Viscount Dundee

The advice was judicious. Dundee adopted it, and turned back towards Badenoch. His action was fully justified by the event. With the reinforcements which he had received from the south, Mackay at once turned back upon his pursuer, whom he hoped to take by surprise. But his night march was in vain. When he reached Edinglassie, where the Highland camp had been, it was only to find that Dundee was already on his way to Cromdale. He sent a party of horse in pursuit; but the troopers never came within sight of the rear-guard, though they succeeded in cutting off some of the plundering stragglers.

During this retreat, there occurred an incident which helped to cheer Dundee; for it was not with a glad heart that he had turned away from the enemy, and, to add to the disappointment which he felt, he was so prostrate through illness, at this critical moment, that his rate of progress had to be reduced to a few miles a day – to less than six miles in all on the 7th and 8th of June. On the 9th of June, whilst Dundee, who had moved up the Spey, was in the neighbourhood of Abernethy, Mackay gave orders to Sir Thomas Livingstone to cross the river with a detachment of dragoons, for the purpose of supporting the Laird of Grant’s men, who had been hard pressed by parties of the Highlanders. Whilst on this mission, an advance guard of the troopers fell in with a body of three hundred Macleans, who, under Lochbery, were on their way to join Dundee. In the engagement that followed, the cavalry was completely routed, and the clansmen, elated with victory and laden with spoil stripped from the slain were enthusiastically welcomed in Dundee’s camp.

It had been Dundee’s intention to take up a strong position in Rannoch, but, as he wrote in one of his despatches, finding that the Lochaber men were going away every night by forties and fifties, with droves of cattle, and that all the rest, who were laden with plunder of Grant’s land and others, were equally anxious to return home with it, he yielded to necessity, came into Lochaber with them, and dismissed them to their respective houses, with injunctions to be ready within a few days, if the enemy pursued. If he did not, they were to lay still till further orders. Mackay, on his side, seeing that Dundee had reached a district where there were no good roads, and where it would be impossible to buy the provisions without which no regular body of forces could subsist together, also resolved to retire from the field for a time. In a despatch forwarded to Ireland through Hay, the position at this time was described as follows: ‘My Lord Dundee hath continued in Lochaber, guarded only by two hundred, commanded by Sir Alexander Maclean. But, being in the heart of Glengarry and Lochiel’s lands, he thinks himself secure enough; though he had not, as he has, the Captain of Clanranald, with six hundred men within ten miles of him, and Maclean, Sir Donald, and Macleod marching towards him. So that he can march with near four thousand; or refresh in safety, till such time as the state of affairs of Ireland may allow the King to send forces to his relief: which if it please God shall fall out, there is all appearance of forming a considerable army, notwithstanding that the people are a little disheartened by the unexpected surrender of the Castle of Edinburgh, which, as said, was only by despair the Duke had of any relief, though he wanted not from my Lord Dundee, by a third hand, all the encouragement he could give.’ This brings the Highland campaign forward to about the middle of June.

In spite of the circumstances which had made it necessary for him to retire to Lochaber, Dundee entertained no doubt as to the ultimate success of the cause which he championed. Though indecisive, the result of his military operations was such as to inspire him with confidence in himself, and in the fighting powers, if not in the discipline, of his Highlanders. With them, he had more than held his own under difficulties that might well have discouraged a less energetic and resourceful leader. He had been obliged to begin the campaign with but fifty pounds of powder, for all the great towns and sea-ports were hostile to him, and would sell none. He had no money, and could raise none on his own credit; and, worse than all, the help on which he depended, and on the promise of which he had induced the chieftains to join him, had not come. Yet, in spite of all this, he had suffered no reverse; and though the bulk of his army was disbanded, he knew that a few days would suffice to bring the clans about him again, in all their former strength, and with more than their former devotion. For he had won their respect by his own cheerful endurance of all the hardships of the campaign, and their affection by the sympathy and the ready help which he had given them to bear their share.

Of that which might, indeed, have discouraged him, of the true state of affairs outside Scotland, he knew nothing. He had not only been kept in ignorance, he appears to have been systematically deceived. As late as the 23rd of June, writing to Macleod of Macleod to communicate to him the news he had just received, he gave him a glowing account of what was being achieved in Ireland. Hay, who had himself been at the siege of Londonderry, had just reported, that more than three weeks before, the inhabitants were reduced to such extremities that horse flesh was sold for sixpence a pound, that, for cannon-balls they were shooting lumps of brick wrapped in pewter plates, that an attempt at relief had been defeated with great loss. Fifty-two sail of French warships were already in Ireland; eighty more were on their way from Brest; some of the French fleet had been seen amongst the islands, and had taken the two Glasgow frigates; Edinburgh had lost heart, and offered to surrender if King James would grant terms; in short, everything was so hopeful and so far advanced, that if Macleod did not hasten to land his men, he would have but little occasion to do the King much service.

In view of such hopeful accounts, Dundee who could have no means of testing their truth, and who had no suspicion of their exaggeration, might well feel confident of success, if only, as had repeatedly been promised, King James would send him the reinforcements and the supplies so anxiously expected, ‘ammunition, and three or four thousand arms of different sorts, some horse, some foot.’ Even when he learnt, about the middle of July, that the only succour to be got from Ireland, consisted of three hundred ill-trained men, with whom Cannon had effected a landing at Inverlochy, he did not lose confidence, and an attempt to bring him to terms, of which his brother-in-law, Lord Strathnaver was the intermediary, was met with a dignified refusal. Nor did his enemies themselves seem to think that his power and influence had yet begun to wane; for they thought it worth their while to set a price of twenty thousand pounds sterling on his head.

But a crisis was now at hand. About the middle of July, Lord John Murray, the Marquis of Athole’s eldest son, in accordance with an agreement come to with Mackay, had gone into the Highlands, for the purpose of raising a body of his father’s followers. He knew their loyalty to the Stuart cause, and had no hope of being able to induce them to take sides for the new Government. But he might devise means to keep them neutral; and no more was required of him. ‘Keep the Athole men from joining Dundee,’ Mackay had said to him, ‘and that is all I ask, or can expect, from your father’s son.’ He succeeded in bringing together twelve hundred men, with whom he intended to garrison the important Castle of Blair.

Dundee had been duly informed of Murray’s levies; but he affected to believe in the young chief’s loyalty, and wrote to him, from his quarters in Struan, on the other side of the Garry, suggesting that they should meet to concert what was fittest to be done for the good of the country, and the service of their lawful King. Receiving no answer to his letter, he gave orders to Stewart of Ballechin, a retainer of Athole’s, and a staunch Jacobite, to occupy the Castle, in the name of King James. Two further communications to Murray having been similarly disregarded, Dundee dispatched two of his officers to him, with a final appeal. They were instructed to deliver it into Murray’s own hands, and to receive his positive answer; but Murray declined to grant them an interview.

When this became known to the clansmen whom he had with him, and from whom he had so far succeeded in concealing his real designs, they called upon him to let them know what course of action he had resolved upon, and plainly told him that if he meant to join Dundee they would follow him, but that if he refused to do so, they would immediately forsake him. In vain he attempted to threaten them into submission. They were true to their word. Filling their bonnets with water, they drank the King’s health, and turned their backs on the chief who had thought to make them traitors, against their will, to the cause of the Stuarts.

In the meantime, Dundee had been active in other directions. His summons to the clans had again been sent forth, and orders given for a general meeting at Blair, where he himself arrived, at latest, on the 26th of July. That same day Mackay marched from Perth to Dunkeld, with about four thousand foot, and two troops of horse and dragoons.

There still remained two days to the date fixed for the gathering of the claymores, when Dundee moved from the camp at Blair to meet Mackay’s advance. He could not wait for the arrival of his full force; but he hoped that the deficiency in numbers would be compensated by the mettle and determination of those who had joined. To satisfy himself that the martial ardour of the clans had not suffered from the long years of inactivity which had elapsed since last they met an enemy, at Philiphaugh, he put it to an effective test. At early dawn, when the men were still sleeping in their plaids, in the heather, he caused the alarm to be sounded. In an instant, every man had sprung to his feet, and seizing his arms had run to take up his position in front of the camp. When the Viscount perceived this, says one of the chroniclers who record the incident, and that not a man of them retired, with full assurance, he instantly began his march to meet the enemy.

Before deciding to leave Blair, Dundee had called together a council of war composed of all the leading men who had joined him. The question to be discussed was, whether it was wiser to remain encamped until the arrival of all the Highland contingents, or to march forward at once to meet Mackay. The old officers, who were accustomed to the command of regular troops, favoured the former alternative, and urged that it would be imprudent to risk an engagement against an army which exceeded theirs by more than half, and was composed of trained soldiers, whilst their own forces consisted of raw, undisciplined men, who had never seen blood, whose strength was impaired by the sufferings and privations of a long march, and whose spirit was damped by disappointments.

Glengarry, on the other hand, represented that, although the clansmen’s endurance had been taxed by want of provisions as well as by fatigue, they were but little affected by hardships to which their own way of living inured them; and that, in spite of what they had gone through, they were both able and ready to fight an equal number of the enemy’s best troops, and had a fair chance of beating them. Still, even he did not recommend a general engagement before the arrival of the remaining claymores had brought their numbers more nearly to an equality with those of their opponents. His advice, which met with the approval of most of the chieftains, was that they should keep the army constantly in sight of the enemy, and should post their men on strong ground, where they would be safe from attack themselves, and whence they could easily sally forth, at every available opportunity, to harass the foe.

Alone of those present, Lochiel had refrained from giving any sign of adherence to the views of either party; and Dundee noticing this, called upon him, in terms most flattering to the old chief, to declare his opinion. It was given without hesitation: To fight the enemy. As he supported this advice by pointing to the eagerness of the men, and by enumerating the disadvantages of a delay, it was observed that Dundee’s countenance brightened, and that he listened with obvious satisfaction to his spirited yet wise words. When his turn came to speak, he told the Council that his sentiments had just been expressed by one who added to them the weight of long experience and of intimate knowledge, and that his voice, like that of Lochiel, was for immediate and decisive action, a course which was consequently resolved upon.

Before the Council broke up, the venerable chieftain again rose to speak. He had promised, he said, and would yield implicit obedience to all Dundee’s orders; but he requested that, before they separated, he might be allowed to give one command, not in his own name, but in that of the whole Council. It was the unanimous wish of all present that Dundee should not engage personally, for on him depended the fate, not only of their brave little army, but also of their king and of their country. ‘If your Lordship deny us this reasonable demand,’ he added, ‘for my own part I declare that neither I, nor any I am concerned in, shall draw a sword on this important occasion, whatever construction shall be put on the matter.’ In his reply to this appeal, Dundee admitted that, if he fell, his death might be a loss to them; but he reminded his hearers of the temper of their men. If the least reason were given them to doubt the personal courage of their leader, they would lose their respect for him, and give him, at best, but grudging obedience. For this reason, he begged to be permitted to give one ‘shear-darg’ – that is, one harvest day’s work – to the King, his master, that he might have an opportunity of convincing the brave clans that he could hazard his life in that service, as freely as the meanest of them. If this were granted him he pledged his word never again to risk his person, so long as he had the honour of commanding them. Finding him inflexible in the chivalrous resolution which he had couched as a request, the Council reluctantly yielded.

On the morning of the 27th of July, Mackay left his quarters in Dunkeld. By ten o’clock he had reached the southern extremity of the Pass of Killiecrankie, where he halted for two hours. At noon he again gave the order to advance. The Pass into which he led his army consisted of an almost straight road, fully two miles in length, and so narrow that barely half a dozen men could march abreast. To the right it was flanked by lofty mountains. The precipitous banks of the Garry skirted it on the left; and, on the other side of the river, a thickly wooded mountain hemmed in the landscape. Through this wild and rugged defile Balfour, Ramsay and Kenmore opened the march with their three battalions. Then came Belhaven’s troop of horse, followed by Leven’s regiment, and a battalion of the General’s. Over twelve hundred baggage horses formed a long line behind them, protected by a rear-guard which consisted of the Earl of Annandale’s troop of horse and Hastings’s regiment.

Impressed by the wildness of the surroundings, and conscious of the danger to which it would be exposed in the event of an attack, the army moved cautiously but cumbrously on. As it advanced without discovering any sign of the presence of the enemy, his neglect to avail himself of the obvious advantages which the nature of the ground offered him, inspired a new fear. Some carefully prepared trap at the further end seemed to afford the only intelligible explanation of his action in leaving the pass free. Even Mackay himself did not realise that the only stratagem which Dundee had devised was an engagement that should not merely retard, but wholly scatter his opponent’s forces.

At length, the open ground on the bank of the Garry was reached. As his men debouched into it, Mackay drew them up three deep, without changing the relative position of the regiments. The extreme left was thus held by Balfour. Ramsay and Kenmore came next, and were posted between him and two troops of horse that occupied the centre. Leven, Mackay and Hastings were on the right. Some short, portable leather cannon, that could hardly be dignified with the name of artillery were placed behind the horse. The whole line faced towards Blair, from which the enemy was expected to move forward. And, indeed, before long, the General perceived what he thought was the advance guard, coming down the valley towards him. It was in reality but a small detachment that had been sent on for the purpose of attracting his attention. Dundee, with his main body had wound his way round to the left, and his Highlanders were soon seen taking up their position on some elevated ground that commanded Mackay’s right wing. Without altering the disposition of his line of battle, the General wheeled it round to face the clansmen, a movement by which he put the river and the steep ridge above it immediately in his rear, and rendered his own position far more precarious in the event of a defeat, whilst the rise of the ground towards the hills in his front prevented him from attacking the enemy except under obviously disadvantageous conditions.

In the meantime, Dundee was making his own dispositions for the coming fight. Acting under the advice of Lochiel, who knew the spirit of emulation by which the several clans were animated, he drew them up in such a way that each of them should have a regiment in Mackay’s line assigned to it The Macleans, under their youthful chief, were posted on the extreme right. The Irish contingent, commanded by Colonel Pearson occupied the next position, and had the Tutor of Clanranald with his battalion on their immediate left. A fourth battalion, composed of the men whom the stalwart Glengarry led to battle, made up the right wing. The left consisted of two others, of which Lochiel’s was one, and Sir Donald Macdonald’s the other. The only cavalry at Dundee’s disposal consisted of a few Lowland gentlemen and some remains of his old troop, not exceeding forty horse in all, and these ‘very lean and ill-kept.’ It was posted in the centre, to face Mackay’s hundred sabres. It should have been under the orders of the Earl of Dunfermline; but that very morning, Sir William Wallace, a gentleman who had come over from Ireland, produced a commission which appointed him to the command hitherto held by the Earl. Though deeply mortified Dunfermline had submitted without demur to the unjust and ill-advised supersession, for which Melfort, Wallace’s brother-in-law, was probably responsible. His loyalty to the cause which he served prevented him from raising a dispute at so critical a time.

For two hours the armies stood facing each other, within musket-shot, without engaging, though some desultory skirmishing appears to have been going on towards the left, between some Macleans and the regiment opposed to them, whilst the guns in Mackay’s centre kept up an intermittent and harmless fire. During this long pause before the battle both leaders addressed their troop. In spite of his superiority in numbers, Mackay did not hide from his men that the task before them was no easy one. In encouraging them to it, he pointed out that, in such a place and with such foemen, they could not hope for safety in flight, but must win it for themselves by the defeat of the enemy. His words were greeted with a cheer, which to Lochiel who heard it, seemed wanting in enthusiasm, and from which he drew for his own followers an omen of victory.

In Dundee’s allocution there was a spirited appeal to the loyalty and patriotism of the clansmen. He urged them to behave like true Scotsmen, in defence of their King, their Religion, and their Country. He asked nothing of them but what they should see him do before them. For those who fell, there would be the comfort and the honour of having died in the performance of their duty, and as became true men of valour and of conscience; and to those who lived and won the battle, he promised a reward of a gracious King, and the praise of all good men.

It was not till eight o’clock on that summer evening that Dundee gave orders for the advance of his two thousand men. Casting off brogues and plaids the clansmen moved forward down the slope. They were met with a heavy fire, which grew more terrible as they approached the treble line of their opponents. But with wonderful resolution they obeyed the orders given them, and reserved their own till they came to within a few yards of the enemy. Then they poured it in upon them ‘like one great clap of thunder,’ and, throwing away their muskets, fell upon the infantry with their claymores before it had time to fix bayonets to receive them. ‘After that,’ in the words of Lochiel’s ‘Memoirs,’ ‘the noise seemed hushed; and the firing ceasing on both sides, nothing was heard for some few moments but the sullen and hollow clashes of the broadswords, with the dismal groans and cries of dying and wounded men.’

Dundee, who had joined his small body of horse, ordered Wallace to attack the troopers whilst the clans were scattering the infantry, and himself rode forward to take part in the charge. But Sir William, the nominal commander, ‘not being too forward,’ Dundee would have met with no support if the Earl of Dunfermline, taking in the situation at a glance, had not dashed forward, with some sixteen volunteers who left the laggard ranks. Mackay’s troopers did not stop to receive the shock of this handful of men, but joined the infantry in their flight. Nor did the gunners make a better stand; and their clumsy ordnance was captured before Wallace came up. Then Dundee, wheeling to the enemy’s right, charged Mackay’s own regiment, which, after delivering a last volley, turned and fled like the rest, in spite of the General’s efforts to rally it.

Pausing for a moment to look round the field, the victorious leader perceived that Sir Donald Macdonald’s battalion, ‘which had not shown so great resolution as the rest of the Highlanders,’ was hesitating in its attack upon Hastings’s regiment. He was on his way to urge it forward, when a shot struck him in the side and inflicted a mortal wound. He reeled in the saddle, and was falling from his horse; but one of his officers, named Johnstone, was at hand to catch him in his arms and to help him to the ground. As he lay there, the dying leader asked how the day went. ‘The day goes well for the King,’ replied Johnstone, ‘but I am sorry for your Lordship.’ But Dundee felt the comfort which he had so shortly before promised those who should fall; ‘it is the less matter for me,’ he said, ‘seeing the day goes well for my master.’

Besides Dundee himself, there lay on the fateful field some nine hundred men of his little army of hardly more than two thousand. Whether he died on the scene of his dearly-bought victory, or whether he was removed from it and survived long enough to dictate the letter which his Jacobite admirers have regarded as a last tribute of loyalty to his King, and his Whig opponents denounced as an unscrupulous forgery, are questions upon which too little depends to justify a discussion of them. He was buried at Blair.