by John Buchan
Auldearn is the most interesting, as it is tactically the most brilliant, of Montrose’s battles. It was the first time that he had commanded a reasonable force of cavalry, and the first time that he had been the attacked instead of the attacker. Hurry had shown considerable strategic ability, and had attempted with no little art to meet him with his own methods of surprise. It is rare in the history of war that a man who can devise lightning raids shows an equal coolness and skill when he stands on the defence. But the dispositions made within a few minutes on that wet May morning could not have been bettered though they had been the result of days of preparation. Genius for war, working as it does within certain inexorable limits, repeats with variations the same methods in every age. The reserving of fire till close quarters was followed by Dundee at Killiecrankie, and became a famous usage in the British army, as witness Fontenoy. The device of a weak right, dedicated to a desperate holding battle, and forming the hinge on which the rest of the army swings to break the enemy’s centre, was used on a majestic scale amid the snow of Austerlitz.
III
The news of Auldearn had its influence on the war in England. Leven, already aware of the king’s plan of coming north to join Montrose, was summoned by Fairfax to support Brereton at Manchester, who had been driven out of Cheshire by Charles’s advance from Droitwich. He announced his coming, but added that he meant to travel by way of Westmoreland, as that route was easiest for his guns. His reasons for this circuit are plain. He wished his army to cover the road to Scotland, for he feared that at any moment the king might come north and Montrose come south, and he knew that their meeting in the Lowlands would mean the end of his Covenanting masters. The same fear kept him long in Westmoreland when he was urgently needed in Yorkshire. He was beginning, like most of the Scots, to be very weary of his Parliamentary colleagues, and had already told an English colonel that, if he did not do his will about a certain fort at Carlisle, he “desired no better occasion to cut them all in pieces.” The Estates in Edinburgh were no less concerned, and their first step was revenge. Lord Napier, now a man of seventy, whose only offence was that he was Montrose’s brother-in- law, was heavily fined and kept in close confinement. The young Master had escaped and was with his uncle; but his wife, his sisters, and his brother-in-law, Stirling of Keir, shared the old lord’s fate. Montrose succeeded in making an exchange of certain lesser prisoners with Argyll, and he used the fact that he held a Campbell of Crinan at Blair to prevent further reprisals upon the Napier family. But Lord Graham was also imprisoned, and his younger brother, Lord Robert, a boy of seven, by an order of the Estates, was committed to the charge of Montrose’s wife. It is one of the few glimpses we get of this lady. Apparently she had made her peace with the Covenant through her own family, for Southesk and his son Carnegie were of the type that value property and a quiet life above scruples of honour and a barren renown.
Montrose had now won four notable battles, but it was still as difficult as ever, in Bishop Burnet’s phrase, to “fix his conquests.” Hurry’s army was gone, but Baillie’s remained, and Baillie blocked the way to the Lowlands. He had 2,000 foot and several hundred horse, and, burning his way through Atholl, had by the beginning of May crossed the Dee and entered Strathbogie. As a reserve to this force, Montrose’s college friend, Lord Lindsay of the Byres, who had been granted by the Parliament the forfeited earldom of Crawford, was commanding a newly raised army on the borders of Perth and Angus. Lindsay fancied himself a military genius, and, having trenchantly criticized the performances of Argyll and Baillie, had persuaded the Committee to try him in high command. He seems to have had the ear of Parliament, for on their order Baillie, as we shall see, was soon compelled to lend him more than a thousand of his veterans, and accept in exchange 400 of Lindsay’s raw Lowland levies.
1645 May-June
After Auldearn Montrose went first to Elgin, where he halted for a time to rest his weary troops and look after his wounded. As usual, many of the Highlanders went home, and Aboyne departed on sick leave, but he still kept his Irish and the Gordon horse. He marched into Strathbogie to draw Baillie, and proceeded to outmanoeuvre him up and down the valley of the Spey. He had no desire to fight until he had recruited his strength, for after such a battle as Auldearn there was need of a breathing-space. From Strathbogie he moved to Balveny and thence to Glenlivat, where Baillie lost all trace of his quarry. He found him again at Abernethy-on-Spey, and presently Montrose was on the outskirts of Badenoch—”a very strait county,” says Baillie, and one by no means pleasant to campaign in. Here the two opponents halted and looked at each other. Montrose with his Highlanders could draw supplies from the countryside, but Baillie could only starve. The thing was soon past bearing, so the Covenanters withdrew to Inverness to lay in provisions.
The Campaign of Alford
The road was now open to deal with Lindsay, who was waiting in Atholl to prove his boasted generalship. The news of Montrose’s coming sent him back in hot haste to Newtyle, in Angus, to be nearer his base. Montrose sped down the upper glens of Dee, through Glen Muick, and down the headwaters of the South Esk. But when he was on the Isla, within seven miles of Lindsay, and that general was already repenting his bold words, a message arrived from the north to spoil all his plans. Huntly had summoned his clan back to Strathbogie. The reason of his conduct we do not know. The natural explanation is that the chief of the Gordons took this opportunity of showing his jealousy of Montrose and of paying back old scores. So Lord Gordon interpreted it, and was with difficulty restrained from dealing summarily with those of his clan who proposed to obey his father’s commands. But it is at least as probable that Huntly, with Baillie in the neighbourhood, was merely anxious for the safety of his own possessions. Montrose had no other course but to turn back and begin recruiting again. He might have fought Lindsay without cavalry and with a much inferior force — he had taken risks as great before; but on this occasion there was a strong reason for retiring. To defeat Lindsay would not advance by one step the main strategy of his campaign. He would still have to go back and settle with Baillie, and he would still have to collect an army for the Lowland war. It seemed wiser to do these necessary things first, and to leave Lindsay to be dealt with later — or, more likely, to fall a victim to the endless Covenanting bickerings.
1645 June
Montrose went back the road he had come, by the Spital of Glenshee, crossed the Dee, and settled himself at Corgarff castle, at the head of Strathdon. Here he was in a strong position, whether to retreat, if necessary, to the high hills, or to sweep down upon the Aberdeenshire lowlands. Once more he sent off Alasdair to collect the Clan Donald, while Lord Gordon and Nathaniel Gordon departed to recruit the men of their name. In this way the time passed till the last days of June. Baillie was thoroughly sick of the business, and begged in vain to be allowed to resign his command. Some of his veteran regiments showed ugly symptoms of mutiny. He was in receipt of the daily and most vexatious instructions of the warlike Committee of Estates, which, with tried warriors like Argyll, Elcho, and Burleigh among its members, was resolved to confide nothing to Baillie’s unaided judgment. They were represented at the front by a branch committee, who interpreted their resolutions, and must have driven the unfortunate commander to the verge of madness. One of their performances, as we have seen, was the transfer of the flower of Baillie’s foot, first to Argyll, who refused the command, and then to Lindsay, who employed them in futile raidings in Atholl. The Providence which does not suffer fools gladly was preparing for them their reward.
1645 June-July
In the last days of June, Baillie, having ravaged the Gordon lands, prepared to lay siege to Huntly’s castle of Bog of Gight. The great keep, well defended by Gordon of Buckie, was in no real danger, but the position seemed to call for Montrose’s intervention, especially as Lord Gordon had now returned with some 250 troopers. As he advanced he heard of the transfer which Baillie had been compelled to make to Lindsay, and he may have guessed at the ty
ranny of the peripatetic committee. He found the Covenanters at Keith, on the Deveron, drawn up on high ground, with a gap in front of them strongly held by horse and commanded by artillery. The royalists skirmished before the gap, and endeavoured to draw the enemy, but Baillie was too wise to move. Next morning Montrose sent him a challenge by a trumpeter, inviting the honour of an encounter in the levels, but Baillie replied that he was not in the habit of taking his marching orders from the enemy. Montrose accordingly broke up his camp and retired southward to Strathdon. He argued that Baillie might be induced to follow if he saw his enemy marching away from the Gordon country in the direction of the Lowlands.
He was right in his guess, for Baillie had heard further news which cheered his spirit. Alasdair and most of the Irish were absent from the royal standard. Auldearn had put the fear of Ulster into the hearts of the Lowland foot, and, as the word sped through the ranks that the terrible Alasdair had gone, the courage of the Covenanters rose. With all speed they hastened south after the enemy, and early on the morning of the 2nd of July came up with him at Alford on the Don.
IV
1645 July
Montrose had marched from Deveronside by the ancient Suie Road, which forded the Don at the village of Forbes, and was continued to Deeside by a path which, after the “Forty-five,” became one of the specially constructed military highways. It was the straight route to Angus and the Lowlands, and Baillie believed that his enemy was in full retreat. South-west of the ford lay the Muir of Alford, with the kirk and smithy and ale-house which then constituted the hamlet of that name, two miles west of the present village. Directly south of the ford stood an eminence called the Gallows Hill, sloping gently towards the north. On this hill Montrose stationed his army, concealing, as at Auldearn, the greater number behind the crest, so that to an enemy beyond the river it seemed an inconsiderable force. It was a strong position, for it was protected on the left rear by the marshy ravine of the Leochel burn. The upper Don, which in these days of surface draining is a shallow and easily crossed stream in the month of July, was then a far more formidable river, with long stretches of bog along its banks. The only good ford was the Boat of Forbes, and it was Montrose’s intention that Baillie should cross there. His own position on Gallows Hill was a little to the south-west, and he calculated that Baillie, believing him to be weak in numbers, but not caring to face the direct ascent of the hill, would try to outflank him on the right. If he did, he had some marshy levels to traverse before he reached the glacis of Montrose’s position, and a defeat would put his army in grave jeopardy, with a bog and a river behind it.
Baillie walked into the trap. But as soon as he crossed the Don he observed that his adversary had altered his alignment, and was now facing not north but north-east, which would prevent the turning movement he had designed. It is not easy to be certain of the numbers on both sides. Lindsay’s drafts had reduced Baillie to 1,200 foot, but that number must have been increased by levies among the northern counties. We know that of first-line material he had what remained of the regiments of Cassilis, Lanark, and Glencairn. Montrose’s infantry after Alasdair’s departure must have fallen well below 2,000, so it is probable that in foot the two forces were nearly equal. The Gordon cavalry numbered about 250, and Baillie cannot have had less than from 400 to 500. One advantage Montrose possessed; he had early notice of the enemy’s coming, and was able to make his dispositions at his leisure. They were very different from Auldearn. The horse were placed on each wing and strengthened by Irish musketeers. On the right Lord Gordon commanded, with Nathaniel Gordon in charge of the foot. Aboyne had the cavalry on the left, with a small Irish contingent under O’Cahan. The centre, drawn up in files of six deep, was composed of Badenoch Highlanders, the Farquharsons, and some of Huntly’s lowland tenants, and was under the charge of Drummond of Balloch and Angus Macdonald of Glengarry. The reserve of foot, concealed behind the ridge of the Gallows Hill, was commanded by the Master of Napier.
When Baillie saw Montrose’s change of front he halted irresolutely in the bog. He would probably have declined battle had he not been overruled by his precious committee, and by Balcarres, his master of horse, who trusted to the superiority of his cavalry. The latter was about to charge under the committee’s instructions, when Montrose anticipated him. Baillie had brought along with him herds of cattle looted from Huntly’s lands, and the sight of his father’s beasts penned up in an enclosure behind the Covenanters’ camp infuriated the young Lord Gordon. He swore to drag Baillie by the throat from the midst of his bodyguard. Accordingly he led his horse to the charge on the royalist right with the same fury that at Auldearn had avenged James of Rynie. The Covenant left broke under the onset, but Balcarres was a stout soldier who did not easily yield. He managed to rally his three squadrons of horse, and for a little a fierce and well-matched cavalry battle raged on the edge of the bog. It would appear that during this struggle the remainder of both armies stood still and watched.
The Battle of Alford
It was Nathaniel Gordon who turned the tide. He led the foot on the right wing to the support of the horse, and he conceived a better way of support than by firing into the mass, where they were in great danger of wounding their own side. He cried to his men to fling down their muskets, draw their swords, and stab and hough Balcarres’s horses. The cruel device succeeded. The Covenant troopers broke and fled, and the Gordons turned their swords, as at Auldearn, against the unprotected left flank of Baillie’s infantry. Meanwhile Aboyne, with his horse, had at length charged on Montrose’s left, and O’Cahan’s Irish followed. The two royalist wings closed in on the Covenant centre, and against it also Glengarry led the Gordon foot. The turn of the battle had arrived. Baillie’s veteran regiments, having reduced their files to three to prevent outflanking, were utterly overborne. It needed only the advance of the Master of Napier with his reserve to turn the defeat of the Covenant into a rout. The very camp-boys in the royalist army mounted the baggage ponies and took their share in the confusion. Baillie and Balcarres, with their surviving cavalry, escaped by the skin of their teeth. Argyll, on his third horse, just evaded Glengarry’s sword. The Lowland foot remained to die on the field. All day the pursuit continued through the Howe of Alford and far down the Don.
On the Covenant side the slaughter fell little short of Auldearn. The royalists, considering how desperate was the cavalry battle, lost curiously few officers and men, but they sustained one loss which made the victory little better than a defeat. Lord Gordon, determined to avenge the theft of his father’s cattle, charged the retreating horse once too often. His aim was to capture Baillie, and he was actually seizing that general by the sword-belt when he was shot dead from behind — whether by accident or design will never be known. His death threw the royalist army, more especially Montrose and the Gordons, into the uttermost grief. He had been the young Marcellus of the cause, the one hope of the North. Aboyne stopped his pursuit of Balcarres, and — in Wishart’s words—”forgetting their victory and the spoil, they fixed their eyes upon the lifeless body, kissed his face and hands, commended the singular beauty of the corpse, compared the nobility of his descent and the plentifulness of his fortune with the hopefulness of his parts, and counted that an unfortunate victory that had stood them in so much.” It was a sorrowful band that, led by Montrose, took its way slowly to Aberdeen, where the young lord was laid in the Gordon aisle of the old church of St. Machar. He was only twenty-eight years of age, and had spent his short span of life cleanly and chivalrously in the service of his country. To Montrose the loss was irreparable, for Lord Gordon was the one man who in temper and attainments was fitted to be his companion. Patrick of Ruthven, a clansman, has described that noble friendship in arms:
“Never two of so slight acquaintance did ever love more dearly. There seemed to be a harmonious sympathy in their natural dispositions, so much were they delighted in a mutual conversation. And in this the Lord Gordon seemed to go beyond the limits which Nature had allowed for
his carriage in civil conversation. So real was his affection, and so great the estimation he had of the other that, when they fell into any familiar discourse, it was often remarked that the ordinary air of his countenance was changed from a serious listening to a certain ravishment or admiration of the other’s witty expressions. And he was often heard in public to speak sincerely, and confirm it with oaths, that if the fortune of the present war should prove at any time so dismal that Montrose, for safety, should be forced to fly into the mountains without any army or any one to assist him, he would live with him as an outlaw, and would prove as faithful a consort to drive away his malour, as he was then a helper to the advancement of his fortunes.”
V
The armies of Baillie and Hurry had ceased to exist. To be sure there was still Lindsay, but he was hardly to be taken seriously. The news of Alford, when it reached the south-west of England, roused the drooping spirits of Charles. “It is certain,” Digby wrote, “that the king’s enemies have not any man in the field now in Scotland.” Charles had need of heartening, for his cause, whether he realized it or not, had received its deathblow. Shortly after Alford, Montrose had news — perhaps from his friend Thomas Saintserf, who, disguised as a packman, travelled between his camp and the Border — of a cataclysmic disaster in the English midlands. On the 14th of June, at Naseby, Cromwell’s “company of poor ignorant men” had scattered Rupert’s chivalry and annihilated the royal foot. The battle had two vital consequences for Scotland. It was Cromwell’s first clear personal triumph, and it enabled him to press on with his policy of religious toleration which must sooner or later destroy the tyranny of the Covenant. On the other hand, it put an end to the danger of Charles’s advance to the north, and Leven was able to withdraw his army from Westmoreland and march south in his leisurely way to the siege of Hereford, very anxious lest the slaughter of the Irish women after Naseby should be made a precedent by malignants for reprisals on the immense female concourse which accompanied the Scots. Moreover, on the 28th of June Carlisle, after a heroic defence, capitulated to David Leslie, and thereby released for service elsewhere a veteran force of horse and foot, and a general who had none of Leven’s timidity. If the royal standard was still to fly in Britain, it was high time that Montrose crossed the Border.
