When Lord Mar learned that Argyle was advancing towards him, and that he occupied Dumblane, he assembled his principal officers, and offered them the alternative of battle or retreat. "Fight! Fight!" cried the Highland chiefs. Soon the same cry spread throughout the army; hats were waved and swords were brandished. When the troops of Argyle began the contest in the valley of Sheriffmuir, the line of battle of the insurgents was imposing. "I have never seen regular troops form a finer line of battle," subsequently said General Wightman, "and their officers conducted themselves with all the bravery imaginable."
Personal heroism and undisciplined fury were ineffectual when directed by a chief incapable and devoid of energy. The Highlanders forced the left wing of Argyle's army, while that general was pursuing their right, which he had quickly routed. The divisions of the army thus became separated, and had no communication with each other: but Argyle, returning from the pursuit, reformed his regiments upon the field of battle, while Mar, triumphant, at the head of his Highlanders, but anxious, uncertain, and fearing an ambuscade, was slowly uniting his forces. When the enemy appeared, at the foot of the hill, the Scotch chiefs were impatiently awaiting his orders to charge. "Oh, for an hour of Dundee," already cried Gorden of Glenbucket. The bagpipes sounded the retreat, and Mar withdrew, without attempting a final effort "The battle is won," said he to his lieutenants, in the hope of calming their irritation. The Duke of Argyle retired to Dumblane. On the following day he re-appeared on the field of battle, but the Earl of Mar had not returned. "Your Grace has not gained a complete victory," said one of his officers. Argyle responded by singing two lines of an old Scotch song:
"If 'tis not weel wound, weel wound, weel wound,
If 'tis not weel wound, we'll wind it again."
The same ardor also animated some of the Scotch in the rebel army. "If we have not yet gained the victory," said General Hamilton, "we must fight every week until we do gain it." But uneasiness and lassitude already pervaded the army and extended even to some of the leaders. Lord Sutherland advanced at the head of the Whig forces. The Highlanders were urged to conceal their booty. Many detachments had already left the army and returned to Perth, when the Chevalier St. George finally landed at Peterhead, on the 22nd of December, 1715. The forces of the Duke of Argyle were increased by the arrival of auxiliary Dutch troops, that had been demanded from the States-General by the English Government, and henceforth his army was larger than that of the rebels.
On the 8th of January, 1716, the Pretender established himself, without opposition, in the royal palace at Scone. The ceremony of the coronation was announced for the 23rd of the same month.
The joy of the insurgents upon learning of the arrival of "the King," was great. "We are now going to live like soldiers, and to measure ourselves with our enemies," they said, "in place of remaining here inactive, waiting the vain resolutions of a frightened council." On his part, James, upon landing, had written to Bolingbroke: "Behold me, thanks to God, in my ancient kingdom. I find things in good shape, and I think that all will go well if the friends of your side do their duty, as I will do mine. Show this note to the regent."
The illusions did not last long on either side. The Pretender found the army of his partisans diminished, disordered, and divided. He was not personally qualified to act upon such men, and his virtues were better suited to a monarch peacefully seated upon his throne than to an exiled prince, obliged to conquer his crown. "He was tall and thin," wrote one of the adherents, "pale and grave. He spoke but little; his conversation was vague, and his manners and character seemed measured. I do not know how he would have been in his pleasures; it was not the time for such thoughts. We had no opportunity of gayety, and I never saw him smile. I will not conceal that at the time when we saw him whom we called our king, we were not in any way reanimated by his presence, and that if he was disappointed in us, we were ten times more so in him. We saw nothing in him that looked like spirit. He never showed either animation or courage, in order to cheer us. Our men began to despise him and to ask if he could talk. His physiognomy was dull and heavy. He took no pleasure in mingling with the soldiers, either to see them drill or exercise. It was said that our condition discouraged him: I say that the figure he made among us discouraged us also. If he had sent us five thousand good troops, instead of coming himself, the result would have been different."
James III. had nevertheless done an act of power. He issued proclamations to the army, and these were spread throughout the country. Two Presbyterian ministers only substituted his name for that of King George in their public prayers; the Episcopalians, en masse, rallied around the new monarch, who nevertheless refused a promise of tolerance to the Anglican Church of Ireland, and whose assurances were doubtful even in regard to the church of England. He affected great devotion to his friends and to his country. "Whatever happens," said he, in his address to his council, "I will not leave my faithful subjects any reason to reproach me for not having done all that they might have expected of me. Those who neglect their duty and their proper interest, will be responsible for the evil which may happen. Misfortune will be nothing new to me. From my cradle, all my life has been a series of misfortunes, and I am ready, if it pleases God, to endure the threats of your enemies and mine."