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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
The Earl of Montrose at the Court of Charles I. — Page i.
3
THE FIERY CROSS;
OR,
THE VOIV OF MONTROSE.
By BARBARA HUTTON
(Mrs. ALEXANDER),
AtTTKOR OF ' CASTLES AND THEIR HEROES,' ' TALES OF THE WHITE COCKADE,'
'heroes of the CRUSADES,' 'TALES OF THE SARACENS,' ETC.
'Oh never shall we know again
A heart so stout and true ;
The olden times have passed away.
And weary are the new.' — Aytoun.
EUustrations bg Sofjn Eabson,
E. P. DUTTOx\ & CO.,
39 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET.
LONDON : GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, ST. PAUL's CHURCHYARD.
' N
^vTT^*^
PREFACE.
THINK no apology need be offered for
introducing to young readers the well-
known but ever new story of the life,
battles, and cruel death of the great Marquis of
Montrose.
He shines in the history of the time, pre-emi-
nent for chivalrous loyalty and brilliant qualities ;
and it was well said of him by one of his con-
temporaries, a French cardinal, ' that he had never
known another man so nearly approaching the .
description given by Plutarch of the heroes of old.'
No nation has surpassed the Scots in examples
of heroic military qualities ; and not even the ad-
ventures of ' bonnie Prince Charlie ' thrill us more
than the history of Montrose, who was alike the
hero and the victim of the dissensions of his period.
^:P^-hP.R^
IV Preface.
In the present prosaic age, when we are apt, in
a laudable admiration for great inventive genius, to
hide the romantic side of life, it may not be unin-
structive to the rising generation, that they should
also read of the disinterested motives and high aims
of the Great Cavalier of the seventeenth century, —
a man who for honour's sake staked life and fortune,
and, in his own words, —
' put it to the touch
To gain, or lose it all ! '
B. H.
Richmond Hill.
v:
THE FIERY CROSS.
CHAPTER I.
'Though Caesar's paragon I cannot be,
Yet shall I soar in thought as high as he I'
HO is he?' inquired many a pretty pair
of rosy lips, one day in the Palace of
Whitehall, as a young and noble-looking
cavalier entered and took his place among the
courtiers, awaiting the arrival of the King.
The curiosity of the Court ladies was soon satis-
fied; for just then, the King himself was announced.
As Charles, wearing his sad, dignified look, with
which his portrait by Velasquez has familiarized
us, entered the audience-chamber, the stranger was
formally presented.
As he advanced towards the monarch, the ladies
^ The Fiery Cross ; or,
were enabled to gaze upon the young gallant. They
saw that his figure was good, and, moreover, that it
was well set off, after the fashion of the day, by a
richly-embroidered doublet with wide sleeves, falling
collar, and lace ruffles ; and that his glossy brown
hair flowed loosely over his well-shapen shoulders.
They noted, too, that his garments had a slightly
foreign cut ; and that his velvets and laces were of
more than ordinary costliness. As he bent his head
before the King, his handsome face beamed brightly ;
and the ladies all observed that his penetrating grey
eyes, beneath a fair broad forehead, showed his clear
complexion to great advantage. The courtiers
murmured with admiration as the gallant walked
along the room. But their admiration quickly
abated when they saw Charles's reception of the
cavalier. The King merely gave him his hand to
kiss, and with marked coldness, and without uttering
a word, passed on.
A deep crimson flush overspreading the young
man's face, testified to the mortification he felt at his
reception ; but he soon recovered his composure, and
drawing himself proudly up, retired into the back-
ground.
It was James Graham, fifth Earl of Montrose,
whom Charles the First had thus slighted.
Montrose had just returned from France and
71ie Vow of Montrose. 3
Italy. A more accomplished nobleman had seldom
presented himself at the English Court.
As Charles was generally accustomed to graciously
receive noble youths such as Montrose, his courtiers
were astonished to see him thus rebuff the Earl ;
but the King had the failing of all the Stuarts — he
was influenced by favourites. The Marquis of
Hamilton, afraid of the introduction of so accom-
plished a man as Montrose, had, from the first
moment of his arrival in England, intrigued against
him. He represented to the King the danger of the
young Earl's popularity in Scotland, and so wrought
on Charles's weakness as to make him believe that
Montrose might prove a dangerous rival in that
kingdom, then much disturbed by the Covenanters.
It is easy to sow dissension and mistrust between
two generous natures, when the insinuations of the
mischief-maker are based on an accurate knowledge
of character. Hamilton knew that the Kine was
weak, and Montrose was not hasty. He had pre-
viously said all that he could to set Montrose against
Charles ; and therefore when he was thus publicly
slighted, the Earl left Whitehall, secretly determined
to retire to Scotland, and not again present himself
at Court.
Montrose was at that time just twenty-four years
of age. True, there were grave defects in his cha-
4 The Fiery Cross ; or,
racter ; but in his romantic life we shall find many
traits of greatness and heroism. In the first place,
his youth was a well-spent one, and not idle. His
family honours had descended to him when but a
mere lad ; and a long line of brave soldiers before
him, had bequeathed to the boy, who in 1616 suc-
ceeded his father, an hereditary attachment to the
house of Stuart.
His youth was passed under the care of his
brother-in-law, Lord Napier, who had married one
of Montrose's fair sisters. This clever and accom-
plished nobleman treated the young Earl as a
son. The natural bent of the lad's mind to study
and research, was carefully cultivated under his
guardian's roof Very little is known of the Earl's
boyhood, except that it was passed under Napier's
care ; but he must have married young, as he was a
husband before he started on his travels. His wife
was Lady Magdalene Carnegy, daughter of the first
Earl of Southesk. Two sons were born to the pair
before the Earl was twenty-one years of age. Of
his wife, too, there is little to tell. It is believed
that she died soon after her younger son was born, in
1653. Montrose had not been present at the King's
coronation, for he was then in France in command
of the Scottish Guard. This renowned corps of
volunteers were taken over to France to assist Louis
The Vow of Montrose. 5
the Thirteenth in his war against Austria. It was
composed 'of the bravest company of men that ever'
were seen in France, all of them gallant young
gentlemen, well appointed.'
The time that the young Earl served with the
Scotch gens d'armes is not known, neither is it
certain that he saw service in France ; but while
on his travels, he carefully cultivated all the arts
that could advance him in a military career. Till
rebuffed by the King, he had longed with all the
enthusiasm of his age to support Charles's cause ;
but the King's reception of him damped his
ardour.
Montrose retired to his native land. His return
caused much excitement, because it was at first not
known which faction he would favour ; and his
ability and talent would be valuable to either. The
Earl sided with the Covenanters, against the King.
The title of Covenanter was the badge of a party.
Charles the First, with indiscreet zeal, had tried to
force the English form of liturgy and Episcopacy on
the Scottish Presbyterians.
Enraged at this attempt, those who belonged to
that party drew up a protest, which they named ' The
Covenant.' The document bound all who signed it
to resist any religious changes and innovations.
There is nothing that will so easily lead men into
6 The Fiery Cross ; or^
bitterness as differences on points of religion. From
simply protesting, the Covenanters became rebellious;
and, inflamed by party zeal, formed themselves into
a large body, requiring every one throughout the
land to sign their * charter.'
It was in the very heat of these agitating events
that Montrose reappeared in his native land. In
that same summer of 1637, Charles's edict for en-
forcing the use of the English liturgy in his Scottish
kirks was carried out in Edinburgh.
The tumult that ensued was begun by women.
The fair sex expressed by knocks and blows their
detestation of what the Scotch call 'the Service
Book ; ' and not only disturbed the congregation, but
tried to stone the bishop as he stepped from the
kirk door into his carriage, and barely escaped.
Resistance to the use of the prayer-book was
soon universal in Edinburgh. The men were as
violent against it as the women ; and many clergy-
men, rather than obey the royal mandate, submitted
to the infliction of heavy fines.
Charles did a foolish thing when he tried to make
Calvinistic Scotland adopt Prelacy as her religious
system. It seems strange that Mary Stuart's grand-
son should have been so blind as to forget that, in
the eyes of her subjects, the worst sin of that hapless
princess was her religion.
The Vow of Montrose. 7
Mary's levity and foreign manners might have
been forgiven, but her opposition to John Knox was
an unpardonable crime ; for the Presbyterians con-
nected Prelacy with Popery.
Their hatred of Popery is very great ; and they
maintain that their own form of church government
by presbyteries, synods, and general assemblies is
alone conformable to Scripture. Episcopalians pre-
fer, on the other hand, church government by
bishops ; and James the First had been one of their
number.
That pedantic monarch detested the doctrines of
Calvin, and had done all that he could to enforce
Anglican ritual on the Scotch, but had signally
failed. Charles, who was what we in our day
should call a ' High Churchman,' foolishly tried to
follow in his father's footsteps ; and that course may
be said to be one of the reasons of his downfall.
The Scotch persisted in believing that Charles's
adviser, Laud, when he tried to make them adopt his
prayer-book, was aiming a blow at their national
independence ; and this feeling led to stirring events
in Scotland, in which the Marquis of Montrose was
destined to take a striking part.
In the first place he joined the Covenanters. This
act was his greatest mistake in life, and various
reasons have been given accounting for his taking
8 The Fiery Cross ; or,
such a step. Some historians declare that, piqued
by the King's marked coldness to him, the young
Marquis was led, by wounded vanity, to oppose his
policy. Such an assertion is totally inconsistent
with the character of Montrose, which had nothing
mean or petty about it ; it is only little minds who
give up great principles (and loyalty to his King was
one firmly implanted in James Graham's mind) to
revenge mere trifling wrongs. Others, again, main-
tain that the Earl was persuaded to join the
Covenanters, by a nobleman, — one of the chief pro-
moters of the scheme, — the Earl of Rothes.
This nobleman has been called the founder of the
Covenant. He was much slighted by Charles, who
never noticed him at Court, from his resentment at
the course that Rothes had adopted from the be-
ginning of his reii^n, of opposition to the King's
Scottish policy.
The friends of Charles the First declare that he
intended, in the first instance, to benefit Scotland.
Scotland had its Parliament, although its King had
left that kingdom to reign over another land. It was
an assembly that was very obsequious to Charles, till
he incurred the displeasure of its three estates by
endeavouring to perform an act of justice — namely,
to recover the tithes of the Church from a number
of grasping noblemen, who had appropriated most of
The Vow of Montrose. 9
the ecclesiastical revenues to their own use at the
Reformation.
This design was, it may be said, the beginning of
troubles for the Stuarts ; for, though many of his
loyal subjects in Scotland hailed this endeavour to
endow the clergy as a great boon, those noblemen,
who were to suffer by the revocation of tithes, were
mortally affronted, and, through their influence, the
proposal was vehemently opposed.
The principal appropriation of Church tithes took
place during James the Sixth's minority, after the
Reformation, and was connived at by the Regent
Murray. The poor peasant, obliged to pay a tenth
to the rich baron of the territory from whom he
held land, was often so oppressed by the nobles
that he would rebel against the payment, and, rather
than submit to it, would leave the whole of his crops
ungathered and neglected, to the great detriment of
the country.
Then, again, the stipend left for the maintenance
of the clergy was miserably small, and all means of
educating the poorer classes at a stand-still. Scot-
land at that time was far. behind England in civilisa-
tion, although in many ways the character of the
nation was as great as that of the English.
In spite of the absence of their hereditary sove-
reigns, the Scotch were still faithful and true ; al-
I o The Fiery Cross ; or,
though, when instigated by their nobles, who were
rebellious for their own ends, they often became tur-
bulent and ungovernable. The Highlanders were a
totally diiTerent race to the Lowlanders, and far more
loyal than the men of the plains, who were also in-
clined to oppose Charles the First, from their heredi-
tary adherence to republican Knox, and their hatred
of Episcopacy.
Numerous measures were devised by Charles and
his advisers for the revocation of the tithes. Charles
sent commissioners into Scotland, but was com-
pelled to treat with the titheholders in 1630, who,
although the King granted them many privileges,
were much dissatisfied. When he went on a royal
progress to Scotland (although joyfully welcomed
by many), several noblemen met their monarch
with great coldness, and actually intrigued against
him.
Every measure proposed by the King in the Scot-
tish Parliament met with opposition by a certain
party. Those who thwarted the King became the
principal promoters of the Covenant later on, and
threw off their disguised loyalty as soon as Charles
the First, not wise enough to hide his displeasure
from those who offended him, returned to England.
The Earl of Rothes was one to whom the King
showed great coldness. Lord Balmerino was tried
The Vozu of Montrose. ii
and condemned to death ; but his trial, for drawing
up a seditious petition of a treasonable character,
ended in a triumph for the democratic party in Scot-
land, for he was found guilty by only one vote.
Charles the First pardoned him, and his sentence was
not carried out ; but the trial did the royal cause
great harm, and prepared the way for those who
wished to make the introduction into Scotland of
Anglican ritual a pretext for rebellion against the
King. Montrose had been brought up in Lord
Napier's house with an especial dread and horror
of Popery, and therefore looked jealously on all
measures introduced by Laud as tending to revive
what has been, and ever will be, detested in Eng-
land — priestcraft.
Lord Napier kept aloof from all factions ; but,
long before the Balmerino trial, had seen how fatally
reliant Charles the First was on the uncompromising
counsellors, by whose advice he later thrust a dis-
tasteful liturgy on his Scotch subjects.
The Earl of Rothes having persuaded Montrose
that the King was bent on turning Scotland into a
mere province of England, by taking away her in-
dependence, allowed himself to be selected one of
four noblemen to represent the lesser barons of Scot-
land, when inflamed against Charles. The revolu-
tionary party formed themselves into a committee,
12 The Fiery Cross; or,
which became eventually the government de facto
of the kingdom.
Charles, finding that his ill-advised attempt to
introduce the prayer - book into Scotland had
virtually failed, determined to send a royal com-
missioner to Edinburgh, to represent himself, and
try and revive that ancient loyalty to his crown that
the attempt to introduce Prelacy had so rudely
shaken in the Lowlands of Scotland.
The person selected for this difficult post was the
Marquis of Hamilton, the favourite who had per-
suaded the King to receive Montrose so coldly when
he visited Whitehall.
The Marquis's reception was enthusiastic, as he
proceeded to Holyrood in his viceregal character,
although those noblemen who had signed the Cove-
nant declined to meet him. The Marquis pretended
to sympathize deeply with the alleged grievances
of the Covenanters ; but Rothes, Montrose, and
Loudon soon found out that he had no real instruc-
tions from Charles to meet their wishes ; though
such was the craft of the man, he tried to make
them believe he would represent all their grievances
fairly to the King.
The Marquis then returned to England, and Mon-
trose was charged to try and persuade the men of
the north to join the Covenanting party by the time
The Vow of Montrose, 13
the Marquis should return to Scotland, in order to
present a unanimous front to the King in repre-
senting the repugnance of the nation to the con-
templated changes.
The Marquis made two journeys to England to
see his royal master before any compromise was
agreed on with the antagonistical Covenanters. In
the meantime, Montrose had tried but failed to
induce the inhabitants of Aberdeen to join them.
That city still held out, and adhered to its alle-
giance to the Church as governed by bishops, and
rejected all Montrose's overtures.
At last the Marquis of Hamilton returned again
from the south, charged with a proposal from the
King that would have been amply sufficient to meet
all difficulties, and which tacitly amounted to a with-
drawal of all that had offended his Scottish subjects,
had the Covenanters really intended only the good
of their country.
Montrose, acting as their tool, presented a pro-
testation from the malcontents, refusing all terms,
although in his heart the young Earl by no means
shared the opinion of the bigoted noblemen, who
believed that Episcopacy was an actual sin ; but
while rebelling against Charles, believed that he was
compelled to do so to save his country.
The Marquis of Hamilton's mother was a Cove-
14 The Fiery Cross ; or,
nanter, and his own predilections were by some
thought to favour her party ; but his character was
a puzzle to all ; for, while writing against the
Covenant to Charles, he managed to impress many of
the disaffected noblemen with a belief in the good
faith with which he listened to their grievances.
In all these dissensions, Montrose's name figures as
taking a leading part. He was probably ignorant of
the real designs of the leaders of his party, who at
length, after demanding a national assembly, threw
off the mask, and declared war openly against the
King. This was in 1638 ; and Lord Lorn, afterwards
famous as the Duke of Argyle, placed himself at the
head of the government.
The act of this rebel — for such he really was ;
because, however indiscreet King Charles had been,
there was no excuse for the Covenanters taking up
arms against his government — was (as soon as
Hamilton had returned to England) to abolish
certain bishoprics, and to pronounce a solemn sen-
tence of excommunication against them, which he
and his colleagues ordered every clergyman to read
out in his kirk, on pain of incurring the censure of
the presbyteries and synods. Long before the out-
break of civil war the Covenanters had been prepar-
ing for the struggle. They purchased and laid in
military stores, — chiefly bought in Holland and
The Vow of Montrose. 15
Germany, — and drilled their followers to the use of
the pike and other warlike weapons. They also sent
trusty agents abroad to offer commissions to num-
bers of gentlemen, who, by way of improving their
fortunes, had been fighting in the service of foreign
princes.
Among the number attracted by the call, was a
very brave and clever officer named Alexander
Leslie, who had seen much foreign service, and
attained the rank of field-marshal in the Swedish
army.
The self-constituted Scottish government dis-
missed a great many clergymen for not signing the
Covenant ; and most of the leaders of the party
declared themselves in favour of completely uproot-
ing Episcopacy from the Scottish constitution by
violent measures.
While the Covenanters were thus, under the dis-
guise of religious zeal, planning revolutionary
schemes, Charles had made the Marquis of Huntly
lieutenant of the north of Scotland, although Hamil-
ton, whose double dealing was now very apparent,
did all he could to prevent his success, by withholding
supplies both of men and money from the Marquis.
Aberdeen remained faithful both to the Church and
crown, and the Marquis of Huntly made that royal
burgh his chief headquarters. The Highlanders and
1 6 The Fiery Cross; or^
the north also remained true to Charles ; and the
Covenanting nobles therefore turned their attention
to crush any loyal efforts in that direction, before
reinforcements could reach Huntly from England.
Montrose was selected for this service.
There is no doubt but that Montrose at this time
was heart and soul in the cause of his Covenanting
friends. He set off early in March, 1639, for his own
home, accompanied by one who was afterwards his
bitterest foe, the Duke of Argyle, as well as Alex-
ander Leslie, under whose orders trained bodies of
both foot and cavalry were raised, to be ready to
follow General Montrose to meet the King's lieu-
tenant, the gallant Marquis of Huntly.
That nobleman well knew the weakness of the
undisciplined troops, whom, in face of Leslie's war-
like preparations, he had hastily raised from among
the clans that were loyal to the King's cause.
He was daily expecting tidings from Charles ; but
knowing the weakness of his army (only numbering
about two thousand foot and horse) compared to the
strength of the Covenanters, Huntly determined to
try and gain time by entering into negotiations
with Montrose.
Montrose's home was on the river Southesk, where
Huntly's envoys found him surrounded by a well-
prepared army, and accompanied by Lord Carnegy,
The Vow of Montrose. 1 7
Lord Elcho, and Field-Marshal Leslie (so dignified
by the Swedish King), and several other noblemen.
As they drew near Montrose, they passed Mon-
trose's army.
The excellent order that the deputation noted as
they passed along among the pikesmen and swords-
men, made them only the more anxious to come to
terms.
They looked uneasily at each other, as they noted
the martial bearing of those determined men, all of
whom wore blue scarfs across their breasts, or blue
ribbons in their bonnets.
Those blue ribbons were called 'Montrose's
whimsies.' In opposition to the 'whimsies,' Huntly's
troops wore red ribbons, in token of their fidelity to
the King.
Huntly's messengers went sadly back to Aber-
deen. They had met with no success in their
mission. When they got back to their ancient
burgh, they learned, to their great surprise, that
during their absence, after disbanding a great many
of his soldiers, the Marquis of Huntly had retired to
a place called Strabogie.
His departure opened the road peaceably to
Montrose. The citizens of Aberdeen were overawed
when they saw the gallant general of the Cove-
nanters enter their burgh at the head of a well-dis-
1 8 The Fiery Cross ; or,
ciplined body of men, preceded by a blue sill:en
banner, on which they read the motto —
' For Religion, the Covenant, and the Countrie.'
They were compelled to pay a fine, and to submit
to the suspension of all public worship according to
Episcopal form throughout the city. The citizens
of Aberdeen felt themselves in a hard plight. They
had stoutly resisted the Covenant, and most of them
were Charles's loyal subjects. Some among them,
, rather than sign the hated Covenant, even fled by
sea to join the King, who at that time was as much
plagued by the Puritans in England as he was by
the Covenanters in Scotland. But when the citizens
found themselves deserted by Huntly, their bishop
fled, and Montrose in the city, they felt obliged to
do all they could to save the town and their own
homes by receiving the enemy without bloodshed.
Making the Earl of Kinghorn governor of Aber-
deen, Montrose soon marched off again. He went
towards Inverary, hearing that Huntly had en-
camped there.
The King's northern lieutenant, like the citizens of
Aberdeen, felt himself deserted ; for he received no
answers from England to his numerous appeals for
aid ; while on every side he heard of the success of
the Covenanters.
The Vow of Montrose. 1 9
At last, despairing of receiving aid in time to
defeat Montrose, Huntly proposed a personal inter-
view between himself and the Covenanters, to dis-
cuss their differences.
Two interviews took place between Huntly and
Montrose, each accompanied to the rendezvous by
eleven of their friends, unarmed.
Feeling acutely the helplessness of his position as
long as he was unsupported by England, Huntly
was induced to sign a paper in favour of ' the liberties
of Scotland.' He also consented to return with
Montrose to the Covenanters' camp, to sign another
paper, embodying the stipulations agreed on between
them. Huntly went, relying on the Earl's word
that he should be free to return.
Although treated most courteously by his enemies,
Lord Huntly felt uneasy, when, foremost among
Montrose's supporters, he saw his personal foes, the
Forbeses and the Erasers. He began to fear be-
trayal ; but as soon as the deed was signed, he was
allowed to return unmolested.
Shame to the wearers of ' the broom and the yew,'
the Forbeses and Erasers, who sport those moun-
tain emblems as badges of their clan, the gallant
Huntly had scarcely quitted their camp, when they
reproached Montrose with allowing him to escape.
Lords Murray and Seaforth, and the Master of
20 The Fiery Cross ; or,
Lovat, all chimed in, and intrigued to lay a trap for
Huntly, by inviting him to another interview.
The gallant Gordon consented to another inter-
view. He did not doubt Montrose's word, but he
had soon great reason to regret his misplaced con-
fidence. This passage in Montrose's history is but
little to his credit, for it was beneath his noble
nature, even in intention, to break a promise.
Huntly being once more in the Covenanters'
power, they determined not to let him go. A
strict watch was kept over his lodgings; and when
at length, his eyes being opened, Huntly indig-
nantly demanded back the paper he had signed,
he exclaimed, as he turned to Montrose, * Am I to
accompany you south' — the Earl had told him
that he expected him to return to Edinburgh with
him — 'voluntarily, or as your prisoner.-''
' You can make your choice,' said Montrose.
' Then I will go willingly, and not as a prisoner,'
replied Huntly.
Whatever reluctance Montrose may have felt to
such a treacherous act, the Marquis and his eldest
son were carried off a fortnight later (April 1639),
when the Covenanters, leaving the Forbeses and
Erasers to guard the north, returned to Edinburgh.
In the meantime, King Charles, although dis-
tracted by troubles in Edinburgh, had at length
The Vow of Montrose. 21
awakened to the knowledge that help must be sent
to those gallant Highlanders still faithful to his
crown. The Gordons were also wild to revenge the
perfidy with which Huntly had been taken. In an
encounter between the loyal northern barons and the
Forbeses, the former came off victorious ; and just
as the Covenanters, dismayed at the check they had
received, were consulting what was best to be done,
they were startled to find a fleet of twenty-nine of
the King's ships in the Firth, bringing Hamilton
back again as general of the forces.
Once more Montrose, at the head of an army of
four thousand men, returned to Aberdeen, charged
to attack the loyal barons. He spared the town
again, and endeavoured (but ineffectually) to besiege
Sir George Gordon of Gight's house, but was
thwarted in his design of taking it by its owner's
promptness in fortifying it securely before his ap-
proach.
Forced to retreat to Aberdeen, Montrose acrain
marched his forces southwards in good order, before
Lord Aboyne (who, although a mere lad of nine-
teen, had been sent to Scotland to take Huntly's
post, and had anchored off Aberdeen) had had time
to land. Aboyne waited to disembark with the
King's troops, in hopes of some further reinforce-
ments that Hamilton had led him to suppose would
2 2 The F{e7'y Cross ; <?;',
eagerly join him. Not only did none press forward
to the assistance of Charles's lieutenant in the north,
but the Earl of Tullibardine and a chieftain named
Glencairn abandoned him when they saw how small
a number of adherents flocked round the royal
banner. Montrose met and defeated Aboyne, after
deeds of great valour on both sides ; and Aberdeen
would probably have been entirely destroyed, out of
revenge for the loyal assistance it had rendered the
King's party, had not Montrose, almost at the very
hour in which he contemplated ordering it to be
burnt, received the joyful news that between Charles
and his rebellious subjects a treaty of peace had
been concluded.
This agreement is called in history the Treaty of
Berwick.
Tormented by the Puritans in England, and
harassed by the want of money, Charles had with
great difficulty raised an army to march against his
northern subjects.
The Covenanters, under the Earl of Argyle, had
seized many of the King's castles. They had forti-
fied Leith, while Montrose, as we know, had
organized an attack on the faithful Highlands.
The dread of Episcopacy was strong throughout
Scotland ; but even among the Covenanters many a
heart beat true and loyally to the unhappy Charles,
The Vow of Montrose. 23
now arrived with his army on the borders, just as
Montrose had entered Aberdeen, Of this party
was our hero's early friend, Lord Napier. He sug-
gested that a commission should be formed to treat
with Charles ; and his advice was followed.
The King agreed to receive Rothes, and four of
his Covenanting associates of influence at his camp.
The interview took place in Lord Arundel's tent.
After much debate upon the grievances of his party,
Rothes and the King concluded their conference by
drawing up a written agreement, which both signed.
The Covenanters agreed to deliver into the King's
hands all the castles and fortresses that they had
seized. Their troops were to be disbanded, and
Huntly and other prisoners to be set free. The
King, on the other hand, agreed to certain important
concessions, such as a General Assembly to de-
liberate on the articles of pacification ; and so peace
was to be made between the rival factions.
The Marquis of Huntly and his son Lord Gor-
don, who had been imprisoned in Edinburgh, were
set at liberty, and repaired to the King's camp.
The General Assembly, which was to have been
followed by a Parliament, was convened, and Charles
fulfilled all the promises that he had made to the
Scots as faithfully as lay in his power. They, on
their side, did all they could to evade compliance
24 The Fiery Cross; or,
with such articles of the treaty as were repugnant to
their republican spirit. Montrose disbanded his
troops ; but the fact that the hearts of the Presby-
terians were far from loyal, received further proofs
as Charles's representatives drove through Edin-
burgh. Women, always foremost in everything of a
religious character,' threw stones at their coach, and
incited quite a tumult when the youthful Aboyne
drove through their city.
Most unfortunately for himself, Charles placed
full confidence in Hamilton.
We all know what it is to lean on the advice of a
friend in whose honour and truth we fully rely ; but
rarely indeed may a king indulge safely in private
friendships. The inequality of rank is sure to
lead to favouritism. Hamilton pretended to enter
zealously into the King's schemes ; but he was at
heart a traitor, for he was in secret treaty with the
Covenanters.
Charles soon grew disgusted with his Scottish
subjects. The chief nobles, whom he invited to his
camp, refused, on the most frivolous pretences, to
obey his summons ; and the King saw his royal
proclamations, forbidding public meetings for the
purposes of religious agitation, scornfully disregarded
by the leaders of the Covenant.
The Earl of Montrose was among the number, who
The Vow of Montrose. 25
reluctantly presented himself before his sovereign.
They had not met since Charles, instigated by the
crafty Hamilton, had so coldly slighted him at
Whitehall.
The young nobleman, too honest for the party
that looked upon Argyle as their leader, was be-
ginning to distrust his associates. His interview with
Charles impressed him powerfully. Did any pre-
sentiment cross the young Earl's mind, as he gazed
on the troubled brow of his unhappy King, that the
time would come when he should breathe a vow in
Charles's name, and mount the scaffold rather than
break it }
Disgusted and annoyed, the King, instead of
opening the Scottish Parliament in person, returned
hastily to England ; and Montrose — the memory of
his sovereign's stately presence and gracious bearing
still fresh in his mind — returned to Edinburgh.
The General Assembly that met in August 1639
condemned Prelacy as contrary to the Bible. Not
content with this, the leaders of the Covenant, when
Parliament met, aimed at destroying the actual
prerogatives of the crown, by declaring that all State
functions should be exercised by that power.
Montrose pondered long over the p(;rplexing
questions of the day. He had unsheathed his sword
against his King, believing that the liberties of his
26 The Fiery Cross; oVy
country were endangered ; but he was not prepared
to assent to a democratic form of government.
He had the courage to oppose the party who
were secretly trying to get the government of Scot-
land into their own hands. Its leaders began to
suspect Montrose. They knit their brows as they
heard his honest objections to their schemes ; and it
got bruited about that Montrose had been bribed by
Charles, when he saw him at Berwick.
One day, Montrose, as he left his room, picked up
a paper, which had evidently been purposely left on
its threshold. It bore four significant Latin words :
Indictiis armis verbis vincitiir. * Resistless in war,
he was vanquished by words.'
If this secret thrust was intended to dismay the
honest Earl, it failed in its purpose. He had joined
the Covenanters to oppose a policy which he deemed
detrimental to the freedom of the country ; but he
came of a race too loyal to sanction or join in
the democratic views of such men as Argyle and
others, who were beginning openly to affirm, that a
Parliament might act as well without as with a
king.
The King's commissioner, Lord Traquair, had been
roughly received when he went to open the Scotch
Parliament in the name of King Charles, who, find-
ing that the Covenanters were agitating against him,
The Vow of Montrose. 27
ordered the session to be dissolved ; but the Cove-
nanters defied the royal message, and carried out
their own views in the name of the National As-
sembly.
In spite of Montrose's views being known as
favourable to the monarchy, he was entrusted with
a military command, when the Covenanters once
more marched a large arm.y under General Leslie
towards the English border.
Montrose's heart was very heavy when, suspected
by his colleagues, and not quite at ease with the
cause for which he once more donned the 'blue
whimsies' of the Covenant, he assumed a military
command.
Between himself and Argyle especially, there
existed mutual distrust and contempt, Argyle
despised the Earl's honesty of purpose ; the latter
felt supreme scorn of Argyle's crooked policy.
Campbell has been called as crooked in mind
as he was sinister in face ; for that celebrated leader
of the Covenanters had not been personally gifted
by nature. He was short of stature, red-haired, and
near-sighted ; yet he had brilliant talents. A great
writer of those times has said — 'Argyle wanted
nothing but honesty and courage to be an extra-
ordinary man.' Montrose, with his lofty bearing,
gentle manners, and handsome face, exhibited a
28 The Fiery Cross ; or,
great contrast to the man under whom he worked
for the Covenant.
In order to ingratiate himself with the fanatical
Presbyterian clergy, Argyle adopted the favourite
expressions of the Covenanters, Such hypocrisy
was hateful to Montrose.
Archibald Lord Lorn, later Earl and then Mar-
quis of Argyle, came of a lofty lineage and race.
We must turn to the annals of one of the most
interesting races in the world, the Highlanders of
Scotland, for his pedigree.
The Highlanders claim to be descended from the
Picts. The Campbells have a legend that their clan
are all descended from a Pictish hero, called * Diar-
mad of the wild boar ;' and they take a boar's head
as their crest. The common ancestor, however, of
the whole of this vast clan, who sport as their badge
the fir club moss, and use as their rallying cry in
battle the word ' Cruachan,' the name of a mountain
in Argyllshire, was a 'Cambel,* or 'Kambel,' who
had lands granted him by King Robert Bruce, one
Sir Colin. This Sir Colin was Robert Bruce's
nephew. His descendants, the 'Caileam Mor ' family,
became very powerful, and compelled several smaller
clans to adopt their name, now one of the com-
monest in Scotland ; but they principally rose from
supplanting the Macdonalds, who have the best
The Vow of Montrose. 29
claim to be ranked as the most ancient clan in the
Highlands. That ancient race, who say that they
are descended from a Pict named Somerled, inter-
married with the Lords of Lorn. Between them and
the clan of the ' MacCaileam Mor' (a name given
to the chieftain of the Campbells, and which means
'Son of the great Colin') a great rivalry always
existed.
The Campbell clan in 171 5 was reckoned powerful
enough to bring 4000 men into the field ; and they
were as numerous in 1638, when Archibald Lord
Lorn placed himself at the head of the opposition
to Charles the First.
Charles the First had highly favoured Lord
Lorn. He had made him a privy councillor, and
fully trusted him ; yet on all accounts he had done
so unwisely.
He who is not true to a father, will never be true
to a king. Charles, though accused of favouring
the errors of Rome, disliked Papists. The Earl's
father had become a Roman Catholic, and by so
doing offended the King. With arbitrary power,
Charles ordered the old Earl to give up his family
estates and honours to his eldest son, to atone for
his change of faith. This order, so unjust according
to our modern notions, the noble convert submitted
to ; but he declared 'that he was hardly dealt with ! '
30 The Fiery Cross ; or,
As he left the King's presence, he exclahiied with
involuntary bitterness :
'Sire, I know that young man' — pointing to his
son — ' far, far better than your Majesty does. You
may raise him, but you will live to repent it ; he
is crafty, subtle, and false ; he can love no one. If
ever he finds he can do you mischief, he will do
it!'
In spite of this warning — that, later on, Charles
must often have remembered — the King placed the
false but fair-spoken Campbell in positions of trust.
Under the guise of patriotism and religious zeal, he
was as double-dealing towards Charles as he had
been towards his father. With such a character the
honest Montrose had little in common. He had
scarcely joined the Scottish army, when he learnt
Argyle was secretly scheming to become a military
despot over the whole of the country north of the
Tweed.
The Earl of Montrose, who had taken up arms
against Charles solely from patriotic motives, was
disgusted to find that the idea of dethroning him
was openly talked of among the Covenanting leaders.
As soon as his eyes were opened to their real designs,
Montrose hurried back to Edinburgh ; and while
feeling unwilling to abandon his party, yet averse to
such disloyalty, endeavoured to counteract Argyle's
The Vow of Montrose. 31
ambitious schemes by framing a bond, and inducing
several noblemen to sign it.
This bond was to the effect that no act of any
importance was to be undertaken by any one
member of the party without the full knowledge of
all. This deed, so worded as to secure the safety of
the country from Argyle's views, was afterwards
brought forward against Montrose. When the deed
was signed, he rejoined the army ; but it was with
a heavy heart and strong misgivings. When the
Covenanters, on the 21st of August 1640, crossed the
Tweed, it was Montrose whose lot it was, singularly
enough, to lead the way. Newcastle was taken, after
a victory over the royal troops at Newburn, by the
Covenanters.
Just as I am leading you by my narrative to
understand the reasons that led Montrose to change
his political views, and from being a staunch Cove-
nanter to turn into an equally devoted royalist, I
must digress a little to describe the costume of the
period, both of civilians and soldiers ; for in those
days dress was a badge of political parties.
The Puritans acquired the name of Roundheads
from cropping their hair close to their heads. They
looked upon the large, square beards hitherto
worn by the clergy with great dislike. The Puritan
ministers cut their hair and their beards as short as
32 The Fiery Cross; or,
they could, donned plain doublets, and wore Geneva
bands. They, however, wore large boots, for it was
the fashion in those days to wear shoes and boots
two inches too long for the wearer's feet, A Cavalier's
boots were not only very large, but fringed with lace,
sometimes as low down as his jingling spurs.
* What creature's this, with his short liairs,
His little band, and huge long ears ! '
said a royalist and satirical ballad of the day. The
Cavaliers, on the contrary, wore their hair long, and
flowing in a most picturesque fashion. They adorned
their tall hats with ribbons and feathers. They
trimmed their beards to a point, and favoured love-
locks and moustaches ; they were gay in ornamented
breeches, tight vest, and rich laced shirts, with velvet
cloaks flung over the arm ; and, in fact, in every way
opposed the plainness and simplicity of the Round-
heads' costume.
At that time soldiers had discarded the heavy
cumbrous armour of previous reigns. They wore
back and breast-plates of mail over coats of strong
bufl", stout boots, and helmets.
The bowmen of old were almost extinct. Fire-
arms had superseded the bow and arrow ; the
infantry of the day were pikesmen and musketeers.
In these days of Chassepots and mitrailleuses,
we can scarcely imagine how the heavy musket gun
The Vow of Montrose. 33
in use then could be of much service, since the
soldier could neither point nor fire the cumbrous
weapon till it was placed on an iron rest. The
musketeer had to fix the sharp -pointed legs of
the rest into the ground before he could let off
his gun. Four corps composed the King's cavalry.
There were lancers and cuirassiers. The latter bore
swords and pistols, and were so named from wear-
ing cuirasses over their buff coats. Then there
were dragoons and harquebussiers, so called because
they carried a weapon known as a harquebuss. The
bayonet was not introduced till much later in
history.
It was during the truce that followed the easy
capture of Newcastle by Montrose and other Scottish
generals, that the former wrote to his injured
sovereign. Although Montrose had a perfect right
to address Charles, there were not wanting, among
those who were in that irresolute monarch's confi-
dence, many ready to betray all that passed to the
Scotch,
The pretence that the Earl's letters to Charles
were treacherous acts towards the Covenant, served
Argyle's purpose well ; for he and many of his
colleagues had long doubted Montrose, because they
knew he was too honest to support their secret
schemes. However, when Montrose was taxed with
34 The Fiery Cross ; or^
his correspondence with the King, he avowed it so
openly and fearlessly, that even his worst enemies
could not convict him of treachery. The letters,
Montrose affirmed, contained merely good advice,
which was probably thrown avv^ay on the vacillating
King.
Montrose soon realized the fact that he was now
suspected and watched by the Covenanters. As he
himself expressed it to one of his friends, 'he was
crossed ;' he therefore, in the early part of 1641, left
the army and returned to Edinburgh.
The troubles of his native land at that time were
indeed sufficient to wring his patriotic soul wath
grief and anguish. His relation Lord Napier, and
many of Montrose's friends who shared his views,
often visited him, to talk about public affairs. As
one remedy for the evils that they all now perceived
had arisen from the Covenanting agitation, Lord
Napier implored his sovereign to visit Scotland in
person. The tyranny of the popular movement was
becoming greater and greater. The cry at first had
been, 'Down with the bishops,' and much of the
freedom we now enjoy may doubtless be traced to
the opposition in those troublous times to the exces-
sive prerogative of the Crown ; but from defence of
religious freedom, the Scotch had proceeded to
republicanism, and those who differed from them
The Vow of Monh^ose. 35
were hunted down, under the cry that they were
'incendiaries.' None who had the ill-fortune to
offend the Covenanting clergy were safe in that
reign of terror, and honest and loyal persons were
often denounced from Presbyterian pulpits.
Owing to some accidental expressions let fall
by a dying man who, among others, had signed
Montrose's bond at Cumbernauld, Argyle discovered
the deed, and openly denounced the Earl. His
honesty, however, once more saved him. When
asked if he had indeed been instrumental in draw-
ing up such a document, Montrose not only openly
avowed his share in the transaction, but produced
the very bond itself, and gave it up. It was then
destroyed.
Finding that he was calumniated in his own neigh-
bourhood, Montrose determined to vindicate himself
by asking the clergymen on his property to meet
him at a conference.
He met them first at Perth and then at Scone
Abbey, and told them how he had drawn up the
bond in consequence of his discovery of Argylc's
ambitious schemes.
It must have been a striking moment when, later
on, Montrose with perfect dignity and presence of
mind confronted Argyle, and repeated all the ac-
cusations against him. The artful Argyle denied
36 The Piery Cross ; or^
the whole matter, and Montrose was arrested and
confined in Edinburgh Castle.
After his lodgings in Edinburgh and his house at
Old Montrose had been searched in vain for letters
or papers likely to criminate him, the Earl was
examined before a committee appointed by the
Scottish Parliament, and treated with great indignity.
In the midst of the persecution to which the Earl
was subjected, Charles arrived at Holyrood. This
was in August 1641. The unhappy monarch tried
to conciliate the hearts of the stubborn Covenanters
by giving away many titles and honours to the
leaders ; but these concessions failed to strengthen
his cause. Argyle himself was created a Marquis ;
and then the King endeavoured to serve Montrose,
who, after a time, was liberated, and rewarded with
many flattering speeches. He however, for a time,
retired into private life, and went to live at Old
Montrose.
In that retreat he could not have been unhappy,
because he loved study, and could fill up his leisure
with many refined pursuits. There, however, came
news of the civil wars between Charles and his
Parliament. His sovereign wrote truly, when he
said, ' Duty and loyalty were sufficient to Montrose,'
who heard with grief how Charles had erected
the royal standard at Nottingham. He watched
The Vow of Montrose. 37
how, little by little, all hope of peace between the
rival parties drifted away, and how rebellion, on
the one hand, grew as the want of firmness was
exhibited on the other. At last Montrose joined
Charles, and offered to support the cause of royalty
in Scotland by his sword. After a time, having
received the King's commission, which was dated
the first of February 1644, as Lieutenant-General
of Scotland under Prince Maurice, our hero com-
menced that adventurous career which stamps
him the most gallant champion that ever fought
for a king. Having told you how he first became
and then ceased to be a Covenanter, the imme-
diate consequences of his change of opinion must be
told in another chapter.
--ffV^-
CHAPTER 11.
* He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
That puts it not luito the touch,
To win or lose it all.'
— Marquis of Montrose.
;T was with no small difficulty that Montrose
had obtained Charles's consent to this
expedition. In 1642, wearied with a
contest in which he was always beaten by his
Parliament, Charles had resorted to arms to sub-
due his rebellious subjects.
The Queen, on her return from Holland, where
Charles had sent her for safety, had consulted Mon-
trose as to the state of Scotland at that time.
They met at York, and Montrose placed every
circumstance before her. No flatterer, the truthful
cavalier told her that the state of his native land
was as alarming as that of England, and that the
38
The Vow of Montrose, 39
Covenanters, unless repressed, would prove as for-
midable as the English Puritans.
The descendant of the great Graham — * Graham
More ' — who defied the Romans under Severus,
pleaded hard that the Queen should see England's
danger before it was too late, if the Covenanters (as
Montrose thought that they would) should join the
English rebels. He told her, ' Force must be met
with force,' and that Scotland, although armed by
the Covenanters, yet held many a faithful stout heart,
ready, if needs be, to die for the King ; but that
delay was fatal to the royal cause. ' Scotland,' he
said, ' was like one suffering from some sad disease.
If a physician took the malady in " time," the
patient's life might even then be spared.*
Perhaps the earnestness with which he spoke in
the singleness of his purpose might have had some
influence with Henrietta Maria, but for the subtle
advice of the double-dealing Hamilton.
Under pretence of congratulating the Queen on
her safe return, the latter hurried back to York from
Scotland to interpose delays, and suggest defects in
Montrose's counsel.
'The Marquis,' Hamilton pleaded, 'was brave;
but he was young, rash, and ambitious. Let the
King first try gentle measures to preserve the fidelity
of Scotland.'
40 The Fiery Cross ; or.
Once more Hamilton's influence was against Mon-
trose. The King and Queen were alike captivated
and ensnared by one who was secretly employed by
the Covenanters, and they would not heed Montrose's
tale. After telling them that the Covenanters were
arming a large body of men, strengthening their
position, and preparing to march into England, our
hero went sorrowfully away. The glamour of evil
counsel was over weak, irresolute, deluded Charles ;
and, till the Covenanters' army was marching eighteen
thousand foot and two thousand horsemen strong
towards the border, he still trusted in the advice of
Hamilton, who kept assuring him that all was still
peaceable and secure in the north.
When we find ourselves betrayed, we turn to the
nearest support we can find to aid us. In his
despair, King Charles remembered Montrose ; and
when he thought on the young Earl's stedfast, true,
and gallant nature, he asked his advice.
It was then, indeed, beyond Montrose's power to
undo the mischief worked by that fatal delay.
'Sire,' he said sorrowfully, 'for a twelvemonth I
have urged you to prevent what has now happened.'
He knew that while Scotland had provided her-
self with arms, men, and money, the King had
neither men nor money at his command ; but he did
not shrink from joining so failing a cause. He was
The Vow of Montrose. 41
a fit descendant of the Graham More, ' Give me,
Sire,' he said, ' but foreign arms and any aid from
Ireland you can procure, and, please God, strong in
my cause, I will yet re-animate Scotland, and create
throughout that realm, and especially in the loyal
Highlands, a reaction in your Majesty's favour.'
Montrose's offer was accepted by Charles. For
even while in his heart the King mistrusted
Hamilton, he wavered when the latter arrived at
Oxford, where his Court was, and where, once more,
his favourite exerted his influence over his unhappy
master. Hamilton was accompanied into Charles's
presence by his brother, the Earl of Lanerick.
They pretended, with great plausibility, that they
had been banished from Scotland for their devotion
to the royal cause, and compelled to fly for their
lives ; the fact being, that they had wilfully deceived
the King, and had been all along in correspondence
with his enemies.
Charles, although he mistrusted them, received
them at Court, and allowed Lanerick to remain
there. Montrose's noble nature was deeply wounded
when he saw his master once more drawn into the
Hamiltons' net.
He begged Charles to allow him to retire abroad,
for he declared that nothing would induce him to
stand by and see the Hamiltons once more in
42 The Fiery Cross ; or^
favour. The King then reluctantly forbade them
his presence, and Montrose drew up a protest, which
he prevailed on a great many gallant Scotchmen to
sign, promising, if the Covenanters invaded England,
to protect the King's cause at the peril of their
lives.
A committee was appointed by the King to
ascertain the truth of the charges brought against
the two Hamiltons. Montrose, Nithsdale, Aboyne,
and Ogilvie undertook to substantiate the accusa-
tions brought against them, and the facts brought to
light induced even Charles to see how treacherously
both Hamilton and Lanerick had acted. The crime
of garbling a letter of their sovereign's to induce
several leading noblemen to take up arms against
him, the fact that Lanerick had used the privy seal
to a proclamation issued by the Covenanters to call
together the large force now marching towards the
border, were proved, and Hamilton was arrested by
the King's command and sent to the castle of Pen-
den n is.
Lanerick's arrest was also ordered, and he was
to have been imprisoned in Ludlow Castle ; but he
fled in disguise into Scotland, where the Presby-
terians received him with open arms.
No obstacles now remained in our hero's way.
Charles hesitated no longer, and on the first of
The Vow of Montrose. 43
February 1644 gave Montrose a commission to act
as Lieutenant-General in Scotland of all His Majesty's
forces under the Captain-General, Prince Maurice ;
the brave Graham refusing, with the modesty of real
courage, to be commander-in-chief. Prince Maurice
was Charles's nephew ; being son of that hapless
Queen, Elizabeth of Bohemia, who had taken refuge
in England after the loss of her husband and king-
dom. Both he and his gallant but rash brother,
Rupert, fought bravely for the King, their uncle ; but
their eldest brother, Charles, had joined the Parlia-
mentary side. From their younger sister, Sophia,
the Electress, our present dynasty is directly de-
scended.
Charles engaged the Earl of Antrim to land in
Argyll with ten thousand men of Ulster ; but beyond
that, and recommending him to the Marquis of
Newcastle, then commanding the King's forces in
Durham, he could do nothing for Montrose, not even
by sending a handful of men with him to the border.
Thus almost unattended, with the royal commission
in his pocket and his sword by his side, Montrose
set off upon what seemed, but for his resistless
enthusiasm, one of the wildest expeditions ever
dreamed of by romantic youth. Scotland was, if
not wholly disloyal, so overawed by the Covenanters,
that even among those who were still true to their
44 The Fiery C^^oss ; or,
King, few had the courage to resist the tide of re-
bellion, so steadily setting in. The Covenanters had
entered into a solemn league with the English rebels,
and had promised to render them armed assistance
to enable them to reduce the King to submission.
However, resolute and faithful, and even hopeful,
Montrose set out He still reckoned on the ancient
loyalty of the Highlands. In spite of their disgrace,
there was a large party at Court who still befriended
the Hamiltons, and cavilled at Montrose ; and even
among loyal men, his expedition was looked on as
too wild and romantic to succeed. He cared not,
however, but set off with all the high hopes of one
who believes that he has a mission entrusted to him,
that he must die rather than not perform. The
Earl first met the Marquis of Newcastle at Durham,
a county ever loyal to the King's cause, and where
many a true-hearted English country gentleman had
mortgaged his broad acres to raise men for the
cause. The Marquis of Newcastle received Mon-
trose kindly. That nobleman, who had quitted the
quiet tranquil country life he loved to serve Charles,
was one who could appreciate our hero's character.
The Marquis of Newcastle was as wise in council
as he was able in war, and was respected by both
sides. He told Montrose that his own position was
hazardous in the extreme, and that he had no cavalry
The Vow of Montrose. 45
to spare him ; but the Earl persuaded him to give
him a hundred horsemen, and two field-pieces ; and
Newcastle promised to do all that he could for
Montrose when happier times should come. Those
fairer times, however, never came, as far as Newcastle
was concerned. For, after the battle of Marston Moor,
and the consequent surrender of York, he considered
himself so wronged by Prince Rupert, who would
not listen to the Marquis's advice, and so lost that
battle, that he left England in disgust, and threw up
his command of Charles's forces. However, that was
subsequent to Montrose's interview with him on his
road to Scotland. Newcastle sent orders to the
officers of all the King's forces in Cumberland and
Westmoreland to aid Montrose as far as they could.
Consequently he entered Scotland on the thirteenth
of April, at the head of about eleven hundred men,
and a gallant troop of volunteers, about two hundred
in number.
Most of Montrose's troops were militia ; many of
them raw, undisciplined, taken from the plough to
fight for a cause they were too ignorant to under-
stand. Montrose counted much o» the Earl of
Antrim's promised aid.
Carried away by Montrose's enthusiasm at Oxford,
Antrim, who, though Irish, was also descended from
oneof,the noblest Highland families, the Macdonalds,
46 The Fiery Cross ; or,
had been driven by the rebellious faction of his own
country to seek refuge in England.
Ireland then, as now, was a disaffected country.
Charles attempted to add to the standing army of
that kingdom, trusting that the Irish would help him
in suppressing the Covenanters ; but added to the
rebellion in England, he had had a very serious in-
surrection to contend with in Ireland, — a rebellion
instigated by the Roman Catholic priests, who
would willingly have exterminated the very name of
England from their language. By the first of April
the Earl of Antrim had engaged to land ten thousand
Irish on the coast of Argyll that lay nearest to
Ireland.
The first obstacle Montrose met with was a mutiny
among his north country soldiers. This was insti-
gated by a Sir Richard Graham ; and though the
Scottish soldiers who had joined Montrose did all
that they could to keep the band together, a great
many of the border men deserted the Cavaliers'
standard and fled towards home. This mutiny took
place on the banks of the Annan. Daily expecting
news from Antrim, who had promised to send him a
messenger the moment he landed, Montrose was
bitterly disappointed, and knew not how to proceed,
as day after day passed and no message came. He
received intelligence that the Covenanters under
The Vow of Montrose. 47
Leslie were advancing on York, in order to unite
their numbers to the English Parliamentary army,
and that the Earl of Callandar (a renegade from the
King's cause, who had sworn that he would never
join the Covenanters) had raised a second army in
Scotland. Montrose knew they could intercept his
progress if he attempted to go on to Stirling, which
his friends strongly urged his doing at all risks.
The Scottish Cavaliers under Montrose took Dum-
fries, and erected the royal standard ; but the Earl
felt that it were to sacrifice his cherished hope of
doing the King good service if he risked an encounter
with the Covenanters, and therefore he retired to
Carlisle, determined to fight for the crown in the
north of England, until he could see some chance of
success for it in Scotland.
He gathered together a few more soldiers — a mere
handful of troops — when he and his friends returned
across the border, and with great gallantry took
Morpeth, captured a fort on the Tync, and victualled
Newcastle with provisions procured from Alnwick.
It took Montrose nearly three weeks to wrest
Morpeth Castle from the Covenanters ; but when the
keys of the place were given up, he treated the
garrison well, releasing the ten officers and a hun-
dred and eighty soldiers, on their giving him their
word never to fight again against Charles.
40 The Fiery Cross ; or,
While thus harassing the northern Covenanters,
Montrose, who about this time was created a Mar-
quis, received a hasty summons from Prince Rupert
to join him at York.
Long, however, before Montrose could join the
impetuous Prince, the latter had fought and lost the
battle of Marston Moor. It was not till the day
after the battle that Montrose came up with Rupert's
corps, then in full retreat.
Struck with the gallant appearance of Prince
Rupert's cavalry, Montrose implored the Prince to
give him a troop to take back into the north.
' Give me,' cried Montrose, ' but a thousand of
those horsemen, and I will cut my way into the very
heart of Scotland.'
Prince Rupert promised to do so, but did not keep
his word. He was over persuaded by those who
only saw in Montrose an impetuous reckless soldier,
that the venture was not worth the risk of a thousand
horsemen ; and so the Marquis was told that no aid
could be given him.
All this time a little gallant band — the forlorn
hope of Scottish loyalty — still supported Montrose.
Two of his friends he had sent into Scotland in
disguise, that they might ascertain who, among
those not yet corrupted by Argyle's arts, would
support the royal cause ; but several faithful friends
The Vow of Montrose. 49
still kept with him, when, leaving Prince Rupert, he
went back to Carlisle.
It required, however, more than even the high
spirit of that hitherto undaunted band to hope on in
face of the news brought back to Montrose by Lord
Ogilvie and Sir William Rollock. They listened to
the narrative of all that they had seen during their
fortnight's wanderings in Scotland, and then came
the whisper, that in the face of such news the Mar-
quis would be ' mad to proceed on his expedition.'
The Scottish Covenanters had long before this
obtained the boon, if it were one, for which they had
so long striven. They were free to practise their
religion. They had abolished Episcopacy, as far as
the State was concerned, yet with fanatical zeal still
hoped to establish a uniformity of worship with
themselves in England.
Charles they well knew was warmly attached to
the Episcopal form of Church government, and the
Covenanters dreaded lest the King by force of arms
should re-establish his authority, and thus interpose
an obstacle to the cherished idea of making England
as Presbyterian as Scotland. They had no charity
for those who could not believe the doctrines of
Calvin, and would not unite in denouncing all pre-
lates of the English Catholic Church as idolaters.
Papists, and 'malignants,' — a term applied to those
50 The Fiery Cross ; or,
who would not sign the Covenant. Tlie Scotch pul-
pits resounded with praises of such as were ready
to shed their blood, and take up arms against Charles
the First.
The teaching of these ministers of Christianity-
should be peace, but the Presbyterians of those days
thought otherwise, for they hurled malediction after
malediction on those few devoted men who still re-
mained true to ' Church and State.'
' Rather than sanction,' cried the fanatics, ' the
surplice, the tippet, or the corner cap again in our
country, we will wade through rivers of blood to
gain a purer faith.'
Such a temper of mind in the Scots was most
acceptable to the English Puritans. They had sent
a hundred thousand pounds to help their allies in
equipping the army already advancing far into
England. Not only did the Scots thus support the
English in their rebellion, but they seized every
castle, town, and port they could lay hands upon in
Scotland, levied large armies of men, and called
upon all to support the Covenant. Nevertheless,
the Scotch as a nation were loyal at heart, and in
many parts openly defied the Covenanters. The
clergy had intimidated and misled many. Argyle,
ruling the Western Highlands, had disaffected his
clan ; the towns had succumbed to what, indeed, was
The Vow of Montrose. 5 1
little short of religious mania ; but the Gordons, the
men of Athol, Mar, Badenoch, Lochaber, and others,
still believed in the Church, and were faithful to their
King.
Such were the tidings brought by the two
cavaliers sent by Montrose to ascertain who were
and who were not likely to support him, if he could
but succeed in getting into those portions of the
Highlands still faithful to the royal cause.
Montrose summoned all his friends to a council.
He knew that among the number there was one, the
Earl of Traquair, who, though honoured and trusted
by Charles, was at heart a traitor. Well did Mon-
trose know how, when the Cavaliers had begun to
waver and be cast down at the gloomy news reported
them, Traquair had done all he could to induce
those who up to that time had adhered to Mon-
trose to join the Covenanters.
There is no foe so insidious as a false friend.
Montrose would have liked to have openly de-
nounced Traquair as a traitor ; but he restrained his
anger, and met his friends calm, stedfast, and un-
moved. His handsome face was sad but resolute in
its noble expression, as he heard first one and then
the other advise him to abandon so hopeless a
cause.
Many urged him to retire abroad and send his
5 2 The Fiery Cross ; or,
commission back to the King, telling him that as
Antrim had failed him, he had no possible prospect
of success.
After hearing all that his friends could urge, our
hero, as undaunted and fearless as ever, declared
that they were free if they chose to abandon him ;
but ' as for me,' he continued, ' I will never despair.
My King is in danger, and I will never forsake him.
If I cannot succeed, I Avill perish ! '
Yet in spite of the spirit with which Montrose
spoke, most of those who listened to him remained
unconvinced. It is so hard to hope against ruin
staring one in the face.
Most of Montrose's listeners were devoted, as
only Scotch people can be, to the cause of their
King. Many were descended from those who, on
the great battle-fields of Scotland, had shed their
blood for his ancestors ; but ' without arms, men, or
money,' they argued, 'how can such a desperate
cause succeed .'' '
Seeing all their doubts and fears written in their
grave looks and downcast eyes, Charles's devoted
champion conceived a daring plan. He confided it
to only one person — his friend Lord Ogilvie. He
told the Cavaliers that they had perhaps some justice
on their side ; but that, as for him, he was de-
termined to trust in God, and carry out his resolu-
The Vow of Montrose. 53
tion ; only, before doing so, he would lay the state
of the case before the King, and beg him to give
them aid with men and arms.
The little band, which by this time had fallen off
to about a hundred men, accordingly started off
towards Oxford, where the King still held his Court.
All believed that Montrose intended accompanying
them thence. Such, however, was far from the Mar-
quis's intention. Two days after they had left Car-
lisle, Montrose secretly slipped away, and, accom-
panied by only two companions, rejoined Lord
Aboyne.
Lord Aboyne was a Gordon, and one of Lord
Huntly's family, who had never quite forgiven Mon-
trose his want of faith to that nobleman when the
former was fighting for the Covenant. The Marquis
counted much on the loyal, brave, and trusty Gor-
dons, and therefore he told his plans to Aboyne.
Montrose, however, found him so lukewarm that he
ceased to urge his co-operation, and advised him to
remain quietly at Carlisle till he heard how the
scheme he had formed should succeed.
Every pass and glen in his native land was well
known to our hero ; but the difficulty was, how he
and his two friends should pass the border, along
which the Covenanters had placed large bodies of
men.
54 The Fiery Cross ; or ^
It was in the month of August that the Marquis,
in company with Sir William Rollock and an officer
named Sibbald, set off. Montrose, disguised as
Sibbald's groom, rode on a very miserable-looking
horse, leading another by the bridle. It was diffi-
cult, however, to disguise his natural majesty and
demeanour, as the result proved. They were riding
along when they met a man-servant of that Sir
Richard Graham who had instigated the mutiny of
the Marquis's men at Annan. The man, deceived by
their conversation, — for Montrose had served quite
long enough with the Covenanters to be able to
imitate their canting phraseology, — grew very
friendly with them. He directed them on their road,
supposing all the time that they were Scotchmen
hastening to join General Leslie, who was watching
that part of Scotland for Argyle's party.
He also told them that his master. Sir Richard
Graham, had openly declared for the Covenanters.
You can imagine with what feelings the three
travellers heard that the knight had promised to
give any ' malignants,' as those loyal to Charles
were called, up to the general for immediate execu-
tion.
However, such a fate was not yet intended for
Montrose. Their next adventure was even more
alarming. They met a soldier walking along, who
The Vow of Montrose. 55
had served under the Marquis of Newcastle, and who
recognised Montrose and addressed him by name.
The Marquis turned away, and appeared not to
have noticed his salutation.
'My lord,' said the soldier, 'you cannot deceive
me. No lacquey ever rode as you do. I know my
Lord of Montrose well enough ; but go your way,
and may God bless you wherever your way may
lead you.'
Montrose gave the man some money, and then
hurried on. He knew that if he were betrayed, not
only would he meet with no mercy for his loyal con-
duct to the King, but that the Covenanters would
make a dangerous use of the papers he had with
him. Hurrying on at their utmost speed, till their
weary horses were almost dropping with fatigue, the
three travellers, after three perilous days' travelling,
arrived on the fourth at Tullicbclton, a large pro-
perty close to the Grampian Hills, in Perthshire, and
not far from the calm, noble river, the Tay, belong-
ing to Montrose's cousin, Patrick Graham of Inch-
brakic. Under his roof Montrose was not only safe
but welcome. There, however, he dared not remain
long, for the Covenanters had spies all over the
country ; and the Marquis knew that as soon as they
heard he was in Scotland, Inchbrakie's house would
be suspected of harbouring him.
56 The Fiery Cross ; or,
He therefore hid away among the hills during
the day-time, returning to Tulliebelton at night-
fall, where Patrick Graham concealed him in a
neighbouring hovel. His two friends, disguised as
ordinary clansmen, set off to learn the state of the
country.
They came back with a grievous tale. The
tyranny of the Covenanters, they reported, kept
the entire kingdom in a state of terror. The whole
authority of Scotland was then vested in an order
founded in 1638, that of Four Tables. These four
tables consisted of the nobility, gentry, clergy, and
burgesses. The Covenant had been, as it were,
their eldest child, for the first act of this new order
had been its production. None dared openly con-
demn this state of public afTairs. If they were so
rash, they but too often paid the penalty with their
lives, or property ; often being heavily fined, or im-
prisoned.
The Marquis eagerly inquired what course the
Marquis of Huntly had adopted.
He sorrowfully learnt, from their reply, how the
head of the gallant Gordons had laid down his
arms, and had fled into Caithness. The Gordons,
meanwhile, being left completely without a leader,
were greatly depressed, and the whole state of the
Royalists most deplorable.
The Voiv of Montrose. 57
The Marquis of Huntly's son had jonied the
Covenanters ; so, even if the Gordons had been
inclined to join Montrose, they had no leader, and,
although as loyal as ever, were completely dispirited.
Montrose, still undaunted, hoped on. He knew
that in that portion of the Highlands influenced by
the MacCaileam Mor, the Highlanders were so over-
awed by Argyle, that an appeal, if made, would be
worse than useless ; so he determined to call upon
the ' Redshanks,' as certain independent clans were
named.
In this resolution he was strangely confirmed by
an incident that, to his enthusiastic mind, seemed
almost like a direct message from Heaven.
After the return of Sir William Rollock and
Sibbald from their expedition, dispirited and anxious,
though undaunted, Montrose wandered one day
over the hills and moors around Inchbrakie. At
last, at nightfall, he repaired to Methven wood, and
seating himself on a stone near the hut where he
intended passing the night, he gave way to a trans-
port of grief.
His fine figure was enveloped in a Highland
plaid ; and his cousin Patrick Graham watched him
bury his face in his hands, and heard him declare
that his heart was breaking to see his native land so
enslaved by fanatics and ambitious nobles
58 The Fiery Cross ; or^
His eyes were filled with tears, as, raising them
first towards heaven and then towards the moun-
tains, he cried with passionate earnestness —
' Be merciful, Lord, to my country ! Remove the
curse under which it lies, and enable me to be the
unworthy means of saving it ! '
Montrose had scarcely ejaculated these words,
when down a woodland path, above the mountain
spot where the cavaliers were seated, a red deer,
startled from its lair, bounded along.
Up sprang the cavaliers. Was it a traitor, they
thought, as they could just discern a figure descend-
ing the pathway.
The stranger was no traitor, but a Highlander
in full Gaelic garb, armed at all points. His face
Avas stern and pale, and he looked very weary, as
well he might, for he had traversed high mountains,
brooks, and rivers, to bear to the clans the tidings of
war, by means of a fiery cross, which he carried aloft
in his right hand.
The symbol of religion was seamed and scathed
at every point with fire ! It was a summons from
Allaster Macdonald, who had just landed in the
Highlands, to all the clans to follow the King's
lieutenant, ' under pain of fire and sword ! '
' What news .'* ' demanded Montrose, who believed
that now had come an answer to his prayer. The
The Vow of Montrose. 59
answer was brief. The Highlander was carrying
the summons to all the loyal clansmen of Perthshire.
You remember that the Earl of Antrim, four
months before, had promised Montrose to bring him
aid from Ireland ; and how also it had seemed to
fail our hero. Some Highland shepherds had told
Montrose that they had heard of the ' Irish ' who
had landed in the mountains ; but he had given
small credence to their tale.
This, then, was the promised aid, Montrose and
his friends decided, when the Highlander had passed
on. They were speedily more fully enlightened,
when soon afterwards a near neighbour of Inch-
brakie's — a 'safe' man, as those loyal to King
Charles were called — told them ' that he had under-
taken to deliver some important State letters to the
Marquis of Montrose, who was at Carlisle ! '
Inchbrakie could not help laughing in his sleeve,
when he reflected that not three hundred yards
away was the very person his friend was going to
seek ; but in those disturbed times it did not do to
be too confidential. He therefore merely promised
to give them to Montrose, ' even,' he added, ' if I
go on purpose to Carlisle.'
That very evening Montrose eagerly scanned the
letters, all of which breathed a spirit of resolute
daring. Allaster, or Alexander, a Scot by birth and
6o The Fiery Cross ; or,
descent, had landed with about twelve hundred men
on the Ardnamurchan coast, in the Western High-
lands.
The news of the arrival of this little army soon
came to Argyle's ears. Although but a handful of
ill-armed recruits, the Scotch dictator was ordered
to go and rout them out of the mountains.
Argyle's first step was to destroy the ships that
Allaster had brought over from Ireland. When the
latter found that he could not, even if he would,
re-embark, he swore vengeance against those ancient
foes of his clan, the false Campbells.
He laid waste the land that lay between the
Ardnamurchan coast and Kintail, and harassed the
Campbells ; but very few Highlanders obeyed his
call, for he was no mighty chief to invoke enthu-
siasm by his name and presence. The want of a
leader was very apparent, and deterred many from
following him, although the Highlanders were
warmly attached to the royal cause. Those who
did go were principally men of Badenoch ; and
Allaster's hopes fell when he found that the chief
of the Mackenzies, the Earl of Seaforth, though a
Royalist at heart, had been induced by the influence
of family ties to declare for the Covenanters.
The desertion of Seaforth implied that none of
the brave Mackenzies would take up arms for
The Vow of Montrose. 6i
Charles; for the clan, of course, went with their
chieftain ; and though the cross of fire had been
taken far and wide, charging all to fight in defence
of the King, there was but small prospect of success,
till Montrose received the letters.
He replied to them at once, and bid all who loved
the royal cause to meet him on a certain day in the
Athol country.
There seemed magic in Montrose's very name.
When Allaster Macdonald told his men that ere
long our hero would be with them, they shouldered
their muskets, and grasped their clubs and broad-
swords with renewed spirit ; and, led by their general,
they marched toward Blair in Athol, which they
took on their way to the given rendezvous.
The Highlanders of Athol, real descendants of
the Caledonian Gael, were devoted to Montrose.
On their devoted attachment to his person our hero
counted, when he bid Allaster await him in the
Athol country. They would not have risen in arms
for the Allaster; but when Montrose appeared,
there was no lack of sturdy clansmen to answer to
his appeal.
The appointed day and hour arrived ; and the
Irish brigade, and those Highlanders who had joined
them, assembled on a plain near Blair Athol.
They had been told that Montrose bore the
62 The Fiery Cross; or,
King's commission, and were therefore unprepared
to see coming along the valley only two High-
landers. Montrose and his cousin stood in their
midst before they well knew he was near at hand.
Astonished, they inquired :
' Can that be he who is to save us from destruc-
tion ? That simple mountaineer the mighty chief-
tain we have expected ? '
Still more astonished were the Irish to witness
the enthusiasm of the clansmen.
' Come every hill plaid, and true heart that wears one ;
Come every steel blade, and strong hand that bears one !'
They were ready to cry, * to fight for Montrose,' as
they greeted the Graham.
' All would now be well,' cried the Highlanders.
* He was there, all would be now well ! We will
chase,' cried they, ' false MacCaileam Mor back to
his lair ; he shall know that we revenge the burning
of our ships ! We'll compell him to repent his
defiance of the King's authority.'
Again and again the plain near Blair Athol
resounded with those Gaelic cheers.
Those few Macdonalds who were there raised
their war-cry —
'My son, my son, quicken thy hand
And harden thy blows.'
Thus did Macdonald's little army welcome Mon-
The Vow of Montrose, 63
trose. Though he came among them with no
outward sign of power, his greeting was as hearty
as had he headed all his sovereign's buffcoats.
Our hero lost no time in inaction. He at once
set off southward from Blair Athol, his spirits
greatly raised by a number of Highlanders joining
his standard just as he commenced his march.
The men of Athol were all loyal to King Charles,
and had only waited to take up arms in his cause,
till they saw the Irish headed by a leader of note
and fame. As their number was upwards of eight
hundred, Montrose looked upon this addition to his
force with no little satisfaction.
On marched he and his clansmen, armed with mus-
kets, pikes, and broadswords, till they came to the
Castle of Weeme, in the country of the Menzieses.
There Montrose halted to give a severe lesson to its
owners, and to strike terror into his enemies' hearts.
He burnt the houses and wasted the corn fields of
that clan. The Menzies had large possessions in
the Perthshire Highlands, and had sorely harassed
the rear of Montrose's army, although he had sent a
message of truce to the Castle of Weeme. Mon-
trose's cousin, Patrick Graham of Inchbrakie, pre-
ceded the band, as an advanced guard.
This gallant Highlander was much beloved by
the Athol men, so that when Montrose bade him
64 The Fiery Cross ; or,
select the nimblest of their number for scouts, there
was no lack of volunteers. The value of so faithful a
leader was soon shown in Inchbrakie's alacrity, for
he brought back word that a large body of men had
been seen on the hillside at Bucknith. They turned
out to be friends in the guise of foes, for they were
Highlanders commanded by Lord Kilpont, son of
the Earl of Menteith, who had been ordered by the
Scottish Government to arm all his clansmen against
Montrose.
The young Earl had so far obeyed his orders, as
to gather together about five hundred of his re-
tainers, as well as several of the men of Keir and
Napier. In his heart, however, he had no desire
to fight for the Covenanters. Two of Montrose's
greatest friends, the Master of Maderty and Sir
Colin Drummond, were with Lord Kilpont. When
they heard that the force of * malignants* they had
been charged to crush were commanded by Mon-
trose, they needed but slight inducement to join him
and his clansmen.
The party Kilpont sent to negotiate readily
listened to the arguments of Montrose in favour of
a cause that might be but a losing one, but which,
urged he, was that of honour and renown :
* Its watichvvord was honour, its pay was renown.*
The party under Lord Kilpont joined Montrose;
The Vow of Mo7it7^ose. 65
and, thus augmented, — his army now numbering
about three thousand, — hurried eagerly forward to
strike the first blow for the royal cause. But their
enemies were more than double him in strength.
All the cavalry Montrose could boast were three
miserable horses, one of which was appropriated to
Sir William Rollock, who had been lame from child-
hood. Arrayed against him was a powerful body
of seven hundred horsemen and six thousand foot
soldiers, well appointed and well armed, with four
pieces of field artillery. The Covenanters awaited
him at Perth. Argyle was pursuing him, although
some days' march behind.
To Perth Montrose determined to go, and if
possible venture a pitched battle before the false
MacCaileam Mor should come up with him and his
Redshanks.
The Earl of Elcho commanded the Covenanters,
and led them out to the plain of Tippermuir, beyond
the fair town of Perth. Confident in the superiority
of their numbers, they awaited Montrose. Victory,
they thought, must surely be theirs ; for, in addition
to their superior numbers, they were led to battle by
many a gallant chief ; and the clergy who accom-
panied the army declared ' that God would not fail
to give them victory.' The Earl of Elcho com-
manded the right flank, Sir James Scott — an officer
66 The Fiery Cross ; or,
who had greatly distinguished himself abroad — the
left, and the Earl of Tullibardine the main body
of the Covenanters. In order to enclose the gallant
little army, advancing so pluckily to meet them,
they were drawn out into one long line, with horse-
men at each wing. Montrose's eagle eye discerned
and provided against his adversary's tactics. He
marshalled his men three deep, and desired the first
rank to fire kneeling, the second bending, and the
third standing. He placed himself in the post of
danger, opposite Sir James Scott's left flank.
Thus drawn up, the two armies could measure
each other's strength.
Before beginning the fight, Montrose sent a flag
of truce to Lord Elcho, with a message commanding
them in the King's name, and his own, to surrender;
declaring that the thought of shedding his country-
men's blood was odious to him, and that he wished
' his victories might be written without a single red
letter.'
The Covenanters, certain of success, returned no
reply ; but they sent young Drummond, who bore
the message, into Perth, threatening to behead him
when the battle was over.
The conflict began between a few of Lord Elcho's
horsemen and some of Montrose's Highland scouts.
But before a drop of blood was shed the hero
The Vow of Montrose. 67
addressed his little army. He walked along the
ranks of those devoted men, not one of whom but
would have died for him.
' Clansmen,' said he, his flashing eye scanning the
whole length of his line, ' you have but few arms,
while yonder soldiers have plenty. But there are
stones on this moor ; let each one of you beat out
the brains of the first canting Covenanter he meets,
and seize his sword ! '
With a great rallying cry his advice was followed.
The horsemen were driven back by the desperate
courage of the Redshanks ; and the stones hurled at
the foe were, as it turned out, their most formidable
weapons. In vain Elcho's artillery discharged their
cannon. Helter skelter fled his army that so short
a time before had blasphemously called itself the
* army of God ;' and Montrose, without the loss of a
single man, had routed the Covenanters. Victory
was his, and all his enemy's cannon, baggage, tents,
and arms fell into his hand. His Highlanders
pursued the flying foe ; and on the very evening
of the fight Montrose entered the prosperous city
of Perth. The loss on the Covenanters' side was
very great ; and besides the prisoners taken by the
clansmen, when Montrose entered Perth he found
about eight hundred Fife men, whom he imprisoned
till they solemnly swore never again to bear arms
68 The Fiery Cross ; or,
against the King, — an oath which, in spite of the
reHgious superiority laid claim to by their party,
many did not hesitate to break as soon as Montrose
was out of sight.
He treated the citizens of Perth very clemently,
hoping to win them to his sovereign's cause. He
compelled them, however, to pay a fine, and to
entertain himself and his followers for the three
days they remained in the city. Montrose did not
remain long in Perth. A few gentlemen of dis-
tinction joined him when the battle of Tippermuir
had shown them how gallant a leader they would
have in Montrose. But our hero noted with gloom
and amazement how small were their number in
comparison with those who, excited by fanatic zeal,
upheld the rebellious blue banner of the Scottish
Covenant. The Earl of Kinnoul was among the
number of those who joined the Scottish Cavaliers.
Added to this disappointment, Montrose, after the
battle of Tippermuir, found himself deserted by
large bodies of clansmen ; not because they had any
intention of abandoning one to whom they were so
attached, but because it was a Highland custom to
retire with spoil acquired in a battle ; and the Athol
men were eager to take their booty home, while
Montrose would fain have followed up his success
by another conflict.
The Vow of Montrose. 69
Argyle, he heard, was marching rapidly on him,
joined by a southern army, alarmed at the seizure of
Perth ; and our hero, when he measured his own
resources by the standard of the MacCaileam Mor's
large force, felt that he dared not remain in Perth to
meet his powerful foe.
Accordingly quitting Perth, he led his men across
the River Tay, to a place called Cupar in Angus,
where they encamped on the site of what had once
been a famous monastery. He was joined by Sir
Thomas Ogilvie and several others of the Angus
gently ; but a terrible event took place the very
next day in our hero's camp, that dashed all the
joy that his success at Tippermuir had excited in
his bosom.
John, Lord Kilpont, who had joined Montrose,
had incurred the anger of the Covenanters by doing
so. They chose as their instrument of revenge a
Highlander named James Stewart of Ardvoirlich,
who plotted how to put a diabolical deed, planned
by his crafty head, into execution.
It is impossible to imagine a baser deed. Lord Kil-
pont was a most accomplished scholar, soldier, and
gentleman. Stewart was his vassal, whom Kilpont
had admitted to the closest intimacy. The latter
had even shared his tent with Stewart at Cupar,
little dreaming that beneath his plaid there lay so
70 The Fiery Cross ; or^
close to him a dark designing villain. Yet so it
was. Early next morning, Stewart, taking Kilpont
aside, revealed to his astonished ears a horrible plot.
The young lord, so above crime that he could
scarcely understand even its existence, started back
when Stewart told him that he intended to assas-
sinate Montrose, and then, escaping to the Cove-
nanters' army, claim a large reward. Knowing that
Lord Kilpont loved him, the base wretch tried to
influence him to join in the plot.
The horror depicted on Kilpont's face as he
listened, convinced James Stewart that his patron
and friend must not live to betray him. No thought
of former benefits or kindnesses stayed his hand.
Suddenly turning upon Lord Kilpont, he stabbed
him to the heart ; and then, favoured by the gloom
of the early morning, fied to Argyle, who, to his
disgrace, raised him to a good post in his army.
When Montrose, hurriedly aroused by the noise of
a great tumult in the camp, rushed out, he found
his friend's lifeless body lying prone upon the
heather, stained by the bright red blood of his
noble heart.
Montrose's grief knew no bounds. He embraced
those cold, pale cheeks, so lately full of life, and
pressed his friend's sad lips, whose last utterance had
been a repudiation of violence and treachery I
The Vow of Afontrose. 71
The bards of his clan wailed over his dead body,
and told of his deeds of valour as they bore it back
to his tent, and prepared a bier to carry it home.
Turning away with heavy sighs and tears, Montrose
left his clan to sing the coronach over their chief-
tain's body. The murderer had escaped, and there
was nothing left but to give the body a fitting
funeral. In order to do this, nearly four hundred of
Lord Kilpont's clan quitted Montrose. That was a
terrible loss to him, because the Athol men had
already left Montrose. In spite of being joined b\'
a number of brave gentlemen, the news that, in
addition to the army commanded by Argyle, a
large force of northern Covenanters had assembled
at Aberdeen, headed by Lord Burleigh, greatly
damped the spirits of the Cavaliers. Yet Montrose
did not hesitate; and on the nth of September
1644, he marched down upon Aberdeen, and pre-
pared to give Lord Burleigh battle.
First of all, Montrose sent a flag of truce bidding
the town to surrender. The citizens returned no
reply to a missive from one whom they had once
opposed as a Covenanter, and now resisted as a
Royalist.
Once Montrose had marched into Aberdeen,
bearing the colours of a party to which he had
been true as long as he believed that the motive of
72
The Fiery Cross.
their resistance to the King was pure and good.
Now he bore attached on his plaid a ribbon of
red hue ; and yet, strange to say, he was not the
only one of that host who had changed sides.
CHAPTER III.
• News of battle ! news of battle !
Hark ! 'tis ringing down the street,
And the archways and the pavement
Bear the clang of hurrying feet ' '
— Aytoun.
HEN the good burghers of Aberdeen found
Montrose so close to them, they were
thoroughly dismayed. By a wonderful
turn of fortune, the political position of their fair city
had changed greatly since they and the Marquis
had last met.
Four or five years before, the Aberdeen burghers,
loyal to King Charles, had resisted that enforced
submission to the Scottish Covenant which Mon-
trose, then a Covenanter, had forced them to yield
at the point of the sword.
In 1644, the Marquis returned to find the once
loyal citir.ens Covenanters, while he himself, having
become a Cavalier, was daring and planning the
74 Th^ Fiery Cross ; or,
most venturesome deeds for the sake of a monarch
whom once he had deemed a tyrant !
The clan Gordon also, who in 1639 ^^^ been so
devotedly loyal, had now, as it were, enlisted on
the other side, although still at heart true to King
Charles. A clan is bound to fight under the banner
supported by its chief, and the Marquis of Huntly
had neither forgotten nor forgiven Montrose's ap-
parent want of good faith towards himself when
the latter had led him as a prisoner to Edinburgh.
Thus the greatest blemish on our hero's shield,
the greatest stain upon his fame, was the means,
humanly speaking, of his ultimate fate ! Had the
Gordons fought from the first side by side with the
Grahams, perchance the tale of the great Scottish
civil wars might have been a very different one to
that recorded by history.
Lord Lewis Gordon, a fair knightly youth, and
Huntly's third son, had raised his father's clan in
defence of the Covenant, although in 1639 the
young chieftain had headed an enterprise for King
Charles.
Montrose's plan was to engage Burleigh's army
before Argyle could come up with him ; though
with that discretion which is said to be the better
part of valour, the great MacCaileam Mor seemed
to linger behind, and to be in no haste to overtake
The Vow of Monh'ose. 75
his expeditious rival. When Montrose found his
message disregarded by the enemy, he determined
to fight. Unequal indeed were the numbers of the
belhgerents. Lord Burleigh headed a force of two
thousand foot soldiers and five hundred cavalry ;
while Montrose, for the time deserted by the Athol
men, who had gone home with their booty, could
only muster fifteen hundred men and forty-four
horsemen.
The battle commenced between Montrose's right
flank and the Gordons, headed in person by Lord
Lewis. Rash, though valiant, as became his name.
Lord Lewis Gordon charged his foe with his horse-
men.
He was met with desperate courage by the Red-
shanks. Their valour, aided by twenty horsemen
despatched to their help by their vigilant general
the moment that he noted the Gordons' onset, was
crowned with success. The Gordons fled before
those half-armed but devoted clansmen, who, yelling
out their war-cries, would fain have pursued their
flying foe ; but their brave leaders prudently held
their impetuosity in check. The result proved that
they were fortunate in their prudence. The enemy's
right flank, of well-tried horsemen, charged Mon-<
trose's right wing.
The Marquis at the very moment of their ad-
F
76 The Fiery Cross ; or^
vance was crying out to those among his men who
were engaged against Gordon's force : ' To close
quarters,' cried he, ' and give no quarter to traitors !
on at them with your broadswords and the butt-end
of your firearms ; spare none who have planned
treachery and treason ! ' He saw there was no
time to be lost. He rallied his horsemen and sent
them to the aid of his left flank. The horsemen
attacked the enemy's rear ; and, inspired by their
leader's words, the Redshanks, with desperate valour,
beat back the foe :
' Nor victory could desert a band so brave ! '
Montrose had the satisfaction of seeing the
enemy's right flank as fully routed as their left ;
and no longer restraining his men, the Highlanders
rushed after their flying foes up the streets of Aber-
deen, soon strewn with heaps of dead bodies.
In the height of the battle one poor fellow of
Montrose's army had both his legs shot off by a
cannon ball. His companions paused for a moment
in dismay. The sufTerer was an Irishman, and he
recovered his spirits in a moment.
* What are you halting for, brave comrades } '
cried he ; ' it's the fortune of war ! In future, I'll
fight on horseback.'
After a loud cheer this Irish Spartan severed his
The Vow of Montrose. 77
leg from his body with his own claymore. * Bury
that,' cried he, ' with the dead ! ' Montrose took
good care to promote such a hero.
Montrose did not rest long at Aberdeen ; for he
heard that, besides Argyle's army, the Covenanters
had sent a large force from the border, commanded
by Lord Callander, to assist the MacCaileam Mors
troops. He therefore marched to a village named
Kintore, ten miles distant from Aberdeen. From
this place Sir William Rollock undertook to set off
to Oxford, the bearer of despatches to Charles, in
which, after telling him of his victorious career, he
implored the King to send him supplies of men and
arms.
The Marquis's great hope lay in the Gordons,
whom he still trusted would join him. He had
stationed himself at Kintore, with an especial view
to their repairing to his little army. Bitter, indeed,
was his disappointment when he found how re-
solutely that clan kept aloof Finding that the fear
of offending their chief, Huntly, had more influence
with the Gordons than their attachment to the royal
cause, our hero, hiding his heavy baggage and guns
in a bog, determined to lead his followers up into
the mountains. His own knowledge of the High-
lands was great ; and he counted on being better
able to defy Argyle's superior numbers in those im-
yS TJie Fiery Cross ; or,
pregnable passes than in a less mountainous dis-
trict.
From Kintore the Cavaliers marched to Inverury ;
and three days after they had left it, the Covenanters
entered Aberdeen,
Argyle's first act on entering the city was to issue
a proclamation, offering twenty thousand pounds
to any one who would produce Montrose, dead or
alive. Highland fidelity, however, was as strong
in that century as when, a hundred years later, a
royal fugitive trusted it not in vain ; no bribe was
large enough to tempt those faithful clansmen ; no
reward was large enough to make them betray one
who had trusted in their honour.
Montrose intended to cross the River Spey. This
river is very wide and large, and one of the most
rapid in Scotland, as its name, indeed, denotes —
* spey ' being derived from a word meaning 'activity'
or ' force.' It runs through a wild mountainous
district, almost inaccessible except to those who,
like Montrose and his Redshanks, could endure the
fatigue of hasty marches over rugged hills, with but
scanty fare to cheer the way.
Montrose reached the banks of the Spey at the
point where he intended to cross over, only to find
arrayed against him a body of five thousand
Covenanters in battle array, ready to attack him
The Vow of Montrose. 79
and his handful of men should they dare to attempt
its passage. To do so would have been madness
and certain death ; so Montrose turned aside on his
course, and following the bent of the river, went into
Badenoch.
The fatigue, anxiety, and disappointments our
hero had undergone now told upon him. He fell
dangerously ill, and although secure for the moment
in a strong fortress, his devoted clansmen for some
days anxiously watched their beloved leader's sick-
bed.
The rumours of his illness reached the Covenanters,
and public thanks were offered up for what the
preachers termed ' a great deliverance ! '
It was openly announced by the Presbyterian
clergy that ' the Lord had slain Montrose ; ' and no
greater proof of his prowess can be given than the
joy felt at the report of his death.
Montrose, however, recovered, and the hopes of
the Covenanters fell to the ground. Even while on
a bed of sickness he had planned how he could de-
feat his powerful enemy Argyle. He determined
to leave no stone unturned to add to his numbers,
sohe sent Allaster Macdonald with a large party of
Irish to the Western Highlands ; when, as soon as
he was sufficiently recovered, he crossed the Gram-
pians and reappeared again in Blair Athol early in
So The Fiery Ci'oss ; or,
October. He took possession of an old castle there
called Fyvie, and awaited Macdonald's return.
Montrose had abandoned his cherished hope of help
from the Gordons, but anxiously expected Mac-
donald to return, believing that the latter would not
fail to bring fresh recruits from the Western High-
lands.
Montrose reposed great faith in Allaster Mac-
donald, or 'Colkeitoch' as he was familiarly called,
— meaning, ' Coll of the left hand.'
Although, in the eyes of the Highlanders, Mac-
donald's pedigree was not lofty enough to entitle
him, when he first landed, to lead them to battle
for the royal cause, he was of gentle birth, his
father, Colonel Macdonald, being settled on the
island of lona, in the Western Highlands.
During Colkeitoch's absence, Montrose tried to
harass his enemy's troops and weaken their re-
sources by a species of warfare very similar to that
of the 'free lances' of modern times.
He had no cavalry, but his men were so active
and light-footed that they thought nothing of
marching eight or nine miles at night to surprise
the enemy. Montrose often returned from such
expeditions not only laden with spoil, but some-
times fortunate in having taken several prisoners.
This kind of predatory warfare excited just the
The Vow of Montrose. 8i
feelings that Montrose intended it to do. With
fifteen hundred men he thus contrived to intimi-
date a great tract of country, and to inspire it with
the idea that he was resistless.
Such was the rapidity of our hero's movements,
that his enemies constantly believed that he was
near them, and on the point of being taken, when
he and his Redshanks were perhaps miles off, far
beyond their reach.
In the meantime, Argyle, though supposed to be
in active pursuit of Montrose, had never actually
confronted him in battle. Although with relentless
cruelty destroying all the live stock and crops of
those who had joined Montrose, Argyle still kept
far behind. The Covenanting Government even
murmured at the slowness of their favourite's move-
ments, although they affected to scoff at the success
of the Marquis.
His victories, the Presbyterian clergy affected to
believe, were only 'permitted for a season;' for, with
unflinching belief in their own cause, they claimed
for Argyle's army the privilege of being 'the soldiers
of God.' Strange fanaticism !
The moment, however, was rapidly advancing
when Argyle should meet Montrose in battle.
Strange to say, the Covenanters had crossed the
Grampians, and were within two miles of the
82 The Fiery Cross; or,
Royalists' little army before their scouts brought
word of the enemy's approach.
What was he to do ? His rival's army numbered
nearly four thousand strong, — a fourth of whom
were horsemen, commanded by Lord Lothian, while
our hero, in Macdonald's absence, could barely mus-
ter half that number ; besides which, his men were
almost destitute of arms and ammunition.
One moment's hesitation as to his course was
followed by prompt decisive action. He disdained
the idea of fortifying himself in Fyvie Castle, and
determined to meet Argyle, but not on the plain.
He knew that on level land the number of his
enemy's men, and the superiority of well-armed
and disciplined troops against his volunteers, who
were, after all, only raw recruits, would tell against
him ; so, drawing his sword, he led the way in
person to a lofty hill above the castle, where he
disposed his Highlanders to the best advantage he
could in the face of an enemy rapidly climbing up
the uneven sides of the mountain.
The hill was rough, and divided by little mounds
thrown up by those who had lately tilled the land.
Montrose saw those hedges and ditches would be
useful as rude fortifications for his men. The top
of the hill was thickly wooded. While disposing
his men on its summit, he saw two things that
The Vow of Montrose. 83
might well have daunted him. He saw the few
Gordons who had joined him deserting his side as
soon as they discovered among Argyle's com-
manders Lord Huntly's two sons. He noted also,
that, owing to the desperate courage with which
they fought their way, several Covenanters had
seized hold of the very ditches and fences he had
counted upon as posts for his own troops.
The greater part of Montrose's men were utterly
dismayed by the turn that fortune seemed to be
taking. Had he hesitated for a moment, he would
have soon found himself entirely abandoned. Rais-
ing his voice, he implored the Redshanks to remem-
ber their previous victories, and not to be dismayed
at the smallness of their numbers.
His words arrested the flight of his men, and
they were greatly encouraged by the firmness with
which, turning to a brave Irishman named O'Ryan,
Montrose, as calmly as if it were an everyday
matter, bid him go and rout out the Covenanters
who had taken possession of the ditclics.
'Go, O'Ryan,' cried Montrose, 'take a handful of
men, and drive me those fellows out of yonder
ditches, that we may be no more plagued with
them !'
The brave O'Ryan executed the order as calmly
as it was given ; and the Covenanters, dislodged
84 The Fiery Cross ; or,
from the ditches, were soon flying in wild dis-
order.
The Redshanks returned in triumph to Montrose,
bringing back several bags of gunpowder abandoned
by the Covenanters.
This episode told greatly for Montrose. Half a
general's battle and cause are won when his men
are confident of success; and Montrose saw to his
delight how his Redshanks cheered O'Ryan and
his victorious little party when they rejoined their
friends.
The men, pleased with their prize, jested about it
among themselves.
* Pity,' cried one, as he handed a powder-bag,
'there were not bullets as well! Faith, we must
fetch them in another bout !'
Montrose had stationed his fifty men at the top
of the hill. Seeing that Lord Lothian was advanc-
ing at the head of a large body of cavalry, the
Marquis of Montrose directed those of his foot who
had guns, to fire at them while they were riding
across a field that lay between the rival forces.
The volley scared the Covenanting cavalry, who
turned round and beat a hasty and disorderly
retreat.
The Redshanks were delighted at this second
victory; but Montrose was compelled to restrain
The Vow of Montrose. 85
their ardour, by telling them to wait his commands
before engaging their enemies in another con-
flict.
The evening shadows were falling across the hill
on which our hero had made so brave a resistance,
when Argyle thought prudent to retrea*- for the
night ; but knowing the Marquis's proneness to
sudden surprises, he made all his men sleep under
arms, and bid his scouts keep a good look-out.
From his spies he learned that Montrose was
dreadfully embarrassed for want of ammunition.
That was indeed the case ; and so great was his
want of bullets, that his men were compelled to
forage among the neighbouring farm-houses for
metal with which to cast them.
The supply, nevertheless, ran very short of the
demand ; but the Cavaliers, by their resolute man-
ner, deterred the enemy from making any further
attempt to disperse Montrose's ill-armed band.
Argyle retreated nightly across a neighbouring
river ; and Montrose, availing himself of a dark
night towards the end of October, returned to his
former position at Strathbogie, where he awaited
Allaster Macdonald's return.
That place belonged to Lord liuntly, and its
pleasant parks proved better quarters for the Red-
shanks than the wild heather-covered hills around
S6 The Fiery Cross ; or^
Fyvic. Argyle, after one or two ineffectual attempts
to engage Montrose on level land, proposed a truce,
and determined to try by treacherous policy to
vanquish his foe.
In spite of Argyle's promise of protection should
he trust himself to a personal conference, Montrose
resolutely refused all offers.
Too noble to dissimulate, our hero made no secret
of his intention to retreat into Badenoch, where he
knew he could defy his rival.
Many of the noblemen and gentlemen who had
joined the royal standard were Lowlanders, to
whom the idea of wintering among bleak hills was
little short of appalling. Argyle worked by his
secret agents on their fears of such a hard campaign.
He told them that if they submitted to him now, he
would not only procure for them a full pardon, but
also promotion and favours. The bait so artfully
held out took with almost all the Lowland lairds.
Thus Montrose, day after dky, saw some one of
his party desert his camp and go over to the enemy,
and soon had the additional pain of seeing Colonel
Sibbald join the deserters. The hardships of a
Highland winter in prospect, joined perhaps to a
feeling that against a whole nation's will the struggle
would be but vain, daunted all except the Earl of
Airlie and his two sons, Sir Thomas and David
The Vow of Montrose. 87
Ogilvie. They alone, among the many false friends,
stood true to the royal cause.
Among those who went over to Argyle was one
Nathaniel Gordon. His aim, however, in going,
was to try and persuade Lord Lewis Gordon to join
the royal side. Montrose was in the secret, and
how he succeeded we shall hear later on.
Argyle set a price on Montrose's head, hoping
that some simple soldier of his little army might be
tempted to betray him. Not one was found base
enough to sell his brave leader's life. When, how-
ever, Montrose found how many Lowland gentlemen
had deserted him, he felt compelled, in order to
effect a safe retreat for himself and his men, to
resort to a subterfuge.
Afraid that those who had gone over to Argyle
might betray his plans, he feigned to have suddenly
altered his intention of wintering in the Highlands.
He ordered his men to recall the baggage already
sent on, and to prepare for a battle on the following
day. He drew them up in battle order, and Argyle
began to think that his new friends had misled him.
After four days spent in thus misleading the Cove-
nanters, Montrose marched his men off by night,
and before Argyle even knew of his intention, he
and his faithful Redshanks were on their way across
mountains thick with snow, and along wild tracks
88 The Fiery Cross ; or,
of country untenanted save by deer and wild game,
towards the braes of Athol. Argyle having failed
to perform his promise of dispersing the * malig-
nants,' and destroying Montrose, was compelled to
return to Edinburgh. He tried to excuse the igno-
minious way in which he had conducted the cam-
paign by boasting of his 'bloodless victories;' but
while some were misled by his plausible statements,
there were many disgusted at the want of courage
he had shown, while the bravery of Montrose shone
all the more brightly by contrast.
There is nothing so convincing as success. Men
began to believe that there must be more good than
they had before believed possible in a cause sup-
ported by one so noble as the illustrious Graham,
and those who endured hardships with so much
devotion. They contrasted his self-sacrificing cha-
racter with that of the MacCaileam Mor ; and the
royal cause once so openly scoffed at, began to
receive more forbearance and respect even amongst
its enemies. Men began to discuss the question
more fairly, and a growing moderation towards the
Cavaliers was the result.
Scarcely had the Marquis and his men, after
a toilsome march, reached Badenoch, than a faith-
ful messenger brought news of Argyle's move-
ments.
The Vow of Montrose. 89
The treacherous Covenanter had marched to
Dunkeld, in the heart of the Athol country, with a
view to persuading the Cavaliers to abandon the
royal cause.
The city of Dunkeld was memorable as having
been once the capital of ancient Caledonia, — ' the
stronghold or fortress of the Gael.' Lying in the
middle of the Athol country, it served Argyle's
purpose well, when he was, with all the speciousness
of his crafty nature, bent on corrupting the fidelity
of its clansmen.
Dunkeld had been once, so it is said, the abode
of St. Columba, when he migrated from Scotia
(Ireland) and Christianized Alban (Scotland). This
celebrated Saint first converted a powerful monarch
named Bruidhi, who bestowed on his deliverer from
heathenism the island of lona, that had belonged
to the Druids, who were, as you of course know,
heathen priests. St. Columba founded a famous
monastery at lona, and he and its abbots have
Christianized all Alban.
It was probably partly owing to the religious
influence of the place that round its picturesque
city the clansmen were devotedly loyal. Indeed,
devotion to their kings, from the earliest period to
the later times, characterized the whole district.
Montrose, when told of Argyle's position, deter-
90 The Ficiy Cross ; or,
mined to defeat his plans. He turned back with
his usual rapidity, and was within sixteen miles of
his rival before the latter had even heard of his
approach. Argyle immediately retired into Perth-
shire, and Montrose lost the opportunity of decid-
ing the contest between the two rival parties by a
decisive battle. Baffled in his projected attack on
the Covenanters, Montrose summoned a council of
war. Allaster Macdonald had rejoined him at Blair
Athol; and while waiting in that great vale to glean
tidings of his faithful Colkeitoch, the heroic Marquis
was rewarded for his confidence in, and devotion
to, the royal cause by the former's reappearance,
accompanied by a numerous band of the Clan-
ranalds, some of the Camerons and Stewarts of
Appin — in all, a very considerable number.
In the midst of the lovely scenery of that part
of Scotland, within sight of high mountains, rocks,
and heaths, whose very names reminded the Red-
shanks of battles lost and won by their ancestors,
Montrose solemnly consulted those who had thus
bravely sided with a falling cause.
Amid those grand scenes each man spoke freely.
One feeling animated all breasts as each chief and
chieftain spoke in that council of war.
That feeling was hatred of the Cavipbclls ; for that
clan, so powerful, so imperious, and so grasping, had
The Vow of Montrose. 91
ruined many who that day ranged round Mon-
trose.
The clan ' Diarmid of the Boar ' were the heredi-
tary enemies of the Macdonalds.
The Marquis was in favour of wintering with liis
troops in the Lowlands, in order to be more certain
of obtaining provisions for his army ; but one daring
voice suggested 'that to avenge all their many
wrongs on Argyle, no place for the Redshanks were
better chosen than Argyle' s ozvn country.'
The hills resounded again and again with applause
at a proposal which also well suited Montrose's
daring soul. 'The MacCaileam Mor should see
that those whom he termed "malignants" could
harass him even where his own influence was
highest ! ' * They would show him how the Scottish
Cavaliers could fight for honour and revenge ! '
The die was cast, and it was decided that Argyle
should be harassed in his own land and among his
own clan.
The Lowlands w^ere strongly garrisoned, and Pres-
byterian to the backbone, so the decision was a wise
one. The next question was, how could the army
be fed in that wild peninsular district .-*
To answer this question Montrose singled out of
the group of excited Highlanders around him one
Angus Macdonald of Glencoe.
G
92 The Fiay Cross ; oVy
The clansman whom he addressed was well known
as a good marksman and soldier, to whom every
inch of the ground was familiar.
' I know,' said he, ' every farm under MacCaileam
Mor, and every inch of his country. If good water,
plenty of houses, and fat kine will do for you, there
are plenty to be had.'
The Marquis no longer hesitated. Secure of food
for his brave men, he determined to march straight
into Argyleshire.
He divided his army into three bands. One, led
by himself, marched from the braes of Athol by the
head of Loch Tay into Argyleshire, while Allaster
Macdonald and John of Moidart led the two others
by different roads towards the same goal. The
Redshanks, with cruel fidelity, kept their vow of
vengeance. As they marched on they ravaged the
whole country, burning the dwellings, eating or
destroying the herds of sheep and cattle, and in the
short space of six weeks, from the 13th of December
i6z^. to January 1645, the unfortunate inhabitants
of Argyleshire suffered all the horrors of war in its
worst form.
The party, guided on their way to vengeance by
John of Moidart, surpassed those led by Montrose
and Macdonald in the cruelties they inflicted on all
whom they met
The Vow of Montrose. 93
In their ardour for revenge, they stopped not to
inquire who were innocent or who were guilty. All
were Campbells, and all were to die ! The whole
country was burnt and ravaged, and 695 persons
were put to death by those remorseless men. There
was no deed of cruelty or violence ever practised by
the Campbells that was unrevenged ; and laden with
spoil — for on one foray as many as a thousand head
of cattle were seized — the Highlanders marched
on to Inveraray.
What was the MacCaileam Mor about, and why
did he allow this rapid attack on his country } He
was living in his own castle of Inveraray, making
great efforts to enlist his clan, and busied with the
arrangements for a meeting he had summoned from
far and near of all the Campbell tribe.
He had been told, but had scoffed at the very
idea of the Marquis's invasion of his territory.
While he was living quietly in his strong castle,
flattering himself no enemy could possibly find out
the secret of those rocky passes that securely
guarded, as he imagined, his native land (for he
was accustomed to say that they were impregnable,
' nor would he have them known for a hundred
thousand crowns'), an enemy whom he fondly
believed far distant was rapidly advancing ; and
it was not till Montrose was actually within two
94 TJie Fiery Cross ; or,
miles of his fortress that the MacCaileam Mor
realized his danger.
He learned his danger from the cowherds of the
neighbouring hills. In fear and trembling they told
their great chieftain of his rival's vicinity.
No thought of his defenceless clansmen, no pity
for those on whom his own cruel deeds had recoiled
with such fearful severity, stayed the cowardly chief.
Leaving his clan to their fate, he escaped in a fish-
ing boat on Loch Fyne, and fled into the Lowlands,
He went to Dumbarton, and met a body of troops
hastily recalled by the Edinburgh Government from
England to aid in quelling this formidable insurrec-
tion. When once more in a place of safety, Argyle
boasted of his intention of leaving no stone unturned
till he had crushed Montrose, In conjunction with
General Baillie, he drew up a scheme which was
destined to destroy the Cavaliers.
At the head of a force of about three thousand
men, Argyle was to pursue Montrose, while Baillie,
leading another force, was, by making a detour, to
encounter the Marquis's advanced guard, and thus
by hemming him in on both sides prevent his
escape in any direction.
Lord Seaforth and the Erasers were on the Cove-
nanters' side, and would therefore guard the north,
near Inverness.
The Vow of Montrose. 95
Argyle's clan were beginning to despise his mili-
tary prowess, while his character for personal
courage had sorely suffered from his precipitate
.flight from Inveraray. In order to inspire his fol-
lowers with confidence, the crafty Lord recalled his
brave cousin Sir Duncan Campbell of Auchinbreck
from Ireland, by dint of whose reputation as a
soldier Argyle recovered his lost ground with his
own clan.
Montrose, in the meantime, was reaping the fruits
of the character for bravery that he had acquired ;
his name inspiring terror throughout Argyllshire.
To obtain a name as one who was invincible,
the naturally kind-hearted Montrose had permitted
the cruelties that for several weeks his relentless
followers practised on the Campbells. That con-
duct cannot be defended even by his warmest
admirers.
The vengeance wreaked so unmercifully on the
women and children of their enemies is a great
stain on the memory of Montrose. Although sup-
ported by those whose motives for doing so were
strongly influenced by hatred of the Campbells,
Montrose had probably but little choice in the
matter, and was compelled to permit many wanton
cruelties.
Fortunately for the King's little army, the season
96 The Fiery Cross ; or,
had been remarkably good. Had Montrose and
his men had to endure the hardships of snow and
cold, the sequel to his enterprise might have been
very different. Had Argyle, too, but possessed the
ordinary courage of his race and stood his ground,
Montrose would have scarcely escaped ; for to those
who knew the mountain passes of Argyllshire, it
was indeed a matter of surprise that the Mac-
Caileam Mor had attempted no resistance. Such
was the nature of that mountainous tract, a hun-
dred men, commanded by a brave leader, had kept
all their foes at bay.
Montrose was by no means in ignorance of his
enemy's schemes for his destruction.
His scouts brought him word at Loch Ness,
where, after leaving Argyllshire, he had quartered
himself, that the Earl of Seaforth, although by no
means unfriendly to the King's cause, had enlisted
a large body of men against him, and was awaiting
him at Inverness.
Montrose, although his own little army barely
numbered fifteen hundred men, determined to
attack Seaforth's larger force at Inverness. So he
marched towards that city through the valley of
Albin.
On his road he was overtaken by a Highlander,
Ian Lorn Macdonnell, a celebrated bard of the
Montrose receives important intelligence. — Page 98.
97
98 The Fiery Cross ; or,
Keppoch family. He hastened to Montrose, and
bid him listen to his tale.
' The great MacCaileam Mor,' said the breathless
bard, 'pursues thee! He is followed by his tribe,
and many other Highlanders. He is ravaging South
Lochaber, and burning down every house he comes
to, and boasts that he will return to tell the tale of
thy destruction !'
Montrose flushed with surprise and indignation.
He refused to believe the tale.
' He dares not pursue me through Lochaber,' he
cried. After pondering, however, a few minutes, he
summoned the chiefs of his army to a conference.
They agreed with him^in thinking the tale impro-
bable; but that were it true, Montrose's only course
was to desist from his projected attack on Inverness,
and to double back upon his foe.
Although at first incredulous, after a h'ttle reflec-
tion Montrose began to believe the bard's tale as
consistent with the idea that Argyle would fain
entrap him by coming up in the rear, while the
vanguard of his army were engaged in battle with
Seaforth's powerful troops, most of whom were well-
disciplined soldiers from the Inverness garrison.
Sternly directing the clansmen around him to
bind the messenger with stout cords, — 'for,' said
Montrose to Ian Lorn, 'if your news. Sir Bard, be
The Vow of Montrose. 99
false, you shall be shot at the head of the column,'
— he turned round to find his way over the wild
mountain, in order that Argyle might gain no
knowledge of his intentions.
Ian Lorn had told him that Argyle had halted
close to I>och Eil, in a strong fortress called Inver-
lochy, close to the sea.
Two short days only did the Scottish Cavaliers
take before the old fortress frowned before them,
to recompense them for their arduous march, as,
guided by Ian Lorn across snow-girt hills and
frozen moors, they glided along more swiftly almost
than the startled herds of wild deer which, at sight
of those 'kilted laddies,' fled along the wild passes
before them.
This march of thirty miles, however, being happily
ended in safety, the poet guide demanded his free-
dom and a recompense from Montrose. It was
night when Ian Lorn received his guerdon, so richly
earned, from Montrose.
It was a moment for a painter to delineate, or a
poet to describe. The moonlight lighted up the
rugged rocks around Montrose's wearied men, who
dared Viot rest; for although the Cavaliers, by killing
his scouts, had almost reached Argyle's camp before
he knew of their dread vicinity, the rays of the
m.oon on that clear frosty night had disclosed the
TOO The Fiery Cross; or,
secret of their presence to the enemy who were
encamped before them.
'Ian Lorn,' said the great Marquis, 'never bard
has won his "brogue money" better than thou.
Wilt thou fight by my side ?'
' I cannot, my Lord,' repHed Ian Lorn; 'but fight
to-day, and to-morrow I will tell you what you
have done.'
Argyle's craven heart again failed him. Under
pretence that he was too indisposed after a fall to
fight, he hastily went on board a vessel that lay
conveniently at hand, and issued his commands to
his men from that place of safety.
They, worthy of a better leader, were no cowards.
They determined to meet their foe with valour,
although during the night no one suspected that
Montrose was with those tartaned warriors who
were waiting only till daybreak to attack them.
From the mountain above, the faithful bard, who
had been the means of guiding Montrose's army to
the spot, watched the battle.
He saw first the sun slowly rising in the east,
lighting up with golden splendour the fine scenery
around. It was alone enough to kindle poetic
ardour ; but as he gazed below him, he marked
the battle begin that was to determine the fate
of a king's right against a nation's might. It
The Vow of Montrose. loi
was Sunday morning, the second of February
1645.
Unfortunately for the brave Campbells, Argyle
had neglected the opportunity afforded him by the
darkness of concentrating all his forces. The River
Lochy, a deep rapid stream, divided his army,
which, if united, had perchance coped better with
the Redshanks ; but Argyle had refused to believe
that it were a well-organized force that lay watching
his camp that bright moonlight night. It was not
till a loud shrill trumpet, sounding clear and louder
through the mountain air, saluted the Dictator's ear
that he believed in the presence of Montrose.
His cheek paled and his craven heart trembled
at the blast. His clansmen might wonder at the
sound, never perchance heard by them before ; but
the MacCaileam Mor knew that it was intended as
a salute to the standard of a king whom he had
betrayed.
The morning mists obscure for a few minutes Ian
Lorn's view of that historic scene. He supports
himself by a stout heather twig, as in his anxiety
he strains his eyeballs to watch the battle.
' By heavens ! they fight at last,' he exclaims, as,
attacked by the flower of the Campbells, the brave
O'Ryan meets the first attack at the head of the
Cavaliers.
102 The Fiery Cross; or,
A moment before, the bard's eager eyes have
seen a white flag of truce advancing from Argyle's
side ; but it was disregarded by Montrose's men,
who broke off with impetuosity to meet the charge.
The Campbells had fired on Montrose's soldiers ;
but when the latter saw that they had muskets, they
rushed all the wilder on. Destitute of powder, they
drew their claymores and closed with the enemy,
who, daunted by so unexpected an assault, fled in
every direction.
Argyle's troops were stationed on the gentle
ascent that led to the castle of Inverlochy, which
was flanked by the loch behind, on the waters of
which Argyle watched the conflict. The River
Lochy at that point joins an arm of the sea called
Loch Eil ; and when the Lowlanders, who formed
the right and left wings of the Covenanters' army,
saw Montrose's men rush wildly, claymore in hand,
towards them, they threw down their guns and fled
in a panic, pursued for upwards of nine miles by
the Redshanks.
Some fled towards the square towers of the castle
behind them ; others ran wildly down towards the
beach, in the vain hope of saving themselves by
means of a number of small fishing smacks that
lay moored along the sea-shore. Argyle, as he
watched those wild Highlanders massacre his fly-
The Vow of Montrose. lo
o
■»,'>T^
ing- men, might well congratulate himself that he
was safe on board his vessel.
The body of many a brave Campbell floated
round the bark that held the Covenantincr chief:
but eager to place his own person in safety, he
stopped not to pity or to save. He gazed not with
remorse on the upturned dead faces, but hastily
ordering the sailors to set sail, he departed to seek
a place of greater security.
The carnage that ensued was horrible and long.
Fifteen hundred Campbells perished that day,
although Montrose would fain have saved the lives
of many a valiant gentleman who had fought for
the poltroon Argyle.
The castle surrendered. Montrose treated all
within its walls with great kindness. On his side
the number of the killed and wounded was com-
paratively small ; but after the battle, the brave Sir
Thomas Ogilvie died of his wounds. He had been
one of the truest and best friends Montrose ever
possessed.
The Redshanks, after pursuing the enemy, turned
back to get what food they could for their mid-day
meal. To cook such food as they had found they
needed utensils, and a party sallied forth to find
some pots in the peasants' houses.
Allaster Macdonald, however, had failed to get a
1 04 The Fiery Cross ; or,
pot, and one of his men, approaching a party of
Highlanders seated round a fire, begged for a loan
of one. The men, reluctant to offend the general,
were just going to give up their pot, when Robert-
son, one of their number, remonstrated.
' Tell the general,' said he, * I wouldn't give it up.
Why should he spoil our breakfast } I am as good
a man as he. If he killed twenty men, I killed
nineteen.'
The messenger returned to the general, who was
too high-minded to be angry with Robertson, whom
he tried to find out. The latter, much as he had
boasted of his prowess, was really a modest man.
He felt dreadfully afraid of meeting the general
after his daring message, and glided away the
moment he saw him approaching. Allaster, how-
ever, determined to see so brave a man, and pre-
sently overtaking him, demanded his name.
'Tis not worthy to be named,' said Robertson,
* among those of the brave men who fought to-day.'
Pressed, however, by Allaster, he said —
' I am only a poor tinker among the Athol men.'
' Would to God,' cried Allaster, ' the Athol men
had been all tinkers this day.' Robertson's descen-
dants still call themselves, with great pride, the race
* of the Tinker.'
Allaster was noted alike for his courage and
t-N
The Vow of Montrose. 105
strensfth of hand. With one blow he could strike
a single enemy dead. He was therefore greatly
admired by the Redshanks.
Unhappily in his case courage was not tempered
by mercy. He hated the Campbells with a hatred
that led him to commit the most cruel deeds ; and
his vindictive feelings towards that tribe had doubt-
less made him take up arms against the Cove-
nanters.
The part he took led to the imprisonment of his
father and two brothers, who, at the very time of
the battle of Inverlochy, were captives in Edin-
burgh. The Campbells, not content with punishing
Allaster Macdonald's relations, had behaved with
the greatest brutality to his foster-nurse.
A Highlander especially reverences his foster-
mother ; and when Allaster heard of the indignity
with which she had been treated, he vowed he would
revenge her wrongs. This is how he kept his word : —
The battle was over, and the Redshanks were
returning from the pursuit at evening, bringing
back many prisoners. Montrose did all he could
to save the lives of some honourable men, but he
was successful in few instances, for the carnage had
been dreadful. Among the Campbells was the
brave old Colonel Campbell of Auchinbreck, a kins-
man of Argyle. When Allaster Macdonald saw
io6 The Fiery Cross; or.
Colonel Campbell led in between two Highlanders,
a ghastly purpose crossed his mind. The latter, a
fine courteous soldier, recognised Macdonald, and
to conciliate his victor, alluded to a 'cousinship'
that existed between them; but Allaster saw
through him.
' I know you to be a gentleman,' said he, ' both a
laird and a soldier of Auchiabreck, in Scotland, and
therefore I mean to treat you well.'
Auchinbreck began to hope that he had really
escaped his doom, and he thanked his conqueror.
' Which do you choose,' said Allaster ; ' to die by
hanging, or to be beheaded .'' '
' Alas ! ' said the old Colonel, ' it's two bads
without one choice ! '
Allaster MacCol beheaded the unfortunate old
soldier with one sweep of the gigantic sword.
Dreadful is war that has power to rouse such
revengeful feelings. This murder — for it can be
called nothing else — is a great blot on the Cavaliers'
fame. The Campbells had been cruel, traitorous,
and treacherous, but nothing justified the cruelties
practised on them in return.
'Fallen race of Diarmid ! disloyal, iintme,
No harp in the Highlands will sorrow for you ;
But the birds of Loch Eil are wheeling on high,
And the Badenoch wolves hear the Cameron's cry, —
** Come feast ye 1 come feast where the false-hearted lie I " '
The I 'ow of Montrose. 107
The wrongs of the race so long oppressed by
Argyle's tribe were cruelly revenged that day.
Ihe battle of Inverlochy produced the effect on
Scotland that Montrose had anticipated.
In vain Argyle, parading his arm in a sling, to
show that an accident had prevented his fighting in
person, so perverted the truth in recounting the
reasons of his retreat, that instead of branding his
name as a coward, the Edinburgh Covenanters
even thanked him for his services. Throughout
the length and breadth of the Highlands, Montrose
was celebrated as a hero who had defeated one of
the three large armies sent against him.
He had aspired to reduce his native but rebellious
land to obedience. The idea was romantic, noble,
and brave, but it ultimately failed for lack of the
co-operation of many who, though at heart no
Covenanters, dreaded the evils that Charles the
First, through his weakness as a king, had brought
upon their country; nevertheless, such was the panic
that the battle of Inverlochy produced, that had
Montrose pushed on to Edinburgh, he would pro-
bably have met with but slight resistance.
He mistrusted the fighting powers of the High-
landers, and feared lest, removed from their moun-
tains, the very sight of whose snow-clad peaks
seemed to rouse their souls to the performance of
H
io8 The Fiery Cross ; or,
great deeds, they might be crushed when led against
armies of well-organized troops. He accordingly,
after resting a few days, turned northwards, and
once more found himself and his men quartered at
Loch Ness.
Loch Ness, the second largest lake in Scotland,
takes its name, * the loch above the waterfall,' from
the Ness, which falls from a great height into its
waters. It is in a valley called ' the great vale of
Alban,' along which are the remains of some very
ancient forts, used, it is believed, as early as the
days of the Pictish kings as places for watchfires
or beacons. He then marched on, always in a
northerly direction, till he came to the River Spey.
Montrose laid waste all the lands he passed on his
road ; and although he was too humane to allow
such violence, he had but little choice. Argyle had
ravaged the lands of the Royalists, and a system
of retaliation v/as all that Montrose's friends and
followers cared for. Had the King's noble cham-
pion dared for one moment to check his followers,
he would soon have found himself utterly deserted.
Revenge was the predominant motive that animated
the Redshanks, and the Marquis, unable to repress,
was constrained into permitting their cruelties.
Fiercely had the fiery cross aroused those brave
but pitiless warriors !
TJie Vow of Montrose. 109
It was a war of fire and bloodshed ; and the track
of the Cavaliers, as they marched towards Elgin,
was marked by devastated fields, ruined home-
steads, fire, rapine, and cruelty. Mothers clasped
their children closer to their bosoms as the dread
name 'Montrose' was named; and such was the
terror he inspired, that even the stern rulers of the
land forebore to execute the unfortunate Royalists
who had fallen into their hands.
Montrose had two motives for directing his course
towards Elgin. He heard that a body of soldiers,
officered by several leading men, were being armed
against the royal cause, and he thought it not
unlikely that as soon as it was known how com-
pletely he had defeated Argyle, many would flock
to his standard and join his side.
Then he knew that if he attempted to take
Inverness, he ran great risk of being defeated, as
that city was well garrisoned, and would not easily
surrender. A great many gentlemen, however,
joined Montrose ; among them the Laird of Grant
with three hundred men, Sir Robert Gordon and
the Earl of Seaforth, who at the head of a large
force had recently been employed by the Cove-
nanters to arrest his progress.
As these gentlemen were influential in their own
part of Scotland, their example had great weight
no The Fiery Cross ; or,
with others ; and every day the camp of Montrose
received fresh reinforcements.
The gentlemen of Moray voluntarily dispersed as
the Cavaliers approached Elgin ; they first, however,
sent a deputation to Montrose to entreat his good
offices. To these he had replied, that his only
terms were 'submission to the King and his lieu-
tenant.'
Elgin, which he reached on the 14th of February,
readily submitted to Montrose.
When, as already stated, the Marquis first con-
templated the romantic scheme of raising the High-
lands in Charles's favour, he had hoped much from
the Gordons, and was greatly disappointed to find
that gallant race holding aloof. His delight was
therefore great, when, on the very day after he
entered the now deserted Elgin, he was joined by
Lord Gordon, the Marquis of Huntly's eldest son.
Lord Gordon, disgusted with Argyle's conduct,
had shaken of the trammels of the Covenanting
party, which up to that time he had reluctantly
joined, and now openly declared himself a Royalist.
This young nobleman could not bring a great
many adherents to the royal cause, but his example
was followed by his brother Lord Lewis ; and both
were graciously welcomed by Montrn<;p.
Early in March, the Marquis and his Redshank^;—
The Vow of Montrose. 1 1 1
their numbers greatly augmented by the Gordons
and Grants, who had subsequently joined — crossed
the River Spey, where he was joined by many inde-
pendent gentlemen of Banffshire and Aberdeenshire.
Those who would not run the risk of drawing down
the wrath of the Covenanters by an open declara-
tion for the King, were allowed to go free, provided
they promised not to fight against him. This
promise, held sacred by many, was broken by the
Earl of Seaforth, who shortly afterwards deserted
the Cavaliers. He had merely joined the Cavaliers
from motives of expediency ; and when all fears for
his own personal safety were removed by their
absence from his country, he deserted them.
The news of the Cavaliers' doings in the north
at last aroused the worst fears of the Edinburgh
Government. No longer blinded to their danger
by Argyle, they hastily summoned General Baillie
from England, and ordered Sir John Hurry to take
the immediate command of the army in the north,
and rid them, if possible, of the terrible Mon-
trose.
The soldier to whom these orders were given was
a famous general, who had been knighted in 1643
by King Charles, soon after he had quitted the
Covenanters ; although he very soon changed sides
again, and after a very brief service under Prince
112 Tlie Fiery Cross ; or,
Rupert, Charles's nephew, went over to the Presby-
terians.
Although so unstable. Sir John Hurry was an
able and daring soldier. He commanded a fine
body of cavalry, and marched rapidly after the
Cavaliers ; the Edinburgh Government meanwhile
appointing three committees to regulate military
matters. Argyle, keeping his influence in spite of
his recent failures, headed one of them ; the Earl of
Lanerick, Hamilton's brother, another ; and Bal-
merino and Lindsay the third.
Montrose was visited at this time with a domestic
affliction in the death of his eldest son, a fine lad of
fifteen, who succumbed to the hardships of a winter's
campaign, and died after a few days' illness at Gor-
don Castle. Gordon Castle was then called the Bog
of Gight, and was commanded by a spirited man,
one of the ' gay Gordons,' who did all that lay in
his power to induce the whole of his clan to join
Montrose.
Among them was a brave but daring Cavalier
named Nathaniel Gordon, who had been the means
of winning Lord Gordon over to the royal cause.
When traversing Banffshire and Aberdeen, Mon-
trose sent this brave Nathaniel Gordon to Aberdeen
to demand men, horses, and money.
Gordon feared no Covenanter; but his reckless
The Vow of Montrose. 1 1 3
bravery cost the royal cause very dearly. He took
with him to Aberdeen a Mr. Donald Farquharson of
Braemar, one of the bravest Highland gentlemen in
the royal army. This gallant gentleman belonged
to a gallant race whose clan also inhabited Balmoral,
in Aberdeenshire, — a place now familiar to us all, —
and whose Gaelic name, ' Baile-na-morail,' means
' majestic town.' This gallant chief, after doing his
duty in helping Gordon to perform Montrose's com-
mission, wishing to enjoy himself, threw aside his
plaid, put on a rich suit, and ' made merry ' with his
comrades. The citizens of Aberdeen were supposed
to be so overawed by the terror of Montrose's name,
that the Cavaliers imprudently neglected to post
sentinels outside the banqueting hall, where, gaily
attired, they were feasting and enjoying good wine,
provided at the town's expense.
Whether or not some citizen, determined to betray
them, had given Sir John Hurry notice of their
vicinity, is not really known ; but while feasting and
singing, the Cavaliers were hurriedly warned that
Hurry, followed by about a hundred and sixty men,
was coming rapidly towards their rendezvous.
Farquharson, rushing to the door, was met by the
Covenanters, who instantly killed him ; and tearing
off his rich clothes, threw his dead body naked into
the streets.
114 '^^''^ Fiery Cross.
Gordon and a few of the party escaped, though
forced to fly on foot, leaving some valuable horses
behind them ; but the greater number of the
Cavaliers were captured and carried off to Edin-
burgh, where they were thrown into the Tolbooth,
to be punished according to the pleasure of the
Covenanters.
The citizens of Aberdeen were greatly alarmed at
this tragical event, lest Montrose should vent his
anger on their city ; but although he made them
pay a fine, he respected their liberties.
This trouble, involving the loss of so brave a
gentleman as Donald Farquharson, was not the only
one that happened in that month. Sir John Hurry,
not content with his dashing exploit at Aberdeen,
managed to get hold of Montrose's second son, a boy
of fourteen, who was at school at Montrose. Both he
and his tutor were sent to the Edinburgh Tolbooth,
in hopes of intimidating his father. But if they
hoped to quench the high spirit of Montrose, they
were mistaken. Grieving sorely at the loss of his
children, he yet pursued his course; and after burning
and laying waste the lands about Stonehaven and
Dunnottar, — the latter place belonging to Earl
Marischal, who would not join him, — he passed the
Grampian Hills, and encamped seven miles from
Sir John Hurry's quarters near Brechin.
r*v-tn
CHAPTER IV.
* Let the ancient hills of Scotland
Hear once more the battle son',''
Swell within their glens and valleys,
As the clansmen march along.'
— AytouN.
;]1IR JOHN HURRY, with a fine body of
cavalry, and being a very skilful general,
counted on an easy victory over Montrose.
He thought that could he but once meet him on
level ground, away from the mountains, he must
surely defeat an enemy so ill provided with troops.
His scouts brought word that the Redshanks were
quartered at Fettercairn, a village about eight miles
from his own camp.
The Marquis hearing that Hurry intended to
fight, determined to lay a trap for him. He had
only two hundred horsemen, and these he placed in
front of all his army. His foot were artfully con-
cealed in a hollow ; so that when Sir John rode up
at the head of his regulars, only seeing so small a
"5
1 1 6 The Fiery Cross ; or,
number of men, he fancied that Montrose would
soon be routed.
* Fire !' cried he to his men, who at once charged.
But scarcely had they done so, when up jumped a
large body of Redshanks, and advancing on Hurry's
men, gave them such a warm reception, that they
were compelled to sound a hasty retreat.
Hurry, however, was no coward like Argyle, for
he fought bravely in the rear of his army, and re-
treated his men in good order across the River Esk.
But his defeat taught him to respect IMontrose's
warlike abilities as much as he had previously
despised them.
Another general was soon to measure his strength
against Montrose, — that was Baillie, who had a very
large force under him, and had been specially sum-
moned from England to crush the * malignant '
army. He quitted Perth in March, and advanced to
meet Montrose on his road from Brechin.
The two armies sighted each other near the River
Isla, whose waters divided their hostile forces. For
four days and five nights they gazed impatiently
upon each other's ranks, the river dividing them.
Nothing could be more trying to the impetuous
spirit of Montrose. He sent a message to Baillie,
that he longed to give him battle.
* Pledge me your honour,' said Montrose, * to fight.
The Vow of Montrose. 117
and I will permit your whole force to pass safely-
over the stream, or I will meet you on the other
side ! '
* Tell Montrose/ replied Baillie, ' that I will fight
at my own time and in my own way, without asking
his leave ! '
The armies retreated without encountering each
other in battle, — a result highly galling to Montrose,
who longed for another conflict with his enemies.
After escaping again in a surprising manner from
Hurry and Baillie, Montrose retreated to Dunkeld,
where he planned an enterprise that once more
nearly proved fatal to his cause.
In the first place, unknown to his brother, Lord
Lewis Gordon suddenly deserted the royal standard,
and disappeared from Montrose's camp, accompanied
by a good many Gordons, and went over to the
enemy. This young nobleman was by nature so
volatile that his support could not be relied upon ;
but many believed he was acting under instructions
from the Marquis of Huntly, his father, who would
not be induced to give Montrose his support. Be
that as it might, for it has never been really proved
against the Marquis of Huntly that he acted
treacherously, Lord Lewis's desertion came at a
critical moment, and Montrose determined to retreat
northwards, in order to recruit his weakened forces.
1 1 8 The Fiery Cross ; or,
He was on his way northwards when his scouts,
flying back, brought word that the Covenanters had
crossed the Tay, south of Perth. Believing that his
way to it was therefore clear, our hero determined
to make a raid on Dundee, which he looked upon
as a most disloyal city. He sent all his heavy
baggage and the weakest of his little army to
Brechin, and ordered them to await him there.
One fine April morning, Montrose, at the head of
six hundred Highlanders and about a hundred and
fifty horsemen, appeared on a hill overlooking Dun-
dee, and sent a messenger to demand its capitula-
tion, in ' the name of the King.'
Receiving no reply, and from his messenger not
returning, Montrose knew that they had carried out
their usual course and thrown him into prison.
Irritated at resistance, the Marquis let loose his
Redshanks, eager as bloodhounds to scent blood.
The citizens made a kind of defence, but Allaster
Macdonald and Lord Gordon stormed the place in
three directions, and soon entered Dundee.
The townspeople were well punished for resist-
ance. Once inside Dundee, the Irish brigade and
clansmen took possession of the church and public
places. The burghers were beaten back, and a scene
of great pillage followed. Montrose, from a neigh-
bouring height, made no effort to stop the course
The Vow of Montrose. 119
of their fury, for Dundee had offended him, and he
suffered it to be punished.
Feasting and drinking, the Highlanders and Irish
were regahng themselves on the spoils they found in
that rich town, when Montrose was warned by his
scouts that Hurry and Baillie, with an army twice
as numerous as his own, were but eight miles off,
hastening to the relief of Dundee.
What was to be done .-' All his troops, with but
one trifling exception, were inside Dundee, drinking,
pillaging, and storming. His friends urged him to
ensure his own safety by flight. The noble spirit of
Montrose at once repudiated the idea of abandoning
his Redshanks to their fate.
There was little time for action, but much danger
in the task. Ordering the trumpets to be sounded,
he hastily recalled the revellers ; and by dint of
the greatest personal exertions, got nearly all his
intoxicated men to march out before the enemy
arrived in sight. So thoroughly had he been sur-
prised, however, that the Covenanters were positively
entering one gate of Dundee as the last of the clans-
men defiled past their chivalrous leader through
another.
He sent his men forward in two bodies, sfuardin""
the rear with his cavalry. The sun was setting as
the Cavaliers quitted Dundee. The Covenanters
1 20 The Fiery Cross ; or,
immediately pursued them, Baillie sending part of
his forces round to attack the Royalists in flank, while
Hurry was to engage them in the rear.
Never had Montrose been nearer falling into the
hands of his enemies. To stimulate their soldiers
to the pursuit, the Parliamentary generals set a price
on the gallant Graham's head.
Although Hurry's horse made several attacks on
the Earl of Montrose's army, they were kept at bay
by the determined resistance of the Redshanks ; and
night falling, the Parliamentarians abandoned the
pursuit, and retired to the main body of the army.
Although Montrose had retreated in time, it was
indeed an arduous march that lay before him, were
his men to reach the sea-coast before day should
dawn. They, however, marched boldly on, and
reached Arbroath, seventeen miles from Dundee,
before daybreak.
Numerous were Montrose's difficulties in returning
to the mountains. He knew that Baillie would
suspect his design, and endeavour to cut off every
road to the hills.
While their leader was pondering over his position
at Arbroath, the weary Highlanders lay down to
rest, thoroughly exhausted by the fatigues of the
eventful day.
To rest was fatal. Daybreak would find their
The Vow of Montrose. 121
pursuers upon them if they slept even for an hour.
Appealing to their attachment to himself, and
rousing the slumberers, Montrose and his chieftains
urged on their men.
Montrose formed a daring plan. He doubled
upon those in pursuit of him, and before morning
the distant Grampian hills rose before his eyes but
three or four miles off. They were safe. In those
beloved mountains they could hide if too sorely
pressed. Safe at length in the depths of Glen Esk,
Montrose then, deeply moved at the sufferings of
his Highlanders — who had marched without rest or
food for sixty miles — stopped in that romantic place
to restore his troops.
The chiefs once more met in council. Lord Gor-
don, eager to clear himself of any complicity in his
brother Lewis's desertion, volunteered to return into
his own country and there recruit for the King's
service. He was, indeed, anxious to return, for he
was fearful that Hurry, in revenge for his adherence
to the lOyal cause, might take advantage of his
absence to ravage his country.
Accordingly, the gallant young nobleman left
Montrose in the mountains ; and Allaster Mac-
donald was sent farther north for fresh recruits,
while another chief proceeded to Athol to raise, if
possible, more volunteers.
122 The Fiery Cross; or,
The Marquis himself was then left alone, with a
small force of only five hundred foot and fifty horse.
After sending off a messenger in disguise to the
King, Montrose, instead of remaining inactive in the
hills, suddenly reappeared, to the astonishment of
Hurry and Baillie. who had stated that the greater
part of his army had been annihilated, and himself
skulking in the Grampians. They were soon made
to retract their words. Sir John Hurry had been
sent by the committee, at the head of another large
army, into Aberdeen and its neighbourhood, to
direct his strength against Lord Gordon in the
north.
General Baillie remained at Perth to be ready to
assist, if necessary, Sir John Hurry's army.
If the Covenanters fancied Montrose would have
remained inactive, they were grievously mistaken.
The Marquis had determined on a daring enter-
prise, — no less than a descent on the Lowlands.
He had also a double motive, which was to harass
his enemies and keep them occupied in watching
his movements, while his friends were scouring
Scotland for further aid.
Baillie, hearing from his spies that Montrose was
quartered at Crieff, determined to try and surprise
him. He set out at night, and reached Montrose's
camp at daybreak. The Marquis had been warned
The Vow of Montrose. 123
of his approach ; and finding that the Parliamentary
army was five times larger than his own, ordered his
men to retreat, while, at the head of his cavalry, he
rode forward to keep the enemy at bay while his
foot reached the pass of Ern in safety.
There, on the scene of many an ancient battle,
— for Strathearn in Perthshire is the site of three
large camps erected by Agricola when the Romans
first visited Britain, — Montrose rested for a night.
Next day he and his daring band were marching
towards Loch Katrine.
From that lovely spot he proceeded to Loch
Ard, having effected a meeting with the Marquis
of Huntly's second son, Viscount Aboyne, who,
after hesitating about joining Montrose, had at
length escaped from England to fight under the
King's banner.
Montrose, however, could not linger where he
was ; for he soon heard ill-tidings of Lord Gordon
in the north. Hurry, finding that Lord Gordon
persisted in his adherence to the King, threatened
him and all his clan with destruction at Auchin-
doun in the north. Montrose therefore determined
to set off to the rescue.
Besides Lord Aboyne, our hero was now joined
by two noble youths who had managed to escape
out of Edinburgh. They were his two nephews,
1 24 The Fiery Cross ; or,
the Master of Napier and the young Laird of Keir,
The Government in Edinburgh had not been
ashamed to punish the Marquis by imprisoning and
ill-treating his relations. Young Napier was only
just twenty-one. He had been married at the early
age of sixteen, and was son of Montrose's great
friend Lord Napier.
Montrose, by a rapid march, succeeded in joining
Lord Gordon ; and Sir John Hurry was startled
early in May to find him close to his camp in
Strathbogie.
Rather than meet Montrose in battle before re-
inforcements should arrive. Hurry crossed the Spey
and retreated to Elgin, the Cavaliers in full chase.
Montrose was very ill provided with ammunition ;
but Lord Gordon, with great gallantry, had pro-
cured a fresh supply by boarding two ships laden
with gunpowder in the port of Aberdeen.
Montrose encamped at a village called Auldearn,
where, happily, he had the aid of Allaster Mac-
• donald, who had rejoined his leader with his men.
Sir John Hurry had been joined by the Earls of
Seaforth and Sutherland, and a large reinforcement
in the clan Eraser, with several men belonging to
Moray and Caithness.
Besides this considerable force, the regular troops
commanded by Hurry were well-disciplined and
The Vow of Montrose. 125
drilled men-at-arms. The Marquis therefore see-
ing that he had a well -provided army opposed to
him, would gladly have avoided a battle, but he
dared not do so, hearing that Baillie, with a far
larger body of men, was on his road to the Spey,
prepared to intercept his retreat should he attempt
one.
It is the peculiarity of all greatness of mind to
rise to an emergency. Montrose might well doubt
the issue, but he did not shirk a battle. He com-
mitted the fate of his little band to Providence, and
prepared for the enemy's assault.
He drew up his men in a valley between the town
and a few small hills behind. The ruEj-eed ascent of
the hill upon which the hamlet was built he turned
to advantage by stationing on it a few pieces of
cannon, telling his men to entrench themselves in a
number of dykes that ran along its side.
Allaster Macdonald and his men he stationed
near some uneven ground opposite the enemy's left
wing, telling him to maintain that secure position,
and act as a reserve in case of need.
To the brave Colkeitoch he confided the royal
standard, a large yellow flag, intending to mislead
his antagonists by inducing them to attack the
place, which the Marquis knew was impregnable, if
steadily kept by Macdonald's brigade.
126 The Fiery Cross ; or,
Sir John Hurry, seeing the standard displayed,
did exactly as Montrose had anticipated ; and Col-
keitoch, roused by the attack to fury, forgot his
general's orders, left his position, and was instantly
beset and almost enclosed by a large body of the
enemy's foot and horse.
The battle raged loud and fiercely ; but unfor-
tunately for Macdonald, he had exchanged ninety
of his veteran Irish for the same number of men
under Lord Gordon, just as the fighting com-
menced.
AUaster was forming his men in battle array,
Avhen a message was brought him from Lord
Gordon.
' Macdonald,' said the missive, ' there was once a
bond between your ancestors and mine. The bond
said that our forefathers should strike no blow at
each other, whatever might be the quarrel between
the other parts of the realril. None excelled our
forefathers in renown ; let us therefore, by exchang-
ing men, renew this bond, on this the first day's
fight, beneath this banner, for my country and my
King!'
The few fighting men sent him by Lord Gordon
were but a sorry exchange for his own trusty
veterans. They were principally young recruits,
and it needed all AUaster's great heroism to pre-
The Vow of Montrose. 127
vent their dispersion ; for, ill at ease, they did not
fight well under their new leader, and Macdonald's
men, who were in their rear and van, had to force
them to stand the shower of arrows that saluted
them from the enemy's quarter.
Allaster, compelled to sound a retreat to the
position that he had so imprudently abandoned,
ordered them back to the garden in which Mon-
trose had placed them. Protecting himself with a
large shield, he fought most gallantly to cover his
men's retreat. He parried the spears of the enemy
with an immense sword that he wielded with pro-
digious strength, and one by one he thrust his
attackers back till every one of his men were safe
in the garden. Just at that moment his sword —
the trusty weapon that had stood him in such good
stead — broke in his hand. His brother-in-law,
handing him his, fell mortally wounded.
The conflict was thus proceeding, Colkeltoch fight-
ing like a lion, when Montrose, watching the battle
from the height on which the village lay, hears a
murmur round him.
* Macdonald is being routed ! his men are in
flight'
Quick as lightning Montrose cried out, * Mac-
donald is gaining the victory single-handed I'
. Lord Gordon stood near him, and Montrose,
128 The Fiery Cross; or,
turning to him, cried out, ' What, my Lord ! shall
all the Gordons stand by and win no laurels for
their clan ? Up, men, and charge the troops Mac-
donald has defeated !*
Montrose's ready wit saved the day. Mingling
the ringing sound of the Gordons' war-cry to that
of the Macdonalds', ' Traoch eilean!' 'Fraoch
eilean!' on rushed the men of Huntly and Strath-
bogie, and Hurry's soldiers were driven off the
field.
The loss on the Covenanters' side was tre-
mendous. Pursuing their enemy for miles, the
Redshanks fought with valour, and slew all they
captured. Three thousand of Sir John Hurry's
experienced troops were thus scattered by the
Cavaliers, while he himself was forced to fly for his
life.
The honours of the day were divided between
the Macdonalds and the Gordons ; and Montrose
is said to have declared that he had never wit-
nessed a scene of greater slaughter, greater valour,
nor greater feats of arms, than those performed by
Nathaniel Gordon, Ronald Macdonald, and Lord
Gordon in that bloody battle of Auldearn.
Twelve hundred men belonging to Hurry's army
were slain, while on Montrose's side the loss was
comparatively insignificant, although many were
The Vow of Mo7itrose. 129
badly wounded. The number of Frasers who were
killed at Auldearn was so great, that, without
reckoning the unmarried men who fell, it was said
that the battle 'made eighty-seven widows alone
in the lordship of Lovat.'
Hurry's army having lost their baggage, provi-
sions, and standard, retreated, but in a very dis-
orderly manner, to Inverness, where its leader tried
a Captain Drummond by court-martial, and shot
him, for having purposely led the company he
commanded to the wrong side, and for being in
communication with Montrose. They tried to fix
on Drummond the disgrace of their terrible defeat.
Very soon after the battle of Inverlochy, Mon-
trose had despatched a letter to the King in
England. It was very difficult to get letters safely
conveved to Charles. To be the bearer of such
missives was a service of great danger. A Scottish
gentleman named Small, from devotion to Montrose
and the royal cause, had volunteered to carry a
packet to the Marquis, and succeeded in delivering
it. This service was one of danger, and was accom-
plished by Small disguised as a beggar. Unhappily
his disguise failed him; for, while returning to Eng-
land with letters from Montrose to the King, he was
betra}-ed to the Covenanters, and hanged at Edin-
burgh. His courage well deserved a happier fate.
130 The Fiery Cross ; or,
The letters that James Small was taking so faith-
fully to the King, falling into the wrong hands,
betrayed all that unhappy monarch's schemes to
his enemies.
When they found that Montrose was urging
Charles to join him in Scotland, they redoubled
all their endeavours to crush the Cavaliers. That,
however, was by no means an easy task ; for, hav-
ing for the fourth time defeated the Covenanters,
Montrose perpetually baffled and perplexed their
generals with his erratic marches. His perfect
knowledge of the Highlands greatly aided him ; and
no doubt his ultimate success would have been
far greater, but for the fatal habit of the clans-
men, of dispersing with their spoils whenever any
great raid or battle had been made, fought, or
won.
The Cavaliers were thus constantly exposed to
the loss of many men ; and although the deserters
invariably returned, Montrose was in consequence
frequently at great disadvantage from the uncertainty
of retaining his men.
Soon after, traversing the Spey, Montrose learnt
from his scouts the near vicinity of General Baillie,
who had rapidly advanced after Sir John Hurry's
defeat.
The latter brave officer was eager again to meet
The Vow of Montrose. 1 3 1
Montrose in battle, and if he could, to efface the
disgrace of his recent defeat.
The armies of the Covenanters were accompanied
on their march by civilians, delegated by the Go-
vernment to watch the course of events, and direct
them.
In vain General Baillie urged on those gentlemen
that his men were but young recruits, dispirited
by Sir John Hurry's defeat ; and that it were better
to delay encountering Montrose's veteran soldiers,
flushed with victory. He was ordered at all risks
to fight.
The popular leaders were beginning to realize the
value of military fame. Even those Highland
gentlemen who had hitherto supported the Cove-
nant, were wavering at the report of those dazzling
exploits performed by the Cavaliers ; and every
victory gained by 'the great Marquis' added to the
danger of the Presbyterian cause.
General Baillie was therefore sternly ordered to
advance, and fight Montrose.
Accompanied by Sir John Hurry and the rem-
rant of his army, Baillie obeyed.
As soon as Montrose had ascertained the strength
of Baillie's army, he was irresolute in his intention,
and halted to consider his position.
, The Covenanters had taken a very strong place,
132 The Fiery Cross ; or,
an almost impregnable pass in a wood called
Coelarachie. In numbers, Baillie's men were superior
to the royal troops; and when his scouts returned
to Montrose, the latter saw from their report how.
difficult it would be to dislodge the Covenanters
from that position.
Early next morning, therefore, Montrose sent a
trumpeter to Baillie's army to challenge him to a
pitched battle.
He received a haughty, spirited answer: 'Go, tell
your master,' said Baillie, ' I will not be ordered by
him to fight. I will fight him when and where I
choose.'
The following morning the Covenanters missed
their foes. They had rapidly retreated. Although
the Covenanters immediately pursued them, no
trace of the Redshanks could be found. They were
only tracked by their footprints on the heather,
which showed that Montrose had once more re-
treated into Badenoch.
There, again, Montrose was at a great advantage
over his enemies. The resources of that land were
so familiar to him, that he always knew how to
procure food for his men. Baillie's troops, on the
other hand, had to subsist on the provisions they
carried with them ; and when they were eaten, were
fain to retire to Inverness for more.
The Vow of Montrose. 133
The long-desired encounter came at last, close to
Alford on the river Don. Although the army of
Montrose was again strengthened by Lord Huntly's
return, accompanied by Aboyne and several of the
Gordons, Baillie believed the moment to be advan-
tageous for a battle. He learnt that Colkeitoch was
absent with a large body of men, recruiting in the
north ; and although he knew that the chances of
success were doubtful, he was compelled, owing to
the rashness of Lord Lindsay, to fight.
That nobleman was an old friend of Montrose's,
but an ardent Covenanter. He had raised a troop
of soldiers, and in order to harass Montrose's allies,
had ravaged Athol, especially the lands of the.
Gordons, and threatened the Marquis of Huntly's
fair Castle Bog, then defended by a brave Cavalier
named Gordon of Buckie. In order to extricate
Lindsay from his position — for he was on the point
of being- attacked bv Montrose's men — Baillie
thought it expedient to risk the issue of a pitched
battle.
Montrose was standing near the river-side when
he was told that BailHe's army were within one mile
of Alford. He immediately posted his men on a
hill, which had the great advantage of having a
marsh full of pits and ditches in its rear, while a
steep piece of rising ground hid his own men. The
134 ^-^^ Fiery Cross ; or,
Covenanters then crossed the fords of Don, and
proceeded to confront their enemy. The two armies
were about equal in numbers, but they were very
differently composed.
BaiUie commanded an army of hired soldiers,
mostly raw recruits, who, although ofiicered by
many a brave gentleman, did not fight as well as
the Cavaliers, who were led to the field by their
own chiefs, with a war-cry that spurred them on to
deeds of valour. The Highlanders were ready, one
and all, to die for their leaders. Among these were
the brave Huntly, many a noble Gordon, Glengarry,
young Napier, Macdonalds and Grahams. The
Redshanks, although by this time a well-drilled,
well-disciplined set of men, looked wild and terrific
in their motley garbs.
The Redshanks carried every species of arms, and
wore every kind of headpiece and bonnet. Targets
and shields of every shape and fashion, and ancient
guns and powder-horns, the spoil of many a bloody
fray, were borne by these wild and fearless men,
who, with claymores in their hands, their dirks by
their sides, awaited the Covenanters.
Whatever stake Montrose had in the battle, to
those ignorant but devoted men the issue was
simply one of spoil and plunder. Victory to them
meant rapine and bloodshed ; but devotion to their
The Vow of Montrose.
35
chief was their religion, and as long as each clan
was led by its rightful captain, Montrose feared
neither desertion.nor failure.
In the centre of the army, near the King's
standard, stood the great Marquis. It was a bright,
warm July day in 1645. Baillie's object in fording
the river Don had been to station a body of men to
prevent Montrose's retreat ; and Baillie's cavalry
was commanded by the valiant Lindsay.
As the Covenanters sighted the Cavaliers, one of
their leaders addressed them in spirited terms.
' Yonder are our foes,' cried he, raising his arm in
the direction of the Royalists. ' It is their custom to
make the first attack ; don't let them do so to-day.
At them, and at once ! '
But before his men could answer and obey,
Montrose had advanced ; while almost at the same
instant the Gordons charged Lord Lindsay's horse.
If the Redshanks were valiant, so were their foes.
They met the Gordons' fiery charge with firmness
and courage ; and it was not till Lord Gordon and
Colonel Nathaniel Gordon had literally fought inch
by inch for the ground, that any way was made
by the Cavaliers through Lindsay's gallant band.
After great slaughter, at last the latter wavered.
Montrose bid the reserve of men, commanded by
young Napier, to advance. The musquetecrs closed
136 1 he Fiery Cross ; or^
on the enemy's horse; and, amid Nathaniel Gordon's
cries — ' Soldiers, advance ! throw down your guns,
draw your swords and your dirks ; kill these horse-
men ; hamstring their horses ; to close quarters ! '
—the Covenanters fairly turned and fled !
Two troops of the Presbyterian army having
thrue given way, in spite of Baillie's personal exer-
tions, the third wavered also. The Gordons fought
with desperate bravery, maddened by the sight of
a large head of cattle that Lindsay and his men
had seized in their country, as well as aroused by
Lord Gordon's promise to ' bring Baillie by the
throat from the centre of his men J'
Great was the slaughter. Baillie's foot soldiers,
overtaken by the infuriated Gordons, fell beneath
their murderous claymores, and but few of the
cavalry would have escaped, had not a sad loss
taken place in the ranks of the Cavaliers.
Seizing Baillie by the sword-belt. Lord Gordon
had just fulfilled his threat of capturing the great
leader of the Covenanters' army, when, pierced by a
bullet, the brave and beautiful Cavalier fell mortally
wounded to the ground, amid his men. In one
moment the shouts of triumph, the cheers of victory,
and the Highland cries of battle were hushed, and
changed into a long prolonged wail.
•What!' cried his followers, 'is he dead, — our
.Jk.-
Death of Lord Gordon.— Page 136,
'J7
138 The Fiery Cross; or,
hero, our darling, our chief! — accursed be the hand
that slew him ! fatal the day that has lost us the
fairest flower of all our clan !'
Throwing down their weapons, his followers
kissed his fair face, calm, even in death, as it lay-
upturned to the blue skies, wan, white, and
still !
Montrose, sorely as he needed all his energy at
that trying moment, to persuade his followers to
ensure victory by a vigorous pursuit, mingled his
tears with Lord Gordon's followers, who bitterly
bewailed his loss.
This young nobleman possessed a fine heart and
mind, and his loss to Montrose was very great
indeed.
Lord Gordon it was, who, despite his father's
jealousy, and Lord Lewis's double-dealing, had
firmly attached a large number of the Gordons to
the King's side. As the great Marquis leant on his
sword, gazing on the dead face of him who had
been so true a friend, well might he feel that the
victory had been dearly won. He had beaten his
enemies, but lost his friend.
As to the' Gordons, nothing could exceed their
sorrow, as, accompanied by Lord Aboyne, Mon-
trose laid the gallant chieftain's body in a tomb in
an old church at Aberdeen.
The Vow of Montrose. 139
They swore, were they
* Covenanting traitors,
Or the brood of false Argyle,'
to be avenged on those whose arms had killed their
' beautiful and brave ' young lord.
Lord Aboyne was now heir to Lord Huntly, and
although much discouraged by the loss of his
brother, volunteered to go into his own country to
beat up recruits for the royal cause. The Marquis,
while waiting for him and Colkeitoch, who had not
yet returned, planned another daring scheme.
The Scottish Parliament, in spite of the news of
the battle of Naseby, beginning to feel their fifth
defeat, were much depressed at the sight of the
large number of gentlemen who now openly de-
clared for Montrose.
Fever was raging in Edinburgh, so that the
Government met at Stirling, where they passed a
vote of thanks to General Baillie for his efforts in
the north, and despite his defeat at Alford, rein-
stalled him in his command.
The Scottish Parliament were beginning also to
see that Montrose coul-d not be crushed without the
most determined effort.
They resolved, therefore, to raise an army of
10,000 men, and ordered the authorities throughout
the Lowlands to forward all the fighting men that
K
140 The Fiery Cross; or^
could be found to Perth, by the end of the
month.
When he heard that the Parh'ament was assembled
at Stirling, Montrose contemplated the daring pro-
ject of scattering it by a rapid march on that place ;
but when he was told that they were raising so
large an army against him, he prudently abandoned
the idea, and did all he could to recruit his own
forces.
The Marquis had established his camp in Angus,
and ere long w'as joined not only by his cousin
Inchbrakie, with fresh troops of attached Athol
men, but by Colkeitoch bringing upwards of 1000
soldiers.
Montrose, standing near tjie entrance to the royal
camp, watched 700 gallant Macleans, led by their
chiefs, Macgregors and Macnabs, defile past, fol-
lowed by 500 of the Clanranald men, each well
provided with provisions foraged from the enemy's
countries on the road.
The leader noted, however, one youth barely
twenty years of age, who carried nothing. Re-
proached by Colkeitoch for his remissness, Donald,
for so was he called, immediately started off in
search of plunder, and in a short time returned with
quite enough to maintain the whole -of the Clan-
ranald men to whom he belonged ; and thereafter
The Vow of Montrose. 141
none, it was said, brought more * creachs ' to the
camp than this young Highlander.
All this time Lord Huntly dallied with the royal
cause. He held out hopes to Montrose of his join-
ing the royal standard, and the influence of his
name being alone needed, now that Montrose
found himself at the head of an army of from 4000
to 5000 men, the Covenanters totally defeated, and
the Parliament baffled. Still Lord Huntly lingered.
Llontrose had sent Lord Aboyne at the head of
2000 clansmen, to guide Lord Huntly to his
camp ; but still he came not.
Chafing at the delay, Montrose crossed the River
Tay, and took up fresh quarters in the forest.
He was only five miles from Perth ; and when
news of his dangerous vicinity reached the Cove-
r.anters of that city, — at which place the Scottish
Parliament was now assembled, the plague having
reached Stirling, — great was the alarm. They
imagined that Montrose intended an immediate
assault upon the town.
The authorities were all in favour of flight, and
entreated the heads of the Parliament to adopt that
course. Fortunately they did not follow the advice ;
for Montrose, without cavalry, had no intentions
of trying to take the place. Although, by a clever
stratagem, he contrived to make them believe he
142 The Fiejy Cross; or,
had a large number of horsemen at rommand, he kept
aloof for several days in daily hope of Lord Aboyne's
return with reinforcements. It was not for a day or
two that the Covenanting troops found out how the
Marquis had tricked them. Then they unlocked
the city gates and sallied out in pursuit of their
foe, who, however, by that time had retreated
towards the hilly country by the fords of Almond.
A band of volunteers, about 300 Presbyterians, con-
tinued to pursue the Cavaliers long after their leaders
had seen how hopeless was the effort to overtake
them. They even contrived to considerably annoy
Montrose's rearguard.
Led by a brave man named Cornell, the Cove-
nanters had seized several baggage horses belong-
ing to the Cavaliers, when a shot from one of the
Redshanks ended his career, and allowed Montrose
to retreat in good order towards Dunkeld.
The Covenanters did not retreat, however, before
Montrose gave them a signal lesson. He chose
twenty of the best shots in his army, and bid them
' check the insolence of their pursuers.'
The men chosen, accustomed to bring down the
deer of their mountains, found no difficulty, under
cover of some brushwood, in shooting down many of
the finest of the Covenanters' soldiers. One by one
they dropped to the ground pierced to the kcarc
The Vow of Montrose. 143
by such unerring marksmen ; while, hurried and
affrighted, the others not only abandoned their pur-
suit, but fled precipitately into Perth.
As ill luck for the Cavaliers would have it, on
their way back they passed through Methven Forest.
There they lighted upon the wives and women of the
Irish and Highlanders of Montrose's army, who had
been left behind, and in the most brutal manner put
every one of them to death in cold blood.
At last, outside Dunkeld, where Montrose had
pitched his camp, almost in sight of his enemy's army,
he received some reinforcements from the north ; but
he was much disappointed when he found that their
number only amounted to three hundred and twenty.
However, as several loyal Highland gentlemen of
good position had joined him at the same time, —
among them Alexander Ogilvie of Inverquharity, a
youth as illustrious by his bravery and talents as by
his ancient descent, — Montrose determined to again
put his ' fortunes to the touch,' and attack the
Covenanters. His scouts, charged to ascertain their
exact position, brought him back word that his foes
had crossed the River Earn, and were in full retreat.
The Marquis, preceded by Colonel Nathaniel
Gordon and Sir William Pollock, who led a small
force to clear the way, set off to Kinross, determined
to induce the enemy to meet him in open battle.
144 The Fiery Cross; or.
On the road, the small band of Cavaliers who
preceded Montrose fell in unexpectedly with two
hundred of the enemy. The Royalists had reduced
their number to twelve men, having sent all the rest
of their band off to scour the land before them for
news of the enemy. The inequality of their numbers
was very great, for they were only twelve against
nearly two hundred. One moment's reflection
showed the Cavaliers that retreat was impossible ;
and therefore planting themselves against a hill, they
met the enemy's attack with so much valour, that
they put the Covenanters to flight, and even took
several prisoners.
After such a brilliant exploit, you may be sure the
dauntless band when they reached the main army
were praised by shout and cheer.
Montrose knew that most of the Fife men were
firmly attached to the Presbyterian religion, and
consequently devoted to the Covenanters' cause.
He therefore dreaded the possibility of General
Baillie's army being reinforced before he could
induce him to meet him on the battle-field.
Closely followed by Baillie's army, yet ravaging
the land as he tramped along after leaving Fife, in
which country he despaired of a battle, the Marquis
passed Stirling and encamped at Kilsyth.
■ His principal object in crossing the Fortli had
The Vow of Montrose. 145
been to draw nearer to the English border, where he
still cherished the hope of joining the King.
Such a junction seemed the unfortunate monarch's
last remaining chance. Naseby had been fought
and lost, and the Marquis's whole heart was set on
the scheme of seeing Charles head the royal cause in
Scotland in person, and save at least his Scottish
crown.
The Covenanters, after marching close upon his
rear, crossed the Carron, and taking a short cut
encamped close to Kilsyth.
Argyle himself partly commanded the large
Covenanting army, seven thousand strong, that now
awaited the encounter, but Baillie was its nominal
and discontented leader. He had rebelled against
the dictation to which Argyle's presence, and that of
the committee appointed by the Estates, subjected
him. He had resigned his command in disgust, but
had consented, from patriotic motives, to retain it
another fortnight. The very day that the rival forces
were brought face to face, Baillie's fortnight expired.
He was an honest and good soldier, and had
openly expressed his disapproval of Argyle's inter-
ference. He was therefore in no temper to hide it
when the latter asked his advice as to the next step
to be taken. When he saw the superiority of
Montrose's position, sheltered behind some cottages
1 46 The Fiery Cross ; or,
and gardens, Baillie again declared that his mind
misgave him as to the advisability of fighting.
' If the rebels engage us there,' he said, * they will
have the advantage ; and to lose the day is to lose
the kingdom ! '
He was overborne by the arguments of others,
and forced to carry out Argyle's orders. Reluctantly
he ordered his men to advance towards the hill on
which the great Marquis had drawn up his Cavaliers
in battle array.
Up to the last moment, Montrose had been un-
decided about fighting ; but when he saw that,
although the Covenanters had a great advantage in
numbers, his position was unquestionably the better,
he hesitated no longer.
'We have,' he exclaimed, 'the best ground, and
that is more than half the battle.'
Standing on a little raised mound' surveying the
Highlanders, — a gallant band indeed, and ready for
any deed of daring, — the royal banner flying, his
blood bounding through every vein, as he thought
that were he to win another battle he should see his
King righted at last, the face of Montrose paled, for
he heard a murmur among his tartaned bands.
* What is it ? what ! is it possible } can they fear
those mounted Covenanters whose glittering breast-
plates flash in the sun before them ? ' — for the first of
The Vow of Montrose. 147
Baillie's regiments planted opposite the Redshanks
was one of dragoons. ' By heavens ! they do,' he
cried, as loud murmurs strike upon his ear that they
fear to attack ' iron-clad soldiers,' on whom ' no
claymore could avail.'
To hesitate were to lose ground ; and in a moment
Montrose had hit upon an expedient to allay this
new difficulty. ' Clansmen,' cried he, — his sweet
voice rising loud and clear, — 'you have beaten
yonder cowards at Tippermuir, Auldearn, and
Alford ; their officers dare not lead them against
you except in coats of mail. A Highlander who
meets his foe on Scottish ground needs no such
iron coverings. Let us show our contempt of them
by fighting them in our shirts ! '
Setting them the example, he bid them strip to
the waist ; and in a few minutes the Cavaliers,
divested of all cumbersome clothing, were prepared
to make the assault.
Montrose's ' pluck ' struck the right chord. Not
content with taking off their upper garments and
turning up their shirt sleeves, the foot soldiers
actually stripped themselves to the shirt, and pre-
sented to the astonished Covenanters the novel
spectacle of a nearly naked army !
The first movement made by the Covenanters
was towards some gardens in. which Montrose had
148 The Fiery Cross; or,
planted some of his advanced guard. They were
repulsed by the gunners, who, stationed behind walls
and fences, fired hotly on their assailants. A loud
shout from the Redshanks greeted this first turn of
victory in their favour.
A gallant but imprudent youth named Donald,
son of the chief of the Clanranald clan, was carried
away by the enthusiasm of the moment. Waving
his claymore, he leapt past the Macleans, — who
being more obedient soldiers, had hesitated before
attacking the enemy without their general's orders, —
and, followed by all his men, met the enemy face to
face, and hand to hand.
This adventurous band was followed by the
Macgregors, headed by their chief Patrick, a warrior
so brave that he was also called ' Caoch,' a Gaelic
word signifying great valour, while Colkeitoch and
his band followed more slowly.
Montrose knit his brows angrily when he saw his
Redshanks thus fighting before they had received
his orders ; but as he marked their courage and
bravery, he forgave them their disobedience in
sympathizing with their enthusiasm.
The battle of Kilsyth would have turned out a
defeat instead of a victory for the Royalists, had not
Montrose's ready wit again saved his cause. Look-
ing eagerly after his rash Highlanders, he saw that
The Vow of Montrose. _ 149
they must be cut to pieces were not they instantly
supported. The Covenanters were brave soldiers
too ; moreover, they were double the nurnber of
their assailants. The Cavaliers, compelled to fight
up a hill, were on the point of being overmatched
and slain, when Colkeitoch rushed to their aid.
Even his valuable assistance was but small in com-
parison with their necessity. The slowness with
which Baillie's rear came forward to the aid of the
van of his forces, the only part of his army engaged
at that time, aided the Marquis in collecting his
ideas. He saw that the remainder of his regiments
hesitated to obey his eager commands that his Red-
shanks should be reserved.
Montrose went hastily up to the aged Earl of
Airlie, who was standing at the head of the Ogilvies.
* My lord,' said he, ' you see the scrape into which
yonder mad youths have fallen by their precipitate
valour. All men's eyes are fixed on your lordship,
for your rank entitles you to precede all others in
showing foolhardy youth that discretion and valour
united to age can redeem the day.'
The venerable Earl, a model of loyal fidelity,
immediately undertook the commission. Followed
by all the Ogilvies, and guarded by a troop of horse,
he led his men to the charge.
Their vigorous attack completely routed the
150 The Fiery Cross.
enemy's infantry, which fell back in great confusion.
The rest of the Cavaliers no sooner saw the rebels
waver, than they rushed forward and completed the
victory. The Covenanters were pursued for miles
by the victorious Cavaliers. The banks and braes
of the roads along which the Covenanters fled
were stained with blood. The Redshanks gave no
quarter, and between 5000 and 6000 of the enemy
were slain. As they fled towards Stirling or the
sea, they fell by hundreds beneath their adversaries'
claymores. Montrose's loss was but small in com-
parison ; though so bloody was the day, that for a
hundred and fifty years after the battle of Kilsyth, it
was recorded among the peasantry as the most fatal
of all in that memorable war. The Cavaliers spared
few lives that dreadful day ; but at Montrose's
express orders several prisoners of distinction were
saved from death, and those he treated well, and
after a time released. For the third time, Argyle
owed his life to a boat. Flying to a little port
called Queensferry, he reached a vessel anchored in
the Firth of Forth, and hurriedly put out to sea.
Never was a victory more complete than that of
Kilsyth, and perhaps during the whole of the Scot-
tish civil wars, none more bloody. The shouts of
his vindictive soldiery, as they butchered the flying
fo^ were borne back to Montrose.
CHAPTER V.
' Let no man to more love pretend
Than he has hearts in store ;
True love begun shall never end.
Love one and love no more.'
— Marquis of Montrose.
•I^^^EFORE pursuing the romantic history of
Montrose, or contrasting his victorious
position after the battle of Kilsyth with
former apparently hopeless fortunes, when, dis-
guised as a groom, he had crossed the border with
only three companions to invade a kingdom, we
must turn and see what the unfortunate Charles, for
whom he was fighting, was doing in England.
Cromwell, invincible by his clear intellect and
masterly policy, as much as by his personal courage,
was subduing one after the other, every town, castle,
or fortified house that still held out for the King.
The hopes of the Royalists fell with the battle of
i5f
152 The Fiery Cross ; or,
Naseby ; and the course of events all tended towards
the fall of the monarchy in England. Charles had
fled into Wales, before taking refuge afterwards at
Oxford, and was slowly forming the fatal resolution
of throwing himself on the mercy of the Scots. The
unfortunate King still fondly believed that their
ancient affection to his family and crown would
revive at the evidence that he believed their loyalty
would prove stronger than their fanaticism.
The Covenanters, however, saw only in Charles
the First a chief obstacle to the darling idea of all
its Calvinistic adherents, and that was, that were
the monarchy overthrown, the Presbyterian faith
would become universal in England as well as in
Scotland. The Covenanters laid siege to Newark,
which still held out for Charles, a large army
having been sent from Scotland to the aid of the
Parliament.
While Charles was therefore slowly but surely
rushing to the saddest doom that ever befell an
English king, Montrose, after Kilsyth, found him-
self on the road to the attainment of the object
for which he had taken up arms, and unfurled the
royal standard in Scotland. That object was to
clear the whole of the north by his arms, and so
prepare the way for its recovery by his sovereign.
The Covenanters in Scotland were, for the
The Vow of Montrose. 153
moment, completely vanquished. Two of their
foremost men had fled to Ireland; Argyle and
others had taken refuge in Berwick, a strongly
fortified place ; and although Montrose had laid
waste the land, the whole of Scotland rang with
his praises. His cruelty in many cases — for even
his best friends acknowledged he had sometimes
been cruel — was forgotten in his success ; while his
resolution and firmness, his patience and virtues,
were extolled, till, from being held up to public
abhorrence, he was magnified and flattered into a
hero. After the battle of Kilsyth he was openly
acknowledged as Charles's representative in Scot-
land, and many influential noblemen, who up to
that time had not only held back from the royal
cause, but even openly sided with the Covenanters,
now flocked round Montrose to pay him court, and
to offer him their support.
The plague was raging in Edinburgh, and the
news of the loss of the battle of Kilsyth struck con-
sternation into the hearts of all its citizens. Well
had they reason to dread Montrose, for the capital
had been the principal focus of rebellion, while im-
prisoned in its Tolbooth were several of the hero's
dearest friends.
After marching to Glasgow, the first thought of
Montrose was to release those prisoners. Had it
154 The Fiery Cross; or,
not been for the risk of exposing his men to the
disease then raging in the city, he would have
marched to Edinburgh directly after the battle of
Kilsyth.
Montrose only remained a few days at Glasgow ;
but during his visit there, the citizens vied with each
other m abject politeness. They presented him
with a large sum in gold ; and the hero, anxious to
propitiate his newly-found adherents, and fearful lest
his Highland followers should be tempted to plunder
the wealthy citizens, soon marched out again.
He encamped at a place called Bothwell Moor,
about twelve miles from Glasgow. Charles, after
visiting Raglan Castle and Hereford, had now
reached Oxford, whence he sent off two trusty
messengers to Montrose. One was a President
Spottiswoode, the other an Englishman named
Sandilands. These trusty messengers had been
compelled to take a most circuitous route to avoid
falling into the enemy's hands ; and the bearer of
his royal master's commission to the Marquis of
Montrose, to act as ' Lieutenant - Governor, and
General of all His Majesty's forces' in Scotland, Sir
•Robert Spottiswoode, who was devotedly attached
to the King, had reached Glasgow from Wales by
the Isle of Man, the Highlands of Scotland, and
through Athol.
The Vow of Montrose. 155
The royal commission was formally presented to
the Marquis at a review of his whole troops, under
the royal standard. Montrose was also empowered
in the King's name to convene a Parliament at
Glasgow.
In the meantime, Montrose had sent two of his
most attached adherents, the Master of Napier and
Colonel Nathaniel Gordon, to summon Edinburgh
to release the Royalist prisoners, and submit to the
King.
The Lieutenant's deputies were supported by the
persuasive presence of a party of warriors, who,
should the capital resist, were ordered to employ the
arguments of ' fire and the sword ' to bring it to
reason.
No such harsh measures, however, were needed.
The prisoners, among whom were the Earl of Craw-
ford, the gallant Lord Ogilvie, and several others
eminent for loyalty, were instantly released the
moment the Edinburgh authorities heard of young
Napier's errand.
The Cavaliers did not enter Edinburgh for fear of
the plague, but sent a message to the town, command-
ing it to surrender.
Such was the dread inspired by the very name of
Montrose at that time, that no servility seemed too
great to those poor bewildered burghers to show
L
156 The Fiery Cross ;. or;
their prisoners. Those whom they had but so lately
treated most severely were implored to intercede for
them to the King's lieutenant
Their two principal prisoners, Lords Crawford and
Ogilvie, advised them to submit unconditionally to
Montrose, and to send two delegates to the hero's
camp to plead their cause.
The citizens took their advice, and, accompanied
by Lords Crawford and Ogilvie, set off to- the
Cavaliers' quarters.
The Master of Napier on his road to Edinburgh
had released several of his own relations, among
them his father, wife, and sisters, on whom the
Scottish Government had wreaked their vengeance
against the royal cause.
Those unfortunate prisoners, highly delighted
when the Master of Napier released them at Linlith-
gow, all went back to Montrose.
No one could be more gracious in the hour of
triumph than Montrose. Instead of reproaching the
Edinburgh delegates, he told them that, provided
they were loyal for the future, and gave up Edin-
burgh Castle and all its arms and ammunition to
the King, as well as releasing all their prisoners,
he would intercede for them with their naturally
indignant sovereign. The deputies were perfectly
ready to promise all should be performed as Mon-
The Voiv of Montrose. 157
trose wished. They acted according to that pro-
mise just as long as the royal influence was in the
ascendant, and no longer ; for at heart they were
rank Covenanters, far from sincere in their professions
of loyalty to Montrose and his cause.
In the meantime, Montrose had sent Colkeitoch
and Drummond of Balloch to quell a rising among
the western Covenanters, under the Lords Cassilis,
Eglinton, and Glencairn.
When, however, the Cavaliers reached the west of
Scotland, they found that, far from offering resistance,
the counties of Ayr and Renfrew were all anxious to
seal past offences, and take the oath of allegiance.
Many who had been red-hot rebels were among the
most forward in their offers to Montrose ; and none
greeted Colkeitoch, lately knighted by Montrose,
more warmly than the Countess of Loudon, whose
husband was one of the first supporters of the
Covenant.
She feasted him with the best her castle could
afford, and sent her own servant back with a formal
message of respect to the Marquis. Indeed, this
lady's conduct illustrates thp effect produced all over
Scotland by the battle of Kilsyth. The Marquis had
thus every reason to expect success in his cherished
idea of joining the King on the border. There he
knew he could count on the assistance of several
158 The Fiery Cross; or,
devoted English Cavaliers, such as Sir Marmaduke
Langdale, Sir Richard Hutton, high-sheriff of York-
shire, and his relative Colonel Anthony Byerlcy, in
Durham. The last-named gentleman had indeed
already mortgaged his estates to raise a regiment
long called the * Byerley bull-dogs ' for the service of
the King.
Two things now occurred to make the success of
such a plan doubtful. Argyle and the leaders of
the Presbyterian party, although no longer the idols
of their nation, were bent on one more struggle to
destroy Montrose. Shut up in Berwick, they had
hailed with delight the arrival of General Leslie at
the head of his famous cavalry, numbering six
thousand strong.
This general had been summoned by the Cove-
nanters to redeem, if possible, the Presbyterian
cause. He was no mean adversary, for at the battle
of Marston Moor it was his troop that partly won
the day.
Montrose by this time had already sent the
Marquis of Douglas and Lord Ogilvie into Dumfries-
shire to raise fresh levies for the King. Perhaps,
had it not been for the advice of several insincere
friends, who, although they were Royalists by pro-
fession, were Covenanters at heart, our hero might
still have saved Charles by hurrying to the border
The Vow of Montrose. 159
before Leslie had had time to reach Berwick. But
he waited, and the opportunity vanished with the
delay.
In the meantime, Colkeitoch and his Highlanders
deserted the royal standard.
It was the clansmen's custom to return home after
victory, for the twofold purpose of securing their
spoil, and chanting their success among their own
people ; but Montrose knew that to lose such a
large portion of his troops at that critical moment,
would go far to rob his recent success of its fruits.
Although in the hour of battle none were so
faithful to him, Montrose's fame suffered much from
his wild and lawless Redshanks. As they were
unpaid soldiers, the Marquis was often compelled to
permit several derelictions of martial law in his
Highland followers.
He now used every argument to persuade them
to remain ; but though Macdonald, who volunteered
to lead them home, promised their speedy return,
Montrose, with his usual acuteness, saw that beneath
this desertion there was a deeper purpose, and that
the reason alleged by the Athol men, that they
must return to repair their dwellings, burnt and
injured by the Covenanters, was a mere subterfuge.
Nor was he wrong. Allaster Macdonald, now
knighted, was longing to go into Argyle's country.
i6o The Fiery Cross; or.
He burned to revenge the ancient injuries the
Campbells had inflicted on his race ; and, find-
ing that he could now command a large band,
thought the moment for revenge of private wrongs
might well be seized.
Montrose watched his departure, followed by six
hundred and twenty men, five hundred of whom
were his own clansmen ; and as they left his camp,
his eye rested upon his once faithful ofificcr for the
last time. They never met again, those two brave
men ; and with Colkeitoch's departure, the royal
cause began to fail in Scotland.
This desertion was soon followed by another.
Lord Aboyne, under pretence of convoying his
father. Lord Huntly, safely to Montrose, insisted
on retiring to the Highlands with all the Gordons.
Had Huntly, whose very name was powerful
beyond the Grampians, been above the petty
jealousy which from first to last hindered him from
joining the Marquis, the result of the civil wars of
Scotland had been different ; and Charles the First
safe among his faithful Highlanders, the crime of
regicide might even then have been spared to
England.
It must have been but with very dim hopes of
success that Montrose at last started for the border.
In vain had he, with all his persuasive eloquence,
The Vow of Montrose. i6i
tried to retain Lord Aboyne if ' only for one week
loneer.' That nobleman, for some hidden reasons of
his own, however, was bent on going home ; and
after seeing Macdonald and the Athol men march
off, the Marquis had to confront the fact when the
Gordons too had departed. Independent of the
Ogilvies, a small but faithful band, and the Irish
brigade, about five to seven hundred in number, his
army was no longer a well-disciplined one, but a
mere mob of untried recruits.
Nevertheless, he set off and joined Douglas and
Ogilvie, marching past Edinburgh and through the
Lothians, till he reached Dumfriesshire. Douglas
and Ogilvie had been very unsuccessful in their
expedition in the southern part of Scotland, for
the greater number of its inhabitants were devoted
to the Covenant, and violently opposed to the
monarchy.
Doubtless, as Montrose marched along, he hoped
to hear that either Charles himself, or Digby, Earl
of Bristol, who had always strenuously promoted
the Marquis's cause at Court, was ready to effect a
junction with him ; for numerous letters had passed
between Charles and his Scottish lieutenant, in all
of which the latter was urged to rely on the loyalty
of the border lords, and to expect *a party of horse'
frpm England.
1 62 The Fiery Cross; or^
Charles, irresolute and wavering, had lost by his
want of firmness his last chance. While intending
to meet Montrose, he had lingered recruiting at
Doncaster, and even missed an excellent opportunity
of intercepting Leslie while on his northward road.
Now Leslie was close to Montrose with a splendid
troop of cavalry ; and the Marquis, deserted by his
Highlanders, was advancing, in the vain hope of
meeting the King.
Perhaps, after so many brilliant victories, our
hero may have been too confident of success, and
neglected the usual precautions of war ; at any rate,
Leslie was close upon him, while Montrose, busy in
despatching letters to the King, was falsely assured
by his scouts no enemy was to be seen.
On the Cavaliers' road south they had met the
Earl of Traquair, a nobleman secretly attached to
Argyle's party, although at that time professing
devotion to the royal cause.
Unaware of his real sentiments, and misled by his
professions, Montrose confided to Traquair all his
plans ; and while the latter promised to keep him
informed of Leslie's movements, he had treacher-
ously determined to betray them.
Traquair also, to mask his real sentiments, sent
Montrose a troop of horse, under his eldest son,
Lord Linton.
The Vow of Montrose. i6
J
Montrose was much disappointed that the Lords
Home and Roxburghe neither sent messages to him
as he passed through their country, nor invited him
to their houses.
The Marquis, in no mood to overlook a sh'ght,
was on the point of paying them a visit, with every
intention of enforcing their adherence to the royal
cause by the sword, when he heard that they had
been carried off as prisoners by Leslie.
This was nothing but a ruse on the part of those
noblemen ; for they had prevailed on Leslie to take
them prisoners, purposely to avoid the wrath of
Montrose, and at the same time to keep in both
with the Covenanters and Cavaliers.
Finding that no reinforcements reached him from
Charles, and that the border lords were so tardy and
indeed averse to joining him, Montrose determined
to abandon his scheme and retreat to the Highlands.
He therefore marched to Jedburgh, and thence to
Selkirk, and at length encamped on the plain of
Philiphaugh, where, being sheltered by a wood, he
fondly hoped that the camp was protected from a
surprise.
Misled by Traquair's perfidy, — for, instead of
sending Montrose word of Leslie's whereabouts, that
nobleman has been accused of sending word to the
Covenanters of the Marquis's weakness in point of
164 The Fiery Cross; or^
numbers, and his intention of retreating to the
Highlands, — our hero, instead of remaining with
the main body of his army, took up his own quarters
in a village on the opposite side of the river, in com-
pany with Lords Napier, Airlie, and Crawford.
Unfortunately for the Cavaliers, a dense mist
favoured General Leslie's advance, and prevented
the Royalists from seeing his approach.
The Covenanters, guided by a peasant, reached
the fatal plain of Philiphaugh, along the southern
side of the Tweed, across the River Ettrick, and
were almost between Montrose's headquarters and
his camp before the latter even knew they were in
that part of the country.
Unmindful of danger, and his heart still bent on
joining the King, Montrose had sat up the whole of
the previous night engaged in writing despatches to
urcre Charles to send him instant help. Personal
supervision of his soldiers being impossible that
night, the Marquis had confided the duty of posting
the sentinels to his captains, while the first sound of
firing next day that struck upon his ear, as Leslie's
trumpets sounded, and his brigades attacked the
Royalists, came too late to save him. All the
honour he had won at Kilsyth, and the position he
had gained, was fated to vanish away in the mists of
Philiphaugh.
The Vow of Montrose. 1 6 5
He flung himself upon his horse and rushed to the
camp, where he found his soldiers alarmed and sur-
prised, and in the greatest disorder. Orders having
been given the night before to prepare for a day's
march, the Cavaliers, at the moment of the attack,
were preparing for the road.
Half an hour before daybreak, the steel-clad
Presbyterian cavalry had attacked the Royalists'
right wing. It was a damp September morning,
the thirteenth of the month (1645). In spite of
those well-disciplined troops having more than half
the advantage on their side over Montrose's raw
levies, they were at first repulsed. Again, once more
the Royalists threw those iron brigades into disorder ;
but when they found that as soon as one regiment re-
tired another came up, they threw down their arms
and begged for quarter, or fled for their lives.
Hapless Montrose ! In vain, at the head of thirty
Cavaliers, principally Scottish gentlemen of noble
and gentle blood, he fought with desperate valour —
the day was lost beyond redemption. He would
have fought on till he fell, had not his friends
dragged him from that fatal plain.
' Live ! live ! ' cried Douglas, *to redeem the day.*
It is said that at the very moment Queen Hen-
rietta Maria, a fugitive in Paris, was oflering up a
thanksgiving for the victory of Kilsyth, its victor
1 66 The Fiery Cross; or^
was retreating, and his whole army, except a very-
small remnant, slain or prisoners. His way was
up the Yarrow, and across Minch Moor towards
Peebles, where he rested a few hours.
Overtaking a regiment of his own men, and re-
joined, to his great joy, by Lords Crawford and
Airlie, who had escaped by another road, Montrose,
broken-hearted yet not despairing, crossed the Clyde,
and, at the head of about two hundred men, retired
to the Highlands.
The Covenanters had not only treacherously
slaughtered almost the whole of Montrose's Irish
brigade, after they had surrendered on the promise
of quarter, but amid open rejoicings, in which the
canting Calvinistic clergyman quoted Scripture, they
executed a numerous company of prisoners, number-
ing among them some of Scotland's most honoured
names. The royal standards were, however, not
destined to fall into their hands, for both were
gallantly saved and given back to the * great Mar-
quis ' by the brave men who carried them. Two ol
the captains of the Irish brigade, named O'Ryan
and Lachlin, were reserved for a public execution at
Edinburgh, where (when Leslie, returning to Lothian
after Philiphaugh, had liberated the leaders of the
Covenant shut up in Berwick) their sentence was
publicly carried out on the Castle Hill,
71ie Vow of Montrose. 167
A meaner soul than that animating our hero's
body would, crushed by such a blow, have suc-
cumbed under fortune and abandoned the King's
cause. Not so Montrose. He redeemed the day
with noble fortitude. A mind that can support
with calmness the blows of fate, ever rises superior
to misfortune.
As he and his sorrowing little band slowly wended
their way, Montrose argued thus : ' Are not the
Highlanders,' said he, ' the very bones and sinews of
the land ? Shall I despair when I can regain all I
have lost ? 'Twas but a part of my army who were
there. I will never despair of a good cause! By
heavens ! no ! '
With such thoughts he schemed as he went along,
and determined to make another effort for the King.
The Marquis of Douglas and Lord Airlie he sent
far into Angus to recruit there, and Lord Erskine
into Mar for the same purpose.
Sir John Dalziel, who among all his friends at
Philiphaugh had been the most urgent that he
should save himself by flight, and who was brother
to the nobleman who at Naseby led Charles the
First from the field, he sent to Lord Carnegie, urging
him to delay no longer, but to join him with all the
Carnegies he could muster at his back,
• Montrose's influence was still powerful witli the
1 68 The Fiery Cross; or.
Redshanks ; but harvest, although it was late in the
year, was still ungarnered, and their houses, they
urged, still needed repair ; yet, at the sound of their
leader's voice, they could not refuse to follow him.
Four hundred enlisted under his banner, and the
whole of the Athol country promised him its full
support should the royal cause again revive suffi-
ciently to enable the Marquis to march southwards.
Montrose established himself at Braemar, where he
did all he could to induce Macdonald and Aboyne,
whose desertion had been the primary cause of his
disasters, to rejoin him.
All Montrose's entreaties could not induce the
Marquis of Huntly to throw his vast influence into
the scale. The Earl of Aboyne indeed promised
aid, and later on joined Montrose, but his father
kept aloof, unable to forget or to forgive his ancient
grudge against the Marquis.
With his mind harassed and perplexed by the
various checks he received, Montrose was plunged
into deeper grief by hearing how the Covenanters
had massacred a number of helpless women and
children of his camp after Philiphaugh, and of the
sad fate of the noblemen and gentlemen who had
been captured in their flight.
In the middle of the great distress that Montrose
felt at feeling that, do what he could, no effort of
The Vow of Montrose. 169
his could save these faithful adherents, he received a
message from Charles, urging him to rejoin Digby,
for that that nobleman had raised a body of horse,
and was nearing the border.
With conflicting feelings Montrose, at the head of
about twelve hundred foot and three hundred horse,
hurried southwards to save, if possible, by a victory
over Leslie, the lives of those who still survived the
vengeance of his Covenanters. O'Ryan and Lachlin
he knew were already executed ; and Sir William
RoUock, having incurred Argyle's displeasure, had
also met his doom.
Aboyne, although accompanied by a very small
party of Gordons, none of whom were steady ad-
herents, and most of whom deserted from time to
time under various excuses, descended into the
Lowlands with Montrose ; and towards the end of
October our hero was close to Glasgow, where the
Covenanters at that very moment were engaged in
trying Montrose's friends.
I say ' trying,' although the word was a mockery,
where fanaticism had already decided that death,
and death alone, should be the doom of those hap-
less men. In vain they defended themselves, as
in the case of President Spottiswoode, by bringing
Scripture forward in their defence, saying, ' Wouldest
thou smite those whom thou hast taken captive with
1 70 The Fiery Cross ; or,
thy sword and thy bow in the field ?' (2 Kings vi.)
The Covenanting clergy would only listen to
texts that seemed to sanction the shedding of
an enemy's blood, and one after the other the
loyalists met their fate.
Sir Robert Spottiswoode maintained his innocence
to the last, and after — in an affecting letter of fare-
well — commending his children to Montrose's care,
died, as a Christian soldier should, with firmness
and heroism, in the early part of January 1646;
Montrose having again retreated into the High-
lands.
In spite of the ascendancy obtained by the Pres-
byterian clergy over the minds of their fanatic
followers, when Sir Robert mounted the scaffold
to meet his doom, the crowd below it assembled
to witness the murder could not disguise their dis-
content ; for the victim was well known to be a
most honourable man, and a very learned judge.
Yet not even could his enemies leave him. alone
in his last hour. A Presbyterian minister attended
him from the prison to the block. When that
person saw the effect that Sir Robert's calm and
dignified bearing had produced on the crowd, he
turned to the Provost and begged him to order
the soldiers to drown his last words with the noise
of their drums.
The Vow of Montrose. 1 7 r
Perfectly unruffled, Sir Robert Spottiswoode, when
he saw that the Covenanting officials were deter-
mined to prohibit him from speaking, calmly drew
a paper out of his pocket and threw it to the
crowd. It was eagerly picked up and perused,
and contained his last speech and address.
In vain his Presbyterian attendant would have
thrust his unwelcome exhortations on the dying
man. Sir Robert turned calmly away, and with a
pious ejaculation, in which he prayed that his soul
might soon be with his ' merciful Saviour,' hastened
to meet his dread doom by giving the signal to the
executioner to finish his work speedily.
Such a great example was nobly followed, and
most of the Cavaliers afterwards executed met death
as calmly and firmly.
Added to the poignant grief with which Mon-
trose's noble heart was torn when he heard of the
fate of his friends, our hero felt overwhelmed with
the repeated failure of all his attempts to gain
over Huntly to his side.
The chief of the Gordons held back from join-
ing Montrose with an obstinate inflexibility that
seemed to defy the most persuasive arguments.
Montrose determined to make another last eftbrt
to conciliate Huntly. He first sent two of his
friends to see what effect the display of the King's
1 72 The Fiery Cross ; or,
commission to Montrose would have upon the ob-
durate chief.
The latter, with scornful impatience, flung back
all that they urged, when Montrose's messengers
showed him Charles's mandate. ' I understand,'
cried Huntly, ' the King's business and commands
better than do either you or Montrose ! As to
Montrose, neither I nor my children will have
anything to do with him.'
The messengers brought back word how ill they '
had succeeded in their mission. The failure of
their endeavours did not, however, deter Montrose.
As Huntly would not listen to his agents, he de-
termined to see him himself
Before Montrose set off to Gordon Castle, he
tried, by sending Sir John Dalziel to Huntly, to
avoid thrusting himself into the latter's presence,
for our hero well knew that Huntly had neither
forgiven nor forgotten his resentment against him.
Sir John Dalziel, after urging weighty reasons
to persuade Huntly to coalesce with Montrose,
entreated him to see our hero ; but he could not
induce him to consent to a conference, and sent
him back to Montrose, who was at that time in
Athol.
Montrose was a man of sudden impulses. Deter-
mined to lose no chance of rescuing Charles, he
The Vow of Montrose. 173
put aside all feelings of pride and resentment,
and hastening through deep snows, across the wild
regions of the Highlands of Angus, — for it was in
the month of December, — he suddenly appeared in
Strathbogie.
Yet even when Huntly heard that Montrose was
close to his abode, he was resolute in his determina-
tion of avoiding an interview. He fled to a castle
on the Spey, and believed himself safe from the
presence of Montrose.
The fact was, that Huntly not only resented the
ancient grievance he had against Montrose, but he
for other reasons dreaded any explanations with
him. There is no one we fear so much to meet
as those whom we have ill-treated. The large
pieces of artillery that the year before Montrose
had buried, to be safe from his enemies, Huntly's
sons had surreptitiously dug up and carried off to
their own castles, besides appropriating much am-
munition taken by Montrose from his enemies.
Such acts, together with many other circum-
stances, such as levying taxes unknown to Montrose,
under pretence of continuing the war, had all shown
the Marquis that Huntly had made up his mind
to defy his authority.
However, Montrose, bent only on effecting his
own end, put aside all his own private feelings,
174 The Fiery Cross ; or^
and set off one night with very few attendants, and
surprised Huntly by appearing suddenly before him.
We do not hear from history how these noble
Cavaliers met, but the result showed that, in the
presence of Montrose's pleading face and eloquence,
the great chief's ill-humour vanished. At any rate,
all was sunshine between them for the moment.
Huntly gave Montrose his hand, and they sat down
to plan further operations against the King's oppo-
nents. They concerted a system of military action
together, and laid plans for besieging Inverness.
Montrose, they agreed, was to approach Inverness
by Strathspey, Huntly by the sea-coast.
This apparently friendly understanding between
the two rival chiefs highly delighted the Gordons,
most of whom were warmly devoted to the royal
cause, and had only held back from fear of offend-
ing Huntly. We shall see what that nobleman's
promises were worth, and how he kept his word
with Montrose.
The Marquis, however, was too loyal a spirit to
suspect that their agreement would not be carried
out. He set off in high spirits to besiege Inverness,
sending Graham of Inchbrakie, and John Drum-
mond of Balloch, to take possession of the Athol
district, with strict orders that, if any revolt took
place, it should be promptly suppressed.
The Vow of Monti'ose. 175
The Highlanders in those parts were all thoroughly-
devoted to the King, and were therefore quite ready-
to show their readiness to obey his lieutenants.
Macdonald, whom none of our hero's efforts had
succeeded in drawing back to the royal cause,
was waging a war of fire and sword against the
Campbells in their own country. Driven by fear
of Colkeitoch from the west, many of the latter clan
fled into Athol. They were wild, desperate men,
who, driven from their own homes, had recourse to
violence for the means of subsistence. They joined
the Stewarts, Menzieses, and others who were of
Argyle's party, and formed a formidable band of
fifteen hundred men.
Their first hostile act was directed against the
Macgregors and Macnabs, who had sided with
Montrose ; and they then set off to invade Athol.
At the head of only seven hundred men, Graham
of Inchbrakie met them close to Callander, and
after defeating them in battle, forced their anta-
gonists to retreat to Stirling, although a great many
were slain in their flight.
Montrose was not so victorious. He was doomed
to bitter disappointment. Infuriated at hearing of
the death not only of Sir Robert Spottiswoode, but
how with unremitting vengeance Argyle and his
friends were murdering his friends one after another.
176 The Fiery Cross ; or,
few escaping — except Lord Ogilvie, who got off by
exchanging clothes with his sister — Montrose, after
making a vain attempt to engage Leslie in battle,
marched to Inverness.
When Montrose and Huntly agreed to besiege
that place, it was ill provided with provisions.
From its natural position it seemed inaccessible ;
but when Montrose arrived before its castle, he
found that the Covenanters had managed to convey
into its garrison stores of every kind. Added to
his grief for the loss of so many of his friends on
the scaffold, Montrose had a difficult part to play
with his own immediate followers.
With fierce and savage cries they entreated Mon-
trose to overawe their enemies by a display of
cruelty towards the prisoners still in their hands.
They openly demanded blood for blood, and would
have persuaded Montrose, had that been possible,
to treat his captives with as much brutality as the
Covenanters had treated their friends. Montrose
has frequently been called 'cruel,' but he did not
exhibit any claim to the character by the way in
which he answered his followers.
* You are right,' he said to them, * that the blood
of honourable and innocent men calls for vengeance ;
let us get it not basely, but as becomes valiant
soldiers. These men, our prisoners, have nothing
The Vow of Alontrose. 177
to do with the murders that have been committed.
They gave themselves into our hands, beHeving that
they might safely rely on our honour to observe the
laws of war ; so let us not imitate the bad example
set us by the Covenanters, by making promises and
breaking them, but only contend with them for
bravery and virtue.'
The importunities of his friends were not more
harrowing to our hero's noble spirit than the con-
duct of Huntly. Incapable of a base breach of
honour, he was slow to realize that, far from carry-
ing out his word, Huntly, having crossed the Spey,
was trifling his time away in Moray, instead of
saving the royal cause by a hearty co-operation
with Montrose.
He could not brook the idea of being second in
anything to Montrose. Acting upon the supposi-
tion that he was still entitled to proceed by the
King's original commission, instead of deferring to
the instructions of Montrose, he struck out for him-
self an independent line of action, and, wasting all
his strength, neglected to guard that part of the
country which Montrose had impressed on him the
necessity of watching.
In consequence of Huntly's neglect, the Cove-
nanters managed to convey food, arms, and am-
munition into Inverness, so that when Montrose
1 y8 The Fieiy Cross ; <?r,
encamped before it he found the place prepared to
resist him. Had it not been for Lord Huntly's
want of ijood faith, it had probably surrendered
immediately.
He lay before Inverness for weeks, till at last,
hearing that General Middleton was advancing
upon him with fourteen hundred well-disciplined
men from Aberdeen, he sent an urgent message to
Huntly, entreating him either to join him directly ;
or, if he preferred it, Montrose proposed to fall back,
for he doubted not he would soon overthrow Mid-
dleton's army with their united forces.
Our hero made the last proposition because his
scouts had brought him word that the Gordons'
country was likely to be wasted and ravaged by
the fast approaching enemy, and he doubted
Huntly's willingness to leave it unprotected.
' Tell Montrose,' was Huntly's scornful reply, ' I
need no assistance from him to drive the enemy
from my border. I will attend to my own matters
myself
Thus abandoned, in reality if not in words, by
the fickle Huntly, no other course remained to
Montrose than to retire before his enemy. There-
fore, by taking a circuitous route, he and his army
regained Strathspey in safety.
Huntly's defection, sad as it was and fatal to the
The Vow of Hlontrose. 1 79
royal cause, was not so base and treacherous as the
conduct of Lord Lewis Gordon. Under pretence of
being anxious to befriend their leader, he beguiled
the officers and men left to guard the principal fords
of the River Spey, and drew oft all Montrose's scouts
to enable Middleton's army to cross safely into
Moray.
The bait took ; and it was only when Lord Lewis
had secret intelligence conveyed to him, that he dis-
missed the officers from so ill-timed a feast. As
they were leaving his castle he jeered at them, and
told them they had better hasten to Montrose, * who
would have a sharper bout of it than he had had at
Selkirk!'
Fortunately Montrose was not entrapped, as the
crafty Gordon had hoped he might be (for, ever
changing sides, trusted by neither, that fickle and
unprincipled young nobleman had now gone over
to Argyle's party) ; and by hurried marches our
hero escaped into Strathspey. But Lord Huntly's
defection carried weight with it, in spite of the
indignation it inspired in the minds of even his
own clan. Montrose realized the truth of the pro-
verb, that it is difficult to prop up a failing cause ;
for such, in spite of the honesty, valour, and devo-
tion of many of its adherents, the cause of royalty
in Scotland really was.
i8o The Fiery Cross ; or,
Huntly, anxious to show that he was acting inde-
pendently of Montrose, attacked and took Aberdeen;
but the easy conquest of a place more loyal than
disloyal to Charles, did the royal cause no good, for
Huntly adopted no measures to follow up his success.
The Earl of Seaforth had been lately brought
over to the royal side. When he saw how Huntly
was playing Montrose false, the crafty Earl began
to think that perhaps he had better make peace
with Argyle ; which, in an underhand way, he
accordingly did.
The treachery and desertion of his friends sorely
tried our hero's generous spirit. A deeper trial was,
however, at hand for Montrose. At the time that
he lay before Inverness, Charles, infatuated to the
last, was about to take the step that for ever sealed
his doom.
Across the border, along the hills and dales of that
heather-clad land, a messenger was speeding with a
letter from Charles to Montrose to tell him of his
plans.
But before telling you how Montrose received the
news, I must digress to describe the poor King's
position in England during all the time our hero was
lighting for him in Scotland.
The Scottish army had marched into England,
bent on carrying into execution a coalition with the
The Vow of Montrose. i8i
English republicans ; not so much because their
leaders approved of their contest with Charles, as
because they desired to spread the doctrines of the
Covenant over the two kingdoms.
Aided by such powerful allies, the battle of
Marston Moor was fought and won ; and in all pro-
bability, but for the victories gained by Montrose,
the unhappy monarch would have given up the
game, as one played out and lost.
The gleam of hope inspired by the Marquis's
success in Scotland deferred the evil hour. Charles
temporized, treated, and then broke off negotiations
with the Parliament, whose army at that time had
passed into the hands of the unscrupulous but able
Cromwell.
After the battle of Naseby, the King took refuge
at Oxford. The more moderate leaders, such as
Essex and others of the republican party in England,
who had taken up arms against their King out of
sincere affection to their country, and were unpre-
pared to proceed to greater lengths, had been
displaced by Oliver Cromwell. Sir Thomas Fairfax
was the General, and Cromwell the Lieutenant-
general, of the army that defeated Charles at
Naseby.
In vain a Westminster conference for three years
had been discussing the forms of worship that
1 82 The Fiery Cross; or,
were to replace the time-honoured liturgy of the
Reformed Catholic Church of England. The divines
assembled there could not agree with the Presby-
terians owing to the Independents. That party, who
principally composed the army that followed Crom-
well, were for entirely abolishing the clerical cha-
racter. As they were a formidable sect, and made a
powerful stand against any who did not agree with
their peculiar views, — which were, that any congre-
gation of Christians meeting together formed a
Church in themselves, independent of any religious
government, — the Scottish Covenanters were begin-
ning to see that their principal aim in rebelling against
Charles had failed.
At heart the Scotch have always been loyal ; and
although, blinded by fanaticism, they still detested
the King's Episcopal views, they were disgusted with
their failure, and would have withdrawn from Eng-
land, had they not still lingered in hope of securing
payment for their services and troops.
Informed by his spies of the state of matters
between the Scots and the English, Charles, almost
ruined in purse, with scarcely any army left, formed
the fatal resolution of throwing himself on the mercy
of the Scotch.
He fancied that, at the sight of their monarch, the
ancient loyalty of the race would revive ; and, on the
The Vow of Mont7'ose. 183
27th of April 1646, disguised as a postillion, he left
Oxford, and after eleven days' travelling presented
himself before the Scottish army, then at Newark.
So imminent was the danger of his falling into the
hands of the Parliamentary army, that the monarch
of all England, accompanied by only two faithful
friends, rode behind the baggage of one of them, the
better to escape detection.
The English Parliament had not calculated on this
sudden movement, and proclaimed it to be instant
death to any one who should harbour or conceal
the unhappy King. The Scots, unprepared for his
arrival, for a while treated him respectfully, although
virtually he was their prisoner. Before taking so
momentous a step, he had written to our hero a
letter, dated the i8th of April 1646, in which he
declared his motives, and confidence in the Scots,
urging Montrose to lose no time in joining him.
Although externally the King received all due
respect when he reached the Covenanters' camp, he
had to submit to ill-disguised insolence from the
leaders of the party.
He who had hoped 'for freedom in conscience
and honour,' was imperiously requested by the
president of the committee, Earl Lothian, 'to
sign the Covenant,' and ' bid James Graham lay
down his arms.' The King in a dignified manner
184 The Fiery Cross ; or,
told Lothian, * He who made you an Earl made
James Graham a Marquis.'
It was indeed a hard lot to bear the taunts levelled
at him by the fanatics of the Covenant, but Charles
Stuart could bear the burden of his fate with
grandeur. The anecdote of one of the Presbyterians,
when preaching before him, giving out the fifty-
second Psalm, is too well known to bear repetition ;
but when the King was anxious to give the watch-
word himself to the Scottish sentinels, Leslie bluntly
told him ' to spare himself the trouble, as he was the
elder soldier of the two.'
Persecution, however, effected the ends of the
King's enemies. Although in giving himself up he
had bargained for the safety of all who had fought
for him during those fearful civil wars, he was not
permitted to see his faithful Montrose again. The
last concession was wrung from him ; he consented
to give up those fortresses still holding out for him,
and sent word to the old Lord Worcester to sur-
render Raglan Castle to the Puritans.
The Lord of Raglan was sixty-nine years old, but
he had a high and lofty spirit. For weeks the
Welsh fortress held out ; till at last, provisions fail-
ing. Lord Worcester was compelled to yield to his
enemies, and surrender. The last place that held
out for Charles the First was Raglan Castle. Its
The Vow of Montrose. 185
owner left it with the mien of a victor, although
he was never again to gaze on its princely halls.
His adversary Fairfax could not but admire his
heroism.
The Marquis of Worcester had lost all he pos-
sessed for Charles ; but the brave old man bore his
misfortunes with dignity and fortitude, — true to his
principle, faithful to his King, and believing that
' noblesse oblige.'
But the fall of Raglan was not till the middle of
August 1646, and therefore much later than the
period at which his Scottish champion — a cham-
pion as true as the Marquis of Worcester — received
the news of Charles's ill-advised surrender to the
Covenanters.
One sacrifice more did the Scots still require of
Charles. They had taken him to Newcastle, from
which place he was forced to write a letter to
Montrose, dated the i6th of May 1646, in which he
commanded him to disband his army and retire to
France.
When Montrose received the King's letter, he
was busily engaged in making preparations to carry
on the war. He was doing all that lay in his power,
in spite of Huntly's previous conduct, to induce the
Gordons to join him. With Charles's letter in his
hand, charging him so plainly to give up the contest
1 86 The Fiery Ci^oss ; or,
and abandon all hope of saving his King, Montrose,
downcast, astonished, and dismayed, was sure that
such a command had been extorted from, and not
freely given by, the King. He felt overwhelmed.
How would his soldiers fare if he obeyed } Fear
for their fate, anxiety for Charles, and, above all,
that unflinching devotion to duty, which from first
to last had marked his career, all in turn disturbed
his mind ; but at last anxiety and fear for the hap-
less prince, no longer a free agent, predominated ;
and, actuated by a wish to consult all who had sup-
ported the royal cause in Scotland, he resolved to
call a great meeting of the Scottish Cavaliers that
they might consult together.
Strange to say, it was Sir John Hurry, a former
enemy, who, together with Sir John Innes, were
despatched at this critical moment by the Marquis
to Huntly.
Our hero, laying aside in the danger of their
common cause all personal feelings, desired his
friends, both of whom were on very good terms
with Huntly, to tell the chief of the Gordons that
he would ' go to his castle ' — * if he thought fit.'
'The King,' replied Huntly, 'had sent him letters
to the same effect. He intended to obey the King's
orders. The King's commands were decided ; and
there was nothing to consult about'
The Vow of Montrose. 187
In vain Sir John Hurry and his companion urged
that Montrose was as anxious as Huntly to obey
his sovereign's commands implicitly, but that he was
in doubt ' as to whether or not they had not been
extorted from him by force,' and that 'it behoved
them all to provide for their adherents.' The
peevish Huntly, whose jealousy of Montrose, and
lukewarm conduct, had been the main cause that
the whole of the north part of Scotland had not
unanimously declared for the King, would give no
other answer. ' He had decided for himself,' he said,
and * would have nothing to do with anybody else.'
To the King's letter Montrose replied that he was,
as ever, ready to lay down his very life for Charles.
He entreated him to write to him fully, and to
tell him particularly whether or not he felt safe with
the Covenanters. Well mi^rht Montrose, who knew
them so well, mistrust his monarch's guardians.
Did the King, Montrose inquired, need his services .^
Did the King really bid him disband an army which
had well-nigh reconquered Scotland for him } If
so, how could he save the lives and properties of
his followers .-•
To this urgent letter our hero received no reply,
other than an official order from the English Parlia-
ment,, that he was required to lay down his arms
and disband his army.
N
1 88 The Fiery Cross ; or,
Montrose had received his commission from
Charles, and he would therefore take no orders
except from his royal master. He wrote again very
urgently ; and then the King wrote a letter, dated
the fifteenth of June 1646, in which he enjoined
Montrose to disband his troops, and retire abroad.
After receiving the King's positive commands,
Montrose no longer refused. Huntly and Aboyne
even took upon themselves to threaten Montrose, if
he hesitated any longer ; so, yielding obedience to
his sovereign, though with a heavy heart, the gallant
leader of so many victories prepared to capitulate.
Charles was intensely anxious to save Montrose,
by getting him safely out of the country. He knew
that the Covenanters, who detested Montrose, would
take advantage of the slightest delay to retaliate
on one whose, victories over them had been so ex-
emplary, and therefore urged the Marquis to lose no
time in conferring with General Middleton, who was
charged to see the terms of capitulation carried out.
About the middle of July, Montrose and Middleton
met by agreement in Angus. Close to a river, the
two opponents, enemies no longer — for Montrose
could appreciate Middleton's honest and soldierly
character — met, and for two hours discussed the
terms of capitulation. The Earl of Crawford, Sir
John Hurry, and Montrose were exempted from the
The Vow of Monti'ose. 189
general pardon, which was to be extended to all
those who had taken up arms under Montrose ; but
they were to be permitted to retire 2}oxq2.<^, provided
they sailed before the first of September. After his
conference with Middleton, Montrose, who undertook
to see that his followers carried out the terms of his
convention, and retired to their homes, determined
to be as loyal to his word as he had been to his
King, and to immediately disband his Redshanks.
His meeting with Middleton took place on the
22d of July 1646, Eight days later he took leave
of his followers at Rattray, in Angus.
Montrose was then just thirty-four years of age, in
the prime of life ; young enough to keenly feel the
disappointments of his position, yet old enough to
bear them with manly fortitude. He tried to comfort
his men, by telling them that he trusted an honour-
able peace was close at hand, and that as long as
the King was saved by their submission, the sacri-
fices made by himself and his followers would be
light and easily borne ; but at heart he was any-
thing but sanguine.
With all the enthusiasm and devotion of their
race, the Highlanders cast themselves at Montrose's
feet, begging him to permit them to accompany him
into exile. Such a request it was impossible to
grant.
I Qo The Fiery Cross ; or,
* Farewell ! and farewell ! ' cried Montrose, as he
tore himself with deep emotion from the kneeling
men ; and riding slowly away, he and the few
chosen companions of his exile passed out of sight.
A few words will tell the remainder of this part of
the sad story.
The Irish brigade, commanded by Lord Crawford,
who was proscribed with our hero, returned to Ire-
land, and Lord Airlie and others of the Marquis's
truest friends returned to their own homes.
Thus ended Montrose's gallant but ineffectual
campaign for his King. It had not, indeed, been all
in vain. That devoted little band, following with
so much devotion the chivalrous and high-minded
Montrose, have left to their descendants and their
country the picture of a noble and disinterested
attempt made by gallant faithful men in defence of
a principle — as they believed — of right against
might,
Montrose's dangers did not quite end on that
farewell day. The Covenanters in Edinburgh and
Glasgow thought that General Middleton had been
far too lenient in his agreement. They longed for
some apparent breach of the convention that they
might seize the gallant Marquis, and carry him to
the scaffold ; but his life was to be spared a while.
He was destined to act another part in the page of
The Vozv of Montrose. 1 9 1
history. He hurried home to Old Montrose to pre-
pare for his exile. Strange to say, Sir John Hurry,
his former enemy, but now his firmest friend, was
the only companion permitted by Montrose to ac-
company him.
The King acknowledged Montrose's services in a
very grateful letter, and especially impressed on him
the necessity of strictly adhering to the date fixed
for his departure, although he also bid him ' linger as
long' as he possibly could. Perchance the hopeless
monarch dreaded his faithful servant's absence, yet
knew that were he ' to linger,' his fate might be
sealed by his enemy's implacable fury.
In the treaty effected between Charles and his
subjects, one article had especially stipulated for the
Marquis's departure. According to that treaty, the
ship and all its equipments for the voyage were to
be provided in good time by the Edinburgh com-
mittee.
The time for his embarkation drew on. Montrose
had bidden his friends farewell. He had arrived at
a port in Angus, from which he was to depart ; and,
attended by a few friends and servants, was ready
to obey the sentence of exile that had been passed
upon him.
It was by no means, however, the intention of the
Covenanters to allow him to escape so easily. No
192 The Fiery Cross; or,
doubt among their number there were many honour-
able and high-minded men ; but there were others
who were eager to force Montrose to break his
agreement, trusting in that way they might entrap
him. They hated the idea of his escaping their
fury ; they thirsted for his blood.
The Covenanters tried to induce several who pro-
fessed friendship to the Marquis, but were enemies
at heart, to flatter the great hero of the Scottish
civil wars.
' 'Twere a pity,' they urged, * so gallant a soldier
should be sent into exile. If, by chance, the King
could not come to terms with the English, who would
he want but Montrose to fight his battles } '
The Marquis knew too well the value of such
arguments. So, after taking a sad and long farewell
of his home at Old Montrose, and of such friends as
could not accompany him, he repaired in August to
the given rendezvous. When he got there, however,
no ship was to be seen. The day was rapidly draw-
ing nigh, on which, according to the treaty, he was
to quit his native land ; but the promised vessel that
was to bear him safely from its shores had not
arrived ! Was there not treachery somewhere }
At last, on the 31st of August, a ship arrived at
the haven of Montrose.
It was, as the Marquis soon discovered, ordered to
The Vow of Montrose. 193
convey him to a place appointed by the commis-
sioners, the name of which the captain insolently
boasted was only known to himself. He was a
Covenanter of a most violent kind ; and when the
Marquis told him that he was ready to embark, he
merely replied that the vessel would not be fit for
sea for some days, and that he was afraid to put off,
till the ship, which was a very old and cranky one,
had been properly refitted and victualled for its
voyage.
The crew on board this wretched bark were as
ill-conditioned and surly as their captain. What
was the Marquis to do.'' To hesitate Avas, as h^
well knew, to be lost. The mouth of the Esk was
watched by English men-of-war, and our hero re-
cognised the difficulties of his position. Those
friends who had accompanied him to the place of
embarkation were all anxious to persuade him that
his only chance of safety lay in an immediate return
into the Highlands.
The captain of the ship provided by the Cove-
nanters, they argued, was evidently bent on pre-
venting his departure, by throwing every obstacle in
his way.
The ocean swarmed with men-of-war eager to
seize him if he set sail too late, and the chances of
escape among the hills of Badenoch were more
194 ^'^^ Fiery Cross ; or,
numerous than his chances of getting' off by sea.
Montrose reflected that if he gave the smallest
handle to his enemies, the King's life might be
endangered ; so, with all the generosity of his nature,
he resolved, come what might, to keep his word, and
depart as soon as he could. ^
Fortunately a Norwegian bark was lying in the
port of Stonehaven. A bargain was quickly made,
and Montrose immediately sent off Sir John Hurry,
Mr. Drummond, his brother Henry, his chaplain,
and a few other friends and servants, and ordered
them all to set sail for Norway ; which they ac-
cordingly did, on the third of September 1646.
Having provided for his friends, he then effected
his own escape in disguise.
The very evening that they set sail, passing for a
servant in attendance on his faithful chaplain, Mr.
Wood, Montrose hailed a small fishing smack, and
bid the boatman carry him and his companion out
to sea. The wind was fair, and the little bark,
carrying in so humble a guise the great Scottish
Cavalier, drifted out with the tide of the harbour,
none suspecting how precious a freight it bore away.
As he watched the receding shores of that Scot-
land for whose sake he had dared and won, and
dared and lost so much, Montrose little thought
how and when he was to see it again ! He and his
The Vozu of Montrose. 195
chaplain reached a vessel bound for Norway in
safety, and dismissing the little wherry which had
saved their lives, were soon afterwards safely on
their way to Norway.
Thus ended the first part of our hero's story, and
the civil war in Scotland in favour of King Charles
the First.
Well might his disbanded soldiers, who, in spite
of promises, were still persecuted for the love they
had borne him,
• Be shaken
With the weight of such a blow.
He was gone — their prince, their idol,
Whom they loved and worshipped so S "
To return — how ?
^■^
s-
^^Urp.-
CHAPTER VI.
* Great, good, and just, could I but rate
My grief and thy too rigid fate,
I'd weep the world in such a strain
As it should deluge once again. '
— Marquis of Montrose.
■IRTUALLY a prisoner, how fared the un-
happy King after the departure of Mon-
trose ?
The Independents were his greatest enemies, for
they were republicans equally in politics and in
religion. They longed to overthrow the King, but
felt compelled to keep up an outward appearance of
decency in their behaviour towards him.
Charles expressed himself willing to come to
terms with his subjects ; but the conditions they
proposed for his acceptance were hard indeed.
They only accorded him ten short days to con-
sider whether he could sign the Covenant, — a step to
which, as an honourable man remembering that he
Tq6
The Vow of Montrose. 197
had taken the coronation oath, the King was most
averse. Charles was, nevertheless, strongly urged
by the more moderate party in Scotland to sign that
document ; for they trusted that, if he were persuaded
to do so, he might even at that eleventh hour be
saved. Great was the triumph of the Independents
when it was openly announced that the King re-
fused their terms, while the more moderate party
dreaded, with reason, the prospect before them ; for
was it not an axe and a scaffold for the unhappy
King, so conscientiously determined not to abandon
his religious opinions .'*
Montrose, sailing away from Scotland, still schem-
ing and dreaming how best he might serve Charles,
who had entrusted him, it was alleged, with secret
instructions to serve him abroad, little knew that the
Scots were preparing to meet their financial difficul-
ties by an act of gross and shameful treachery.
The Independents longed to obtain possession of
Charles's person ; while the Scots, unable to keep
him, and disgusted by his refusal to sanction the
Presbyterian forms of religion in England as well as
Scotland, had no longer any object in guarding one
who in so evil an hour had thrown himself on their
protection. It is difficult to sufficiently condemn
either those who sold or those who bought their
monarch. The Scots, being anxious to be paid for
1 98 The Fiery Cross ; or^
their services in England, amounting to nearly two
millions, — three years' arrears, — agreed to give up the
King provided that sum were paid down to them.
This bargain was not concluded without a vehement
protest by a number of Scottish noblemen, who,
though attached to the Covenant, abhorred the
crime of selling their lawful sovereign.
The Duke of Hamilton, followed by the Earl of
Lanark, nobly voted against the crime, after cou-
rageously defending the condemned monarch.
When asked how he voted, the Earl cried : ' No !
As God shall have mercy on my soul at the great
day, rather than consent to this vote I would have
my head struck off at the Market Cross of Edin-
burgh.' When the fatal deed was done, and the
assembly had sealed Charles's fate, he exclaimed,
' This is the blackest Saturday Scotland has ever
seen ! *
Forewarned of the fact by a private letter handed
to him while playing at chess with one of his atten-
dants, Charles bore his great misfortunes with calm-
ness and self-possession.
The Scots were paid the amount of their dis-
graceful bargain ! and Charles, on the 20th of
February 1647, was handed over to the English
commissioners, and taken by them to Holmby in
Northamptonshire.
The Vow of Montrose. 1 99
It was not long before Cromwell sent an armed
band to seize the King's person.
' Your warrant/ said Charles to the officer who
removed him, when, in reply to the King's inquiry
as to who had ordered his change of residence, he
pointed through the latticed window of Holmby
House to his armed men, *is indeed written in
characters fair and legible ; ' and he then accom-
panied them in a dignified manner to the head-
quarters of the Puritan army on Triplow Heath
in Cambridgeshire. In the meantime, Montrose
landed at Bergen in Norway, and after hastening
into Denmark, with the intention of interesting the
reigning King Christian in his royal master's
troubles, crossed the Baltic, and while at Ham-
burg, heard of the shameful treaty between the
Scots and English.
He knew that Henrietta Maria, who had taken
refuge in Paris, was almost entirely governed by
her favourite. Lord Jermyn, who by no means
welcomed the idea of Montrose's presence at the
French Court. Before leaving Scotland, the Mar-
quis had endeavoured to serve Charles by organ-
izing a Northern party, who mutually promised
to protect Charles by force of arms. This ' engage-
ment,' as it was called, had been made known to
Charles, and also to the Queen.
200 The Fie7y Cross ; or,
After the downfall of all his schemes, Montrose
must have possessed great courage to dream of
another enterprise in favour of Charles ; yet even
before he quitted Scotland, he appears to have
planned a new expedition, the details of which he
sent to Queen Henrietta by his friend Lord Craw-
ford.
That nobleman reached Paris before our hero,
and his proposition, which was to raise thirty
thousand men and rescue the King, strange to say,
met with but little encouragement from Henrietta,
who was under Jermyn's influence, and whose
jealousy of Montrose made him anxious to oppose
any scheme that emanated from him.
Whatever the Queen, influenced by selfish coun-
sels, may have thought, Charles seems for some
time to have clung to the hope of escape.
Allaster MacColl did not disband his troops at
the same time as Montrose. The men he had taken
away into Argyllshire were still enlisted in the
royal favour, and supported Huntly, who, after
having refused to assist Montrose when help might
materially have aided the cause, still appeared in
arms for the Cavaliers' cause as late as December
1646, the end of the year in which Montrose left
Scotland.
Huntly, however, was -forced to retire before the
The Vow of Monh'-ose. 201
experienced troops whom the Scotch sent against
him under General Leslie. Finding himself likely
to be defeated, he fled to the mountains of Bade-
noch, whose peasantry were devoted to him. General
Leslie was well aware how unequal would be a
combat in a land where every cave and hill, if
necessary, could be turned into a fortress to defend
the chief of the Gordons. He therefore, being a
very able general, determined upon caution. He
appeared to abandon the pursuit of Huntly, and
retired to Strathbogie, which he took, as well as
the castles of Lesmore, the Bog of Gicht, and a
place called Lochtanner in Aboyne.
The capture of Ruthven in Badenoch and Inver-
lochy followed ; both fortresses were great losses
to the Highland Cavaliers. The former castle must
have been very strong ; for often, in more ancient
times, had it been gallantly defended by the Gordons.
About sixty years before it fell into Leslie's hands,
a mighty chief, Lauchlan Mackintosh, head of the
Clanchattan clan, had tried in vain to take it,
and fell wounded in the attempt ; so that when
Leslie had garrisoned it, and left Middleton in
charge of the province, he thought he might safely
pursue MacCoU into Argyllshire.
In spite of the almost impregnable position of the
country, MacColl, brave and courageous, but rash,
202 The Fiery Cross; or,
foolishly allowed his enemies to get through a pass
into Kintyre, which placed his foe, well supported
with cavalry, in as good a position as himself.
After a long battle, MacColl, accompanied by
almost all his men, retreated to the sea-shore, where
they soon took to their boats and retired safely
into the Western Islands.
The unhappy remnant left by MacColl retreated
to a fort called Dunavertie. It was a very ancient
castle, standing, as its name signifies, on a point of
land. There was no water to supply the fort, so
that as soon as the small quantity taken in by the
garrison was quite exhausted, they were compelled
to submit unconditionally to the enemy.
Unhappily for the unfortunate garrison, Leslie
was accompanied by a Presbyterian clergyman
named Neaves, who, although talented and reputed
pious, was a red-hot fanatic.
When he saw Leslie hesitating to give the order
for their destruction, he stepped forward and re-
minded him that Saul had been cursed for sparing
the Amalekites.
Argyle appears to have been present at the
horrible scene of carnage that ensued, for he and
Leslie are described by a historian as positively
'wading in blood up to their ankles.' As one by
one the garrison marched out of the fort, they were
The Vow of Moiih'ose, 203
all, with one exception, shot down — Leslie turning,
when all was over, to Neaves, and asking him :
' Have you not for once got your fill of blood ? '
Thence the Covenanters hastened over to Islay,
where he found MacColl's father, Colkeitoch, and
about two hundred men in a fort on a hill like
Dunavertie, called Dunnivey. Again the lack of
water favoured the besiegers, who, however, spared
the lives of the garrison; all except Colkeitoch, who
was hanged.
Leslie was equally successful in Jura and Mull,
which latter place was garrisoned by the Maclean
clan.
That chief saved his own men by the sacrifice
of fourteen Irishmen, and the loss of several castles.
This expedition of Huntly's ended by the capture
and execution of three of his family, and his own
imprisonment in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, while
the Covenanters celebrated the massacre of so many
' malignants ' by a public fast. If, however, the
Covenanters believed that they had finally quelled
the Cavaliers, they were mistaken.
Henrietta Maria had found a safe asylum for her-
self in France, although the French monarch turned
a deaf ear to her entreaties for aid to Charles.
All this time our hero, constant to his purpose,
was. hurrying on to Paris, eager in order, if possible,
o
2C4 The Fiery Cross; or^
to negotiate for Charles's rescue. The Queen, who
did not intend quarrelling with Montrose, wrote very-
kindly to him, although (again influenced by the
double-dealing Jermyn) she tried to prevent his
visiting Paris. Probably Henrietta Maria, thought-
less, and therefore selfish, dreaded an appeal in
behalf of Charles to the French King, as likely to
injure, if unsuccessful, her own safety. She and
Jermyn therefore hit on a scheme to prevent the
arrival of a person whom both, if really loyal to
Charles, should have warmly welcomed.
They sent one of Charles's gentlemen named
Ashburnham to meet him ; and the messenger did
all he could to persuade Montrose to return imme-
diately to Scotland.
After reading a letter from the Queen veiy much
to the same purpose, our hero resolutely refused to
carry out any of Ashburnham's suggestions.
The King, he said, had ordered him to wait in
France for his 'further commands,' and he was
certain that Her Majesty the Queen would not wish
him to disobey Charles's orders.
Montrose was in Flanders, on his road to Paris,
when this curious meeting took place.
Determined to try and prevent his arrival there,
Ashburnham then resorted to another plan of action.
He pretended to have the deepest interest in our
The Vow of Montrose. 205
hero. *Why,' urged he, 'should you sacrifice all
your future prospects to a falling cause ? Why not
go back to Scotland and make your peace with the
Covenanters, and keep yourself in readiness for
better times ?' This crafty messenger even declared
that he was ready to secure Charles's full consent to
such a scheme.
'No one,' replied Montrose, 'is readier than I to
obey His Majesty, but I cannot obey him by acting
in the manner you propose — dishonourable alike to
him and to me.'
Independently of his dread of losing his influence
with Henrietta, should the Marquis appear in Paris,
Jermyn was very angry that the King had appointed
Montrose ambassador in Paris, for up to this time
Jermyn himself had filled the post.
To please the Scots, Charles the First had been
compelled to sacrifice Montrose by consenting to his
exile, and the forfeiture of all his estates. To
appease the Marquis's anger at those conditions,
Charles had made him ambassador in France.
When he arrived in Paris, Montrose found that no
letters or credentials had been sent as promised
him by the King ; and all he could therefore do,
was to entreat Henrietta to allow him to make
another attempt to save Charles, for by this time
Montrose knew of his having been given up by the
2o6 The Fiery Cross ; or^
Scots, and to furnish him with a small sum of
money.
Henrietta Maria had, however, no power to help
Montrose, Her money was appropriated by the
dissolute and scheming courtiers about her (many of
whom were even paid by the rebels to report all that
passed at her Court to the English Government).
With a heavy heart, then, the Marquis quitted
Paris and retired to Germany.
There were several men at Paris who were far
more capable of appreciating the beauty of Mon-
trose's character than the heartless courtiers about
the English Queen. Among the brilliant throng
surrounding the French Monarch at that epoch, none
were more witty or celebrated than the Cardinal de
Retz.
He describes our hero as 'Montrose, a Scottish
nobleman, head of the house of Graham— the only
man in the world who has even quite realized my
idea of a hero — such a hero as Plutarch describes to
us in his Lives ! He has sustained the cause of the
King his master in his own country with a greatness
of soul unequalled in our age ! '
After the unhappy monarch had fled to the Isle
of Wight, various intrigues were set on foot in both
Scotland and England, which more or less, although
most of them were ostensibly undertaken in the
TJie Vow of Montrose. 207
King's name, were simply begun from selfish motives
of aggrandizement. Huntly's efforts had failed, and
he himself was in prison ; but new champions had
sprung up for the monarchy, and, strange to say, in
the persons of two men, both of whom were rivals,
and had been bitter enemies to the King. The first
was Hamilton, the second Argyle.
A great split had long before this period divided
the Presbyterians in England and Scotland from the
Independents, whose power all who disagreed with
them — the majority in both countries — dreaded far
more than the bad government of Charles or the
tyranny of the Covenanters.
In all revolutions there is something to be said in
favour of both sides ; and although all that is romantic
and chivalrous in the English character was deeply
stirred by the fate of Charles the First, and the
dignity with which he met death, there is no doubt
that his own errors as a king greatly tended to his
doom. His inflexible persistence in imposing his
own religious views too urgently on his people, as
well as his arbitrary government, had drawn to the
opposite side many a man whose adherence to the
Puritans resulted solely from motives of the purest
patriotism.
But such men shrank back appalled and disgusted
with the fanaticism of the Independents.
2o8 The Fiery Cross ; or.
Among the former, many were members of the
Parliament who began to dread the ascendancy of
the army. The step taken by Cromwell when he
seized the King's person, more than ever opened
their eyes to the danger of allowing military counsels
to prevail in the government. Before, however, they
had time to carry out their intention and commit
Cromwell to the Tower, that clever man had eluded
them and placed himself at the head of the troops.
The English Presbyterians were perfectly aghast
when they saw Cromwell at the head of affairs, and
immediately entered into private negotiations with
Charles, preferring even an Episcopalian King to
the fanaticism of the Independents.
Montrose mistrusted the leaders of the Scottish
Government, and he therefore heard with grave
apprehension, that after having three times marched
into England against the King, they were now con-
templating an enterprise in his favour.
They began, as a preliminary step, to treat with
the Queen. They pretended the deepest concern
and indignation at the fact of Charles's imprison-
ment, and soon got the Queen's ear. She knew well
enough that they would gain no advocate in Mon-
trose. When at length she divulged her schemes,
Montrose with difficulty controlled his emotion so
as to answer her calmly.
The Vow of Montrose. 209
He entreated her to put no faith in Argyle,
Hamilton, or any of the Covenanters. He pointed
out that the leaders of the party, now apparently so
anxious to uphold the monarchy, were the very men
who had, for money, betrayed the King to the
English ! He proposed to her a middle course.
* Let me,' urged Montrose, ' return to Scotland
and raise an army for the royal cause among such
as are known to be true to him. Those forces, if it
please your Majesty, can be, as it were, a reserve,
ready to help the Scottish Covenanters should they
really intend to fight for the King, or to punish
them should they (as I really fear) intend a second
piece of treachery ! '
But all the eloquence of which our hero was so
able a master — his pleading face and earnest voice
— were powerless with Henrietta Maria.
The Queen, governed by a faction, accepted Pres-
byterian aid. Sorrowfully Montrose left her presence
and Paris. He left it suddenly in March 1648,
determined not to witness such a picture of ruin as
the royal cause committed to its enemies, but by
retiring to Germany, to serve the King in his own
way.
Montrose was famous all over Europe, Cardinal
Mazarin would gladly have retained near his own
sovereign a hero whose deeds were well known in all
2iOi The Fiery Cross; or,
foreign courts; but while he was attempting to carry
out those views, by offering Montrose high rank and
a mihtary command, Ferdinand the Third, Emperor
of Germany, had also made overtures to the Marquis,
which Montrose, eager to escape from the French
Court, gladly accepted.
He hurriedly left the French capital, and got into
Austria by way of Geneva, Bavaria, and the Tyrol.
Finding the Emperor had left Vienna, Montrose
joined him at Prague, where he was received with
the greatest possible distinction.
Although Ferdinand the Third no longer main-
tained the same State as Charles the Fourth of
Germany, — who was served, we are told, on State
occasions, by the seven Electors of the empire, while
three archbishops carried the seals of Germany,
Italy, and Aries, — there was still retained much
Court ceremony. The deference paid to rank, and
the higher morality of the Germans, better suited
Montrose's stately character than the looseness of
the Versailles Court.
Ferdinand made Montrose a Field-marshal, dat-
ing his patent from the year 1648 ; and when the
former left Prague, the Marquis rode at his right
hand.
But not even such brilliant favours could banish
the image of his fallen King from his constant heart.
r
The Vow of Montrose, 2 1 1
His cause was ever present to his imagination as
an aim to be pursued, served, and rescued ; for
already rumours of his coming fate were floating
on the air.
The Emperor gave him an independent command
directly under himself ; but although gratefully ac-
cepted, the post was accepted by Montrose only on
one condition, and that was, that whenever his old
master needed him, he should be free to return and
serve him. The service for which Montrose was
selected was the levying of recruits, and the Emperor
yielded to our hero's entreaties that his sphere of
action should be as near England as it could be.
The Emperor gave him letters of introduction to
his brother the Archduke Leopold, Governor of the
Netherlands ; but as the hostile armies of France
did not allow travellers to enter Flanders by the
direct way, Montrose was compelled to take a very
circuitous route to get to Brussels. He embarked
from Dantzic for Denmark, where he was enthusi-
astically welcomed ; and after enjoying the highest
honours for a few days, crossed over into Friesland,
and at length reached Brussels.
He found that Leopold, defeated by Conde, had
retired to Tournay, whither he hurried to present
his credentials. The Archduke received him with
much attention ; and when he returned to Brussels,
212 The Fiery Cross ; or,
towards the end of the year, Montrose accompanied
him to that city, where he was rejoined soon after
by his nephew Lord Napier, whom he had left
behind him in Paris, and several other English and
Scottish Cavaliers.
But Montrose was not destined by fate to un-
sheath his sword in the Archduke's cause. A sum-
mons was at hand to that loyalest of all gentlemen,
which was to call him back to Scotland.
The better to understand our hero's history, we
must return to King Charles, then a lonely prisoner
in Carisbrooke Castle.
The Scottish Covenanters were now divided into
two parties. They had determined to invade
England, and revenge the breach of faith which
they considered had been shown them by the In-
dependents, in not establishing the Presbyterian
faith in England. Argyle headed this section of
the Covenanters ; but there was another party, led
by the Hamiitons, who maintained that the object
in invading England was to rescue Charles, whom
they declared to be unjustly kept prisoner, against
the conditions of their treaty with the English.
The King had signed a secret agreement with these
Scottish Presbyterians, that should their efforts
prove successful, he would sign the Covenant ; but
Argyle and his followers mistrusted Charles's sin-
The Vow of Montrose. 213
cerity, and would not therefore consent to any
overtures for placing him again on the throne. The
consequence was, that the Hamiltonians, who pro-
fessed the greatest attachment to the King's person,
headed a large party, and Scotland was split up into
two sections holding different opinions.
Hamilton's was a strong party ; many of those
who had fought under Montrose joining him, under
the belief that he was loyally true to the King.
Scotland being thus rent into two factions, Hamilton
raised a large army, amounting to more than forty
thousand ; while the English Loyalists, inspirited
by the hope of Scottish aid, prepared to rise all over
the kingdom, and even appeared openly in many
parts of Wales wearing blue and white ribbons,
inscribed with the words, * We long to see our
King!
So universal was the sympathy awakened by
Charles's sufferings in the minds of the loyal Eng-
lish and Scotch, that his rescue might have been
accomplished, and his cruel fate averted, but for the
determined opposition of Argyle and his followers.
They formally protested against Hamilton's ex-
pedition, although the Northern Parliament voted
him money for the purpose.
Argyle's party were called 'Protesters;' Hamilton's,
* Engagers,* because they joined the association for
2 1 4 The Fiery Cross ; or,
protecting the King's cause. Argyle well knew how
to alarm Scottish fanaticism. He aroused the alarm
of the General Assembly of the Kirk, who openly
censured any persons joining Hamilton, and ap-
pointed a day of humiliation and fasting through-
out Scotland ; on which occasion the Calvinist
preachers improved the opportunity by denouncing
all who joined the expedition.
Argyle endeavoured to incite the Western High-
lands to an armed opposition ; and Hamilton lost
ground by temporizing with those who opposed him
instead of appealing to Parliament, with whom he
was then all-powerful, to crush the rebellion in the
bud.
On the loth of June, Argyle's followers assembled
in arms.
General Middleton was sent to quell so dangerous
an outburst. He found the insurgents, numbering
eight hundred foot and twelve hundred horsemen,
drawn up at a place in Ayrshire called Mauchline
Moor.
Eight ministers were with these misguided men,
who went out to treat with Middleton. Nothing
could exceed the power of the clergy at this time
over the minds of their followers. They had per-
suaded the rebels that salvation alone would be
theirs who fought against the * Engagers.* The
The Vow of Montrose. 215
valour of the clergy, however, soon subsided when
they saw Middleton's approach ; and they imme-
diately made terms. He promised a free pardon to
all who would quietly return to their own homes ;
but they would not — such was their fanaticism —
accept any terms, and a conflict took place in which
several lives were lost.
This encounter, easily quelled as it had been,
fatally retarded Hamilton's descent into England.
The delay enabled Cromwell and his party to rally
their forces, and to recover their lost ground.
Hamilton and his friends lost time that they could
not recover ; and although, when at length on the
I2th of July 1648 he began his march, he was joined
by a considerable number of Royalists under Sir
Marmaduke Langdale, almost all the insurrections
in England in Charles's favour had been crushed,
and the Scottish troops barely numbered fifteen
thousand men, although forty thousand had been
voted him by the Parliament.
The end of the expedition was fatal indeed.
Charles was fated to be injured, not served, by his
friends.
Such was the fanaticism of the day, that the
Scottish Parliament had decreed that none but
they who had signed the Covenant could join the
Scottish army.
2 1 6 The Fiery Cross ; or.
Sir Marmaduke Langdale, Sir Philip Musgrave,
and others, who joined the Scots, were obHged to
form, as it were, a separate camp. The Duke of
Hamilton did not consult them ; consequently, in-
stead of marching through Yorkshire, a county
devoted to the King, he dispersed his forces into
Lancashire and elsewhere, and proved himself al-
together unequal to the task of guiding his army
southwards.
At length, on the 17th of August, Hamilton
sustained a defeat at Preston in Lancashire, where
the Duke believed himself perfectly secure from
attack.
Sir Marmaduke Langdale, surprised by Cromwell's
squadrons, received the first brunt of the battle, and
resisted to the utmost ; but finding that Hamilton
did not reinforce him, he was compelled to beat a
hasty retreat. Hamilton fled into Preston. He did
not long keep that town, however ; for, being pursued
by the Puritans, ten thousand of his army under
Baillie capitulated to Cromwell, while the leader of
the expedition fled to Uttoxeter, where he followed
Baillie's example and gave himself up as a prisoner
of war.
Hamilton's brother, Lanerick, when he heard of
his brother's capture, and the dispersion of his army,
was made Commander-in-chief of the ' Engagement '
The Vow of MonU'ose. 217
party, and endeavoured, with the aid of General
Monro, to raise another army.
They gathered together about five thousand men,
chiefly veterans and well-disciplined troops. Argyle
also got together a small number of followers,
about six hundred in number ; and as the Mac-
Caileam Mor's party, though fewer than the
'Engagers,' had numerous supporters in Edinburgh,
Monro wisely counselled an immediate descent on
the capital itself.
Lanerick, like Hamilton, was totally unsuited to
be commander-in-chief. Disgusted with the course
of events in England, the peers and gentry of
Scotland were all eager to join in the war ; but
Lanerick's appointment was unpopular with them,
and alienated several of the most prominent noble- -
men from that side.
Instead of adopting Monro's advice, Lanerick
marched to Stirling, at which place Argyle, ignorant
of the Loyalists' intention, had also halted on his
way to Edinburgh. Argyle was at dinner when
his scouts brought him word that the Loyalists
were at the very gates of the city battling with
his sentinels. Without a thought for any one but
himself, Argyle mounted a fleet horse, and fled
out of the city, leaving his hapless recruits to
protect his flight, and contest the passes into Stirling.
2 1 8 The Fiery Cross ; or,
The Clan Campbell, braver men than their
craven-hearted chief, defended their posts, till, at
length overpowered, they fled, many being either
killed or drowned in the river.
Argyle reached Edinburgh safely. Lanerick was
by no means trusted by his own party. Whether
from timidity, or perhaps from a not unnatural
dislike to draw down upon himself as much odium
as Montrose had done by shedding so much Scotch
blood, Lanerick, instead of boldly meeting the
Protesters in battle, meanly temporized with them,
and at length actually capitulated, agreeing to
disband his whole army.
Thus ended the last effort of the loyal portion
of the Scottish Covenanters for King Charles.
When Lanerick's soldiers were told of the dis-
graceful capitulation, their grief and indignation
knew no bounds. Among their number were many
who had fought in our hero's army, and had joined
Lanerick in the full belief that he really intended
to fight for Charles, and, if possible, save him.
* Oh for Montrose again ! ' cried they ; ' had he
but been here, instead of being vanquished, we
should have rec'.ored peace to our poor land !'
Argyle's party, having now acquired the ascend-
ancy, determined to act promptly. Argyle invited
Cromwell into Scotland, received him in Edinburgh
The Vow of Montrose. 219
with great state and pomp, and finally settled with
him the execution of the King, — an act on which
the Independents had long been bent.
It had been Cromwell's object to conciliate the
Covenanters, as long as he was ambitious of obtain-
ing their consent to the King's death ; but that act
once determined on, he threw off the mask, and
excluded from the House of Commons all members
the least in favour of the King. One Colonel Pride,
who had been a common drayman, was the instru-
ment selected by Cromwell to 'purge' the Parlia-
ment ; and when he had forcibly prevented any
but such as were known to be firm Independents
or Republicans from entering the Commons, the
House, consisting of only from fifty to sixty mem-
bers, declared that the treaty then pending between
Charles and the Parliament was null and void.
From that hour Charles's fate was sealed.
He was removed to Hurst Castle, a dreary prison
in Hampshire ; at high tide, almost surrounded by
the sea. During his imprisonment at Hurst, his
hair turned almost white; while his pale and dejected
face, as he paced the sands, showed that he had
begun to realize the hopelessness of his cause.
With great dignity he resigned himself to his im-
pending fate.
Hamilton, after his surrender, was imprisoned at
2 20 The Fiery Cross; or,
Windsor. When the King was taken to Windsor,
the Duke obtained permission to see him.
* My dear master, my dear master ! ' he cried,
throwing himself at the King's feet.
* I have indeed been a dear master to you,' ex-
claimed the King, as Hamilton's guards rushed in
to shorten that final interview between Charles and
his once all-powerful favourite.
The Prince of Wales all this time was residing at
the Hague; and Montrose, who was at Brussels,
made him an offer of his services.
Prince Charles detested the Presbyterians ; and
after hearing of Hamilton's failure in England, and
Lanerick's loss in Scotland, resolved to send for
Montrose. He wrote to him in the early part of
January 1649, and on the 28th of that month, two
days before Charles's execution, we find him answer-
ing the Prince's letter, and assuring him that 'he
never had any passion on earth ' stronger" than his
devotion to his King, whose fate was but to herald
his own.
Sir Edward Hyde, afterwards famous as Chan-
cellor Clarendon, was at that time the Prince's chief
adviser at the Hague. He and Prince Rupert were
both friendly disposed to Montrose.
Between Hyde and Montrose letters had passed ;
and an interview had been arranged, the very place
The Vow of Montrose. 221
being chosen, at which, so it was projected, the
Prince and our hero might meet, when the news of
the King's execution reached Brussels.
The blow was none the less felt that it had been
partially anticipated. Rumours had preceded the
fatal news, and Montrose was too far-sighted a man
not to know, that after Cromwell had gone the
length of trying the King in Westminster Hall, his
death would follow.
Condemned to death on the 27th of January 1649,
three days after the King met his fate with a
fortitude that redeemed all his errors and previous
weaknesses of character, and which caused an instant
revulsion of feeling in his favour, even among the
spectators of the tragedy.
When the news reached Montrose, it affected
him, as any one may imagine who has followed his
romantic history, and seen how enthusiastically he
had devoted himself to his King. Loyalty in these
days was a duty ; but with Montrose it was a
passion and an expiation.
Montrose, horror-stricken, indignant, and furious,
fell unconscious to the ground when the news came
of the King's execution. When he recovered, he
gazed on the many kind and sympathizing faces
around him, groaned aloud, and hid his face in his
hands.
2 2 2 The Fiery Cross ; or,
' How, after this, can we live on ? ' he cried. ' We
ought to die with our King. God bear me witness,
henceforward life will have no charms for me.'
His chaplain tried to rouse him from despair.
'Die, my lord!' exclaimed Dr. Wishart ; 'on the
contrary, talk not of death ! Summon up all your
fortitude and courage. Revenge the death — the
murder — of your royal master, and support his son.
Such a course will be a better honour to pay the
monarch, who has been killed. Your own death
would only gratify your enemies.'
The worthy chaplain in speaking of revenge had
touched the right chord. Montrose immediately
roused himself. Drawing himself to his full height,
he stretched his hand towards heaven, and, as one
inspired, he cried — * Yes ! Yes ! I will live ! But
I vow, before God and man, to devote my life to
avenge the royal martyr's death, and to place his
son upon the throne !'
He then retired to his own room, where he re-
mained for three whole days and nights. On the
third, Dr. Wishart besought him to let him see him.
Montrose, who had forbidden any one to approach,
admitted his chaplain, who found him pale and
sorrow-stricken, but resolute and firm, meditating on
his vow.
As soon as Prince Charles had in some measure
The Vow of Mont7'ose. 223
recovered from the shock of his father's death, he
sent for Montrose. Our hero hastened to the
Hague, and stood in the presence of the second
Charles.
Hamilton's execution followed that of the King's,
and a reign of despotism was established in England.
Scotland was aghast at the King's fate. In spite of
the extraordinary influence possessed by the Pres-
byterian ministry, the Scotch, both as individuals
and a nation, were loyal, and have always been
attached to the monarchy. They had framed their
famous Covenant to defend their religion, attacked
as they believed by Charles's attachment to an
Episcopal form of Church government ; but in spite
of those Covenants, for which so much blood had
been shed, one feeling pervaded Scotland when the
fell deed was done, — and that was, horror and
dismay !
They forgot how they had joined in the cry, * To
the rock with him ! To the rock with him ! ' and
only remembered he was their anointed King,
descendant of their own Scottish monarchy. They
loudly protested against his death, and forced Argyle
(who has been accused of agreeing beforehand to
the execution) to proclaim Prince Charles as King,
and his father's successor. Argyle, it is true, en-
deavoured to please all parties in Scotland, by an-
2 24 The Fiery Cross; or,
nOuncing that the only condition on which Prince
Charles could ascend the throne was his becoming
Presbyterian in religion and Covenanting in politics ;
but he knew that there was a strong party against
the Government he had established, and dared not
openly defy it.
So strongly was popular indignation aroused and
excited, that probably the restoration of Prince
Charles would have promptly followed had Argyle
been sincere, and had not the fanatic clergy of Scot-
land exercised an arbitrary and usurping power under
the mask of religion.
The Presbyterian clergy laid claim to a voice, not
only in religious but in every state matter ; and
although many earnest and pious men had first pro-
moted the civil wars in Scotland, the ministers of
the Kirk were in many cases fanatics, who stopped
at no means to effect their ends. The penalty
attached to a refusal to swear to the Covenant was
death, or a complete renunciation of all civil rights.
The movement, which had commenced from a wish
to purify their faith, had become so great a tyranny,
that it was enough to designate a man as a * plotter '
or 'malignant' to drawdown upo him the dread
sentence of excommunication.
The Scottish people had for the time become a
nation of fanatics. They looked upon any amuse-
The Vow of Montrose. 225
ment, however innocent, as sinful, and were com-
pletely swayed by the clergy in every action of their
lives. Argyle devoted himself to the religious party
of Scotland, and proscribed all who disagreed with
him. Forced to recognise Charles the Second by
the popular feeling of the day, he made the Prince's
acceptance of the crown almost impossible by the
hard conditions he persuaded the General Assembly
to attach to the offer.
The very day. that Argyle, yielding to popular
feeling, despatched a body of Commissioners to the
Hague, he executed the Marquis of Huntly, who
had suffered a long imprisonment. That act alone
should have shown Prince Charles how little Argyle
had really his restoration at heart ; for Huntly was
the representative of one of the noblest families in
the Highlands, and, in spite of his antipathy to
Montrose, had been ever devoted to the house of
Stuart.
Montrose, after joining Prince Charles at the
Hague, had reason to be fully satisfied with the
confidence his new sovereign bestowed on his father's
firmest champion.
Charles — whom we may now call Charles the
Second — -gave him his royal commission to act as
his Lieutenant or Governor in Scotland, made him
General of all his forces by sea and land, besides
226 The Fiery Cross; or^
giving him letters accrediting him as his Envoy to
the German, Danish, and other foreign Courts sup-
posed to be likely to help the royal exile to mount
his throne.
Montrose urged Charles to lose no time in in-
vading Scotland. He himself offered to raise a
small body of Royalists, and by a spirited effort
regain the kingdom for Charles. By the time the
Commissioners arrived at the Hague, and with
solemn mien, slow pace, and an affectation of
superior sanctity, unfolded their proposals to the
King, our hero had been a long time near his
sovereign. Had Charles been entirely influenced
by Montrose, he would have placed no faith in the
specious nature of the arguments used by those
about him to weaken Montrose's influence and
thwart his schemes.
Among their number were the Earls of Lanerick
and Lauderdale, who, unhappily for the royal cause,
had joined the Court at the Hague, and advised the
King on a totally different course to that proposed
by Montrose.
While Montrose urged immediate action, Charles's
presence in Scotland, and no treaty of any kind
with Argyle and his party ; Lanerick advised delay
and conciliation, and an alliance with the dominant
government of the northern kingdom.
The Vow of Montrose. 227
The King's own feelings prompted him to confide
fully in the Marquis of Montrose ; and when the
Scotch Commissioners had unfolded their proposals,
he treated him with all the more respect and con-
sideration that the Committee of Estates had, in a
letter to Charles, violently attacked him, and de-
manded his instant expulsion from Court, as one
who had been excommunicated by the Kirk of
Scotland, and thereby ' delivered into the hands of
the devil ! '
The proposal of the Commissioners was comprised
under three heads : —
Charles was to sign both Covenants ; to promise
faithfully to maintain the Presbyterian form of
religion in Scotland, as well as to favour its ex-
tension to England as soon as he should be firmly
established on his throne.
Secondly, he was to give up all his own friends,
and be guided solely by Argyle and his party ; and
thirdly, he was to govern solely under the direction
of Parliament and the General Assembly.
It was not reasonable to suppose that Charles
would deem such conditions anything but con-
temptible ; but they were vehemently advocated by
several noblemen around him, including Lauderdale,
Callander, and Lanerick — the latter now Duke of
Hamilton, in consequence of his brother's death.
2 28 The Fiery Cross; or,
The Marquis of Montrose was among those who
would fain have urged the King to decline any
proposals from the General Assembly. He pointed
out the evidence of the insincerity with which such
overtures were made, instancing the execution of
Huntly, and the marked way in which, when speak-
ing of the King's execution, they avoided calling it
regicide. Charles leant strongly to our hero's views ;
and when Hamilton and Lauderdale, in their eager-
ness to back up such exorbitant demands, went so
far as to denounce Montrose as ' that traitor,' only
treated him with the more respect.
The Earl of Lauderdale violently attacking Mon-
trose one day at Court, a nobleman present inquired
' what offence the Marquis had committed.' In
reply, Lauderdale accused him of great cruelty and
inhumanity, and alleged that he had always refused
quarter, and completely ruined whole clans and
families ; adding, ' his behaviour had been so savage
that Scotland would never forgive him !*
The King begged all his Scottish nobles to advise
him on so weighty a matter; but Hamilton and
Lauderdale refused to meet our hero in council.
Probably they dreaded the eloquence and talent of
Montrose, in a right cause, telling against them.
Montrose then put his advice on paper, and while
urging the King to proceed to Scotland, again offered
The Vow of Montrose. 229
to head a movement in that kingdom in favour of
the monarchy.
Charles, however, adopted a middle course. He
kept the Commissioners in play, and did not entirely
decline Montrose's services. He left the Hague and
went back to France, under pretext of consulting
Queen Henrietta Maria, who was still resident at
the French King's Court.
Although the Commissioners pretended great
indignation at Charles's rejection of their hypo-
critical offers, they were secretly rejoiced that,
instead of adopting Moniiose's advice, and return-
ing to Scotland, he had gone to France ; for they
knew that a large party were only waiting for their
sovereign's presence to proclaim him king over his
ancient kingdom of Scotland.
Montrose had every reason to maintain his own
opinion that Scotland was ripe for a new enterprise
in Charles's favour ; but the King, doubtful whether
the enterprise would succeed, gave him no written
authority for a second attempt till he had first con-
sulted his mother. The Marquis, meanwhile, fully
empowered by Charles, visited several foreign Courts
to solicit, in the King's name, aid and assistance.
He met with a great deal of sympathy from
several of the princes of Germany, and a favourable
hearing from the Emperor himself Wherever he
230 The Fiery Cross; or,
went he was received with respect ; for while his
countrymen — at least such as were Cavaliers — de-
clared Montrose to be the only one of the King's
generals they could trust, his military fame was
fully recognised at all foreign Courts.
The King of Denmark and the Queen of Sweden
both promised aid ; and he found that on the Conti-
nent universal sympathy was felt for the King, — the
cruel execution of Charles the First having aroused
feelings of indignation throughout Europe. At
length Montrose received the King's written sanc-
tion to a descent on Scotland. This was about
the middle of September 1649. Urged by the
impatience of the Scottish Cavaliers to see their
leader once more among them, Montrose sent a
portion of his forces to the Orkney Isles, which
he selected as the safest place of meeting.
An insurrection in favour of the King had already
taken place in Scotland, set on foot by Lord Sea-
forth's brother, Mr. Thomas Mackenzie. The move-
ment had been largely augmented by several Scottish
nobles and gentry, who had escaped out of England ;
and who, finding their houses and lands seized and
sequestered, were burning for revenge.
Argyle, with a view to preventing any further in-
surrection, had organized an army of between three
and four thousand troops, whom he placed under
The Vow of Montrose. 231
General Leslie and other Presbyterian leaders ; but
Mackenzie had defied him, wresting Inverness from
its garrison ; and, at the head of a large body of
Northern Cavaliers and several Lowlanders, had ad-
vanced beyond the River Spey.
The Queen of Sweden promised Montrose arms,
and the Duke of Holstein offered five large ships
and about seven or eight hundred men. He re-
ceived urgent letters from the Scottish Cavaliers, as
well as a deputation from Orkney, entreating him
not to wait for his own forces, but to join them in
Scotland, where the very sight of his face, they
urged, was sufficient to rally twenty thousand men
to his standard. In Ireland, the Marquis of Ormond
had taken up arms against the Puritans, and the
English Loyalists were ready to join Montrose, so
disgusted were they at the proposals made to, and
partly accepted by, the King from the Scottish
Commissioners.
Montrose had reaped the fruits of his enthusiastic
love of glory in his first campaign. No wonder,
then, that, urged to immediate action from Scotland,
and dreading that, as soon as the King had signed
the treaty with the Scottish Commissioners, he
would withdraw his secret instructions to Montrose
to proceed with the expedition, our hero issued a
declaration, in which he accused the Covenanters of
232 The Fiery Cross; or^
* having betrayed and sold their King/ It was
dated from Sweden. Charles was then at Jersey,
on the point of meeting the Scottish Commissioners
in Holland, with a view to accepting their terms and
signing the treaty ; and though he was about to
take a step that would put a complete stop to Mon-
trose's expedition, he continued to write, urging him
to expedition, and sending him a present of the
George and Riband of the Order of the Garter, which
fact refutes the charge against our hero, that he
acted totally in opposition to the King's commands.
The Earl of Morton had agreed to allow Mon-
trose's troops to land in the Orkney Islands ; but the
first supply of men despatched thither had mostly
perished by shipwreck. Two hundred alone, out of
twelve hundred sent off from Gottenburg, reached
Scotland.
The Earl of Morton, however, and several of the
leading gentry of that part of Scotland, joined the
gallant remnant, and under that nobleman imme-
diately took a strong castle called Birsay.
Unfortunately, an altercation took place between
the Earl of Morton and the Earl of Kinnoul as to
which of them should command those troops, which
ended in the discomfiture of the former. This so
deeply aft"ected him, that soon afterwards he died
of mortification and annoyance.
The Vow of Montrose. 233
While all Scotland was ringing with our hero's
declaration, and the Presbyterian clergymen de-
nouncing its author as that ' traitor James Graham !'
Montrose, misled by the too sanguine views of the
Scottish Cavaliers, and his own enthusiasm, was on
his road to Scotland to begin a second campaign ;
and to consummate his vow 1
CHAPTER VII.
* I charge thee, boy, if ere thou meet
With one of Assynt's name,
Be it upon the mountain's side,
Or yet within the glen ;
Stand he in martial gear alone.
Or backed by armed men,
Face him, as thou wouldst face the man
Who wronged thy sire's renown ;
Kemember of what blood thou art.
And strike the caitiff down ! '
— Aytoun.
5N the same resolute and undaunted spirit
as that in which Montrose had so re-
luctantly given up the first expedition,
he set about the second.
Disregarding all the fears expressed by the more
moderate members of the Cavalier party, and count-
ing not the cost of the enterprise should it fail,
Montrose set out upon the expedition. Confident of
the justice of his cause, energetic and enthusiastic,
no arguments as to its danger were likely to thwart
234
The Vow of Moiih'ose. 235
his designs. ' Nil medium/ the motto on his banner,
is the keynote to his character. Love of glory was
his passion, added to which he was superstitious
enough to ascribe importance to an old legend in
his family, predicting that he was to ' revenge the
King's death, and by his sword become the greatest
subject in the land.'
Montrose at this time was a middle-aged man.
The illusions of youth had vanished, but not its
generous impulses. He retained to the last the
enthusiasm of youth. He is described as middle-
sized, but with great physical strength, well-propor-
tioned limbs, and regular features.
His hair was of a rich dark chestnut, his nose
aquiline, and his complexion sanguine. It was his
eyes, however, that impressed all beholders, for they
were quick and penetrating. They told of his high
soul and undaunted spirit, of his generous heart and
purity of life, in an age distinguished by its immo-
rality ; and while those dark grey orbs struck terror
into an enemy's heart, their fierce glance would
soften when he gazed on the face of a friend.
' Montrose,' as an old writer says, was ' exceeding
constant to those that did adhere to him, and to
those he knew, very affable.
His manners matched his face and figure. They
were courtly, though perhaps a little stately ; while
o
236 The Fiery Cross; or,
his habitual gravity — for he is said to have rarely
smiled after his sovereign's martyrdom — made
strangers believe him very proud.
Even his enemies, while attempting to blacken a
character which history has since vindicated, never
denied his talents. To energy of character was
added a clear, far-seeing judgment ; and where
others had hesitated and paused for reflection,
Montrose, seeing with a glance what was the best
course to take, was prompt and decisive in action.
This was the secret of his success. Such was the
man who, with a handful of troops, chiefly foreigners,
officered by Scotchmen, and barely five hundred in
number, determined to invade Scotland.
Throughout Scotland the Whigs denounced him
as ' that wicked and excommunicated traitor, James
Graham ! ' and hastened to reply to his declaration
by one of their own ; while the Presbyterian clergy
lost no time in warning their flocks to beware of
that ' insolent braggart,' while secretly fearing the
prowess and success of one whom they knew as no
vainglorious foe.
Leslie was desired, as commander-in-chief, to
quickly get together all available troops. It was
no easy matter to do so as urgently as was needed,
for the army was scattered all over the kingdom,
and could not at a moment's notice be reassembled.
The Vow of Montrose. 237
Before sailing for Scotland, Montrose had had a
last interview with the Second Charles at the Hague,
and was invested by him with the title of Lieutenant-
Governor of Scotland, and had given him full sanc-
tion for the enterprise.
Montrose then made a tour through the Northern
States of Europe, with a view to obtaining assistance
from foreign princes ; for even he dared not under-
take the invasion of a kingdom without money and
arms.
The enthusiasm of Charles's ambassador, and the
earnestness with which Montrose pleaded his master's
cause, dwelling on the distracted state of his country,
and the great crime the Republicans had committed
in putting Charles to death, met with a generous
response from the King of Denmark, the Queen of
Sweden, and several lesser potentates. The King
of Denmark gave him a large sum of money, the
Queen of Sweden placed fifteen hundred stand of
arms at his disposal, and the Duke of Holstein
offered him five large ships and seven or eight
hundred soldiers, which offers the Marquis joyfully
accepted.
Other princes promised aid ; but when the time
arrived when Montrose, depending on their promises,
expected soldiers, money, and arms, they failed to
keep their faith ; probably deterred from propping
238 The Fiery Cross; or,
up a falling cause after the first reverse of his
arms.
Scotland was thoroughly subdued by Argyle's
party, and the Independents had obtained complete
ascendency, although the Cavaliers — a numerous
party — were beginning to rebel against the oppres-
sions of that upstart faction, and had secretly assured
Montrose that they were ready to support him as
soon as he landed in Scotland.
The arrogance of the Presbyterians was indeed
sufficient to disgust all moderate men. Not con-
tent with denouncing Episcopacy from the pulpit,
they proscribed all who did not agree in their
rigid religious views ; and a system of persecu-
tion ensued, which was as great and oppressive as
any hitherto endured in the annals of history. The
upper classes in Scotland were generally Episco-
palian ; and the proscribed party included so many
of the aristocracy, that the nobility were but scantily
represented in the Scottish Parliament, and on one
occasion, in 1649, only four 'lords' were among the
barons and burgesses.
Argyle's spies were scattered over the kingdom,
and any who dared to differ from the prevailing
party were subjected to every species of persecution,
and heavily fined if they resisted.
The Cavaliers therefore having placed all their
The Vow of Montrose, I'^c^
hopes on the King's restoration, readily promised
Montrose their support ; and the Duke of Ormond
succeeding in Ireland, where he had taken up the
royal cause, Montrose trusted that as soon as he
landed he might possibly receive help from that
quarter.
But the first beginning of his campaign proved
disastrous. The ships and troops given him by
his foreign friends were kept waiting a long time
off Holland, owing to the neglect of Montrose's
agent. Colonel Ogilvie, whom he had sent to
Amsterdam to look after them ; while another of
his agents, one Colonel Cochran, whom he had
employed to raise money in Poland, turned against
him, and appropriated a large sum that had been
contributed towards the expedition by Scotchmen
in that country.
These vexatious circumstances, however, were
capped by a far more serious misfortune. The Earl
of Morton had promised to receive Montrose's
first detachment of troops in Orkney, and accord-
ingly twelve hundred foreign soldiers were shipped
from Gottenburg in September 1649; but when
they got off the dangerous Orkney coast, two
of the ships were lost in a storm, with all their
crews, as well as the greater part of the arms the
Marquis had collected. In this way a thousand
240 The Fiery Cross ; or^
soldiers perished out of the twelve hundred de-
spatched from Germany. Two hundred only
landed at Kirkwall, where the Earl of Morton at
once joined them.
The Earl had been induced to take this course
of action by a definite promise from Charles that
he would, after his restoration, reward his services
by the gift of some church lands in that part of
Scotland,
The gentry were well affected to Charles's cause,
and with their help Lord Morton took, after some
resistance, a fortress called Birsay, and garrisoned
it for Montrose.
Morton, however, had a quarrel with the Earl
of Kinnoul, his own nephew, as to which of them
should command the troops until the Marquis
arrived ; the latter asserting that he had the sole
right to do so, as Montrose had given him a com-
mission to that effect.
The dispute between the two Earls had such an
effect on Morton's mind, that, as already stated, he
died broken-hearted. Kinnoul's death also took
place before Montrose landed, so that from Sep-
tember to March 1650 but little progress was
made in raising troops in the Orkney Islands, and
Montrose found scarcely anything done, when at last
he once more set foot on Scottish ground.
The Vozv of Montrose. 241
Orkney was undefended by the Parliamentary
troops, and the gentry were loyal to the King ;
but the Orcadians were unwarlike, undisciplined,
and Montrose had no cavalry to protect such
irregular troops.
The first act of the Marquis, when resolved on
this expedition, had been to issue a proclamation,
or defence of his reasons for invading Scotland.
This document was circulated in Scotland before
he landed, and had been answered, as we have
seen, by a counter-declaration by the Whig party,
in which they denounced Montrose in no measured
language.
While the little vessel that was bearing Montrose
and his gallant companions across the seas was
tossing about, detained by contrary winds, threat-
ened by storms, and yet safely bearing him to his
destiny, how many a bitter thought must not that
loyal-hearted Cavalier have given to Charles's weak-
ness of character ! Educated under his mother's
baleful influence, and hating the Covenanters, the
Prince had not been, as our hero well knew, wholly
true either to him or to his mission.
True it was that Charles had received Montrose
warmly at the Hague, and had professed for him
the greatest gratitude, while he ratified his former
military commission, and gave him full powers to
242 The Fiery Cross ; or^
levy money and troops in the royal cause both
in Scotland and abroad ; but while loading his
father's staunch servant with honours, he was also
in secret treaty with the Covenanters ! Montrose
therefore hoped to strike such a decisive blow as
should ensure success to the royal cause, and deter
the young King from listening to those whom he
justly deemed his implacable foes.
It must have seemed indeed scarcely credible to
Montrose that Charles could listen to the Scottish
Commissioners, whose strict ideas of morality and
doleful faces were by no means to the Prince's
taste. But Charles had no steady principle. He
thought to keep them in play till he saw how
Montrose succeeded. The Scotch professed to be
willing to declare him Scotland's only rightful
king, but that act was only to take place should
he promise strict oocdience to the Covenant, and
to new obligations and oaths framed according to
their own sectarian views.
The Commissioners who had been sent to the
Hague were all Republicans ; and though forced,
by the turn matters had taken, to recognise Charles,
were anxious to do so only in such a manner as
would cripple his prerogative as king, and banish
from his Court all those who had looked on Charles
the First's execution as regicide. Their hatred
The Vow of Montrose. 2^^
was principally levelled against Montrose, whose
determination and bravery they knew would be
exerted to avenge the King's death, and even
Argyle and all who had consented to it.
Montrose's acute mind saw all the dangers that
vacillation in Charles would produce ; and as he
stepped ashore, in the month of March 1650, it
was with a burning desire to frustrate the secret
plots and treaties into which he feared the King
might be induced to enter, unless he could be be-
forehand with the Covenanters.
If Montrose had needed any proof of the distrust
and aversion he felt towards the party then treat-
ins" with Charles, he must have found it in the
execution of the gallant Marquis of Huntly, who,
for no crime except that Argyle hated and feared
him as a rival, had been beheaded the very day on
which the Commissioners had been despatched to
Holland to treat with Charles. The Marquis of
Huntly had been Montrose's rival in the earlier
times of the Covenant, and it is said that Huntly
never forgave his conduct in those days when our
hero was a Covenanter.
Had it not been for that early difference, two
such loyal and staunch Cavaliers must have been
firm friends. Huntly's character was as gallant
and noble as that of Montrose. He was one of the
244 ^'^^ Fiery Cross ; or,
most powerful chieftains in the Highlands. He
was head of the Gordons, — that brave clan, whose
badge, a spray of ivy, was a fit emblem of fidelity,
— and his high rank and great possessions made
him formidable as a foe and powerful as a friend.
The Marquis and his followers — ' stout men and
true, who for King Charles wore blue ' — were the
last who laid down arms for the royal cause, after
the King's imprisonment by the English Repub-
licans. At last, however, the Presbyterian army
took Huntly prisoner, and — as already mentioned —
he was thrown into the common jail in Edinburgh ;
and the very day that the Scottish Commissioners
sailed on their mission to the young King, that
gallant nobleman was executed.
Montrose had sailed from Gottenburg in Decem-
ber, and it was March, 1650, when, accompanied
by his natural brother. Sir Harry Graham, his old
adversary and now warm friend Sir John Hurry,
Viscount Frendraught, and five other loyal
Cavaliers of note and distinction, he arrived in
Orkney. The perilous voyage and shipwreck that
the first party met with reduced Montrose's forces
to five hundred foreign soldiers, and these were
reinforced by two hundred more, under the com-
mand of Lord Kinnoul, who had garrisoned Birsay
Castle.
The Vow of Montrose. 245
Montrose must have felt bitterly mortified to find
how small a number of soldiers he could muster
round his black flag, then the royal standard, as
emblematical of the Marquis's desire for vengeance.
It bore ghastly inscriptions, with a device of three
hands clasped in a cloud, from the centre of which
branched out three naked arms and hands grasping
bare swords, intended to designate the kingdoms of
England, Scotland, and Ireland ; while on it was
this passage from the 43d Psalm, in capital letters :
' Judge and avenge my cause, O Lord. '
The flag borne by the foot soldiers was also black,
and had painted on it a picture of the late King's
head, from which blood was represented as dripping.
On that standard, these Latin words were displayed :
'Deo et hie tricibus amiis.'
On the Marquis's own banner of white damask was
the Scottish lion rampant on the top of a rock,
through a cleft of which ran a gory stream, with the
embroidered motto, * Nil medium.'
The natural position of Orkney prevented the
Presbyterians from attempting to attack Montrose
as long as he remained there.
The Whigs had publicly burned his declaration
the month before, at the Cross of Edinburgh,
246 The Fiery Ci'oss ; or,
denouncing him, by the mouths of their active
partisans, the Presbyterian clergy, in such terms as
these —
' That bloody cut-throat, truculent tyrant, and
excommunicated traitor, James Graham;' or, 'the
perjured Covenanter, with his Hieland limmers and
vipers, the limbs of Satan and brood of hell !'
But hard words hurt not, and for the three weeks
of his stay in Orkney, Montrose was safe from his
enemies.
The gentlemen of those parts were all loyal and
devoted to the King's cause ; and with the assistance
that they rendered him as soon as he unfurled his
sombre standard, he was able to muster eight hun-
dred Islanders among his forces. Though by those
means his little army amounted in round numbers to
fifteen hundred men, the Orcadians were so unwar-
like in their habits, — being principally fishermen and
farmers, — that for all practical purposes he could
only rely on his foreign troops.
His devoted follower Allaster MacColkeitoch was
all this time fighting against Cromwell's soldiers in
Ireland, and with him were Glengarry and Mac-
donald of Clanranald, who, had they been in Scot-
land, would have rallied to his side ; so that Mon-
trose found himself at the head of a very different
army from that to which he had been accustomed,
The Vow of Montrose. 247
when at the sign of the Fiery Cross each resolute
Redshank had ' followed his chief to the field.'
Thus the second campaign began with every
element of failure in its composition. Yet, with his
usual enthusiasm, Montrose still hoped for victory,
although to any one less sanguine, victory from the
first seemed hopeless.
It was chiefly the peasantry of Pomona whom
Montrose enlisted during his three weeks' residence
in the Orkney Isles.
The Islesmen of those out-of-the-way parts were
ignorant and uncivilised. They had probably never
seen a buff coat or handled firearms before Montrose
bid them enlist for their King, determined to raise an
army, however rough might be the men composing it.
The Orcadians were at that time grossly super-
stitious. They believed in the curious old folks'
stories about witchcraft and the powers of Satan ;
and here too, in common with their neighbours in
the Hebrides, they commonly believed that all
drowned persons became seals. There is a legend
in accordance with this superstition, about a High-
land chief, named Macphee of Colonsay, which is
worth quoting.
This Highland chief was standing one day by the
sea-shore, when he descried on a lonely rock a lovely
maiden combing out her yellow locks.
248
The Fiery Cross ; or,
The chief was so struck with her beauty, that he
determined to catch her. He unmoored his boat
and rowed swiftly forward, taking care that she did
not see him. Arrived at the rock, where he found a
seal's skin, which proved that she was a mermaiden,
he seized it, and so prevented the lovely maiden
from again transforming herself into a seal. In-
stead of restoring her mantle, however, he gave her
his plaid, wrapped up in which he rowed her to land,
and bore his prize safely home to his castle on the
island.
Then, again, the Islanders were accustomed to
exercise their fishing boats before starting on a
cruise. This was done in the early morning, by
filling the tapholes with water. Then, as the sun
was rising, the fishermen would pull out to sea, and
burning a waxen figure in the boat's centre, and
crying, * Satan, avaunt,' felt that the evil spirit was
chased away, and that they might safely embark for
the trip !
Others, if the wind rose and the waves tossed
high, would try and propitiate the elements by
dashing water on a famous blue stone kept on the
altar of the shrine of St. Columba, or by throwing
money into a church built in honour of St. Ronald.
Such ignorant and undisciplined fishermen were
ill calculated to replace the ardent and resolute
The Vow of Montrose. 249
Redshanks, who had fought so bravely in Mon-
trose's first campaign.
When the Marquis had enlisted as many as he
could, his next measure was to get the means of
transporting them across the Pentland Frith.
He therefore laid forcible hands on some old
fishing smacks, and embarked his soldiers at a place
called Holm Sound, a bay in Pomona, and sailing
safely across landed them at John O'Groat's House,
a place in Caithness. The Marquis had the satis-
faction of feeling that he had not lost a single man
on the passage.
The Cavaliers had been over sanguine about their
reception on the mainland. Montrose had hoped to
enlist in Sutherland, Ross, and Caithness at least
three large regiments ; but the peasantry had been
tutored from the pulpits of the Kirk to consider
'James Graham' a cruel and devastating foe, and
a general exodus took place when news arrived of
his vicinity. Some, rather than remain to meet
him, escaped and made their way to Edinburgh,
three hundred miles away.
Montrose acted with his usual energy. He pro-
claimed the King, unfurled his black flag, and bid
all swear allegiance to the throne ; but in one
instance, a Presbyterian clergyman preferred martyr-
dom to compliance.
250 The Fiery Cross; or,
'What! swear allegiance to one whose first act
would be to restore Episcopacy ! rather would he
die !' So Montrose sent him in fetters on board one
of his ships to repent his imprudence at leisure. One
cannot but respect the minister for his consistency.
In the meantime, the Whigs were making active
preparations to meet Montrose. While Leslie was
ordered to collect all available troops at Brechin, a
skilful soldier and Covenanter was despatched north-
wards, at the head of two hundred men, to help the
Earl of Sutherland, who was then busy in raising
soldiers to oppose the Cavalier army. Strachan was
rapidly followed by Leslie with three thousand foot
soldiers, marching thirty miles a day — so eager was
their leader to meet Montrose.
The Marquis felt deeply mortified to see how
prejudiced his countrymen were against him ; but
he knew that there was also a large and dis-
tinguished number of Highlanders ready to rise
and help him, and he daily hoped to see them reach
his camp.
Alas ! his hope was never realized. He knew
not the failure of that rising which, headed by the
Earl of Seaforth, had by that time been crushed
by the implacable Covenanters under Colonel
Strachan, — the very same soldier now marching
onwards to meet him.
The Vow of Montrose. 25 i
A little body of gallant Highlanders, owning no
sympathy with the sour-faced Presbyterians, had
eagerly waited Montrose's arrival.
They had been too eager, as the issue showed.
On marched their gallant band under Mackenzies,
with historic names ; for the Lairds of Pluscardine,
Redcastle, Lakehouse, and Pennicke were all there,
with the brave clan Macpherson ; and they reached
Inverness unmolested after crossing the River Spey.
Their arrival, two thousand strong, took the garri-
son by surprise, and the castle soon fell into their
hands. After demolishing that ancient edifice, and
carrying all before them through Morayland, they
encountered at Baldenie a large body of Lowland
cavalry, headed by the Whig Colonels Halket, Kerr,
and Strachan.
Not all the gallantry of rnen descended from
intrepid Gaelic ancestors could avail. They fought
as befitted those who wore badges of holly and box-
wood ; but eighty warriors fell to rise no more, and
eight hundred were taken prisoners, and with them
all their chieftains.
The defeat of this enterprise emboldened the
Covenanters ; but while Strachan and his comrades
were putting down what is called ' Pluscardine's
raid,' Montrose day by day hoped to see the High-
landers who had failed in that enterprise join him
K
252
The Fiery Cross ; or,
in Sutherlandshire. The Earl of Sutherland was
a Covenanter, and a great and powerful chief-
tain.
He felt naturally alarmed lest Montrose should
attack his castles of Dunrobin, Skibo, Skelbo,
and Dornoch ; and the * Morar Chattu ' hastened to
place garrisons into those seats. Montrose, however,
did not attempt to attack them, but passed them by
without firing a shot, warning the Earl, nevertheless,
that he should not continue to be so forbearing, and
that some of his Cavalier neighbours would lay
waste his lands should he remain hostile to the
royal cause.
Little heeded by the Earl of Sutherland were
those threats, for he knew that four thousand Low-
landers were on their way to meet the Cavaliers,
and were actually at Tain, twenty miles off; while
Montrose's little band, weakened by desertion,
scarcely numbered twelve hundred.
All this time, not knowing that Seaforth's rising
had failed, Montrose counted on the aid of Pluscar-
dine's followers ; but hearing and seeing nothing of
them, he thought it more prudent to halt before
descending further on the Lowlands.
He therefore encamped at the top of the Frith of
Dornoch, in a valley called Stratheckle, near the
junction of Ross and Sutherlandshire. This was
The Vow of Montrose. 253
six days after the Cavaliers had entered the Earl's
county.
Being a good general, he had endeavoured to
secure the means of retreat should the necessity for
it arise. With that object he had divided his little
army into two columns. One column he despatched
southwards to secure the Castle of Dunbeath, which
belonged to Sir John Sinclair.
Sir John was absent, but Lady Sinclair had placed
herself at the head of the garrison left to defend it.
With bugles sounding the Cavaliers approached
Dunbeath, and Lady Sinclair, in her husband's
absence, determined to make no resistance.
Sir John Hurry, who knew its natural advantages
for defence, was agreeably surprised to find Lady
Sinclair disposed to make none ; and in return for
her ready compliance, made honourable terms with
her, and allowed the dame to leave it unharmed,
accompanied by all her servants.
Well might the Cavaliers have wished to take
Dunbeath ; for, built on a high rock, at the foot of
which dashed the ocean, a drawbridge alone con-
nected it with the mainland, and that, when drawn
up, made it almost impregnable.
Montrose's brother, Harry Graham, was left in
command of it, with a garrison of a few men. Sir
John Hurry then rejoined the Marquis.
1
254
The Fiery d'oss ; or,
All this time the enemies of Montrose had been
planning his destruction. The Earl of Sutherland,
who knew the country thoroughly well, had advised
with the Covenanting generals on the best course to
pursue. They agreed to surround him on all sides,
and make retreat impossible.
Had Montrose been able to communicate with his
friends, he would have heard of the large army
hurrying up to attack him ; but Sutherland had
shut off all passages for receiving intelligence, and
Montrose's Orcadians and foreign soldiers made bad
scouts, owing to their ignorance of the country.
After securing, as he believed, a retreat to Dun-
beath, Montrose's next step was to get possession of
the Hill of Ord. He therefore sent five hundred
men to seize it. That huge mountain of granite,
twelve hundred feet high, formed a pass from the
county of Sutherland into that of Ross. It was so
narrow that only three men could ride abreast along
it. The ' Morar Chattu' knew its importance, and
tried to reach it before him, but he retired without
disputing the passage with the Royalists.
This had taken place before Montrose himself
passed over the Ord into Sutherlandshire ; and as
soon as the Covenanters found he had done so, the
Earl of Sutherland, by taking a southern route, cut
off his retreat, while it was agreed that Strachan
The Vow of Montj'ose. 255
should attack him in the front, at the head of the
Munroes and men of Ross, Leslie's men bringing up
the rear.
Meanwhile, halting at Stratheckle, and ignorant
of the vicinity of Strachan's troops, — for the * Morar
Chattu's' gillies had watched the Cavaliers so nar-
rowly that no communication from their friends had
been suffered to reach them, nor yet any tidings of
the Lowlanders' approach, — the little band awaited
its doom.
Each hour Montrose hoped for the advent of
those true and loyal Mackenzies under Seaforth and
Pluscardine, while all that time some lay slain, and
some were in prison, mourning their ruined hopes,
and reaping the reward accorded by the Covenanters
to their loyalty and valour.
The Covenanters, under experienced generals,
were within twenty miles of Montrose, and marching
towards his camp, before he became aware of even
their vicinity.
The day, Saturday the 27th of April 1650, was
memorable. To the Orcadians among the Cavaliers
it must have been an ill omen that the battle should
fall on that day of the week. They believed it to be
* uncanny ' to begin anything important on that day.
They would not marry on Saturdays, nor in the
month of May, both times being considered unlucky.
256 The Fiery Cross; or.
The Covenanters, who very properly respected the
keeping of Sunday, hesitated about fighting, for
fear that the battle might not be ended on the
' Lord's day ; ' but at length it was decided to wait
no longer for an encounter that Montrose himself
had advanced to begin.
The Cavaliers having at length become aware of
the enemy's presence, Montrose sent off a body of
infantry to reconnoitre.
The Covenanters finding that Montrose had taken
that step, and after breaking up his camp at Strath-
eckle advanced two miles nearer to Carbisdale,
determined by a ruse to mislead Montrose into the
belief that his adversary's forces were but a few in
number. The Covenanters knelt down in the soft
deep broom that grew so luxuriantly in those parts,
and therefore Montrose's scouts only discovered a
few horsemen.
They hurried back to Montrose, who, thus misled,
believed that he had only to contend with Strachan's
forlorn hope, and therefore calmly awaited their
approach on a low piece of ground near a river
called the Kyle. But soon he heard another tale ;
for in the distance he perceives advancing squadron
after squadron. Strachan's army was artfully dis-
posed, and looked more numerous than it really was.
Strachan led the advanced guard of a hundred
The Vow of Montrose. 257
horsemen himself ; then followed another column of
about eighty men under Colonel Halket ; the third
Captain Hutchinson commanded ; and the rear,
composed of all foot soldiers, was officered by the
Quartermaster Shaw. Montrose's little force of
foreign soldiers, Orcadian peasantry, and a few
Highlanders, were marshalled at the foot of a hill
called in Gaelic * Craigcaoin Eadhan,' — * The Rock
of Lamentation,' — which name it has held even to
our own day.
The fact that Montrose had no cavalry made the
combat more than ever unequal. He and a few
officers of his staff alone were mounted. He
entrusted the King's black standard to a gallant
young Cavalier, Gilbert Menzies of Pitfoddels, who
defended it to the last.
The Covenanters paused before beginning the
conflict, to sing psalms and read passages from
Scripture, calling on God to defend their cause in
battle, as in olden times He had befriended the
children of Israel.
Placing his hand on the standard of the Covenant,
the Puritan leader stood opposite Montrose's little
force, and pointing them out to his soldiers, cried,
' Behold yonder men ! They are not only our
enemies, but those of the Lord Jesus Christ. This
last night, I have been dealing with the Almighty
258
The Fiery Ci^oss ; or,
God, to know the result of this affair, and I have
gotten it ; for as sure as He is in heaven, they are
delivered into our hands, and not a man of us shall
fall to the ground.'
As he finished this presumptuous and blas-
phemous speech, Strachan led his men on to
battle ; but he first of all rode forward alone, at
the head of his 'forlorn hope,' and desired the
infantry to crouch down among the broom and
heather in order to deceive Montrose as to his
numbers.
The great Marquis, who no doubt had offered up
a silent prayer for success, remained stationary, till
he saw in the distance a long line of Covenanters
behind Strachan's horse. The Marquis strains his
sight again, and needs no other glance to show him
Halket's lancers, and Hutchinson's cuirassiers, with
their steel caps, gorgets, and breast-plates, their
weapons being lances, swords, and pistols, all glitter-
ing in the sunlight of an April day ; and behind
them the musqueteers and the Sutherland men. He
sees that he is caught by stratagem, and fears
that all Leslie's men are behind this advanced
guard.
The musqueteers spring up from the heather,
and carrying their weapons pointed towards the
Cavaliers, advance in steady order. Montrose gives
The Vow of Montrose. 259
hurried commands to his men to retreat to the hill
behind them.
It was steep and craggy, but sheltered by a
wood. If they gain it, thinks their leader, they may
defy the Covenanters. The lancers, dragoons, and
cuirassiers will be powerless if the Cavaliers can
but reach the hill in good order before Strachan is
upon them. Their retreat, however, became dis-
orderly in the extreme. The Orcadians, seeing their
dangerous position, ran rather than marched, and
Montrose finds his enemy's horse among his buff-
coats before they could reach tlie rocks.
The Islanders scarcely made any resistance.
Most of them threw down their arms, and begged
for quarter. Oh for the Redshanks of old ! They
would have fought to the last, and as valiantly as
did Montrose, Hurry, Menzies of Pitfoddels, Powrie,
Ogiivie, and all the brave Cavaliers on that fatal
day. Alas ! the day was all too quickly lost ; and
ere the sun began to set, the star of the great Mar-
quis, Scotland's greatest hero, sank to rise no more
The Dutch soldiers behaved admirably ; and after
managing to get into the shelter of some trees, for a
long time kept the enemy's horse at bay, till at
length, overcome by superior numbers, they were
forced to surrender.
The Orkney men made no such resistance, but
•I
260 The Fiery Cross; or,
fled like a flock of sheep, and were driven into the
river, where two hundred were drowned, while several
were made prisoners.
Montrose fought like a hero till the last. His
rich Cavalier dress, his plumed hat, and above all the
diamond Star and Ribbon of the Garter, made him
a conspicuous figure in that fearful scene of blood
and carnage. Yet, though fighting in the foremost
ranks, the bullets failed to reach him ; and even
after his horse was killed under him, he fought on,
while young Menzies, bearing the King's standard,
strove to encourage the men. Twenty times, some
say thirty, that brave fellow, refusing quarter, de-
fended the standard entrusted to him by Montrose,
till a bullet struck him through the heart, and with
a smile on his face he fell to the ground, his right
hand, even in death, still grasping the precious
charge. Not till twelve of his bravest officers had
been killed by his side, and he himself had been
badly wounded, would Montrose confess to failure.
Then he was dragged off the field by his faithful
friend James Crichton, Viscount Frendraught. Per-
ceiving that his army were all routed, drowned, or
prisoners, Montrose determined to save his life by
flight. He had sought death among his soldiers,
but found it not. He had no horse ; and Lord
Frendraught urged him to use his. When Montrose
The Vow of Montrose. 261
remonstrated with him, he begged him to mount
without a moment's delay.
' What matters my life ?' exclaimed this noble
Scotchman, assisting Montrose into the saddle.
* Save yourself, for the sake of the King's good
cause !'
Lord Kinnoul, Sir Edward Sinclair, Major Sinclair
of Brim, and a few others, fighting their way off the
field of battle, then escaped.
It was about six o'clock in the evening when, with
their general's flight, the battle ended.
A short hour's bloody work, and all Montrose's
hopes were ruined. The carnage went on yet for a
little while, as the Covenanters pursued their foe,
and made the greater number prisoners. Nearly
four hundred were killed, including twelve officers
who fell by their general's side ; and it is said that so
many Orcadians fell by that ' Rock of Lamentation,'
that there was hardly a family in those islands who
did not lose a relative that bloody day.
Strachan himself escaped unwounded, owing to
Uie thickness of his buff coat ; two only of the Cove-
nanters were killed, and one was drowned.
The generous Frendraught, nephew to the Earl of
Sutherland, having no horse, was wounded and soon
made prisoner. Lord Sutherland sent him to Dun-
robin Castle, to be cured of his wounds ; but Hurry
262 The Fiery Cross; or,
and the other ofificers, among whom were both
Scottish noblemen and Cavahers of noble family,
with several Dutch and Swedish officers, were sent
cfif to Edinburgh, where they were imprisoned for a
time, many being ultimately exiled or executed.
When the Covenanters seized the King's standards,
and among them the black flag, bearing an effigy on
it of their martyred sovereign's gory head, their
exultation knew no bounds. Collecting together
those gallant and unfortunate gentlemen and men
who had fallen into their hands as prisoners, they
prepared to return to the Covenanters' headquarters
at Tain, fourteen miles off. What must not the
Cavaliers have felt, as they heard their captors
return thanks to God for their victory ! Doubtless,
even in the midst of their own misery, they groaned
in spirit at the prospect of what Montrose's own
sad fate would be !
The Sutherland men pursued the stragglers, and
for the few following days slaughtered all whom
they captured ; but Strachan's men marched back
at once to Tain,
The Parliament considered that Strachan had
effectually quelled what they termed the rebellion,
and publicly thanked him for his services, giving
him i^iooo, and a valuable gold chain and diamond
clasp as a reward for such great deeds. One triumph
The Vow of Montrose, 26
o
only was needed. In spite of the long line of noble
prisoners whom Strachan sent to Edinburgh,
Argyle's hatred and thirst for blood remained un-
quenched as long as the hills and wilds of Scotland
sheltered the great but hapless Montrose.
Who that reads this old but ever romantic tale
will not understand the bitterness that filled the
hero's breast, as, faint from his wounds, his rich
clothes torn and soiled, his heart broken, he rides off
the field, followed by his few remaining companions ?
To Montrose that terrible word failure meant the
ruin of all his hopes of glory, the loss of King
Charles's cause, the captivity and death of friends,
and his own peril ; for well he knew the Covenanters
would never rest till he was taken !
Silent, despairing, almost aimless, the little party
had halted, after an hour's hard riding put them
for the moment beyond the reach of their enemy.
A brief conference ends with a mutual agreement
that it is best to part. There is no chance of
safety for Montrose as long as so many keep to-
gether.
The farewell, spoken in the gloaming — for it was
about seven o'clock in the evening — must have been
indeed a sad one. Hands are clasped that would
never meet again. As the great Montrose rides
slowly off with Kinnoul and Sinclair as his only
264
The Fiery Cross ; or.
companions, his friends feel that their parting is
their last on earth.
After wandering about along the river-side till
nearly midnight, Montrose threw off his velvet
cloak, his diamond star, and sword. The wanderers
met a Highlander among the straths and glades of
the lonely country. The rustic stared with amaze-
ment when Montrose proposed an exchange of
clothes ; but he consented, and the exchange was
made, the Marquis going forward in the guise of a
simple Highlander.
He and Lord Kinnoul wandered about all that
miserable night, till the latter dropped down from
sheer exhaustion, and is supposed to have perished
of hunger, leaving only Major Sinclair with Mon-
trose.
Montrose and his remaining companion thought
to wander on towards Caithness, and make their
way to Dunbeath, in which castle his brother Harry
Graham still maintained his ground at the head of a
hundred men. Had he been able to reach Dunbeath
in safety, he could then have escaped by Orkney
over to France ; but he knew nothing of the wild
and desolate locality ; and while he trudged on,
hoping and believing that he was nearing friends, he
was in reality getting more and more into the hands
of his enemies.
The Vozv of Montrose. 265
Added to grief and sorrow, the gallant Montrose
endured, as night drew on, all the pangs of hunger
and thirst. It was perilous to demand rest and
shelter at any of the solitary huts along the way ;
but as morning broke on the second day, he ven-
tured to beg a poor Highland woman to give him a
little milk. Touched with his miserable plight, and
merely supposing the wounded man to be some poor
fugitive from Invercarron, she gave him some bread
and milk, the first food (except wild berries) that
this once great Marquis had tasted for two nights
and a day !
Renovated and grateful, his indomitable courage
returned. ' Despair,' he mused, ' is for cowards !
One effort more, and I shall be at Dunbeath ! '
At last, after another long day of hunger, in
which he was fain to make a sorry meal of his
leathern gloves, Montrose discovered that, instead
of being near Dunbeath, his wanderings had been
merely in a circle. He then determined to throw
himself upon the mercy of Neil Macleod, Baron of
Assynt, who had once followed the royal banner,
although he was now a staunch Covenanter.
Leslie, however, was far too wary to neglect the
chance of securing Montrose's person. His enemies
had guessed his intention of trying to reach the
coast ; and as soon as Colonel Strachan had com-
266 The Fiery Cross ; or,
municated to Leslie the news of the victoiy at
Invercarron, that wily leader had sent off to the
Laird of Assynt, and bid him arrest every stranger
in the country, rather than that Montrose should
escape.
The Baron of Assynt was only too ready to
secure the large sum the Parliament offered for
Montrose's head, and he himself led an armed band
of vassals through every wood and valley in which
they fancied the Cavaliers might be concealed.
Other armed parties were despatched in various
directions, with orders to seize and bring in the
Marquis to their master, dead or alive. One of the
Laird's parties discovered Montrose at last, just as
he and his single companion felt that they were
sinking of starvation.
At first, the Highland gillies who found Montrose
scarcely believed that the half-starved, ragged, and
miserable object before them was the great and
glorious Montrose; but all doubt was dispelled when
they led him and his companion to their chief.
Montrose's wan face lighted up with a gleam of
hope when he found that his captor was Macleod of
Assynt. He did not for one moment believe that
his former comrade would betray him ; and the
two Cavaliers joyfully hoped that they had at last
found a friend and shelter.
The Vow of Montrose. 267
They were soon cruelly undeceived. Assynt, in
spite of the name he bore and the tartan that
covered his breast, proved traitor in very deed. No
considerations of friendship, no remembrances of
past times, when they had both followed the same
banner and fought for the same cause, moved the
stern chief to pity.
' Kill me now,' pleaded the gallant Montrose,
' rather than deliver me up into Leslie's hands ! '
But no. Assynt's base soul longed for the reward,
and he would listen to no entreaties, but hardened
his heart against a sight that might well have melted
even an enemy's breast ; for nothing could be more
piteous than to see the courtly Montrose, who had
so often gloriously led his army to victory, reduced
to demand death from the wretched Macleod, rather
than be led a captive to Leslie.
There is a dreary tower, whose sides are washed
by a dark loch called Assynt, and Macleod shut up
the prisoners in that fortress of Ardvraich, till he
had sent Leslie word that the prize was secured.
The memory of this wretch was odious in the
Highlands for many generations, for hateful to the
Celtic race are treachery and inhospitality. After
Charles the Second's restoration in 1674, Macleod
was tried at Edinburgh for the part that he took
on this occasion, and only narrowly escaped death.
268 The Fiery Cross; or.
It is pleasing to remember that the money reward
he had calculated on receiving was never his, and
that all this wretch ever got (in spite of the Scottish
Parliament voting him ' twenty-five thousand pounds
Scots ') was ' 400 bolls of damaged meal,' while his
name has been as much execrated as that of the
Campbells of Glenlyon about the massacre of Glen-
coe. Ruin fell on his race ; for the Mackenzies,
Mackays, and Macdonnells of Glengarry burst into
Assynt as soon as they dared, and laid his land
desolate with fire and sword. But let us not name
him aeain, for he met with his deserts ; and
treachery, even in this world, is always and surely
punished.
General Leslie lost no time in sending to Ardvraich
in answer to Assynt's message. When Montrose
saw the Covenanters arrive, he knew that the bitter-
ness of death was indeed begun. He needed no
warnine to tell him that the hatred of his enemies
would only be slacked when his blood should have
flowed on the block.
Happy had he been to have met death then and
there ; but the victim was to be conveyed in triumph
to Edinburgh.
Strachan had already been rewarded for his ser-
vices with money and jewels ; and after despatching
orders to Leslie to send Montrose at once to Edin-
The Vow of Montrose. 269
burgh, the Parliament ordered a public fast day as a
thanksgiving for his capture.
With feelings of great thankfulness they de-
liberated on the punishment that should be his, as
well as the manner in which it should be carried out.
They did not take long to deliberate. All agreed
that it should be death, with torture ! Thus the fate
of Montrose was sealed as soon as he was captured.
He was condemned, untried and unheard in his own
defence.
The Committee appointed by Parliament to
advise on so weighty a matter was composed solely
of the Marquis's enemies. Their advice was given
in writing, without one voice being lifted up to plead
for a fair and open trial. It was determined that
Montrose should die.
Holburne conveyed his prisoner first of all to
Lord Sutherland's castle of Skibo. After staying
there two nights, he was taken to Lord Seaforth's
castle of Braan in Ross-shire.
Colonel Strachan left Leslie and Holburne in the
Highlands, and dragged Montrose in triumph to
Edinburgh. No pity, no generosity, seemed to in-
fluence Strachan in his treatment of his noble
prisoner.
The Covenanters knew that a halo of glory was
still round the prisoner's very name. For years
2 70 The Fiery Cross ; or,
Montrose's exploits had rung in their ears and
jarred on their feeHngs. Now he was in their
power, they determined to humble him to the dust.
Clad in the mean, ragged, and dirty garb in which
he had been found, Montrose was compelled to
mount a poor little Highland pony, and in that
piteous guise Strachan led him through town to
town, prolonging the route, that his triumph might
be all the greater.
The Presbyterian clergy encouraged their flocks
to pelt him with mud and stones, while a herald
preceded the prisoner, crying, 'Here comes James
Graham, traitor to his country!'
His long hair, unshaven face, and mean clothing
were intended to humiliate him ; but Montrose's
lofty bearing, and the unshaken dignity with which
he bore his sufferings, silenced many who came to
revile the fallen hero. It was treason to express
any sympathy with Montrose ; and but for the
fear of punishment, the peasantry, as the cavalcade
passed by, would fain have pitied him.
He was led slowly on. At Pitcaple, a fine old
place belonging to the Leslies, the means of
escape were offered him. The lady of the house
was a distant relative of the Grahams. She saw
and pitied Montrose. Watching her opportunity,
she stole into his room at night, and showed
The Vow of Montrose. 271
him a spring in the wall, that pushed back one
of the panels, leading to a subterranean passage
below.
The outlet was smaller than a narrow chimney,
and Montrose, while thanking his generous hostess,
refused to go through it ; telling her, with a smile
on his lips, that 'rather than be smothered in so
dark a hole, he had better meet what awaited him
in Edinburgh.' The lady sorrowfully withdrew,
grieving that she had not prevailed on her hapless
guest to attempt his escape. That room at Pitcaple
is still called * Montrose's chamber.'
As they drew near Kinnaird, each wood and
muir of Forfarshire must have reminded Montrose
of happier days.
It was at the castle of Kinnaird that Montrose's
brief married life had been passed. Magdalene Car-
negie, his fair young Countess, had died there, and
his children were at that very time living at the
castle, under the care of his father-in-law, the
venerable Earl of Southesk.
How little, in those calm days of bygone years,
when hunting, hawking, or golfing, a visit to some
neighbour, or the weekly attendance at kirk, had
alone broken the monotony of life, had Montrose
dreamed of this last visit to his father-in-law's home !
Montrose loved but once in his life ; and when the
272
The Fiery Cross ; or.
gentle Magdalene died, leaving him a young widower
with three children, he enshrined her memory in his
heart, an amulet against all meaner loves, and one
that prevented his ever forming a second marriage.
In his own words —
Let no man to more love pretend
Than he has hearts in store ;
True love begun shall never end :
Love one and love no more ! '
When Montrose found himself so near Lord
Southesk's, he entreated Strachan to let him bid
his children farewell. Even his pitiless jailor could
not say nay to that request ; and the cavalcade
halted at the castle, that the touching farewell
might be taken.
Montrose knew what fate awaited him, and knew
as he strained each dear child to his breast that it
was a last embrace ; yet he preserved an unbroken
serenity of manner, determined that his calmness
should shame the malice of his persecutors. Thus
he bid them farewell, and asked a last blessing
from his father-in-law, whose own descendants
were doomed to suffer for their devotion to future
Stuarts ; for the Southesk fortunes were ruined in
the rising of 1715, and the present Earl is only a
younger branch of that loj^al Carnegie family. He
had indeed gone through his greatest trial. How,
The Vow of Montrose, ■ 273
as mounted again, and turning his back for ever on
Kinnaird, must his thoughts have dwelt on his
wife's tomb in the little churchyard near the castle,
and the future of his hapless children ! All he felt,
however, he jealously guarded from his jailor's eyes,
and he was outwardly calm when the Covenanters
next halted at a place called Grange.
The owner of the castle was a * red-hot Puritan,'
but he had known Montrose in happier years ; and
as there is a record that the Lord of Grange had
given him a hawk, it is probable that they had once
enjoyed good sport together. His host, however,
only welcomed Montrose to Grange as a captive,
and felt but little pity for his forlorn and piteous
state, for he was in rags, and not suffered to wear
garments more fitting to his station, nor to shave off
the long beard which gave to his countenance a
wild and miserable appearance.
The wife of James Durham, his host, was named
Margaret, and was by birth a Scott of Brotherton.
She saw and pitied Montrose, and, like the lady of
Pitcaple, determined to try and save him.
Like a wily woman, she knew that her best chance
of doing so lay in pretending great warmth on the
opposite side. She stealthily noticed how Montrose
was guarded, and then made a great show of noisy
hospitality, bidding her butler * let the soldiers want
2 74 The Fiery Cross ; or,
for no drink,' and vowing that in the good Covenant's
cause it ' behoved her to bestir herself.' She did all
that lay in her power to circulate her husband's good
liquor.
With great outward show of kindness she plied
the guard with strong ale and whisky ; and the
Highlanders, not being used to such copious liba-
tions, soon became ' starke drunke.'
Overjoyed when she saw them all asleep in the
hall, she went into Montrose's room, and persuaded
him to put on one of her gowns, and disguise him-
self as a woman. She told him if he trusted to her
guidance he would yet be saved. Just as the lady
of Grange had guided the pretended female safely
through the sleeping guards to the other door, a
soldier came in. The man was less drunk than the
others. He seized the dame, and in the scuffle that
ensued he recognised the features of Montrose.
The man v/as instantly sobered. He gave a
prompt alarm, and the captive was reconducted to
his grated room, and more strictly guarded than
before ; while James Durham and all his household
were made prisoners, charged with having aided
the Cavalier to escape.
* Don't blame my husband,' cried the intrepid
dame of Grange. ' I planned it all, and he knew
nothing of my scheme. I only wish I had sue-
Montrose attempts to Escape.— Pa^e 274.
2;5
The Vow of Mo7itrose. 277
ceeded, and given the Marquis of Montrose his
freedom.'
The next day the Covenanters and their prisoner
stopped at Dundee, a town that had little reason
to regard Montrose with favour, yet which on this
occasion did all it could to mitigate his sufferings.
Its burghers, declaring it was a shame to let the
Marquis wear the miserable rags in which he ap-
peared, provided him with garments more fitting
to his rank, and presented him with a handsome
sum of money.
This generous conduct should have shamed
Strachan and his companions, who treated their
prisoner as if he were the vilest felon in Scotland,
instead of an unfortunate general who had lost all
through the accident of fortune and a devoted
loyalty to the royal cause.
The kindness of the citizens of Dundee was the
more unexpected by Montrose, as he knew that his
Redshanks had formerly plundered the city. The
kindness he there met with was a ray of light in his
melancholy progress towards Edinburgh.
CHAPTER VIII.
• I've told thee how the Southrons fell
Beneath the broad claymore,
And how we smote the Campbell clan
By Inverlochy's shore.
I've told thee how we swept Dundee,
And tamed the Lindsay's pride ;
But never have I told thee yet
How the great Marquis died ! '
— Aytoun.
HILE Strachan, charged by the Parlia-
ment to convey Montrose to Edinburgh,
was, as we have seen, executing his task
with rigid severity, Leslie was scouring the country
in search of the fugitive remnant of the defeated
army.
Sir Harry Graham, brother to Montrose, was in
Orkney when Leslie invested the Castle of Dun-
beath. The garrison, hearing that Montrose had
without doubt been defeated and taken orisoner,
278
The Vow of Montrose. 279
thought it useless to resist, and surrendered to
Leslie's soldiers. The garrison, principally Dutch-
men, were most of them allowed to return home
unmolested, while some of them were enlisted in
Sir Robert Murray's regiment of Scots in France.
Sir Harry Graham fled to France.
This regiment of Scots had existed in France
since the days of Louis the Ninth, and had always
been highly prized by the French sovereigns.
Charles the Second while in exile belonged to it,
as also did the gallant George Gordon Marquis of
Huntly in 1625, and James the Second while Duke
of York. The Marquis of Huntly, as Captain of
the ' Gendarmes Ecossais,' had fought in Louis the
Thirteenth's army, and greatly distinguished him-
self; so that, as it was considered an honour to
belong to the Scottish regiment, the soldiers of the
garrison therefore appear to have been treated with
unwonted leniency in being sent into that service.
After subduing Dunbeath, nothing remained but
to capture the venerable Castle of Kirkwall, which
Montrose had left under the command of Colonel
Johnstone. In it were all his papers, military stores,
weapons, and the suits of armour sent by the Queen
of Sweden, but which did not arrive soon enough to
be used in Montrose's sad and short campaign.
With the capture of Kirkwall, which had been
28o The Fiery Cross; or,
built five hundred years before by one of the Counts
of Orcades, and that of Jutland, both of which had
been left very insufficiently garrisoned by Montrose,
Leslie considered his task completed.
The little frigate of sixteen guns, sent by the
Swedes, fell also into their hands ; but the papers
were more prized than anything else, as among
them was a list of gentlemen favourable to Mon-
trose's enterprise. These were immediately arrested,
and taken prisoners by the Covenanters, on the
mere suspicion of belonging to the Cavalier party.
The information Argyle obtained through these
documents was made use of also against the Mar-
quis, who was condemned before he reached Leith,
untried by the laws of his country, and unheard in
his own defence.
Among the papers was one from James Lord
Sinclair, declaring that, the treaty of Breda being a
mere trap for the King, he saw no means of bringing
about his restoration except by the sword.
After ordering a solemn fast and thanksgiving
day, the Parliament appointed a Committee * to
advise the Estates' on the grave subject of Mon-
trose's punishment.
The Committee met on the 17th of May, 1650, and
their deliberations lasted a very short time. The
men who composed it were all enemies to Montrose,
The Vow of Montrose. 281
— Argyle among the number, — and they quickly
sentenced him to an ignominious death. It was
thought advisable to beg them to write the sentence,
and accordingly they gave the Parliament a written
paper to the following effect, namely, that as soon
as 'the traitor, James Graham,' should arrive out-
side the city, their advice was, ' that the Magistrates
and common hangman should meet him and tie
him bareheaded upon a cart. Thus bound, the
hangman should draw him through the town, the
history of his battles appended round his neck, and
that he should be hanged in view of the whole popu-
lace, and then beheaded and quartered, — his head
to be placed on the Tolbooth, and his limbs to be
distributed to the various cities of Perth, Glasgow,
Aberdeen, and Stirling.' If he repented of the
crimes of loyalty and honour, — so ran the sentence,
— his body was to be buried in Greyfriars ; but if he
died without regretting his actions, it was to share
the fate of the remains of thieves and malefactors,
and be buried under the gibbet.
It was the eighteenth of May, 1650, that, after
crossing the Firth of Forth, the cavalcade con-
ducting Montrose to his doom reached Leith.
Suspense was over. The mind of the Marquis
was made up to bravely meet his fate. The kind-
ness shown him at Dundee enabled him to enter
282 The Fiery Cross; or,
Edinburgh in garments not altogether unsuitable to
his rank ; and as he took his place on the rude cart
that met him at the Watergate, it was with a calm-
ness and grace that his ignominious treatment could
not destroy.
The fast had been held three days before ; and
after denouncing him from their pulpits, the Presby-
terian clergymen, in their long black cloaks, Geneva
bands, and pointed hats, mingled with the crowd
and encouraged them to execrate and abuse the
victim as he passed along.
The hangman ordered Montrose to take ofif his
hat— for part of his sentence was that he should
undergo his punishment uncovered.
Montrose hesitated, on which the hangman
snatched it rudely from his noble head, and then
placed him on the cart, binding him firmly across
his arms and shoulders, the cords being safely
attached to holes made in the rough wooden pieces
of the cart behind the chair on which sat the victim.
The hangman sat in front, a single horse drawing
the vehicle ; and, as if to show that the very
executioner was of higher rank than the illustrious
Montrose, he carried a long staff in his hand, was
bonneted, and wore a ghastly livery.
* They brought him to the Watergate,
Hard bound with hempen span.
The Vow of Montrose. 283
As though they held a lion there,
And not a fenceless man.
They set him high upon a cart, —
The hangman rode below, —
They drew his hands behind his back.
And bared his noble brow.
Then as a hound is slipped from leash,
They cheered, the common throng.' '
It was getting late in that summer's day when
Montrose, thus degraded, was led to the Watergate.
He was met there by the Provost and burghers of
Edinburgh, who read his sentence to him before he
mounted the cart.
Thousands of people awaited him in the High
Street and Canongate, and every house was crowded
from the top to the bottom with a prejudiced, angry
mob, eager to see The Graham, and how he bore
his sentence.
The cavalcade nears the Watergate. Every neck
is stretched out to gaze upon the proud and haughty
Montrose.
The Magistrates read out his sentence to him.
As the sound of the last sentence dies away, and
the cruel yell of the mob, eager to sate their hatred
with a sight of his sufferings, rises in the air, Mon-
trose, almost as calm and unmoved as if about to
tread some courtly hall, calmly says in reply :
* I willingly obey, but am sorry that through me
* Aytoun.
T
284 The Fiery Cross ; or,
His Majesty, whose person I represent, should be so
dishonoured ! '
Although his words were brave, his face, as he
entered the court and submitted to his fate, was pale
and wan. Montrose bore his fate with outward
calmness; but one can guess the torture that so
proud a man must have endured, as he rides on,
unable to lift his hand to his brow, his head bare,
and the sun streaming down on his face and figure.
The Magistrates and burghers accompanied the
procession, which was preceded by a melancholy
cavalcade of his fellow-prisoners, bareheaded and
on foot as if they were common thieves instead of
chivalrous gentlemen, guilty only of loyalty and
fidelity to their sovereign.
The clergy had especially enjoined all the mem-
bers of their flocks to hiss and execrate ' that bloody
and excommunicate traitor, James Graham ; ' but
by degrees the yells died away, and the excited
populace gazed with involuntary compassion on
that grave, heart-broken face, looking sadly down
from the hangman's cart upon the now hushed and
awe-stricken multitude. Does Montrose recall his
past triumphs ? and do the loud shouts and curses
that first greet him remind him, by contrast, of the
cries of joy that after many a victory his faithful
Redshanks had been wont to greet their hero ?
The Vozu of Montrose. 285
Alas ! tJiey are far away ; some slain in battle, some
skulking from Argyle's bloodhounds, as they track
each vale and hill for * recusant men ' ! Perchance,
too, his father's heart remembers in that hour of
anguish those children he will never see again ; but
who, when party prejudice has died away, and when
the royal cause once more prospers, will live to hear
their father named with honour as Montrose the
Cavalier.
The street along which the cavalcade passed was
very wide in parts, and every portion of it was filled
with the populace. There were many women in the
crowd, and some of them had been especially violent
against Montrose. But now their half-uttered taunts
died away before the sublimity of the martyr's
bearing, and their hearts, quickly stirred, were
moved to feelings of deep compassion ; and such
as dared murmured blessings and prayers instead
of curses.
A deep silence fell on the crowd as the procession
advanced, and the Presbyterian clergy marked with
consternation that their flocks were ' backsliding *
and sympathizing with that * malignant Montrose.'
The city guard was replaced as it neared the
Canongate by i body of sixty soldiers, with three
corporals, sergeants, and officers, belonging to
* Sawers' musqueteers.' These armed men sur-
286 The Fiery Cross; or,
rounded the car, while their commander rode at
their head.
At this period the infantry of an army was chiefly
composed of pikemen and * musqueteers.' The pike-
man carried a formidable weapon eighteen feet long,
but the musqueteer bore his piece on his shoulder,
holding his ' musket rest ' in the same hand.
The officer who commanded the soldiers on the
occasion of Montrose's entrance into Edinburgh,
was a grim-featured, large-nosed, repulsive-looking
man, who pretended to be devotedly attached to the
Covenant, but who at heart was indifferent alike to
all religions.
His real name was Thomas Weir of Kirktoune,
Lanarkshire; but he was best known as 'the Wizard
of the North,' for the common people believed him
to be a sorcerer. He was burned at the stake in
1670 for sorcery and other crimes. As major of the
military in Edinburgh, he was selected to escort
Montrose along a portion of the route. Weir's grim
figure, enveloped in a black cloak, added to the
ghastly nature of the sight, and even the mothers
and widows of some who had fallen in the ranks of
Montrose's foes could not but shed tears at the
piteous spectacle of the great hero's degradation.
His silent dignity struck them forcibly. A low
murmur of sympathy broke forth, but it was
The Vow of Montrose. 287
instantly quelled by the shouts of the brutal
soldiery.
One heart resolutely excluded the sentiment of
pity from its owner's breast.
Argyle's son, Lord Lome, had just married the
Lady Mary Stuart, Lord Moray's daughter. The
bride's father lived in the Canongate ; and, with
fiendish glee and unexampled bad taste, Argyle and
the newly-wedded pair, with a gay party of friends,
had taken their places on the broad balcony of this
mansion, overlooking the street. Argyle, who, as a
Cavalier historian asserts, had never dared to face
Montrose sword in his hand, now looked exultingly
down on his victim, bound hand and foot, pinioned
in the hangman's cart !
Whether by design or accident, the cart stopped
for a moment beneath Lord Moray's balcony.
As the horse stopped, a woman's coarse, unfeeling
laughter broke upon the awe-stricken stillness of
the crowd. The people, gathered in such numbers
to see Montrose, had been prepared to hoot at and
hiss him, but they had respected the sight of that
* pale wan face.' It was one infamous woman only
— ^Jean Gordon, Countess of Haddington — who did
not hesitate to insult the noble prisoner. She
stepped forward and spat in his face ! Even Argyle
seemed to shrink back as he witnessed this atro-
2SS
The Fiery Cross ; or,
city, and a voice was heard among the crowd
crying —
* She ought to sit upon the cart for her own
wickedness ! '
This unwomanly act was, strange to say, the act
of the sister of that brave and gallant Huntly, who
five years before had fallen at the battle of Alford,
fighting by the side of the Marquis.
Even then the Marquis remained unmoved and
calm. His dignified demeanour put to shame the
unfeeling conduct of Argyle's niece and her party,
who laughed and jested while their fallen enemy
passed the balcony. To quote again the beautiful
poem of one who has sung Montrose's praises in
language that will live as long as the hero's fame,
the procession went along —
* But onwards — always onwards.
In silence and in gloom, —
The dreary pageant laboured
Till it reached the house of doom.
Then first a woman's voice was heard,
In jeer and laughter loud,
And an angry cry and a hiss arose
From the heart of the tossing crowd.
Then as the Graeme looked upwards,
He saw the ugly smile
Of him who sold his king for gold, —
The master fiend Argyle ! '
The distance from the Watergate to the Tolbooth
was only a mile, but so slowly did the cart proceed
The Vow of Montrose. 289
that it actually took three hours to convey Montrose
to his prison, and it was close upon seven o'clock
when they reached the gloomy fortress.
Weary, indeed, must Montrose have been ; but
even then his courtly manner did not desert him.
He thanked the executioner for * driving the cart
so well,' and for his trouble gave him a handsome
vail of gold.
He was unbound, taken from his ignominious
seat, and led into the Tolbooth, where he was
handed over to the safe custody of Colonel Wallace
the governor.
After so agitating a day, it would have seemed
but common humanity to leave Montrose to repose
in his comfortless chamber ; but the Parliament
were in too great a hurry to compass his destruc-
tion, or to wait even a day longer before he was
examined. The day of his entry was Saturday, and
Sunday intervening, the Covenanters determined
not to wait till the Monday.
Parliament met, and immediately formed a com-
mittee, charged to see and examine Montrose.
He declined to see them, but they would take no
denial, and insisted on his presence.
Montrose replied to their questions, that before
he answered them he must be satisfied that they
were acting for his royal master the King. In vain
290 The Fiery Cross ; or^
the Commissioners pressed him to answer. He pre-
served a dignified silence.
Finding him thus resolute, the Committee went
back to the Parliament, who sent them back to Mon-
trose to say that * they and the King were agreed,'
but that they would leave him in peace till Monday.
In fact. Parliament had determined to get all the
information they could from Montrose about the
King's party ; and knowing the man, thought that
he w^ould be more inclined to disclose facts if he
knew that, since his defeat, Charles the Second had
concluded a treaty with them, and recognised them
as a properly constituted Parliament.
It was very late when the deputies brought this
information back to the Marquis, who, when told
that they would leave him alone till Monday, said
that he was glad of it, as he was very weary with
his long journey, and with the somewhat tedious
compliment they had that day paid him.
Next day being Sunday, the Presbyterian clergy
rebuked their flocks for * their profane tenderness in
not denouncing the Graham ' as he passed along
the streets ; and some even went so far as to regret
that the people had not reviled and stoned him.
As the Church Courts in those days enjoined every
parishioner to be present 'at each diet of worship,'
the Presbyterians had large congregations as they
The Vow of Montrose. 29 [
expatiated on the enormous wickedness of not
hissing 'the Graham.'
When kirk was over, and the Covenanters had
ended their long discourses, several of their leaders
went to the Tolbooth to taunt Montrose, and urged
him to confess. His prison doors were guarded by
Major Weir, who made Montrose's captivity none
the less irksome by smoking tobacco, the scent of
which the Marquis was known to detest. Weir also
constantly reviled him with such epithets as 'dog,
atheist, and murderer ! ' None of his friends were
allowed admittance to his cell ; while weary and sad,
he longed to repose, but patiently bore the visits
paid him by the Presbyterian clergy ; merely saying
. when they exhorted him to confession and re-
proached him for his crimes, that he was far from
being ' affronted ' at the treatment that he had re-
ceived,
'They were mistaken,* said Montrose, smiling.
* He thought it the most honourable journey he had
ever taken, — God having supported him all the
way, enabling him to bear the reproaches of men,
by recalling to his mind that he then suffered for
the King's sacred cause.'
There was no insult that his tormentors did not
heap on him in reply. They addressed him as
'James Graham :' and one bigoted clergyman called
292 The Fiery Cross ; or,
him * a faggot of hell,' and said ' he already saw
him burning !'
Malignity, however, did not alter our hero's firm
and dignified bearing. He bore all gently, till at
nightfall he was left alone to get what repose he
could before the break of day.
When summoned early next morning to appear
before Parliament, he attired himself in a splendid
suit of new clothes, that he had purposely ordered
to be made, and probably purchased with the money
given him by the burghers of Dundee.
First, he wore a scarlet rochet or coat, trimmed
with silver ribbons, richly lined with crimson, and
reaching to his knees. Under this gay coat he
wore black and richly laced under-clothes, carnation
coloured silk stockings, handsome garters, roses in
his shoes, and a large beaver hat in his hand. The
gay ribbons that formed the tie of the hatband,
garter, or shoe, were called ' roses ' in those times,
and were evidently worn large, as Ben Jonson says —
' My heart was at my mouth
Till I had viewed his shoes well ; for those roses
Were big enough to hide a cloven foot. '
His shirt was trimmed with the finest lace.
Thus attired, he walked with modest dignity into
the Parliament House, uncovering as he bowed his
head to the members in recognition of an autho-
The Vow of Montrose. 293
rity sanctioned by his sovereign. He showed no
signs of fear ; but his face looked very pale and sad.
As he gazed around and saw an assemblage of so
many of his enemies, he sighed, and then resumed
his calm demeanour.
There were several noblemen present ; among
them the Lord High Chancellor, the President of
the Estates, Argyle, the Earls of Eglinton, Rox-
burghe, Buccleuch, Balcarres, Tweeddale, and nume-
rous others, both titled and untitled, belonging to
the highest families in Scotland.
The proceedings began by the Chancellor (the
Earl of Loudon), a man of notorious evil character,
rising and delivering a long speech, in which he
referred to Montrose's rebellions, and to his deser-
tion of the Covenant, and all his (so-called) crimes
against the State. The Chancellor used as much
invective and personal abuse as possible ; and Mon-
trose listened calmly to every word, though his
eyes roved from side to side, as if in search of
some kind face to cheer and pity him. When the
Chancellor's long speech was over, IMontrose rose to
reply.
' If I appear before you uncovered, it is because
my sovereign has recognised you. I have always
tried to behave like a good Christian and a loyal
subject. I entered into the first Covenant and kept
294 The Fiery Cross; or,
it faithfully, until I found that some, under the pre-
tence of religion, used it for a cloak of their own
ambitious designs.
* I never promised obedience to the second Cove-
nant, and am in no way bound to respect it. I had
the royal warrant for my wars ; and though several
acts of cruelty were committed by my soldiery, I
always punished such outrages with severity.
* I have never taken the blood of a prisoner, even
in retaliation for the slaughter of my soldiers and
friends ; and in battle I have saved the lives of
thousands.
*I landed in Orkney at the express command of
Charles the Second, whom you yourselves pro-
claimed as King, and with whom you are now in
treaty. I therefore desire to be treated by you as a
Christian man, to whom many among you are in-
debted for life and property, when, by the fortune
of war, both were at my mercy. Act by me, my
lords, according to the laws of nature and of nations,
but chiefly by those of our native Scotland ; judging
as one day you shall all be judged, when standing
at the throne of heaven !'
Montrose delivered this speech with calm and
manly fortitude ; and even those most prejudiced
against him could not help admiring his dignity.
He had been judged beforehand, however ; and his
The Vow of Montrose. 295
speech and his hearers' sympathy availed him
nothing.
The Chancellor alone heard him immoved. When
Montrose had finished, he said that he had proved
' his acts of hostility, and that he was an infamous,
perjured, treacherous person, worse than any this
land had ever before brought forth ; the most in-
human butcher and murderer of his nation, and a
sworn enemy to the Covenant and peace of his
country ; one whose boundless pride and ambition,
after ruining the father, had done all that he could
to destroy the son !'
When Montrose would have again stood up to
reply to these undeserved insults, Loudon bid him
* to hold his tongue,' and to kneel while his sentence
was pronounced.
He complied, merely saying that he knelt out of
respect to the King, who had acknowledged their
authority, but not from ' any meanness of spirit, or
disposition to fawn to them !'
In that position, he calmly listened while one of
his most inveterate enemies, Sir Archibald Johnston
of Warriston, clerk register, read his sentence. He"
was to be hanged on a gibbet at the Cross of Edin-
burgh. His ' declaration ' was to be hung round his
neck by a rope ; and after his body had been sus-
pended three hours, it was to be cut down by the
296 The Fiery Cross; or,
hangman, decapitated, and then to have his hands
and legs cut off; his head to be affixed to an iron
pole, and stuck up over the western gable of the
Tolbooth, one hand * to be set up ' at Perth, one at
Stirling, a leg and foot at Aberdeen, and one at
Glasgow.
Montrose drew himself proudly up when he had
heard the whole of his sentence, and cried out ' that
he took it for a greater honour to have his head
stand on the prison gate for this quarrel, than were
his portrait hung up in the King's own chamber ; '
and, added he, with a fire in his eye that all the
insults heaped on him had failed to quench, * I
only wish — for fear my loyalty should be forgotten
— I had enough limbs to be distributed in every city'
in Christendom, as records of my loyalty to my king
and love to my country !'
It was an old custom in Scotland, that the execu-
tioner should repeat a prisoner's doom, and it was
not part of the programme that a single iota of
degradation should be omitted from Montrose's
punishment.
When the grim executioner had done his duty,
Montrose was reconducted to the Tolbooth. He
spent his last uiight on earth in meditation and
prayer, heedless of the taunts and jibes of his brutal
jailor, Major Weir.
The Vow of Alontrose. 297
He was not allowed to see a single friend ; yet,
throughout that night, he was frequently visited by
Presbyterian clergymen, whose vanity perhaps per-
suaded them that their eloquence might yet induce
the Marquis to repent !
Montrose, while deprecating their intrusive visits
as hindrances to his prayers and meditations, yet
received them gently. At last, however, his patience
gave way.
• Why,' he cried, ' do you not leave the last hours
of an unfortunate man in peace? Will nothing
satisfy you but tormenting me ?'
'Nothing!' said the bigot who was preaching at
him — 'for I know no other method of humblinfj
your pride, and turning you to God.'
' By a warrant from the Kirk we stayed with him
a while about his soul's condition,' wrote one of his
persecutors ; ' but we found him continuing in his
old pride, and taking very ill what was spoken to
him, saying, " I pray you, gentlemen, let me die in
peace." It was answered, that he might die in peace,
being reconciled to the Lord and to His Kirk.'
Finding they made little or no impression, the
Presbyterian ministers reported their ill success to
the Parliament, and requested leave to be present
at his execution, 'in case, at the last moment, that
he relented.'
298 The Fiery Cross ; or,
These fanatics averred that his soul was in peril,
should he die while still excommunicated by the
Kirk.
Pressed by the clergy and reviled by his jailor,
the constancy of Montrose never once forsook him.
The high-mindedness with which this great man
met his terrible doom, cannot be better expressed
than in his own words, written with the diamond
of his ring on the window-pane of his prison, during
that last sad night. Montrose had cultivated in
happier hours and times his gift of poetry, and
the religious feeling breathed in the following lines
did not spring only from his trouble in his last
hours : —
' Let them bestow on every airt a limb,
Then open all my veins, that I may swim
To Thee, my Maker, in that crimson lake ;
Then place my parboiled head upon a stake ;
Scatter my ashes, throw them in the air ;
Lord, since Thou know'st where all these atoms are,
I'm hopeful Thou'lt recover once my dust,
And confident Thou'lt raise me with the just.'
Early next morning, when he had had some brief
rest, Montrose was astonished at hearing, outside the
Tolbooth walls, a great blowing of trumpets and
beating of drums. He inquired the reason.
Major Weir replied that Parliament had deemed
it safer to call the soldiers out to guard the ap-
The Vow of Montrose. 299
preaches to the scaffold, for fear that his 'malignant'
friends might attempt to rescue him even at the
eleventh hour.
' Indeed,' said Montrose, smiling. ' Is it possible
that I, who am bound for slaughter, am still so for-
midable to all these good folks! I shall be still more
terrible to them, then, when I am dead, I suppose.'
The Parliament need have feared no rescue.
Though the Cavalier party was overwhelmed with
grief at the defeat of Invercarron, they were power-
less to avert Montrose's execution. The Presby-
terian party was strong and vindictive ; and even
those who deplored the gross injustice of putting
Montrose to death without a fair trial, did not dare
to say so loudly.
Montrose's friend, Cardinal de Retz, heard
of what was about to take place from a Mon-
sieur de Groymond, an accredited minister to the
Parliament from Louis XIV., and wrote a strong
letter to the ' Parliament and Estates of Scotland,
begging that they would release Montrose, and not
suffer him to be insulted.' But when the missive
was written, the fatal deed had already been per-
petrated, for the letter was dated the loth of June
1650, and Montrose was executed on the 2ist of
May in that same year.
Montrose's friends, though not permitted to see
u
300
The Fiery Cross ; or,
and take leave of him, had supplied him with money
to enable him to appear richly clad on the day of
his execution.
He took the greatest pains with his appearance
while dressing himself for his execution, although
his preparations were conducted before a knot of
Covenanting Puritans, still persecuting him with
their homilies. Among these ' dour carles ' was the
man who had read his sentence the preceding
day.
It is said that this man, Sir Archibald Johnston,
had advised Argyle on the details of the sentence,
and had negatived milder counsels when his punish-
ment had been discussed in Parliament. No insult
was beneath their malice. Montrose wore his lone
locks in the Cavalier fashion; and seeing him engaged
in carefully preparing them, Sir Archibald tauntingly
inquired if ' such an occupation befitted so solemn
an hour ! '
' As long as my head is my own,' replied the
Marquis, ' I will dress it as I please ; to-morrow,
when it is yours, you may dress it as you please ! *
Nothing could surpass the splendid appearance of
the Marquis on that memorable day. He looked as
if ready to visit some festive hall ; as calm as if
about to tread a measure with some courtly beauty.
His mien was heroic, and his bright piercing eyeg
The Vow of Montrose. 301 ,
were lighted up with undaunted courage. His
whole appearance was so lofty and magnificent, that
as he stepped out to once more ascend the miserable
cart, an involuntary murmur of admiration broke
out among the crowd.
He had breakfasted off a piece of bread dipped
in ale ; and when his jailor told him the dread hour
was come, he drew on his hands a pair of delicate
white gloves, throwing over his rich scarlet coat a
most splendid cloak, embroidered with gold and
silver lace. His hat, as richly decked as his cloak,
he carried in his hand.
'So grand,' wrote his chaplain Wishart, Montrose's
faithful historian, ' was his air, so much bravery,
majesty, and gravity appeared in his countenance,
that the whole city was shocked at the cruelty
which was designed him, and even his enemies were
obliged to confess that he was a man of the most
lofty and elevated soul, and the most unshaken
constancy and courage that his age had pro-
duced.'
Even the indignity of ascending for the second
time the hangman's cart fell powerless on Montrose;
for as he ascended the scaffold, he said to a person
standing by, ' You see how I am honoured ! yet
after all I never in my life felt more delight in riding
in a coach than I have in that poor cart,'
."^02
The Fiery Cross ; or,
All Edinburgh had come out to see the great
Marquis die.
*And young and old, and rich and poor,
Came forth to see him die ! '
A great multitude had for hours been awaiting
him. Long before he had left the ^eart of Mid-
lothian the whole space around the gibbet was
crammed with men, women, and children, all come
to witness a great hero's last moments.
His demeanour would have shamed a Roman
hero — it was so calm, so lofty. His rich dress,
carefully adjusted, set off the beauty and grace of
his handsome person. Even a brave man might
have shrunk back in terror at sight of that ghastly
gibbet. The noose dangled down, for his enemies
were relentless, and he was to be hanged instead of
being beheaded, — decapitation in those days being
the nobleman's privilege.
The scaffold was nearly level with the spectators,
and the gibbet was erected in its centre. At the
lower end of the scaffold stood a knot of Presby-
terian clergy, still bent on tormenting their victim.
In another part were the Magistrates, bound by the
duties of their office to see the sentence carried into
effect. _ .-
Montrose spoke a few words to the latter, but
The Vow of Mojitrose. 303
never even glanced in the direction of the clergy-
men, and then prepared to ascend the gibbet.
' He would not deign them word or sign,
But alone he bent the knee,
And veiled his face for Christ's dear sake
Beneath the gallows tree ! '
The bufif-coated soldiers formed a compact guard
round the scafiold, beyond which a great sea of
faces surged ; every eye riveted on the graceful
figure of the chief actor in the scene, the great and
good Montrose. A little apart stood another figure,
the executioner, with a long staff, the insignia of
his terrible office, in his hand. Every prospect or
chance of rescue was provided for ; while on a
bench near the ladder were a number of knives and
axes to dismember the body after death.
The Marquis calmly glanced at all these dread
preparations ; but though he had refused the mini-
strations of the Presbyterian clergy, he prayed
fervently, covering his face with his hands, as he
stood beneath the gibbet.
He had wished to address the populace, but that
privilege was strictly forbidden. A boy, said to
have been purposely placed there to record his last
words, took down in cipher the sentences he ad-
dressed to those about him. His dying address
has been thus handed down to posterity.
304 The Pieiy Cross ; or^
* I would be very sorry,' he said, * if any one good
Christian should be scandalized by my death. Doth
not sometimes a just man perish in his righteous-
ness, and a wicked man prosper in his malice !
' They that know me should not yndemn me for
it, for many greater than me have been dealt with
as hardly. Yet, however I may consider my fate
hard as inflicted by man, I acknowledge it to be
just as coming directly from God. I therefore
blame no one for it, nor complain of any one's
judgment. I take it from the hand of God, whose
instruments they are, and forgive them for it ; may
God also forgive them. ^ ' y
* To exonerate myself from me scandal with
which many good people load me, I maintain that
all I did originated out of loyalty to the King.
'I have not sinned against man, but against God;
and with Him there is mercy, and this is my ground
of hope in drawing near to Him.
* I pray God that there be no further judgments on
this land. As for that which the Lord's people urge
against me, namely, that I am excommunicated by
the Church, I can only say, it is not my fault, as
the sentence was incurred from my zeal in the
King's service. Yet I am sorry that they excom-
municated me ; and if I could be relaxed' without
infringing the laws of God, or my allegiance to the
f
The Vow of Montrose. 305
King, I would be very happy. If not, I must
appeal to God, who will be a less partial judge. It
is said that I have blamed the King. God forbid !
For the late King lived a saint and died a martyr !
May my end be like his ; for if ever I could wish my
soul in another man's stead, it should be in his. As
for his present IVfajesty, his commands to me were
very just, and he will carry out all that he engages
to do. Do not mistake my behaviour for obstinacy,
I can only carry out the dictates of my own con-
science, according to the workings of God's Spirit.
I desire not to be presumptuous, but it is God who
supports me under the terrors of death.
* I have no more to say, but to crave your charity
and prayers, I pray for all. I leave my soul to
God, my service to my prince, my goodwill to
my friends. I have said all this to discharge my
conscience, and the rest I leave to the mercy of
God.'
The Presbyterian ministers begged him again to
reconsider his determination-, and to make his peace
with the Kirk, by avowing his past errors,
' I have already,' replied Montrose, ' poured out
my soul before the Lord, who knows my heart, and
into whose hands I nowJcommerid my spirit. He
has given me peace through Jesus Christ my Re-
deemer; and therefore if you will not join me in
^ '
3o6 The Fiery Cross ; or,
prayer, my repeating all that I have said before will
be scandalous.'
The Presbyterian ministers told him that as long
as he remained excommunicated by the Kirk, they
could not pray with him.
He then, after again praying, began to prepare
for death.
He fee'd the executioner handsomely with gold,
after inquiring how long he was to hang there.
' Three hours ! ' replied the Calcraft of the day,
bursting into tears. Montrose earnestly begged to
be permitted to wear his hat and cloak, but even
that favour was not allowed, and he went bare-
headed to his doom. A copy of his memoirs by his
chaplain, and another of his declarations as Captain-
General of Scotland, was hung round his neck, as
decreed by the Estates ; but he bore it cheerfully,
saying —
* Though it had pleased the King to make me a
Knight of the most Honourable Order of the Garter,
yet do I not think myself more honoured by that
than by the contents of this book, the true testi-
mony of m.y loyalty ! '
His calmness almost gave way when the Magis-
trates ordered his arms to be pinioned. He seemed
justly indignant, but said nothing till it was done,
when, turning to his executioner, he inquired ' if
The Voiu of Montrose, 307
he had any more dishonour — as they conceived it
— to put on him ; if so, he was ready to receive
it!"
With the same undaunted courage and dignity as
he had hitherto borne all his misfortunes, he mounted
the ladder that led to the gibbet. The clock of a
neighbouring church struck the hour of three as the
ladder was drawn from beneath his feet, and the last
sounds that Montrose heard, before his soul was
launched into eternity, were the sobs of the hang-
man and the roar that burst from the indignant
crowd below.
The great Cavalier was dead.
His body hung for three hours, and then the
executioner cut it down, and it fell on its face. It
was dismembered in the presence of Argyle's son,
lyord Lome, who, after ascending the scafiold to
ga^e in triumph on his father's dead enemy, re-
mained to see it hewn in pieces.
Argyle, however, had better taste, and was not
present at his rival's execution. It is said that he
shed tears at the recital of his noble death. Perhaps
they were tears of remorse.
Thus died Montrose, in the thirty-eighth year of
his age. His name and memory will ever be
honoured as one of history's grandest characters.
His faults were those of his ago, but his virtues
3o8 The Fiery Cross ; or,
were far in advance of his time ; and his dignity,
forbearance, and fortitude, would have made his
name illustrious even without the long list of
splendid victories by which he had made himself
famous.
The fate of his remains is remarkable. His head
was stuck on a gable of the old Tolbooth of Edin-
burgh, next to that of his uncle, Lord Gowrie, which
had been there fifty years.
For fear that his friends should remove it, the
Parliament ordered it to be secured with a strong
iron bar.
His body was buried on the Boroughmuir Road,
at a place devoted to the execution of malefactors ;
but one devoted friend, by dint of paying a large
sum of money, got possession of his heart.
It was Lady Napier who dared and did the deed
of getting Montrose's heart into her own possession.
This lady was the wife of Montrose's dearest friend.
She had a casket, made out of the blade of her
hero's sword, in which to enclose his heart, and her
descendant still possesses a portrait of her, where
she is represented with the sacred object at her
side.
The gallows on which he sufifered was left standing
a long time in the place where it was erected, with
a view of striking terror into the minds of any Cava-
The Vow of Montrose.
309
Hers ; but the other prisoners taken with the great
Marquis after Invercarron were all beheaded by the
Maiden, or Scottish guillotine, — hanging having been
reserved for their leader, to mark the ignominious
nature of his punishment.
£^:^
CHAPTER IX.
' And Scotland, thou may'st veil thy head
In sorrow and in pain ! '
— Aytoun.
IHE death of Montrose struck terror and
consternation into the minds of the
English and Scottish Cavaliers.
Such a terrible reprisal on the part of the Cove-
nanters against a fallen foe, seemed to renew all the
horror that moderate men had previously felt at the
first Charles's death. When Charles the Second
was told of Montrose's execution, he is said to have
felt both grief and indignation ; but he was not able
to indulge in resentment against those who had put
his faithful follower to death, for he was in treaty
with the very party. When, therefore, a few days
after the Marquis's execution, he set sail for Scot-
land, he was forced to disguise his real sentiments,
and meet the perpetrators of what may justly be
» 310
The Vow of Montrose. 311
called a murder, with assumed cordiality. It was a
bad omen for the young King, that, as he passed
through Aberdeen, scarcely two months after the
death of the great Captain, almost the first object
that attracted his attention was the left hand of
Montrose, blackening on the Tolbooth gate, — the
leg and foot originally destined for Aberdeen having
been sent to some other town.
Charles was horror-struck, not only at the ghastly
object, but at the bad taste that permitted it to re-
main exactly opposite the royal lodgings. He had,
nevertheless, to smother his indignation, and to con-
tent himself with resolving to collect the relics of
MontVose's body as soon as he was his own master.
Alas ! not even Montrose's execution, nor their
negotiations with the young King, sated the appetite
of the Covenanters for revenge. The tragedy was
not yet played out. Fully forty Cavaliers died on
the scaffold between the execution of Montrose and
the restoration of Charles the Second.
Sir John Hurry perished soon after his great
commander. He had surrendered under a promise
of quarter, and fully believed that the Estates would
have pardoned him. He was condemned, however,
to die at the same place as Montrose, though not
by the gallows.
Sir John Hurry was accused, in addition to the
312
The Fiery Cross ; or.
crime of joining the Marquis, of carrying arms under
Prince Rupert at Marston Moor. Young Spottis-
woode suffered with him. With few exceptions, all
met death as calmly, bravely, and well as their
great leader Montrose.
Sir Francis Hay of Dalgetty, a Roman Catholic,
when led up to the Maiden, made some jesting
allusion to its name, and smiling, knelt down, kissed
the instrument, and met death without a shudder.
The Cavaliers, by the serenity with which they met
their doom, seemed determined to triumph over
their enemies. Young Spottiswoode, a most accom-
plished gentleman, used the following short prayer
before he died : —
* Lord, who hath been graciously pleased to bring
me through the wilderness of this world, I trust you
will now waft me over this sea of blood to Thy
heavenly Canaan ! '
A Presbyterian clergyman standing by called
out :
' Tak tent, tak tent, sir, that ye droun not by the
gate ! ' (way).
Spottiswoode smiled as he said in reply, —
' I hope, sir, I am not an Egyptian ! ' on which his
tormentor retired dumfoundered into the crowd,
without another word.
The last Cavalier executed was a Captain Char-
The Vow of Montrose. 3 1 3
tens, the scion of an old Scottish family. He
had been dreadfully wounded, and in the weakness
following on his sufferings his friends persuaded
him to listen to the Presbyterian ministers. He did
as they wished ; and when he was led on to the
scaffold, he made a long speech that had been
drawn up for him, and avowed his regret for having
renounced obedience to the Covenant.
The poor man evidently expected that his life
would be spared ; but the Presbyterians, for fear —
as an old writer says — ' he should fall off from his
principles again, cut off his head, and sealed his
confession with his blood ! '
Dr. Wishart, the faithful chronicler and friend of
Montrose, became chaplain to the Electress Palatine
Elizabeth of Bohemia, with whom, in 1660, he re-
turned to England. He was made Bishop of Edin-
burgh, and his tomb is still to be seen in Holyrood
Chapel. Many of the Cavalier prisoners were
banished, after having given their word not again
to fight against the Covenant. But a time of retri-
bution was to come ; and after the Restoration, the
chief number of those who had condemned Montrose
and his friends to death, themselves perished on the
scaffold.
Charles the Second, after signing a treaty with
the Scottish Commissioners, had no alternative but
3H
The Fie7y Cross ; or,
to set sail for Scotland, which he did a few days
after his faithful adherent's execution.
It seems totally inconsistent with the latter event,
that the Estates should at that time have entered
into a treaty with a prince whom they knew to be
at heart a Roman Catholic ; and in order to ex-
plain, the fact, and to give a consecutive account of
what followed, it is necessary to remember the then
state of Scotland.
The Scotch are natural!}' loyal, and the news of
the late King's execution had been received by
them with the greatest horror and regret ; and it
was in obedience to the national voice that Argyle
had been forced to negotiate with Charles the
Second.
The news of Charles's death at Whitehall reached
Edinburgh on February sixth, six days after the
bloody deed had been perpetrated.
It was brought into the town by one of Strachan's
officers, named Gowan, — a determined Independent
and Republican, who had himself witnessed the
King's death.
The crowd gathered round the trooper, and lis-
tened with rapt attention as he triumphantly recited
that all was over, the tyrant dead, and Republicanism
established ; but even as he spoke, a revulsion of
feeling ran through the populace, and they cast
The Vow of Montrose.
3^5
down their faces, and clenched their hands in grief
and despair. The people openly declared their
anger at the deed. They felt, as they dispersed
mournfully to their homes, that their nation had
grievously sinned in giving Charles up to his enemies.
God, they declared, was insulted by the regicides,
who had beheaded the son of their native princes,
the representative of kings who had reigned two
thousand years in Scotland ; therefore, seeing that
the populace were determined to return to their
allegiance, even Argyle dared not oppose the pro-
clamation, at the Edinburgh Cross, of the young
King's accession to the throne, under the title of
King of Great Britain and Ireland.
But after proclaiming him king, the Estates deter-
mined to bind him down to recognise the Covenant.
Before Charles the First's execution, Argyle had
deemed it more prudent to discountenance Crom-
well's views. For that purpose, he had sent three
Commissioners to England to protest against the
King's execution. The only reply vouchsafed them
was, that the Scotch had better join England in a
Federal Republic ; and that as to the Covenant, it
was an antiquated document.
The Commissioners, having communicated the
state of matters to the Estates, were enjoined to
treat with the young Prince ; but Cromwell, hear-
X
•7 16 The Fiery Cross ; or.
v)
ing that they intended going to Holland, seized
them and sent them home to Scotland.
From the moment that the;r dearly loved Cove-
nant seemed in peril, the ruling powers in Scotland
turned their minds towards Charles the Second, and
sought to bring him back again. They realized
that, much as Charles the First had menaced the
Presbyterian religion by his attempts to introduce
Episcopacy into Scotland, their religion was more
than threatened by the Independents, whose doc-
trines were thoroughly adverse to their own. The
Scots had indeed suffered for their adherence to
their faith, for not only had they revolutionized
their land in defence of their Covenant, but the
whole country seemed under a blight, for the tyranny
of their clergy was excessive, and the gloom that
pervaded the kingdom was calculated to stifle every
innocent pleasure and amusement.
The influence of the Presbyterian clergy amounted
to despotism ; and although the Presbyterians longed
for religious liberty, and had ' sold their King ' to
get it, they were so bigoted in the belief that no
other creed but their own could be right, that the
bitterest persecutors of Romanism had never ex-
ceeded their wrath against those who held other
creeds.
After the Reformation, the whole discipline in
The Vow of Montrose, 317
Scotland as regarded Church matters had changed.
The old Romish Consistory Courts were abolished,
and in their place sprung up Synods and Assem-
blies. These Synods and the General Assembly
were as intolerant as had been their predecessors
the Papists.
They passed laws, not only condemning all per-
sons found guilty of celebrating mass to heavy
fines, but even to death, if any one so offended
three times.
These persecutions continued for a long period,
and were not merely directed against the clergy.
In 161 2, the Synod of Fife, summoned the first
Marquis of Huntly and the Earl of Errol for the
crime of refusing to conform to Presbyterianism.
Both noblemen were sentenced to be excommuni-
cated ; but one of them, Lord Errol, ended by
abjuring the errors of Popery, and his outlawry was
thereupon withdrawn.
Several other noblemen were prosecuted ; and as
the Synods had full powers to molest and prosecute
any holding views different to their own, the issue
frequently ended in a forced subscription to the
Covenant ; but, as in the case of the Duke of
Hamilton, such adherents were not always faithful
to their vows.
Any who possessed Popish books were censured ;
3 1 8 The Fiery Cross ; or,
and finding that it was alnnost impossible to quench
the zeal of those who still clung to their former
creeds, the Synods enacted that no book treating
of religion should be published until it had received
the approval of the General Assembly.
Good, however, came out of all this intolerance.
The Presbyterians, in suppressing Popish books of
religion, forced every Roman Catholic to acquire
a Bible ; and under fear of incurring a penalty of
ten pounds if found to possess no copy of the
Scriptures, the sacred writings were thus spread
far and wide among the burgesses and peasantry.
It is to the zeal with which this was carried out
that we may ascribe the intimate knowledge of the
Scriptures possessed by Scotch peasantry — a know-
ledge which has ever since been one of their
greatest characteristics.
The Synods abolished all festivals ; even the
observance of ' Yule ' or Christmas being consi-
dered superstitious.
The Reformers found great difficulty in checking
the abuses of Sunday. Before the downfall of the
Papal power in England, the Sabbath had been
considered only as sacred from Saturday evening at
six o'clock to the following day at the same time.
This led to the evening of Sunday being very ill
spent. The people used to frequent theatres after
The Vow of Montrose. 319
six o'clock ; and even markets were sometimes held
in cathedral closes, and within the precincts of
monasteries.
The fines, however, inflicted on persons prac-
tising trading or secular occupations, put a stop
to such practices, and did no doubt a great deal
of good ; while, on the other hand, the tyranny
of the clergy was excessive, and the noble spirit
which had dictated the first Covenant had com-
pletely vanished. Instead of preaching the peace-
able doctrines of religion, the clergy employed
their pulpits to advocate persecution and intoler-
ance, and to hold up distorted passages from
Scripture to justify the shedding of human blood.
This religious mania reduced Scotland deplor-
ably, by checking commerce and all kinds of
innocent amusements, and leaving the whole
government of the realm in the hands of the clergy.
Argyle was the leader of the clerical party, at the
same time that he was also its tool. He did all
that he could to ingratiate himself with the clergy,
by doing away with patronage, and raising their
stipends.
He proscribed all those Cavaliers who had been
engaged in raising levies to oppose the Covenant ; and
any individual who had carried arms for the King
was declared 'infamous, and unfit to serve the State.'
;20
The Ftery Cross ; or^
A perfect trade was carried on by unworthy-
persons, who informed against 'the Engagers,'
Argyle's creatures having spies in all the places
where strangers were likely to lodge on first arriv-
ing in Edinburgh ; and unless large fines were
extorted from them, they were imprisoned on a
charge of having robbed the State. The burgesses
and gentry were thus thoroughly oppressed, and a
complete reign of terror was inaugurated.
Argyle had rid himself of his rival Huntly before
negotiating with Charles the Second ; and the latter
step he had been compelled to take in obedience to
popular feeling, which was still loyal and true. As
we have seen, the young King signed a treaty with
the Estates ; but the melancholy faces, long, sad-
coloured clothes, and clerical bands of the Cove-
nanters were thoroughly uncongenial to Charles the
Second, and not the less distasteful were the strin-
gent conditions to which they compelled him to
agree before they acknowledged his rank.
The first condition was, that he was to renounce
England and to govern Scotland as his ancestors
had done before him, acting towards the sister king-
dom with distrust and caution. He was also to
promise to for ever abandon and to banish from his
Court that 'excommunicated man the Marquis of
Montrose ;' but Charles — whom history has accused
The Vow of Montrose. 321
of negotiating with both Montrose and the Estates
at the same time, and while authorizing the latter
to levy troops for him at home and abroad, had
also signed the treaty of Breda with the Covenanters
— had not fallen low enough to consent to either
condition. He refused to agree to either of them.
The King was also to sign the Covenants ; to estab-
lish Presbyterianism in England, when able to do
so ; and to submit himself in all things ecclesiastical
to the General Assembly; to be, in fact, a mere
puppet instead of a King.
When offered these terms, Montrose was still alive,
ready to offer him, tvithout conditions, his sword and
even his life to restore the King's power in England
as well as in Scotland.
Montrose distrusted the Estates, and entreated the
King to repudiate offers of assistance, when coupled
with such hard and ungenerous conditions. Charles
was only too willing to accept Montrose's offer,
and determined to await the result of the second
expedition before setting sail for Scotland. V/e
have seen the sad ending of Montrose's descent on
the Highlands, and now — to end this volume pro-
perly — we must sketch the King's subsequent con-
duct, after the failure of his Captain-General to
restore the King's power by the sword, when, on
the third of June 1650, he arrived in Scotland.
^22 The Fiery Cross ; or.
o
The King was accompanied by several noblemen
who had been proscribed by the Estates, among
wliom were the Dukes of Hamilton and Buckingham,
the Earls of Cleveland, Bramford, Lauderdale, and
Carnwath, with various other Scottish Cavaliers,
After a perilous journey of twenty days, he
reached the Spey, and landed at a little village
called Garmouth, at the mouth of that river. He
was compelled to sign the Covenant before landing ;
and not even the universal joy that their monarch's
return afforded the populace, could efface from
Charles's mind the apprehensions that he was vir-
tually a tool in the hands of the Covenanters, and
that his restoration was still a thing of the future,
and by no means an established fact.
The sight of Montrose's hand withering on the
Aberdeen Tolbooth was not obliterated from his
memory by the liberality with which that town
presented him with fifteen hundred pounds, although
the Estates, jealous at such liberality, sent an in-
junction prohibiting the other burghs from following
so good an example. Though the Estates ordered
the Castle guns to be fired, bonfires to be lighted,
and bells to be rung in Edinburgh, and over the
kingdom, in honour of Charles's safe arrival, they
kept him at the Palace of Falkland, instead of bring-
ing him to Edinburgh, and sent back again to the
The Vow of Montrose. 323
Continent all the English Cavaliers who had come
home with their sovereign.
The clergy continually lectured Charles from their
pulpits ; one of them going so far as to say that if
the King did not keep the Covenant, ' it would be
all over with him.'
The Engagers did all they could to propitiate the
Covenanters, and in that way remain near the person
of the King ; but with one exception — that of the
Duke of Buckingham • — the Cavaliers were all
banished from the royal presence, and only those
attached to Argyle's faction were allowed to remain
near him.
An anecdote will illustrate the King's position as
regarded his followers.
The Earl of Carnwath, one of the Engagers who
had accompanied Charles to England, happened one
day to enter the King's privy chamber at Falkland,
at the same moment that Argyle was coming into
the room. Argyle with great haughtiness ques-
tioned the Earl's right to be there.
Carnwath went at once to the King, and told him
how Argyle had treated him, and denounced him as
proscribed by the Estates.
He took leave of Charles, hoping he would never
have any one near him less devoted to his service.
' It is youi oing,' he cried in parting to Argyle ;
3
2 A. The Fiery Cross; or,
'but I care not!' Scarcely had Carnwath quitted
the Court, before the officials received orders to seize
and hang him, but he had eluded the minions of the
Puritan party, and escaped from their clutches.
The poor young King, used to the gaieties of a
foreign Court, deprived of his chosen friends and
companions, and surrounded only by Covenanters,
was miserable indeed. Argyle's son, Lord Lome,
commanded his body-guard, and all his retinue were
obliged to prove that they had signed the Covenant.
The King could indulge in no amusement without
offending the Presbyterian clergy, and was compelled
to listen to interminable sermons, and on one occa-
sion heard six such discourses delivered without the
least rest between.
The state of tyranny in which he was kept more
resembled the condition of a State prisoner than that
of an hereditary King among his own people, and
this went on till Cromwell determined — after issuing
a proclamation in which he attempted to defend his
tone of action — to invade Scotland.
Cromwell endeavoured to justify his conduct,
which was in direct violation of a treaty entered into
with the Scots, by which he had promised not to
make war on them without three months' notice, by
declaring that he did so because he saw the northern
kingdom bent on restoring the royal power. He
The Vow of Monh'osc. 325
therefore mustered a large body of sixteen thousand
men to invade Scotland.
The Scots — the common people especially — were
dismayed when they heard of Cromwell's prepara-
tions. They dreaded to encounter the same severity
that the Irish had endured, and from political motives
the clergy kept up all the horror the peasantry felt
at the cruelties practised on the people of Ireland.
The young King was felt to be an important
element in the defence of the kingdom, as the
Estates hoped through his influence to attract the
scattered Cavalier party, who maintained a sullen
reserve while active preparations were made through-
out the kingdom to enlist an army of thirty thou-
sand men.
To prepare for the enemy, it was necessary to
entail a great deal of suffering on the inhabitants
of the country lying between Berwick and the
capital. For miles the land was laid waste ; crops
had been destroyed by fire, and the peasantry
chased from their homes, in order to prevent the
possibility of their supplying food to Cromwell's
soldiers.
This so far answered, that when the English
soldiery entered Scotland, not a man was to be
seen. The Roundheads were sorely dismayed
to see the utter desolation of the country.
326 The Fiery Cross; or,
o
The English entered Scotland in July 1650, just
fourteen days after Charles's arrival in that country.
The Covenanters, commanded by Lord Leslie, and
cautiously drawn up behind the fortifications be-
tween Berwick and the capital, awaited the enemy's
commg.
The country people having fled, Cromwell issued
a proclamation promising full jirotection to those
who returned to their homes. The peasantry were,
however, slow to avail themselves of his offer ; and
as they had torn up all their crops, levelled their
houses, and taken their goods and chattels with
them, the Roundheads very soon began to experi-
ence both cold and hunger.
Bread and water rations did not make Cromwell's
troops more contented, and they therefore began
to murmur loudly.
Had the Covenanters acted differently, the issue
might have been changed ; for when, on the twenty-
ninth of July, the young King was brought down
to the army, the inveterate intolerance of Argyle's
party led to their insisting on expelling from their
ranks all those who would not sign the Covenant.
Many Cavaliers had joined the army from love of
their country and a wish to unite even with their
enemies in its defence, but they would not agree
to the ' purgation,' as it was called, and the conse-
The Vow of Montrose. 2)2^
quence was, that many thousands of men withdrew
long before Charles had joined the army at Leith.
The Covenanters, secure in their own spiritual
pride, declared their conviction that victory would
be theirs ; but, unhappily, in their very first skirmish
with Cromwell, they were beaten back, and a flank
fire from Leith alone checked his further advance
into their territory.
Several serious skirmishes took place between
Cromwell's army and the Scotch troops ; and the
Independents, who mainly composed the Round-
heads' army, infuriated by the virulence of their
adversaries, who denied them any quarter, fought
with increased energy, and when successful took a
number of prisoners.
Several Cavaliers were among the number, one
of whom is said to have died with the proverbial
oath of the Royalists, ' I'll go to my king.'
Cromwell does not appear to have behaved
cruelly to the prisoners, and the peasantry began
to discover that his severity was not more terrible
than the tyranny of their own Government.
At one town to which Cromwell retired, to await
the arrival of some vessels laden with provisions
from England, he provided the starving inhabit-
ants with corn, to the value of two hundred and
forty pounds.
328 The Fiery Cross; or,
The Scottish Estates pubh'shed proclamations,
in which they represented Cromwell's retreat — a
step he had taken while waiting for provisions — as
the sole result of their own prowess. They even
carried the deception so far as to return public
thanksgiving for their victories.
But Cromwell, after recruiting his army, ad-
vanced by Colinton towards Edinburgh, pitching
his tent three miles west of the capital. He was,
however, compelled to again retreat, this time
to Musselburgh. In order that his flank and
rear might retire in safety, he selected Sunday as
the day for the march ; for not even in defence
of their country would the Scotch fight on the
Sabbath ! The young King was all this time at
Holyrood, where he held a semblance of a Court.
Under pressure of the strongest kind, the minions
of the Estates compelled him to subscribe himself
a devoted Presbyterian, and in writing to abjure the
acts of his father and mother, and all the maxims
and traditions of his family. It was some time
before Charles could bring himself to act in a way
so repugnant to his feelings and principles ; but
he was in reality a prisoner in the hands of the
Scots, and at length affixed his name to the paper,
which was called, from its having been signed at
that burgh, * The Dunfermline Declaration.'
The Vow of Montrose. 329
The Scots, who had been extremely depressed
by their losses, were gratified at having wrung
this concession from Charles, as the English general
had accused them of advocating the cause of the
malignants, and they hoped by this declaration to
strengthen their hands by refuting Cromwell's
assertions.
At length a foe far more dreadful than the Scots
declared himself against the Roundheads. The
English, while encamped near Colinton, had keenly
felt the coldness of the climate, especially at night,
and at length an illness, called * the country dis-
ease' — probably low fever — broke out among his
troops, and Cromwell was then driven to propose
terms to the Scots, on condition of being allowed
to retreat unmolested.
The Covenanters inferred from this that the
English general's position was worse than it really
was, and they resumed hostilities without entering
into negotiations.
Cromwell was too great a man to be daunted
by the difficulties of his situation. He withdrew
his force to Dunbar, and entrenched himself there
till he received reinforcements from England. His
retreat was attended with all kinds of disasters, and
the Scots followed him along the Lammcrmuir
hills on one side of Dunbar.
330 The Fiery Cross; or.
The Scots appeared to have thoroughly sur-
rounded Cromwell. Then, with their usual arro-
gant confidence, they felt sure that, hemmed up
between their army and the sea, they had him
completely in their power. Dunbar is situated at
the extremity of a long tract of flat country, having
the Firth of Forth on one side and the hills on the
other. The Scots reached Doon hill, where they
overlooked the English, and called a council of
war to decide on what should be their line of
action.
The clergy, who were numerously represented
in the Covenanting army, were anxious to lose no
time in annihilating the enemy ; others, more
prudent, suggested a middle course, and proposed
negotiations, and that Cromwell, by an uncon-
ditional surrender of arms and ammunition, should
be allowed to quietly retire to England. In spite
of the confidence with which they talked, they
knew his great vigour and ability, and had a
well-founded fear that, if pressed too hard, he
might make a successful stand even at that
eleventh hour. However, more impetuous coun-
sels prevailed, and on the second of September
the Scottish army lay ready to attack the Round-
heads.
Cromwell reviewed his position. His influence
The Vow of Montrose. 331
lay witli the army, and the reh'glous zealots of
whom it was composed ; and he knew if he failed
in the expedition, he would either as a prisoner
in the Scots' power be called to a severe reckoning
for the regicidal part he had played, or from the
failure of the expedition lose his ascendancy in
England. He was ensnared, and yet did not
despair. He sent off all his sick to the ships on
the coast, and after recommending his soldiers
to pray for help, told them to ' take heart, for
God had heard them, and would appear for them.'
He was lodged in Lord Roxburghe's house at
Broxmouth the day before the battle ; and as he
noted the Scottish army in the distance, he cried
out with triumph, ' The Lord hath given them into
our hands ; they are coming down to us.'
Nor had this wonderful military genius mis-
calculated the effects of religious enthusiasm on his
troops. The Scots meanwhile were leaving their
position on the hills of Lammermuir, and kept
steadily descending through the slow long hours of
that chill September night. Dawn beheld their
long line of battle drawn up in front of Cromwell's
army, thicker in one part than the other, because
they anticipated that, as soon as he should be
attacked, Cromwell would attempt to escape into
England.
332
The Fiery Cross ; or,
This night march was the greatest error Leslie
could have committed.
Though double the number of the English, the
Scottish soldiers were totally unprepared to compete
with Cromwell's veteran troops, for they were wearied
out with their arduous march ; their powder was
damp from the night dews, and their spirits flagged
from want of that refreshing rest which the Round-
heads had enjoyed.
The battle began before the morning mist had
rolled away, and after a long struggle victory de-
clared itself on the side of Cromwell, who, as he saw
the sun rising behind him, and marked that while
his soldiers had it at their backs, it dazzled the eyes
of their adversaries, he exclaimed, ' Now, let God
arise, and His enemies shall be scattered ! '
The sound of his voice as he uttered these words
appealed forcibly to men who believed that the war
they were waging was 'the Lord's cause ;' and with
an impetuosity the wearied Scots were too tired out
to resist, they fell on their enemies in every direc-
tion, and hewed them to pieces. The Scots fled ;
their cavalry trampling the foot regiments as they
turned from the enemy ; while in vain their clergy,
the cause of all their misfortunes, implored them to
stop. Their voices fell unheeded on ears only eager
to flee from the sounds of their pursuers, and for
The Vow of Montrose. '^'^'^
fourteen miles the English pursued the flying foe.
The Sectarian troops recollected that the Scots had
refused them any quarter, and therefore the clergy
were the especial objects of their bloody vengeance.
Those who had gone out twenty-seven thousand
strong in the morning, shouting their favourite
watchword, 'the Covenant !' fled from those equally
presumptuous men who called themselves the 'army
of the Lord of hosts ! '
It is enough to record the number of prisoners
taken by Cromwell, to show the importance of his
victory. While the victorious chief lost only thirty
men, he captured ten thousand of the Covenanters,
and took their colours, ordnance, tents, and baggage.
Cromwell returned thanks after the battle ; and,
providing for the relief of the wounded, wrote to the
House of Commons recording his victory. In a
letter to his wife written the next day, he says :
* The Lord has showed us an exceeding mercy !
who can tell how great it is "i My weak faith has
been upheld ; I have been miraculously sup-
ported ! '
The wreck of the Covenanters' army fell back on
Stirling, while Cromwell gained peaceable possession
of Leith and Edinburgh, and most of that part of
Scotland south and east of Falkirk.
Edinburgh Castle held out against him, and many
o:)'
The Fiery Cross ; or,
of the Presbyterian clergy fled for shelter into that
stronghold, which Cromwell besieged.
The blow the Scots received to their pride by
Cromwell's victories was not unmixed with other
feelings as far as concerned the ruined, despised,
and small remnant of the Cavaliers.
Charles felt that his time would come, and rightly
judged that a revulsion of feeling in favour of his
royal house would be the result of this exposure of
Presbyterian pretensions. The tyranny of the clergy,
and the arrogance with which they had vaunted of
the favour of the Almighty, had proved unequal to
repress the English invaders, and Charles trusted
that ere long the people would see that their real
friends were their ancient kings. Cromwell's aim
was to reduce Scotland, as he had so recently suc-
ceeded in subjugating Ireland.
England had long submitted to the rule of the
Commonwealth ; and though Cromwell was only
popular with the army, he had crushed every party
antagonistic to his own. He was determined to
im.pose his own Calvinism on the Scots as well as
on the English.
The army the Protector commanded was com-
posed of religious zealots, but the rigid laws of their
leader were so strictly kept that he could rely on his
troops serving him with the greatest precision. Tilt
The Vow of Montrose. 335
austere morality of his troops was wonderful. The
Cavahers, accustomed to use profane language, were
astonished to find that neither drunkenness nor
gambhng were ever seen or heard of in Cromwell's
camp ; but, on the other hand, the intolerance with
which the Independents regarded all sects but their
own, had led them to outrage without mercy many
beautiful English churches and cathedrals, declaring
that they ' savoured of Popery.' The Republicans,
indeed, detested a religion which they regarded as
having enslaved their country.
The line of policy Cromwell and his party had
apparently laid down was to conciliate, with a view
to convincing, the Presbyterian clergy. Finding
that many of the clergy were shut up in Edinburgh
Castle, he sent up a messenger to beg them to re-
turn to their duties, promising, if they complied, to
protect them. A long correspondence ensued, the
Presbyterians sneering at Cromwell, and declaring
that they alone were the ' favoured of the Lord ! '
To this Cromwell replied, that were their asser-
tions correct, ' the Lord would surely have stood by
them during the late battles.'
A long controversy followed ; and even the Cove-
nanters found it difficult to answer this. However,
they were not to be beaten. They put the whole
blame on the presence of Charles, whom they con-
336 The Fiery Cross; or,
sidered as responsible for all the misfortunes of their
Government. ■'
They held a solemn fast, at which they declared
that the young King's ' lust for an earthly crown '
had been the only cause of the reverses sustained by
their arms. One preacher went so far as to say,
'that were the King's heart as upright as that of
King David, God would no more pardon the sins of
his father's house for his sake, than He had done
those of the house of Judah for the goodness of
Josiah ! '
The Covenanters were too prejudiced to see that
if they had joined with the Royalists when Cromwell
first threatened to march into Scotland, the whole
country would most probably have laid aside its
differences to repel the English ; and, in fact, they
so thoroughly detested the Cavaliers, that when a
fusion was proposed, several of the leaders declared
that they would rather join Cromwell than fight by
the side of malignants.
Charles's position, in the meantime, Avas so irk-
some to him, that in October of the same year in
which Cromwell had arrived in Scotland, he actually
hoped to organize a rising of his own friends ; and to
free himself from his jailors, he managed to escape
their vigilance so far as to get away from Perth, and
to bid his friends meet him in the Braes of Angus ;
The Vow of Montrose. 337
but before the meeting could be organized, the
Covenanters had overtaken him, and he was per-
suaded to give up his intention.
The Covenanters, however, then became aware
that it would be wise to recognise Charles as a
leader ; and after Cromwell had reduced Edinburgh
Castle, they, on the first of January 165 1, crowned
him King of Scotland. This revolution was effected
by a more moderate section of the Covenanters.
Those who carried this measure, and thus recog-
nised the King, were called * Resolutioners ;' those
who opposed it, ' Protesters.'
There were two distinct parties from that time in
Scotland, one consisting of those extreme men who,
rather than admit the Royalists into the State,
withdrew entirely from the Government, and the
Resolutioners.
Strachan, Montrose's old enemy, headed the for-
mer party, and under his leadership it endeavoured,
by raising a separate army, to recall the Scots to
their allegiance to their former guides ; for it was
the stricter leaders of the Covenant who became the
Protesters. But Cromwell defeated Strachan's army
at Hamilton, and after that battle the Protesters
abandoned all pretensions to being considered a
separate military party.
The King after that became the actual leader of
338 The Fie7y Cross ; or,
the Resolutioners ; but at the same time he and his
followers still preserved an outward show of rever-
ence, although the ' malignants ' — as the Covenanters
called the Cavaliers — formed a large section of the
army.
Cromwell's army took no active measures till the
summer following the young King's coronation at
Scone, to entice the Scots from their entrenchments
at Stirling ; and then, seeing that as long as Charles
drew his supplies from Fife, there would be no
means of tempting him to risk defeat in open battle,
Crom.well threw four thousand men into the country
in Charles's rear, and thus intercepted his means of
communicating with the rest of Scotland.
Charles's troops were defeated at Inverkeithing.
Two thousand of his men were killed, and six hun-
dred taken prisoners. The King, thus defeated in
Scotland, formed a sudden resolution, and unknown
to Cromwell, led the remnant of his army into
England, trying to rouse that country before the
Captain - General of the Scottish army, having
heard of his sudden step, should be able to follow.
But Cromwell, leaving General Monk in command
of a small force in Scotland, quickly followed the
King across the border, and overtook them at Wor-
cester.
Charles would probably have carried everything
The Vow of Montrose. 339
before him, but that the Scots deserted in large num-
bers as they marched along ; and the Parliament,
by vigorous measures, also prevented an immense
number of Cavaliers from joining the royal troops.
The King's army, by the time he reached Worcester,
was diminished to eleven thousand men, Cromwell's
being only five thousand strong, and fatigued by
their hurried march. It was the third of September ;
and though the Royalists made a determined re-
sistance, they were dispirited by recollecting that on
that day year the battle of Dunbar had been lost and
won. Again victory declared itself on the side of
the Roundheads under Oliver Cromwell.
Charles, dragged off the field of battle at Wor-
cester, escaped alive, and eventually got abroad.
Thus the last active resistance made to the iron rule
of Cromwell ended, and he at length annihilated
the Scottish army, and dealt a death-blow to the
Covenanters of Scotland.
The Marquis of Argyle, who had not joined
Charles the Second, still held out in his own country ;
but he was at last surprised, and Scotland was then
reduced to submit unconditionally to England and
its Republican laws. |
Monk found no difficulty in keeping down the
Scots during Cromwell's absence, and thencefor-
ward, till the Restoration of the Stuarts, Scotland
340
The Fiery Cross ; or.
was a mere province of England, subject to its laws,
and, in fact, a conquered land.
Both Cavaliers and Presbyterians keenly felt the
fallen condition of their country ; yet, though no
doubt the loss of their national independence, for
which they had fought so long and so valiantly, was
a heavy misfortune, the substitution of a good for a
bad Government turned out well in the end for the
Scottish people.
The Presbyterian rule under the Covenant had been
tyrannical and ruinous ; and when the Covenanters
were divided into two parties, religious differences
still ran so high, that the first session held by Crom-
well's judges had, it is said, to adjudge four hundred
cases, which arose solely out of private quarrels.
The Church Courts had enforced confession of
sins, real and imaginary, under threats of excom-
munication ; and on these grounds, suits which were
a complete scandal to the country were brought out
of private spite.
It was an easy thing to accuse another of the
crime of witchcraft ; and when the Resolutioners and
Protesters could bring forward against each other
nothing else, it was enough, under Covenanting
rulers, to say that their enemy practised sorcery.
The crusade against witchcraft in Europe arose
from two of the greatest blessings to humanity,^
The Vow of Montrose. 341
printing, and the translation of the Scriptures into
the vulgar tongue. To the superstitious, who be-
lieved in the actual power of sorcerers, there was
nothing more comforting than to believe that to put
a witch to death was not only justifiable, but pleas-
ing to God. Protestants and Catholics were alike
zealous in this cruel crusade against witches, and
Luther rather encouraged than repressed the per-
secution, exclaiming, ' I would burn them all ; ' and
no race of Protestants were more energetic than
the Scottish Reformers in denouncing the so-called
crime of witchcraft.
The ignorant peasantry were actually encouraged
by Kirk-sessions to give up the names of those who
were suspected of the offence ; no priest daring to
absolve a witch, nor any other person supposed to be
self-dedicated to Satan. The fate of any one found
guilty of the offence was piteous in the extreme.
Their accusers were pitiless. No mercy was shown
to a witch.
There was no offence, possible or impossible, of
which a witch was not suspected. If the mill
stopped, it was said to be bewitched. The storms
at sea, the loss of fishing-boats, illness of children
and animals, were all imputed to the 'evil eye.'
Candlemas and Hallow-Tsve were said to be the
annual gatherings for those practising the black art.
H2
The Fiery Cross ; or,
Witches — so the ignorant peasant believed — tra-
versed oceans on barges of eggshells; or, mounted
on goblin horses, would rendezvous at some hill-
side, —
'When the grey owlet has three times hoo'd,
When the grimy cat has three times mewed ! *
Witches also practised divination, and pretended
to read the secrets of the future ; but at last the
Church grew alarmed, and declared that sorcerers
arid magicians were worthy of death ; and the Pro-
testant Reformers organized and led the crusade
against witchcraft.
Knox denounced witches from the pulpit, and the
Kirk-sessions were constantly occupied in judging
persons accused of witchcraft.
Under Cromwell's rule, this and a great many
similar abuses of justice passed away. Finding that
disputes between the rival religious parties pre-
vented the free administration of the law, the great
Dictator determined to put a stop to clerical inter-
ference in Scotland.
In 1653, the Scottish Assembly was dissolved by
military force under Colonel Coterell, who suddenly
entered the place where the ecclesiastical body held
its sittings.
Surrounding the house with troops, the officer
entered with some soldiers, and demanded by
The Vow of Montrose. 343
whose authority they were sitting there to de-
liberate.
' By no earthly authority,' replied the Moderator,
* but by the will of Christ, and to promote His in-
terest on earth.'
Coterell, acting under Cromwell's order, mounted
a bench, and declared the Assembly dissolved,
because it had no authority from the English Par-
liament.
The Covenanters could scarcely believe the evi-
dence of their senses ; but the English officer told
them to be gone, or he would order the soldiers to
disperse them.
When at length they got up and prepared to
disperse. Colonel Coterell led them out of the
town, and warned them to at once leave Edinburgh,
and no longer agitate their distracted country.
The Assembly was forbidden to meet again, under
any pretence whatsoever, in larger numbers than
three at a time ; and thus ended the representation
of a factious religious body, which for sixteen years
had agitated, oppressed, and burdened Scotland
with wars, both at home and abroad.
Scotland enjoyed a peaceful time under Crom-
well's rule ; and released from an overbearing
priesthood, that state of things went on till Charles
the Second's restoration in 1660.
544
The Fiery Cross ; or.
This concluding chapter has been thought neces-
sary as a sequel to the romantic life and adventures
of Montrose.
When at length the Stuarts were recalled to
England, and the iron rule of Cromwell was over,
the young King disappointed many of the Cavalier
families, who had shared in his exile and sufferings,
and been true to him in the hours of danger and
penury ; but he does not appear to have been un-
grateful to the memory of Montrose. In January
1661, he ordered the remains of the great Marquis
to be disinterred, and accorded to all that was mortal
of the hero a stately funeral.
Strange to say, the very day upon which the
funeral of Montrose was solemnized, Argyle, then
a prisoner in Edinburgh Castle, was aroused —
as Montrose had been on the morning of his '
execution — by the sounds of fifes, drums, and
trumpets.
His inquiry was answered by the attendants tell-
ing him that it was the procession starting for the
Boroughmuir to bring his rival's body. Strange
contrast to that bygone May day 1650 !
These honours were but scant justice to the
memory of one who had served the King's house '
so devotedly ; and as long as history records the
lives of great and good men, Montrose will evcr-be
The Vow of Montrose. 345
remembered as noble and true, as well as great. In
St. Giles's Church his body rests till —
' The day when he shall show them,
At the throne of God on high,
The murderer and the murdered,
Met before their Judge's eye !'
It has been difficult, in holding up to admiration
the character of Montrose, to avoid too great a
bias against the party who put him to a cruel death,
and denied him a fair trial ; but it must not be for-
gotten that the struggle for religious independence
in Scotland, and for the maintenance of the Cove-
nant, was originally a good one, and would have
never degenerated into secular factions and tyranny,
but for the gross intolerance of those who, detesting
the errors of Popery and the follies of a profligate
age, degraded the cause they sought to uphold by ■
injustice, disloyalty, and deliberate cruelty. That
the reprisals of the Royalist party were severe and
persecuting, none can deny; for there is a dark
history to be told in the annals of a later reign of
hunted Covenanters, wno bore their sufferings with
the noble endurance of martyrs. When civil war
^ccame rebellion, the royal prerogative was often
abused ; and as we read of cruelties practised on
Scottish peasants, because they adhered to the
346
The Fieiy Cross,
Covenant, we feel that we ought to rejoice that
those terrible times are past and gone, and that
we live in happier days than those of the gallant
Cavalier Montrose.
THE END.
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Who did it? or, Holmwood Priory: a School-
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In Times of Peril : a Story of India.
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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
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This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
TS64
BEC'O Mt©
P REC'Din-jiRi;
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i^mi
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