish, with directions that he should be taken care of, but that no
Highlander, of any clan, should have access to him.
The Marquis then mounted a led horse, which was held by one of his
attendants, and rode on to view the scene of his victory, which was more
decisive than even his ardent hopes had anticipated. Of Argyle’s gallant
army of three thousand men, fully one-half fell in the battle, or in the
flight. They had been chiefly driven back upon that part of the plain
where the river forms an angle with the lake, so that there was no free
opening either for retreat or escape. Several hundreds were forced
into the lake and drowned. Of the survivors, about one-half escaped by
swimming the river, or by an early flight along the left bank of the
lake. The remainder threw themselves into the old Castle of Inverlochy;
but being without either provisions or hopes of relief, they were
obliged to surrender, on condition of being suffered to return to their
homes in peace. Arms, ammunition, standards, and baggage, all became the
prey of the conquerors.
This was the greatest disaster that ever befell the race of Diarmid, as
the Campbells were called in the Highlands; it being generally remarked
that they were as fortunate in the issue of their undertakings, as they
were sagacious in planning, and courageous in executing them. Of the
number slain, nearly five hundred were dunniwassels, or gentlemen
claiming descent from known and respected houses. And, in the opinion
of many of the clan, even this heavy loss was exceeded by the disgrace
arising from the inglorious conduct of their Chief, whose galley weighed
anchor when the day was lost, and sailed down the lake with all the
speed to which sails and oars could impel her.