CHAPTER XVI.
“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.