Dundee, by a rapid movement, surprised the town of Perth. He seized what public treasure he found in the hands of the receiver of taxes, saying that he would plunder no private person, but thought it was fair to take the king's money for the king's service. He dispersed, at the same time, two troops of horse, newly raised by government, seized their horses and accoutrements, and made prisoners their commanding officers, the lairds of Pollock and of Blair. After this exploit, Dundee retreated into the highlands to recruit his little army, to wait for a body of three thousand men, whom he expected from Ireland, and to seek a suitable time for forwarding the explosion of a conspiracy which had been formed in a regiment of dragoons now serving in MacKay's army, but which he had himself commanded before the Revolution. Both the officers and men of this regiment were willing to return to the command of their old leader, and the allegiance of their former king. Creichton, an officer in the regiment, was the chief conductor of this conspiracy. It was discovered by MacKay just when it was on the point of taking effect, and when the event, with such an enemy as Dundee in his vicinity, must have been destruction to his army. MacKay cautiously disguised his knowledge of the plot, until he was joined by strong reinforcements, which enabled him to seize upon the principal conspirators, and disarm and disband their inferior accomplices. The privy council had a great inclination to make an example, which should discourage such practices in future; and captain Creichton, being the chief agent, a stranger, and without friends or intercessors, was selected for the purpose of being hanged, as a warning to others. But Dundee did not desert his old comrade. He sent a message to the lords of the privy council, saying, that if they hurt a hair of Creichton's head, he would in the way of reprisal cut his prisoners, the lairds of Pollock and Blair, joint from joint, and send them to Edinburgh, packed up in hampers. The council were alarmed on receiving this intimation. The duke of Hamilton reminded them, that they all knew Dundee so well that they could not doubt his being as good as his word, and that the gentlemen in his hands were too nearly allied to several of the council to be endangered on account of Creichton. These remonstrances saved Creichton's life. A good deal of marching, countermarching, and occasional skirmishing, ensued between Dundee and MacKay, during which an incident is said to have occurred, strongly indicative of the character of the former. A young man had joined Dundee's army, the son of one of his old and intimate friends. He was employed upon some reconnoitring service, in which, a skirmish taking place, the new recruit's heart failed him, and he fairly fled out of the fray. Dundee covered his dishonour, by pretending that he himself had dispatched him to the rear upon a message of importance. He then sent for the youth to speak with him in private. "Young man," he said, "I have saved your honour; but I must needs tell you that you have chosen a trade for which you are constitutionally unfit. It is not perhaps your fault, but rather your misfortune, that you do not possess the strength of nerves necessary to encounter the dangers of battle. Return to your father-I will find an excuse for your doing so with honour-and I will besides put you in the way of doing king James's cause effectual service, without personally engaging in the war." The young gentleman, penetrated with a sense of the deepest shame, threw himself at his general's feet, and protested that his failure in duty was only the effect of a momentary weakness, the recollection of which should be effaced by his future conduct, and entreated Dundee, for the love he bore his father, to give him at least a chance of regaining his reputation. Dundee still endeavoured to dissuade him from remaining with the army, but as he continued urgent to be admitted to a Z second trial, he reluctantly gave way to his request. "But remember," he said, "that if your heart fails you a second time, you must die. The cause I am engaged in is a desperate one, and I can permit no man to serve under me who is not prepared to fight to the last. My own life, and those of all others who serve under me, are unsparingly devoted to the cause of king James; and death must be his lot who shows an example of cowardice." The unfortunate young man embraced, with seeming eagerness, this stern proposal; but in the next skirmish in which he was engaged, his constitutional timidity again prevailed. He turned his horse to fly, when Dundee, coming up to him, only said, "The son of your father is too good a man to be consigned to the provost-marshal;" and without another word he shot him through the head with his pistol, with a sternness and inflexibility of purpose, resembling the stoicism of the ancient Romans. Circumstances began now to render Dundee desirous of trying the chance of battle, which he had hitherto avoided. The marquis of Athole, who had vacillated more than once during the progress of the Revolution, now abandoned entirely the cause of king James, and sent his son, lord Murray, into Athole, to raise the clans of that country, Stewarts, Robertsons, Fergussons, and others, who were accustomed to follow the family of Athole in war, from respect to the marquis's rank and power, though they were not his patriarchal subjects or clansmen. One of these gentlemen, Stewart of Boquhan, although dependent on the marquis, was resolved not to obey him through his versatile changes of politics. Having been placed in possession of the strong castle of Blair, a fortress belonging to the marquis, which commands the most important pass into the northern highlands, Stewart refused to surrender it to lord Murray, and declared he held it for king James, by order of the viscount of Dundee. Lord Murray, finding his father's own house thus defended against him, sent the tidings to general MacKay, who assembled about three thousand foot, and two troops of horse, and advanced with all haste into Athole, determined to besiege Blair, and to fight Dundee, should he march to its relief. At this critical period lord Murray had assembled about eight hundred Athole highlanders, of the clans already named, who were brought together under pretence of preserving the peace of the country. Many of them, however, began to suspect the purpose of lord Murray to join MacKay; and recollecting that it was under Montrose's command, and in the cause of the Stewarts, that their fathers had gained their fame, they resolved they would not be diverted from the same course of loyalty, as they esteemed it. They, therefore, let lord Murray know, that if it was his intention to join Dundee, they would all follow him to the death; but if he proposed to embrace the side of king William, they would presently leave him. Lord Murray answered with threats of that vengeance which a feudal lord could take upon disobedient vassals, when his men, setting his threats at defiance, ran to the river, and filling their bonnets with water, drank king James's health, and left the standard of the marquis to a man-a singular defection among the highlanders of that period, who usually followed to the field their immediate superior, with much indifference concerning the side of politics which he was pleased to embrace. These tidings came to Dundee, with the information that MacKay had reached Dunkeld, with the purpose of reducing Blair, and punishing the Athole gentlemen for their desertion of the standard of their chief. About the same time, general Cannon joined the viscount, with the reinforcement so long expected from Ireland; but they amounted to only three hundred men, instead of as many thousands, and were totally destitute of money and provisions, both of which were to have been sent with them. Nevertheless, Dundee resolved to preserve the castle of Blair, so important as a key to the northern highlands, and marched to protect it with a Lody of about two thousand highlanders, with whom he occupied the upper and northern extremity of the pass between Dunkeld and Blair. In this celebrated defile, called the Pass of Killiecrankie, the road runs for several miles along the banks of a furious river, called the Garrey, which rages below, amongst cataracts and waterfalls, which the eye can scarcely discern, while a series of precipices and wooded mountains rise on the other hand; the road itself is the only mode of access through the glen, and along the valley which lies at its northern extremity. The path was then much more inaccessible than at the present day, as it ran close to the bed of the river, and was narrower and more rudely formed. A defile of such difficulty was capable of being defended to the last extremity by a small number against a considerable army; and considering how well adapted his followers were for such mountain warfare, many of the highland chiefs were of opinion, that Dundee ought to content himself with guarding the pass against MacKay's superior army, until a rendezvous, which they had appointed, should assemble a stronger force of their countrymen. But Dundee was of a different opinion, and resolved to suffer MacKay to march through the pass without opposition, and then to fight him in the open valley, at the northern extremity. He chose this bold measure, both because it promised a decisive result to the combat which his ardent temper desired; and also because he preferred fighting MacKay before that general was joined by a considerable body of English horse, who were expected, and of whom the highlanders had at that time some dread. On the 17th June, 1689, general MacKay with his troops entered the pass, which, to their astonishment, they found unoccupied by the enemy. His forces were partly English and Dutch regiments, who, with many of the Lowland Scots themselves, were struck with awe, and even fear, at finding themselves introduced by such a magnificent, and, at the same time, formidable avenue, to the presence of their enemies, the inhabitants of these tremendous mountains, into whose recesses they were penetrating. But besides the effect produced on their minds by the magnificence of natural scenery, to which they were wholly unaccustomed, the consideration must have hung heavy on them, that if a general of Dundee's talents suffered them to march unopposed through a pass so difficult, it must be because he was conscious of possessing strength sufficient to attack and destroy them at the further extremity, when their only retreat would lie through the narrow and perilous path by which they were now advancing. Mid-day was past ere MacKay's men were extricated from the defile, when their general drew them up in one line three deep, without any reserve, along the southern extremity of the narrow valley into which the pass opens. A hill on the north side of the valley, covered with dwarf trees and bushes, formed the position of Dundee's army, which, divided into columns, formed by the different clans, was greatly outflanked by MacKay's troops. The armies shouted when they came in sight of each other; but the enthusiasm of MacKay's soldiers being damped by the circumstances we have observed, their military shout made but a dull and sullen sound compared to the yell of the highlanders, which rung far and shrill from all the hills around them. Sir Evan Cameron of Lochiel called on those around him to attend to this circumstance, saying, that in all his battles he observed victory had ever been on the side of those whose shout before joining seemed most sprightly and confident. It was accounted a less favourable augury by some of the old highlanders, that Dundee at this moment, to render his person less distinguishable, put on a sad coloured buff coat above the scarlet cassock and bright cuirass, in which he had hitherto appeared. It was some time ere Dundee had completed his preparations for the assault which he meditated, and only a few dropping shots were exchanged, while, in order to prevent the risk of being outflanked, he increased the intervals between the columns with which he designed to charge, insomuch that he had scarce men enough left in the centre. About an hour before sunset, he sent word to MacKay that he was about to attack him, and gave the signal to charge. The highlanders stript themselves to their shirts and doublets, threw away every thing that could impede the fury of their onset, and then put themselves in motion, accompanying with a dreadful yell the discordant sound of their war-pipes. As they advanced the clansmen fired their pieces, each column thus pouring in a well-aimed though irregular volley, when, throwing down their fusees, without waiting to re-load, they drew their swords, and increasing their pace to the utmost speed, pierced through and broke the thin line which was opposed to them, and profited by their superior activity and the nature of their weapons to make a great havoc among the regular troops. When thus mingled with each other, hand to hand, the advantages of superior discipline on the part of the lowland soldier were lostagility and strength were on the side of the mountaineers. Some accounts of the battle give a terrific account of the blows struck by the highlanders, which cleft heads down to the breast, cut steel head-pieces asunder as night-caps, and slashed through pikes like willows. Two of MacKay's English regiments in the centre stood fast, the interval between the attacking columns being so great that none were placed opposite to them. The rest of king William's army were totally routed and driven headlong into the river. Dundee himself, contrary to the advice of the highland chiefs, was in front of the battle, and fatally conspicuous. By a desperate attack he possessed himself of MacKay's artillery, and then led his handful of cavalry, about fifty men, against two troops of horse, which fled without fighting. Observing the stand made by the two English regiments already mentioned, he galloped towards the clan of Macdonald, and was in the act of bringing them to the charge, with his right arm elevated, as if pointing to the way of victory, when he was struck by a bullet beneath the arm-pit, where he was unprotected by his cuirass.* He tried to ride on, but being unable to keep the saddle, fell mortally wounded, and died in the course of the night. It was impossible for a victory to be more complete than that gained by the highlanders at Killiecrankie. The cannon, baggage, and stores of MacKay's army fell into their hands. The two regiments which kept their ground suffered so much in their attempt to retreat through the pass, now occupied by the Athole men, in their rear, that they might be considered as destroyed. Two thousand of MacKay's army were killed or taken, and the general himself escaped with difficulty to Stirling, at the head of a few horse. The highlanders, whose dense columns, as they came down to the attack, underwent three successive volleys from MacKay's line, had eight hundred men slain. But all other losses were unimportant compared to that of Dundee, with whom were forfeited all the fruits of that bloody victory. MacKay, when he found himself free from pursuit, declared his conviction that his opponent had fallen in the battle. And such was the opinion of Dundee's talents and courage, and the general sense of the peculiar crisis at which his death took place, that the common people of the low country cannot, even now, be persuaded that he died an ordinary death. * "Claverhouse's sword," says sir Walter Scott in 1802, "a straight-cut-and-thrust blade, is in the possession of lord Woodhouselee, and the buff coat which he wore at the battle of Killiecrankie, having the fatal shot-hole under the arm-pit of it, is preserved in Pennycuick house, the seat of sir George Clerk, bart." Border Minstrelsy, vol. ii., p. 245. They say, that a servant of his own, shocked at the severities which, if triumphant, his master was likely to accomplish against the presbyterians, and giving way to the popular prejudice of his having a charm against the effect of lead balls, shot him, in the tumult of the battle, with a silver button taken from his livery coat. The Jacobites, and episcopal party, on the other hand, lamented the deceased victor as the last of the Scots, the last of the Grahams, and the last of all that was great in his native country. EPITAPH ON VISCOUNT DUNDEE. O last and best of Scots! who didst maintain JOHN DRYDEN. THE CORONATION OF WILLIAM AND MARY. MISS STRICKLAND The morning of April 11 brought a multitude of cares and agitations to the triumphant sovereigns, in addition to the ceremony to which the day had been devoted. Just as their robing was completed, and they were about to set off for Westminster Hall, news arrived of the successful landing of James II. at Kinsale, in Ireland, and that he had taken peaceable possession of the whole island, with the exception of Londonderry and a few other towns. At the same moment, the lord chamberlain Nottingham delivered to queen Mary the first letter her father had written to her since her accession. It was an awful one, and the time of its reception was awful. King James wrote to his daughter, "That hitherto he had made all fatherly excuses for what had been done, and had wholly attributed her part in the revolution to obedience to her husband, but the act of being crowned was in her own power, and if she were crowned while he and the prince of Wales were living, the curses of an outraged father would light upon her, as well as of that God who has commanded duty to parents." If queen Mary was not confounded by this letter king William certainly was. Lord Nottingham, who recorded these scenes as an eye-witness, declares, that "the king forthwith thought fit to enter into a vindication of himself from having, by harsh authority, enforced the course of conduct which had brought on his wife her father's malediction; and he took the opportunity of declaring that he had done nothing, but by her advice, and with her approbation.' It was on this memorable occasion that, irritated by the ill news of her father's formidable position, the queen recriminated, that "if her father regained his authority, her husband might thank himself, for letting him go as he did." These words were reported to James II., who from that hour believed, to use his own words, that "his daughter wished some cruelty or other to be perpetrated against him.”+ * MSS. of lord Nottingham, printed in Dalrymple's appendix. |