To Argyle the disappearance of the royalists was a subject of joy. Disbanding the army, he repaired, after a short visit to Edinburgh, to his castle of Inverary, where he reposed in security, aware, indeed, of the hostile projects of Montrose, but trusting to the wide barrier of snows and mountains which separated him from his enemy. But the royal leader penetrated through this Alpine wilderness, compelled Argyle to save himself in an open boat on Loch Tyne, and during six weeks wreaked his revenge on the domains and the clansmen of the fugitive. At the approach of Argyle with eleven hundred regular troops, he retired; but suddenly turning to the left, crossed the mountains, and issuing from Glennevis, surprised his pursuers at Inverlochy in Lochabar.[c] From his galley in the Frith Argyle beheld the assault of the enemy, the shock of the combatants, and the slaughter of at least one half of his whole force.[d] This victory placed the north of Scotland at the mercy of the conquerors.
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1644. Oct. 28.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1644. Dec. 13.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1645. Jan. 28.]
[Sidenote d: A.D. 1645. Feb. 2.]
From Inverlochy they marched to Elgin, and from Elgin to Aberdeen, ravaging, as they passed, the lands, and burning the houses of the Covenanters. But at Brechin, Baillie opposed their progress with a[a] numerous and regular force. Montrose turned in the direction of Dunkeld; Baillie marched to Perth. The former surprised the opulent town of Dundee; the latter arrived in time to expel the plunderers. But he pursued in vain. They regained the Grampian hills, where in security they once more bade defiance to the whole power of the enemy. Such was the short and eventful campaign of Montrose. His victories, exaggerated by report, and embellished by the fancy of the hearers, cast a faint and deceitful lustre over the declining cause of royalty. But they rendered no other service. His passage was that of a meteor, scorching every thing in its course. Wherever he appeared, he inflicted the severest injuries; but he made no permanent conquest; he taught the Covenanters to tremble at his name, but he did nothing to arrest that ruin which menaced the throne and its adherents.[1]
England, however, was the real arena on which the conflict was to be decided, and in England the king soon found himself unable to cope with his enemies. He still possessed about one-third of the kingdom. From Oxford he extended his sway almost without interruption to the extremity of Cornwall: North and South Wales, with the exception of the castles of Pembroke and Montgomery, acknowledged his authority; and the royal standard was still unfurled in several
[Footnote 1: See Rushworth, v. 928-932; vi. 228; Guthrie, 162-183; Baillie, ii. 64, 65, 92-95; Clarendon, ii. 606, 618; Wishart, 67, 110; Journals, vii. 566; Spalding, ii. 237.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1645. March 25.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1645. April 4.]
towns in the midland comities.[1] But his army, under the nominal command of the prince of Wales, and the real command of Prince Rupert, was frittered away in a multitude of petty garrisons, and languished in a state of the most alarming insubordination. The generals, divided into factions, presumed to disobey the royal orders, and refused to serve under an adversary or a rival; the officers indulged in every kind of debauchery; the privates lived at free quarters; and the royal forces made themselves more terrible to their friends by their licentiousness than to their enemies by their valour.[2] Their excesses provoked new associations in the counties of Wilts, Dorset, Devon, Somerset, and Worcester, known by the denomination of Clubmen, whose primary object was the protection of private property, and the infliction of summary vengeance on the depredators belonging to either army. These associations were encouraged and organized by the neighbouring gentlemen; arms of every description were collected for their use; and they were known to assemble in numbers of four, six, and even ten thousand men. Confidence in their own strength, and the suggestions of their leaders, taught them to extend their views; they invited the adjoining counties to follow their example, and talked of putting an end by force to the unnatural war which depopulated the country. But though they professed to observe the strictest neutrality between the contending parties, their meetings excited a well-founded jealousy
[Footnote 1: Rushworth, vi. 18-22.]
[Footnote 2: Clarendon, ii. 604, 633, 636, 642, 661, 668. "Good men are so scandalized at the horrid impiety of our armies, that they will not believe that God can bless any cause in such hands."—Lord Culpeper to Lord Digby. Clarendon Papers, ii. 189. Carte's Ormond, iii. 396, 399.]
on the part of the parliamentary leaders; who, the moment it could be done without danger, pronounced such associations illegal, and ordered them to be suppressed by military force.[1]