So extraordinary were the evolutions of Montrose, that on many occasions the appearance of his army was the first notice the enemy had of his approach; and of his retreats, the first intelligence was that he was beyond their reach. Argyll, exasperated with the devastation of his estates, marched against Montrose; but he, not waiting to be attacked, marched thirty miles, by an unfrequented route, across the mountains of Lochaber, during a heavy fall of snow, and came at night in front of the enemy, when they believed him in a different part of the country. This was in February, 1645, during a very inclement season. “The moon shone so clear,” says Bishop Wishart, “that it was almost as light as day. They lay upon their arms the whole night, and, with the assistance of the light, so harassed each other with slight alarms and skirmishes, that neither gave the other time to repose. They all wished earnestly for day: only Argyll, more intent on his own safety, conveyed himself away about the middle of the night: and, having very opportunely got a boat, escaped the hazard of a battle, choosing rather to be a spectator of the prowess of his men than share in the danger himself. Nevertheless, the chiefs of the Campbells, who were indeed a set of very brave men, and worthy of a better chief and a better cause, began the battle with great courage. But the first ranks discharging their muskets only once, Montrose’s men fell in upon them furiously, sword in hand, with a great shout, and advanced with such great impetuosity, that they routed the whole army, and put them to flight, and pursued them for about nine miles, making dreadful slaughter the whole way. There were 1500 of the enemy slain, among whom were several gentlemen of distinction of the name of Campbell, who led on the clan, and fell in the field of battle, too gallantly for their dastardly chief. Montrose, though an enemy, pitied their fate, and used his authority to save and give quarter to as many as he could. In this battle Montrose had several wounded, but he had none killed but three privates, and Sir Thomas Ogilvie, son of the Earl of Airley; whilst Argyll lost the Lairds of Auchinbreck, Glensaddell, and Lochnell, with his son and brother, and Barbreck, Inneraw, Lamont, Silvercraigs, and many other prisoners.” Spalding, in his “History of the Troubles,” states, that “there came direct from the committee of Edinburgh certain men to see Argyll’s forwardness in following Montrose, but they saw his flight, in manner foresaid. It is to be considered that few of this army could have escaped if Montrose had not marched the day before the fight thirty-three miles, (Scots miles) on little food, and crossed sundry waters, wet and weary, and standing in wet and cold the hail night before the fight.”
Montrose, flushed with victory, now proceeded to Moray, where he was joined by the Gordons and Grants. He next marched to the southward, taking Dundee by storm; but being attacked by a superior force under Baillie and Hurry, began to retreat. Baillie and Hurry divided their forces, to prevent his return to the north; but, by a masterly movement, he passed between their divisions, and regained the mountains. He defeated Hurry at Meldrum, near Nairn, on the 14th May, 1645, by a manœuvre similar to that of Epaminondas at Leuctra and Mantinea. In that battle, the left wing of the Royalists was commanded by Montrose’s able auxiliary, Alister Macdonell, or Maccoul, (as he is called in Gaelic) still celebrated in Highland tradition and song for his chivalry and courage. An elevation of ground separated the wings. Montrose received a report that Macdonell’s wing had given way, and was retreating. He instantly ran along the ranks, and called out to his men that Macdonell was driving the enemy before him, and, unless they did the same, the other wing would carry away all the glory of the day. His men instantly rushed forward, and charged the enemy off the field, while he hastened with his reserve to the relief of his friend, and recovered the fortune of the day.[52] At this battle, in which 2000 Covenanters fell, Campbell of Lawers, though upwards of seventy years of age, fought on the Presbyterian side, with a two-handed broadsword, till himself, and four of his six sons, who were with him, fell on the ground on which they stood. Such was the enemy which the genius and courage of Montrose overcame. Pursuing his victory, Montrose encountered and defeated Baillie at Alford, on the 2nd of July; but on this occasion his success was embittered by the loss of Lord Gordon, who fell in the action. His victories attracted reinforcements from all parts of the country: he marched to the southward at the head of 6000 men, and fought a bloody and decisive battle near Kilsyth, on the 15th August, when nearly 5000 Covenanters fell under the Highland claymore.
This last and greatest of his splendid successes opened the whole of Scotland to Montrose. He occupied Glasgow and the capital, and marched forward to the border, not merely to complete the subjection of the southern provinces, but with the flattering hope of pouring his victorious army into England, and bringing to the support of Charles the swords of his paternal tribes.
Montrose was now, however, destined to endure a reverse of his hitherto brilliant fortune. After traversing the border counties, and receiving little assistance or countenance from the chiefs of these districts, he encamped on Philiphaugh, a level plain near Selkirk, extending about a mile and a half along the banks of the rivers Tweed and Ettrick. Here he posted his infantry, amounting to about 1500 men, while he himself and his cavalry, to the amount of about 1000, took up their quarters in the town of Selkirk.
Recalled by the danger[53] of the cause of the Covenant, General David Lesly came down from England at the head of those iron squadrons whose force had been proved in the fatal battle of Long Marston Moor. His army consisted of from 5000 to 6000 men, chiefly cavalry. Lesly’s first plan seems to have been to occupy the midland counties, so as to intercept the return of Montrose’s Highlanders, and to force him to an unequal combat. Accordingly, he marched along the eastern coast from Berwick to Tranent; but there he suddenly altered his direction, and, crossing through Midlothian, turned again to the southward, and, following the course of Gala Water, arrived at Melrose the evening before the engagement. How it is possible that Montrose should have received no notice whatever of the march of so considerable an army seems almost inconceivable, and proves that the country was very disaffected to his cause or person. Still more extraordinary does it appear, that, even with the advantage of a thick mist, Lesly should have, the next morning, advanced towards Montrose’s encampment without being descried by a single scout. Such, however, was the case, and it was attended with all the consequences of a complete surprisal. The first intimation that Montrose received of the march of Lesly was the noise of the conflict, or rather that which attended the unresisted slaughter of his infantry, who never formed a line of battle: the right wing alone, supported by the thickets of Harehead-wood, and by their entrenchments, stood firm for some time. But Lesly had detached 2000 men, who, crossing the Ettrick still higher up than his main body, assaulted the rear of Montrose’s right wing. At this moment the Marquis arrived, and beheld his army dispersed, for the first time, in irretrievable rout. He had thrown himself upon a horse the instant he heard the firing, and, followed by such of his disordered cavalry as had gathered upon the alarm, he galloped from Selkirk, crossed the Ettrick, and made a bold and desperate attempt to retrieve the fortune of the day. But all was in vain; and after cutting his way, almost singly, through a body of Lesly’s troopers, the gallant Montrose graced by his example the retreat of the fugitives. That retreat he continued up Yarrow, and over Minchmoor; nor did he stop till he arrived at Traquair, 16 miles from the field of battle. He lodged the first night at the town of Peebles.[54] Upon Philiphaugh he lost, in one defeat, the fruit of six splendid victories; nor was he again able effectually to make head in Scotland against the covenanted cause. The number slain in the field did not exceed 300 or 400; for the fugitives found refuge in the mountains, which had often been the retreat of vanquished armies, and were impervious to the pursuer’s cavalry. Lesly abused his victory, and disgraced his arms, by slaughtering in cold blood many of the prisoners whom he had taken; and the court-yard of Newark Castle is said to have been the spot upon which they were shot by his command. Many others are said by Wishart to have been precipitated from a high bridge over the Tweed,—a circumstance considered doubtful by Laing, as there was then no bridge over the Tweed between Peebles and Berwick, though the massacre might have taken place at either of the old bridges over the Ettrick and Yarrow, which lay in the very line of flight and pursuit. It is too certain that several of the Royalists were executed by the Covenanters, as traitors to the King and Parliament.[55]
After this reverse of fortune,[56] Montrose retired into the north. In 1646, he formed an association with the Earls of Sutherland and Seaforth, and other Highland chieftains, and they laid siege to Inverness; but General Middleton forced Montrose to retreat, with considerable loss. Charles I. now sending orders to Montrose to disband his forces and leave the kingdom, he capitulated with Middleton, July, 1646, and an indemnity was granted to his followers, and he was permitted to retire to the continent. The capitulation was ratified by Parliament, and Montrose was permitted to remain unmolested in Scotland for a month to settle his affairs.
He now proceeded to France, where he resided two years. He had the offer of the appointments of general of the Scots in France, lieutenant-general of the French army, captain of the gens d’armes,[57] with an annual pension of 12,000 crowns, and a promise of being promoted to the rank of maréchal, and to the captaincy of the King’s guards, all which preferments he declined, as he wished only to be of service to his own King. He retired privately from Paris, in May, 1648, and went to Germany, from thence to Brussels, where he was, at the period of the King’s execution, in 1649. He then repaired to the Hague, where Charles II. resided, and offered to establish him on the throne of Scotland by force. The King gave him a commission accordingly, and invested him with the order of the garter. Montrose, with arms supplied by the court of Sweden, and money by Denmark, embarked at Hamburg, with 600 Germans, and landed in Orkney in spring 1650, where he got some recruits, and crossed over to Caithness with an army of about 1400 men; and he was joined by several Royalists as he traversed the wilds of Sutherland. But, advancing into Ross-shire, he was surprised, and totally defeated, at Invercharron, by Colonel Strachan, an officer of the Scottish Parliament, who afterwards became a decided Cromwellian. Montrose’s horse was shot under him; but he was generously remounted by his friend, Lord Frendraught. After a fruitless resistance, he at length fled from the field, threw away his ribbon and George, changed clothes with a countryman, and thus escaped to the house of M‘Leod of Assint,[58] by whom he was betrayed to General Lesly.
Whatsoever indignities the bitterness of party rage or religious hatred could suggest, were accumulated on a fallen, illustrious enemy, formerly terrible, and still detested. He was slowly and ostentatiously conducted through the north by the ungenerous Lesly, in the same mean habit in which he was taken. His devastations were not forgotten,—his splendid victories never forgiven,—and he was exposed, by excommunication, to the abhorrence and insults of a fanatical people. His sentence was already pronounced in Parliament, on his former attainder, under every aggravation which brutal minds can delight to inflict. He was received by the magistrates of Edinburgh at the Watergate, 18th May, 1650, placed on an elevated seat in a cart, to which he was pinioned with cords, and, preceded by his officers, coupled together, was conducted, bareheaded, by the public executioner, to the common jail. But his magnanimity was superior to every insult. When produced to receive his sentence in Parliament, he was upbraided by the Chancellor with his violation of the Covenant, the introduction of Irish insurgents, his invasion of Scotland during a treaty with the King; and the temperate dignity which he had hitherto sustained, seemed, at first, to yield to indignant contempt. He vindicated his dereliction of the Covenant, by their rebellion,—his appearance in arms, by the commission of his Sovereign,—and declared, that as he had formerly deposited, so he again resumed his arms, by his Majesty’s command, to accelerate the treaty commenced with the States. A barbarous sentence, which he received with an undaunted countenance, was then pronounced by a Parliament who acknowledged Charles to be their King, and whom, on that account only, Montrose acknowledged to be a Parliament,—that he should be hanged for three hours, on a gibbet 30 feet high; that his head should be affixed to the common jail, his limbs to the gates of the principal towns, and his body interred at the place of execution, unless his excommunication were taken off, and then it might be buried in consecrated ground. With dignified magnanimity, he replied, that he was prouder to have his head affixed to the prison walls than his picture placed in the King’s bedchamber; “and, far from being troubled that my limbs are to be sent to your principal towns, I wish I had flesh enough to be dispersed through Christendom, to attest my dying attachment to my King.” It was the calm employment of his mind that night to reduce this extravagant sentiment to verse. He appeared next day on the scaffold, in a rich habit, with the same serene and undaunted countenance, and addressed the people, to vindicate his dying unabsolved by the Church, rather than to justify an invasion of the kingdom during a treaty with the Estates. The insults of his enemies were not yet exhausted. The history of his exploits, which had been written in Latin by Bishop Wishart, and published all over Europe, was attached to his neck by the executioner; but he smiled at their inventive malice, declared that he wore it with more pride than he had done the garter, and when his devotions were finished, demanding if any more indignities were to be practised, submitted calmly to an unmerited fate.[59]
Thus perished, at the age of thirty-eight, the gallant Marquis of Montrose, with the reputation of one of the first commanders that the civil wars had produced. He excelled in the stratagems of war; but his talents were rather those of an active, enterprising partisan, than of a great commander,—better fitted to excite and manage a desultory war, than to direct the complicated operations of a regular campaign. He may be admired for his genius, but he cannot be praised for his wisdom. Though he excelled in the performance of rapid movements, and had the quick eye of a serpent approaching its prey, he had not the firmness, perseverance, and vigilance which form the necessary qualifications of a great general. Most of his victories were gained by the celerity of his approaches and the impetuosity of his attacks, yet he did not prove himself any better qualified to avert the fatal consequences of surprise than those whom his manœuvres had so often defeated. His genius was great and romantic, in the opinion of Cardinal de Retz, no mean judge of human nature, approaching the nearest to the ancient heroes of Greece and Rome. But his heroism was wild and extravagant, and was less conspicuous during his life than from the fortitude with which he sustained an ignominious death.
Montrose’s sentence, in all circumstances, was executed ad literam. His head was stuck upon the tolbooth of Edinburgh, where it remained, blackening in the sun, when his master, Charles II., soon thereafter arrived in the Scottish metropolis. His limbs were dispersed to Perth, Glasgow, Stirling, and Aberdeen, and his body was buried at the place of execution, from whence it was afterwards removed to the common moor,[60] whence it was lifted at the Restoration. On this event, when Charles found opportunity for testifying his respect for Montrose, his scattered remains were collected. There was a scaffold erected at the tolbooth, and some ceremony was used in taking down his head from its ignominious situation. According to Kirkton,[61] some bowed and some knelt while that relic was removed from the spike, which was done by Montrose’s kinsman, the Laird of Gorthie, who, according to the covenanting account, died in consequence, after performing his triumphant but melancholy duty. The Laird of Pitcurre, too, who in his joy had drunk a little too much on the occasion, was, by the same account, found dead in his bed next morning; though we find little hesitation in giving the brandy more of the credit due to that event than what the Presbyterian annalist is pleased to call “the pleasure of Heaven.” Montrose’s remains were deposited in Holyroodhouse, where they remained some time in state; and, on the 14th of May, 1651, they were buried, with great pomp and ceremony, in the cathedral church of St. Giles.