ears from the dusky glen of the Nevis, that they learned the real importance of the impending host, and that it was commanded by the terrible Montrose.1

10

It was, therefore, with no small alarm and surprise, that the devoted Campbells at last arose and arranged themselves for battle. To disconcert them still more, their leader and chief, pleading a hurt in his arm and face, which he had recently got by a casual fall, and which disabled him for the use of sword and pistol, retired on board his galley, which lay moored on the narrow frith behind them," ," proposing from thence to survey their conflict with the enemy, while his cousin, the soldierly Auchinbreck, should become his substitute in immediate command. The Highlanders have a tradition, that at this moment, either from real fear, or with an insidious design to procure time for concentrating their forces and taking advantages of ground, the Campbells dispatched a white flag with a messenger, to request from the enemy half an hour to consider terms of surrender. And it is added, that Montrose had unthinkingly granted the request, and was quietly awaiting the result of their deliberations, when a quick-sighted Highland gentleman, perceiving certain motions amongst them which convinced him of the duplicity of their proposal, exclaimed, “What! does my lord marquis mean to let slip the opportunity he has gained of attacking these men to advantage?" and proposed to his companions that, without regard to Montrose, who seemed either to be disposed to betray them, or to have lost his accustomed penetration, they should immediately make the onset, while it was yet possible to do so with a chance of success. According to the same tradition, Montrose instant

ly called out to know," Who was the daring rascal that had thus endeavoured to subvert the discipline of the army ?" But, before an answer could be returned, Deors MacAlaster, for such was his ordinary name, had broke away, along with a great portion of the Highlanders, and was proceeding to active conflict with the enemy. Alaster MacCol, the major-general, only took time to say, in answer to the marquis's question, "He is a most brave man, my lord; and, by God, I will rather act with him than with thee !" before he also broke off from his position, and with his men proceeded to charge the Campbells. Being thus deserted by the greater part of his troops, and seeing perhaps that the fortune of the day would now depend upon a vigorous charge, Montrose thought proper to yield to the temper of his men, by leading for ward the remainder in person.

It was Sunday, the 2d of February, or Candlemas day, 1645, and the sun had just risen over the shoulder of Ben-Nevis, when this advance was made on the part of Montrose's troops, against the bands of his inveterate but irresolute enemy Ar gyle. Taken as the latter were so completely by surprise, and with a great portion of their strength already cut off, they had before this pe riod drawn themselves up in a line of somewhat formidable extent, the Highlanders in the centre, and the Lowlanders at the various extremities, while a small reserve stood behind on an eminence, and a garrison of about fifty remained within the neighbouring fortress of Inverlochy. The ground on which they stood was perfectly level, being simply that angle of the vale which was formed by the junction of the river Lochy with the arm of the sea called Loch Eil. Behind them, and still

nearer the embouchure of the river, Inverlochy castle, said to have been an early seat of the Caledonian monarchs, raised its vast square form into the clear winter air; and behind that again, the provision galleys, and that in which Argyle had taken shelter, 12 lay upon the placid face of the estuary, as if quietly waiting to witness the dreadful scene which was to ensue.

It was perhaps a fatal circumstance for this devoted host, that they should have been kept at their position to receive the attack of the enemy. If they had been regular and experienced troops, such a measure would have probably been the best, as the leaders might have calculated upon their having the fortitude to meet firmly and repel with vigour the irregular charge of their antagonists. But as they were themselves chiefly Highlanders, and must have therefore been disposed to look upon an attack as almost the only means of gaining an advantage in battle, it would have certainly been better to have given them an opportunity of meeting charge with charge, so as to make the chances of success equal on both sides. As the case stood, they proved quite unable to withstand the impetuosity of the foe which advanced upon them. When they saw the disorderly bands of Montrose issue at the sound of the trumpet from the dusky glen before them; when they saw their uplifted weapons flashing under the rays of the sun, as they rushed forward at full speed over the intermediate stripe of level ground; when they heard the wild yell with which they accompanied the discharge of their muskets, and made their last spring forward to close in active conflict; the hearts of the stationary soldiers, unexcited by motion, as those of their enemies had been, fairly

sunk within them, and they might be said to have lost the battle before it was commenced. The greater part of them discharged their firelocks only once against the royalists, and then, without ever drawing blade, turned and fled in dismay. A few only, and those in detached portions throughout the field, waited for the charge, or made the least attempt to contest the fortune of the day. They also being soon overpowered, a few minutes saw the whole of the Argyle army accumulated in a confused and terrified mass upon the brink of the loch, or else flying in irretrievable disorder along its shore.

After the turn of the day, Montrose's men, only three or four of whom had been wounded, found easy work in chasing and cutting down the unhappy Campbells; and truly, there never was perhaps an army, which, either victorious or defeated, lost so great a proportion of its whole number in battle, as did this unfortunate host at the fight, or rather flight, of Inverlochy. In the first place, those who crowded back upon the beach in the hope of reaching the vessels, were almost without exception slain or drowned. Those who fled along the shore towards the south-west, were closely followed, and great numbers of them overtaken and slain. A party of about two hundred, who made for the castle of Inverlochy, were diverted from that place of refuge by a troop of Montrose's horse, and either cut down, or driven back amongst the rest upon the beach. A great number were there endeavouring to reach their chief's vessel, by means of the rope which attached it to the land, when, the rope by accident giving way at the end connected with the shore, all that were upon it sunk at once into the sea and were drowned. Ar

gyle himself, too much concerned for his own person to attempt the succour of these ill-starred individuals, was no sooner certain of the fate of the day, than he caused his sails to be raised, and, extricating his vessel from the midst of scores of his dying kinsmen and clan who clung around it, bore off down the loch to seek a more secure place of shelter.

Such is the general outline of the battle of Inverlochy, in which fifteen hundred of the losing party, or a full half of their whole number, were slain, almost without resistance, by an enemy who did not at first reckon above a moiety of their numerical force. It was one of the most complete victories which Montrose ever gained, and also one of the most important in its political consequences; for it occasioned such a reflux of hope in the breast of the king, that he immediately afterwards saw fit to break off a treaty, which the previous gloom of his affairs had induced him to enter into with his insurgent parliament, and once more to declare for war. The Scottish parliament, which was sitting at the time, heard of the battle with dismay, and immediately proceeded to forfault and seize the estates of all the royalists who had fought in it.13 They were gratified, on the 12th of February, with a visit from Argyle, who, after ostentatiously riding up the High Street of the metropolis with his arm hung in a scarf, as at once an apology to the people for his conduct in the battle, and a means of exciting compassion for his mischances in the public service, appeared before them, and gave as favourable an account as the notorious circumstances of the case would permit, of all that he had done and suffered in their behalf since he last parted with them. To conceal