As Philip's noble son did still disdainAll but the dear applause of merited fame,And nothing harboured in that lofty brainBut how to conquer an eternal name;So great attempts, heroic ventures, shallAdvance my fortune, or renown my fall.
As Philip's noble son did still disdainAll but the dear applause of merited fame,And nothing harboured in that lofty brainBut how to conquer an eternal name;So great attempts, heroic ventures, shallAdvance my fortune, or renown my fall.
As Philip's noble son did still disdainAll but the dear applause of merited fame,And nothing harboured in that lofty brainBut how to conquer an eternal name;So great attempts, heroic ventures, shallAdvance my fortune, or renown my fall.
What greater or more heroic venture could there be than to preserve the religion, laws, and liberties of his country! Hamilton and the unconscious King between them had provided the hour; Rothes found the man.
It is true, therefore, to say that Montrose signed the Covenant deliberately and on reflection, and with the assurance that in so doing he was pledging himself only to a constitutional resistance against an illegal attempt to subvert the religion and liberties of his country, and in nowise combining to undermine and overthrow the lawful authority and prerogative of the Crown. But it is not therefore illogical to believe that various causes conspired to give him that assurance; and that among those causes the jealousy of Hamilton and the cunning of Rothes had their place together with the fanaticism of Laud and the folly of the King.
Young as Montrose was, discerning eyes had already marked him for one likely to play a conspicuous part on whichever side he might engage. The news that he had joined their enemies filled the Episcopal party in Scotland with consternation. So highly, it is said, did the bishops esteem his talents, that they thought it time to prepare for a storm when he had declared against them. Nor did his allies show themselves less conscious of his worth. They at once appointed him to an important place in their councils. The movement had assumed such proportions that it was found necessary to devise some less unwieldy method of conducting business than a large and tumultuous body of men with no very clear notion of what they wanted or how to secure it. It was above all things necessary for Rothes and his friends to keep the controlling power in their own hands. A committee of sixteen, representing the four Estates of the kingdom, was framed for this purpose. It was known as the Tables, from the rule that all motions were to be formallytabled, or recorded, before discussion, and was authorised to act as the responsible agent and mouthpiece of the party. Thefour noblemen chosen were Rothes, Loudon, Lindsay of the Byres (one of Montrose's college friends), and Montrose himself. His nephew, by marriage with Napier's daughter, Sir George Stirling of Keir, was one of the four representatives of the lesser barons.
Meanwhile Charles had abated no jot of his arbitrary policy. He had been advised by the Treasurer, Lord Traquair, to withdraw the offending liturgy, and to content himself with enforcing his civil authority. The advice was good, but it may well be doubted whether Baillie was not right in holding that affairs had now gone too far for Charles to follow it. At all events it was not followed. A proclamation was issued announcing the King's entire approval of the new liturgy, his responsibility for it, and his determination to regard all further opposition to it as treasonable. This inflammatory document was read at the city-cross in Edinburgh amid frequent and open expressions of derision. So soon as the heralds had finished, and before, owing to the crowd, they could come down from the platform, a protest prepared for the occasion was read aloud by Warriston from a scaffold raised for that purpose by the side of the old cross. He was supported by a party of sixteen noblemen. Among them was Montrose, who, in the exuberance of his zeal, had mounted on a cask that stood upon the scaffold. Rothes, who was of course present, remarking the young enthusiast's elevated position, and remembering that the place where they were standing was also the place of public execution, said laughingly to him, "James, you will never be at rest till you be lifted up there above the rest in a rope." And this grim jest, its chronicler adds, "was afterwardsaccomplished in earnest in that same place; and some even say that the same supporters of the scaffold were made use of at Montrose's execution."
And now the work was done, and Scotland was ripe for the Covenant. Whatever may have been the motives of its originators, there can be no question of the feelings with which the bulk of the people regarded it. Never, even in the heat of the Reformation, had the stern Scottish nature been stirred to such a depth and fervour of passion. Its two strongest feelings had been artfully inflamed, national sentiment and religious enthusiasm. It would be difficult to separate the two, and to apportion to each its share in the general movement. But it is clear that love for the religion they had deliberately chosen and established with tears and blood was at this time strongly deepened by the thought that it was menaced by a king of the hated English.
The place and time for the great ceremony were chosen. The time was the last day of February, 1638. The place was the church but lately raised beneath the shadow of the great castle whence had issued but a few short years previously, with all the pomp of a monarch moving amid a rejoicing people to assume the crown of his fathers, the King whose authority they were now met to renounce. Of all the historical spots in that beautiful city there is none that an Englishman surveys with more mingled feelings than the churchyard of the Greyfriars. There at the appointed hour came the leading members of the Tables, with Warriston to read the sacred document and Henderson to explain it for any who still wavered. Loudon and Rothes spoke with all theirartful eloquence, reiterating their professions of love for their religion and loyalty to their King. Then Warriston read aloud the Covenant from a parchment of an ell square. There were few doubters, and they were soon and easily satisfied. The Earl of Sutherland, the highest nobleman present, was the first to sign his name. One after another, all within the church followed him. Then, as the shadows of the winter evening deepened over the solemn scene, the parchment was carried outside and read once more to the eager crowd which thronged every corner of the churchyard. As the last words were spoken—"that religion and righteousness may nourish in the land, to the glory of God, the honour of our King, and peace and comfort of us all"—all hands were raised to heaven in token of assent, while old men, in whose ears the fiery tones of Knox might have rung, wept tears of joy to see that the spirit of the great Reformer still lived among his countrymen. The parchment was then spread upon a tombstone, and all who could get near pressed forward in turn to sign it. During the next two days it was carried round the city, accompanied by a sobbing, praying multitude. Signatures came in apace from citizens of all classes and every age. Even serving-women and little children, who could neither write nor read, pledged themselves to the good cause with the assistance of a notary. It is said that many in the ecstasy of the moment wrote their names in blood drawn from their own veins. Copies were made of it, bearing the names of the chief subscribers, and entrusted to all who would undertake the office of recruiting for this holy war. Nobles and gentlemen galloped about the country with these copies in theirpockets. Agents were sent round to all the principal towns and to the Universities. Ministers read aloud the call to arms from their pulpits, and exhorted their congregations to sign. Those who refused were threatened, and even violence was sometimes employed. Names are of course easily collected, if only trouble enough be taken to collect them. Many signed the Covenant, as many have always signed and will always sign whatever is laid before them, without any clear understanding to what they were pledging themselves, simply because others had done so. Many signed through fear of the consequences of a refusal. But when allowance has been made for all the arts commonly employed to foment a popular disturbance, and for all the motives which have power to influence the popular mind at such times, it is impossible to doubt that, so far as the Covenant was understood to be taken in defence of the national religion, it reflected the current of the national thought.
Scotland was now practically in a state of rebellion, and the Tables began to assume the airs of a sovereign. Munitions of war were collected and moneys levied. Several of the leaders had already come forward with voluntary subscriptions, Montrose heading the list with a contribution of twenty-five dollars. It was determined to supplement this with a more certain source of supply. A general tax was levied of a dollar on every thousand marks of rent. Though delicately called a contribution, it was in effect a tax, and a tax, moreover, levied with a strictness to which Scotsmen had hitherto been strangers. A committee was appointed for the purpose, soon to be known by the appropriate title of the War Committee. It was clear that some more serious effort must be madeto maintain the royal authority than the issue of proclamations that were only laughed at. Hamilton was accordingly commissioned to treat with the Covenanters. He was empowered to make certain concessions, such as the King fondly conceived, or pretended to conceive, should be sufficient to assure all loyal Scotsmen that he had no design on either their religion or their laws. He might promise, for example, that the new Canons and the new Liturgy should not be pressed except in what Charles was pleased to call a fair and legal way. Some modifications also might be made in the Court of High Commission, a harmless invention of the previous reign with nothing but the name in common with that tribunal so odious to Englishmen, but which nevertheless was equally odious to Scotsmen, as relegating to bishops that moral supervision of the Church previously vested in the Presbyteries. But on one point the King was firm. No concession was to be made, nothing was to be promised, until the Covenant had been rescinded. In vain did all his advisers, Scots and English, clerics and laymen, assure him that negotiation on these terms was hopeless. It mattered not. The Covenant, he answered, was a standard of rebellion, and until it was taken down he had no more power in Scotland than a Doge of Venice.
On this bootless errand Hamilton arrived in Edinburgh early in June, and took up his quarters in Holyrood. An immense concourse assembled to see him enter the city. The road between Leith and Musselburgh was lined with nearly sixty thousand people. At the most conspicuous spot five hundred ministers were congregated in their black gowns. The Commissioner, according to Baillie, was moved to tears at such a sign of the nationalfeeling. Hamilton's powers of dissimulation were indeed remarkable; but it may be doubted whether on this occasion the good Covenanter's emotion, and the pride he felt at the noble display made by his own cloth, did not a little overcome his usual acuteness. It is certain, however, that the Commissioner was extremely gracious, bowing and smiling on every side, though he skilfully managed to evade a speech which had been prepared in welcome by Mr. William Livingstone, "the strongest in voice," as Baillie naïvely remarks, "and austerest in countenance of us all." This, Hamilton suggested, might be more properly appreciated at a private audience.
The Tables had selected six of their number as commissioners on their part, three noblemen and three ministers. Among the former were that inseparable pair Rothes and Loudon; the third was Montrose. To Henderson and Dickson was added a colleague rejoicing in the ominous name of Cant. They presented their demands: the withdrawal of the new Liturgy, the Book of Canons, and the Court of High Commission, and the summons first of a free General Assembly, instead of a packed body of subservient courtiers such as had restored Episcopacy at the will of the late King, and then of a Parliament to finally settle all matters concerning religion. Hamilton demanded as an inevitable preliminary to all concessions the renunciation of the Covenant and their return to their lawful allegiance. They professed themselves to be still as always loyal subjects, and declared that they would as soon renounce their baptism as the Covenant. All through June the controversy dragged its fruitless length along. Hamilton by turnsargued, pleaded, warned, and threatened. The King, he said, was ready to grant all that honour would permit him, and all that was necessary to establish their religion and liberties; beyond that they should not press him. By so doing they would forfeit the sympathies of those in England who wished well to sufferers, but would never wish well to rebels. If they still persisted in their unreasonable and seditious course, the King would come in person to settle the matter with forty thousand men at his back. Unfortunately for Hamilton's argument, Rothes and Loudon were as well informed on the state of affairs in England as himself. They had sharp spies at Court, even in the King's own household. They knew exactly what were the Commissioner's instructions, and had no fear of forfeiting the sympathy of their English partisans by persisting in their demands. There is no doubt that the firm front of the Covenanters was now greatly strengthened by assurances from the English Opposition. As usual, too, Hamilton played a double part. For this indeed he had some excuse. He had received permission from Charles to employ all means to gain time, short of giving any promise that would have afterwards to be revoked or of recognising the lawfulness of the Covenant. Time was of the utmost importance now, for it soon became clear to Hamilton, and he made it clear to the King, that an appeal to force was the inevitable end of the negotiations, and that all that remained for him to do was to prolong the time till force was ready. But it is doubtful whether Charles would have understood this permission to include an assurance to his rebellious subjects that to stand firm was the only and the certainway of gaining their ends. Yet a very circumstantial story seems to fix this treachery on the King's Commissioner. He had brought with him to Scotland two forms of the royal declaration against the Covenant; in the first it was plainly denounced as an act of rebellion and its immediate surrender demanded; in the second somewhat more general and conciliatory language was employed. In one of his earliest letters Hamilton had assured the King that it would be impossible to publish the more outspoken document; he now wished to leave even the gentler one unread. But on that point Charles was firm. Hamilton might return to England for further counsel and instruction, but the declaration in its milder form must be published. The Commissioner had recourse to one of those ignoble artifices which were his idea of diplomacy. Pretending that he had resolved not to publish either declaration (of whose existence the Covenanters were very well aware) he left Edinburgh, but returning suddenly at noon of the next day the second and milder declaration was read at the cross. But he had to do with men as cunning as himself. A few had been deceived by his pretended departure, but only a few. Before the herald had finished a crowd had assembled, and among them was the inevitable Warriston with his protest and a trusty band of supporters. The document was longer, less respectful, and more explicit than the one hitherto used, leaving indeed no further doubt, had any previously existed, of the nature and extent of the Covenanters' demands, and of their resolution to be satisfied with no compromise. The Liturgy, the Book of Canons, the Court of High Commission must go; a free General Assembly and afree Parliament must be summoned; the Covenant must be maintained. The applauding crowd, excited by Hamilton's foolish attempt to overreach them, were with difficulty restrained from putting to the sword the few who had the courage to raise their voices for the King. So strong was the popular feeling against the declaration that those members of the Council who had given a grudging assent to it now wished to retract, and threatened that, if not allowed to do so, they would themselves take the Covenant. While Hamilton was arguing with them a deputation from the Covenanters was announced. They came to protest against the declaration. When they had been heard, Hamilton, excusing himself to his colleagues, withdrew with them into another room where he addressed them in these remarkable words: "My Lords and Gentlemen, I spoke to you before those Lords of the Council as the King's Commissioner; now there being none present but yourselves, I speak to you as a kindly Scotsman. If you go on with courage and resolution you will carry what you please, but if you faint and give ground in the least you are undone—a word is enough to wise men." The authority for this monstrous speech rests on two of the deputation, who heard it and repeated it in identical terms within four-and-twenty hours of its being spoken. One of these was Montrose himself, the other was his colleague, the minister Cant. They told it separately to Bishop Guthrie, then a minister at Stirling, in whose Memoirs it may be read. The Bishop adds that the incident created an uneasy feeling in Montrose's mind that Hamilton was playing both sides false in order to advance those designs on the crown of Scotland ofwhich he had been, it will be remembered, already accused, and which many at least of his own countrymen still believed him to entertain. He told Guthrie that he should form no rash conclusions, but that meantime he should keep his eyes open and look carefully to his own steps.
It will but anticipate the course of events by a few months to wind up at once the tangled skein of these negotiations. Twice again in 1638 did Hamilton visit Scotland. Each time he came with fresh concessions, too late to be of any real service, yet enough to convince the Covenanters of the truth of the Commissioner's ill-omened words that everything would be gained by standing firm. Once again a royal proclamation was heard from the city-cross; once again it was followed by a protest, more defiant than any of its predecessors. The King had proposed a Covenant on his own account, made up of those of 1580 and 1590, the latter binding all who signed it to stand by the King in "suppressing of the Papists, promotion of true religion, and settling of his Highness's estate, and obedience in all the countries and corners of the realm." To sign this, said the indignant protesters, would be to make themselves guilty of mocking God, inasmuch as they of all men needed no adjuration to suppress Popery. On another point their language was still more emphatic. Charles had granted the demand for a General Assembly, and had promised that the obnoxious Liturgy should be absolutely revoked, together with the Book of Canons and the Court of High Commission, that the practice of the Articles of Perth should be for the present suspended till Parliament should pronounce its final decision onthem, and that the authority of the bishops should be made subject to the authority of the Assembly. In a word, all that they asked was conceded; but the hour for concessions had passed. Episcopacy must go root and branch. All that the King made by his submission was to hear that he had no power to make or withhold it. Matters of religion were not in his hands, but in the divinely appointed hands of the Assembly, and in theirs only. Thus the Covenanters cast to the winds the last shred of their professed loyalty, and practically declared war against the King's authority.
These things were done at the end of September. On November 21st the General Assembly was to meet at Glasgow. The intervening time was spent by Hamilton in vain attempts to influence the elections and to procure signatures for the new or King's Covenant, as it was called. In both he was equally unsuccessful. The Assembly was constituted after a fashion which left no doubt what its temper was likely to be. Going back to an Act of 1587, it was resolved to elect lay as well as ecclesiastical members. This was what Hamilton wished to prevent. The ministers alone he thought he might still be able to persuade to show some respect for the prerogative of a King who was ready to grant so much, and who had already shown himself both willing and able to make their position easier and more secure. Nor were the ministers themselves well pleased to see the office that was rightly theirs shared among men who, as they knew well, were for the most part influenced by no real love for religion, and whose lives were in too many instances at direct variance with its teaching.But the nobles, in Baillie's expressive phrase, had now got their feet in the stirrup, and were not to be stopped from the game they had started. Moreover, it was in them that the real strength of the Covenant as a national movement against an arbitrary king still lay. The people knew this, and the ministers were not strong enough to dictate to the people. The Tables were the controlling power of the elections, and of that body no member was now busier or more resolute than Montrose. The King's Covenant proved a lamentable failure. Few could be found to sign it compared with the crowds that still thronged daily to subscribe its rival, and of these nearly one-half came from Aberdeen and the neighbourhood, which through all the trouble had stood stoutly by the Throne; while a mad woman named Margaret Nicholson, who went about the country proclaiming herself empowered to declare the National Covenant a direct gift from heaven, and the King's from another place, was generally accepted as an inspired prophetess.
On the appointed day the Assembly met, a day not less momentous in the history of Scotland than that on which two years later the Long Parliament met in the old chapel of St. Stephen was destined to prove in the history of England. The place appointed was the venerable cathedral, one of the few triumphs of Gothic art which had been preserved by the affectionate pride of the citizens from the furious zeal of Knox's Vandals. On a high chair of state sat Hamilton in all the pomp, the barren pomp as he was now conscious, of the representative of the Crown. The Privy Council were ranged below him. Directly opposite were placedseats for the Moderator and his clerk. At a long table in the body of the church sat the Lords of the Covenant, while the representatives of the Presbyteries had to be content with humbler places on either side behind them. Beyond these again was a stage for the accommodation of the sons of the Covenanting nobility and other distinguished spectators, while every unoccupied part of the building was thronged with a vast and miscellaneous crowd, including many gentlewomen. Not a single bishop was present. Only two indeed, the Bishops of Ross and Argyll, had ventured to enter the city; they had come under the protection of Hamilton and his friends, and were now lodged safely in the castle. Swords and daggers were to be seen on all sides. The regularly elected members numbered two hundred and forty in all, of whom one hundred were laymen. But besides these there were almost as many again who had no vote nor lawful place in the Assembly and professed to be there only in the capacity of friends,amici curiæas it were, to impart confidence by their presence, and perhaps aid by their counsels. Many of them could neither read nor write, but they were strong in numbers and loud of voice. Great care had been taken to exclude all who had not subscribed the Covenant. The provost had issued a number of leaden tickets stamped with his arms, without which no spectator was admitted into the building, and the distribution of these was solely in the hands of the Covenanters. To add to Hamilton's discomfiture, he was aware that he could no longer trust even the members of his own council so far as any vote on Episcopacy was concerned."What then," he wrote to the King on the day after this Assembly had met, "what then can be expected but a total disobedience to authority, if not a present rebellion?"
It was soon made clear that nothing else was to be expected, for that nothing else was intended. After Hamilton had read his commission, and a protestation on behalf of the bishops had been refused a hearing, Henderson was chosen for Moderator and Warriston for his clerk. Then began a dreary week of disputing and protesting on all sides on every conceivable subject, to the utter weariness of everybody but the clerk, who received a piece of gold with each fresh protest. Few appear to have contributed more to this waste of time than Montrose himself, who was, moreover, responsible for a general wrangle in which the Moderator did not display the quality to be expected from his title, and which the Commissioner found some difficulty in quelling. It arose on a disputed election in which the Tables had overridden the authority of the Presbyteries. Montrose was of course on the side of the former, the dispute having indeed arisen on a rather high-handed exercise of his power as a member of the Tables, which the more wary of the party were desirous of concealing, and Montrose of course, through all his life the sworn foe of all compromise, insisted on justifying. It was doubly unfortunate for him that the candidate he opposed should have been his brother-in-law young Carnegie, and that his opposition should have led to an unseemly display of temper between him and his father-in-law Southesk. The dispute did Montrose no good with either party. The Covenanters were annoyed to findso young a man disposed to take too much upon himself against the wiser counsels of his elders; and Hamilton was, as will be seen, enabled to speak another bad word for him in the King's ear.
It was not till the 28th that the real business began. The unfortunate bishops were as usual the cause of war. They had declined to accept the jurisdiction of the Assembly as at present constituted, and the Moderator now put the question to the vote. Hamilton then rose. He read again the King's offer to abolish all grievances, and to make bishops for the future subject to the authority of the Assemblies; but he refused to acknowledge the authority of an Assembly in which laymen were allowed to speak and vote. A warm debate ensued. The Moderator declined to reopen a question which the Assembly had already decided in its own favour. "If the bishops," said Loudon, "decline the judgment of a National Assembly, I know not a competent judgment-seat for them but the King of Heaven." "I stand to the King's prerogative," replied Hamilton, "as supreme judge over all causes, civil and ecclesiastical, to whom I think they may appeal, and not let the causes be reasoned here." It was all in vain. The Assembly were determined to have no bishops on any terms, and no king save on their own terms. Nothing remained for Hamilton, as representing the Crown, but to declare the Assembly an illegal body and to dissolve it. This he accordingly did, with tears in his eyes as some said, and left the cathedral while the inevitable protest against his action was being read. Returning to Edinburgh he made such preparations as time and means allowed for garrisoning the castle, and then left thecountry, not to return to it again but as leader of the King's forces against rebels in arms.
The Assembly, thus freed from all control, made short work of the bishops. Six out of the fourteen were simply deposed; the rest were deposed and excommunicated on charges sometimes of the most heinous nature, which the most trivial evidence, when any was offered at all, was considered amply sufficient to establish. Baillie owns, for instance, that certain acts of gross immorality brought against the Bishop of Galloway were not in his opinion conclusively proved; but he adds, as though to make up for this injustice, that the unfortunate prelate had at least "all the ordinary faults of a bishop," besides the capital one of being the first who had dared to flaunt the robes of his office in Edinburgh. The new Liturgy, the Book of Canons, the Court of High Commission, and the Articles of Perth all followed the bishops one after another into the limbo of unholy things. Sentence of excommunication was also pronounced against many clergymen who had shown, or were suspected of, a leaning to Episcopacy: the six General Assemblies which had sat under Episcopal government were declared to have been illegal; and the Scottish Church was thus restored to the pure Presbyterianism established by the Act of 1592. Thus, when on December 20th this memorable body dissolved itself, it had accomplished in longer time, but with equal thoroughness, a revolution not less momentous than that which seventy-eight years earlier had in a single day transferred the national faith from Rome to Geneva.
Nor was this the Covenanters' only triumph. The departure of Hamilton was the signal for the appearanceof an invaluable convert. Archibald, Earl of Argyll, then in his fortieth year, and but lately succeeded to the title and vast estates of his father, was reckoned the most powerful subject in the kingdom. His only rival in the Highlands was Huntly, and his revenues were larger and he could bring a larger following into the field than the chief of the Gordons. In intellect there was no comparison between them. Argyll, according to Clarendon, wanted nothing but courage and honesty to make him a very great man. The want of honesty was too common a want in the politicians of those days to mark a man among his peers, but cowardice was indeed rare among all classes; and though he was destined to show that, like so many men whose nerves are uncertain, he could face inevitable death with calmness and dignity, in the presence of danger it is indisputable that Argyll's physical courage was, to say the least, not conspicuous. Cool, cunning, and sagacious, he had, though at once a Privy Councillor and a rigid Presbyterian, been hitherto careful to identify himself prominently with neither party. But Hamilton had gauged him truly when he warned Charles to beware of him as the most dangerous man in the State. The same warning had indeed been previously conveyed to the infatuate King by one who had still better cause to know the truth than Hamilton. There had been trouble between father and son, and Charles, with whom the latter had been always a favourite, had ordered the Earl, who in his old age had turned Catholic at the bidding of a young wife, to leave the kingdom. The father obeyed without remonstrance, but before he went he warned the King to beware of his son. "Sir," he said, "I mustknow this young man better than you can do. You may raise him, which I doubt you will live to repent, for he is a man of craft, subtlety, and falsehood, and can love no man, and if ever he finds it in his power to do you a mischief, he will be sure to do it." So powerful an ally was received of course with open arms by the Covenanters. Hitherto they had been doubtful whether they should regard him as friend or foe. His conduct, said Baillie, had been ambiguous. This was now explained by Argyll's assurance that he had always secretly been on their side and had only delayed declaring himself for them while he conceived that this ambiguity might best serve their interests; matters had now come, he said, to such a height that no honest man could hold back. His speech was long, pious, and profuse in good advice. The Moderator and the rest of the ministers professed themselves enraptured, and all parted on the best terms with each other.
Two days before Hamilton dissolved the Assembly, but when it had already clearly shown him what he was to expect from it, he despatched a long letter to the King, warning him what the issue was almost certain to be, pointing out the precautions to be taken, and taken at once if his warnings were proved true, and commenting on the character of the movement and of its leaders with a frankness unusual in him. In this letter Montrose is mentioned in a way which tends still further to confirm the truth of Heylin's story. "Now for the Covenanters," the passage runs, "I shall only say this, in general they may all be placed in one roll, as they now stand. But certainly, sir, those that have both broached the business, and still hold it aloft, areRothes, Balmerino, Lindsay, Lothian, Loudon, Yester, Cranston. There are many others as forward in show, amongst whom none more vainly foolish than Montrose." This is precisely the language of a man anxious to remind his correspondent what he had predicted of a third party, and to point out how exactly his prediction had been proved true.
Only one town of importance now refused to acknowledge the new power. Aberdeen, then the second city in Scotland, rich, populous, learned, and loyal from the first, still turned a deaf ear alike to the promises and the threats of the Covenant. The citizens of Aberdeen were no bigoted followers of Laud. They held rather of the school of their late bishop, the wise and benevolent Forbes, content with things as they were, and suspicious of any change which threatened to interfere with their comfortable and studious independence. They desired, indeed, chiefly to be let alone; but not to be for the Covenant was to be against it, and there was, moreover, a particular reason why Aberdeen could not be suffered to remain neutral. It was the capital of that large district wherein the House of Gordon reigned supreme, as the House of Campbell was supreme in the West; and the Aberdeen burghers, whatever their religious opinions might be, could not but be the political allies of the House of Gordon. The old Marquis of Huntly had been always a favourite with James, who knew that the fiery old Papist if one of the most turbulent was also one of the most loyal of his subjects.His son George, who had lately succeeded him, had been brought up at Court with the young princes in the faith of the English Church, and had married a sister of Argyll. He had for some time commanded the Scottish Guard in France, and had served with distinction in the campaign against Austria; but the lavish state he had maintained as captain of that famous corps had plunged him deep into debt, and it was believed that he would listen to any proposal likely to relieve his desperate fortunes. Overtures had already been made to him from the Covenant on these conditions, and had been rejected. "My house," he said, "has risen by the Kings of Scotland, has ever stood for them, and with them shall fall, nor will I quit the path of my predecessors; and if the event be the ruin of my sovereign, then shall the rubbish that belongs to it bury beneath it all that belongs to mine." The spirit which prompted this gallant answer was sincere, but, as Charles and Montrose were both to find to their cost, it could not always rise superior to more selfish feelings. For the present he had been appointed Lieutenant for the King in the North, instructed to arm his men, and promised succours from England. But he had also been instructed to take his orders from Hamilton, and not to act without them; for the present he had merely to get ready, to stand on the defensive, and above all things to avoid any open act of hostility. Huntly knew well enough the futility of such orders. Not to move without Hamilton was to stay where he was till he was turned out by the Covenanters. Still there was nothing for him but to obey, and hold himself in readiness to join hands with the unwelcome ally who had been thrust upon him.
There was no time to be lost. The King was slowly assembling an army for the Borders, and the Covenanters could not march south with such an enemy in their rear. If Hamilton could effect a juncture with Huntly on the east coast, at the same time as the Irishry under Antrim and Strafford were landed on the west, it would go ill with the Covenanters. They had not been idle. The castles of Edinburgh, Dumbarton, and Dalkeith had been carried by surprise within a few hours of each other, and Mar could be trusted to hold Stirling safe. In the West the power of Hamilton and Douglas had been dealt a serious blow by the seizure of their strongholds in Arran and Clydesdale. Of all the fortresses in Scotland, Lord Nithsdale's Castle of Caerlaverock in Dumfriesshire was alone held for the King. From the Border to the North Sea the Covenant was supreme, save only in that dangerous district which called Huntly lord, and against the power of Huntly the arms of the Covenant were now turned.
The command was given to Montrose. His restless and enterprising spirit marked him for the work among men whose talents appeared to lie rather in debate than in the field. His own estates, moreover, lay near, and though his following was but a handful compared with Huntly's power, he would be more likely to gain recruits than an unknown leader. But Montrose was young, hot-headed, too fond, it was feared, of his own way, possibly also too punctilious. Some older man must go with him, more experienced in war and more accustomed also to obey, who, while nominally Montrose's lieutenant, might keep a watchful eye over him. The man for this purpose was found in AlexanderLeslie, a cadet, though an illegitimate one, of the House of Rothes. Though a little man and deformed, Leslie had won fame and rank in the Thirty Years' War, where so many of his countrymen had been fighting for the Protestant cause under the great Gustavus. During a short visit to Scotland in the spring of 1638 Leslie had seen how the land lay. He had returned to Germany, but not for long. By the end of the year he was back again, with good news and better than news for the Covenanters. During his absence he had been recruiting for them among their countrymen who, like himself, had taken service under the Lion of the North, and collecting stores of military supplies. Some of these were intercepted by the English cruisers, but the most part found their way into Scotland, where Leslie was welcomed with open arms. He was soon appointed general of the Covenanting forces, and they could not have found a better man. Though without the military genius of his nephew David, he was as accomplished in all the mechanism of war as any man of his time, cool, sagacious, and certain never to be hurried into mischief by a misguided enthusiasm for any cause. King and Covenant were much the same to him; but fighting was his trade; the death of Gustavus had set him free to serve another flag; he was a Scotsman and a Protestant, above all a kinsman of Rothes, whose "canniness" was not likely to let so useful an ally go. Leslie was, in short, a favourable specimen of that class of soldier of fortune which the incomparable genius of Walter Scott has fixed for ever in the character of Dugald Dalgetty.
This was not Montrose's first visit to Aberdeen as an agent for the Covenant. He had been there in the previoussummer, but in more peaceful guise. Instead of Leslie and a following of armed soldiers, he had been accompanied only by a few laymen of no particular importance, and the three apostles of the Covenant, Henderson, Dickson, and Cant. It was not a very fruitful visit. The ministers of Aberdeen would not give up their pulpits to the strangers, and the apostles had to deliver their doctrine from a gallery of the Earl Marischal's house, then occupied by his sister Lady Pitsligo, a staunch Puritan after the fashion of Hamilton's mother and of Montrose's own aunt Lady Wigton. Montrose was of course present, sitting at her ladyship's side, to the regret, doubtless, of many who recalled the different circumstances in which they had last seen him, when the bells rang in honour of the gallant young bridegroom who had just been elected a burgess of their loyal town. The apostles wisely chose the hours between the church services so as to make sure of an audience; and an audience they secured, but one not entirely to their taste. The respectful part listened with more curiosity than conviction, and not all were respectful. A few insignificant proselytes were gained, and a grievous insult was cast upon the good city. Aberdeen prided itself upon its hospitality, and when the provost and bailies heard that their young townsman was on the road to visit them, they prepared a collation in his honour and came to welcome him at his lodging. But Montrose treated them with scant ceremony, and refused to receive anything at their hands till they had subscribed the Covenant, an affront which had never before, they vowed, been put upon Aberdeen within the memory of man!
They prepared a different welcome now for the young Earl. The citizens were armed and drilled, guns mounted, trenches dug, and the town generally put into such a state of defence as was possible. Meanwhile Montrose was at his own place in Forfarshire, beating up for recruits. While there he heard that the few allies the Covenant could boast in that quarter were to meet at Turriff, a market-town on the borders of Banffshire, mostly gentry of the district, Frasers and Forbeses, who were jealous of the Gordons and ready to join any party against them. Huntly heard also of the meeting and resolved to disperse it. But Montrose was too quick for him. With one of those lightning dashes which were to be the secret of his successes against the Covenant, he now won the first point in the game for it. Taking with him barely two hundred of his own men, he hurried across the Grampians by the most unfrequented routes, and when Huntly at the head of two thousand men marched into Turriff he was greeted with a compact array of musket-barrels levelled at him across the wall of the little churchyard. His orders were explicit. He was not to proclaim his commission till the time came, and that mysterious moment was to be decided not by him but by Hamilton. Moreover he was to avoid all risk of bloodshed for the present. He knew Montrose would fight, and, though he was perhaps the better man for the moment, he knew also that Leslie was at hand with a force more than double his own. Had the positions of the two leaders been reversed there can be no doubt what Montrose would have done. But Huntly was not Montrose. He withdrew to Inverury, anddisbanding the most part of his men left Aberdeen to its fate.
This was not so severe as probably the citizens had expected, and as certainly some of the Covenanters wished. A few days after the affair at Turriff, Montrose joined hands with Leslie and entered Aberdeen in triumph at the head of six thousand men, each of whom wore a blue scarf, or carried a knot of blue ribbons in his cap, in opposition to the royal scarlet which Huntly had taken for his colours. To condescend to the devices of these godless cavaliers shocked some of Montrose's solemn captains, but the young general was right. He knew the value of a distinctive symbol to warm men's hearts, especially the hearts of soldiers, and that it was none the worse for pleasing their eyes as well. The blue ribbons were at once popular, and Montrose'swhimsies, as they were at first contemptuously called, soon became the recognised badge of the Covenanters.
There was no attempt at opposition. Disgusted at Huntly's defection, the most resolute spirits had left the city and sailed south to join the King. The rest could do nothing but accept the Covenant and trust to Montrose's mercy. He was not hard upon them. Having marched his men through the town he quartered them on the links outside, with strict injunctions to keep good order and to pay for all they consumed. The citizens were set to work at filling up the trenches they had dug and removing all traces of their improvised fortifications, and a fine of ten thousand marks was imposed on the town. Then, leaving behind him a garrison under the command of his college friend Lord Kinghorn, whom he named governor of the town, Montrosemarched north after Huntly, who had retreated from Inverury to Gordon Castle in the Bog of Gicht.
Huntly was anxious to come to terms, and Montrose when left to himself had no wish to make them hard. The two men accordingly met by appointment near Inverury, each attended by eleven friends armed only with walking-swords. The two chiefs stepped aside to talk. What passed between them can only be conjectured, but after a long conference Huntly and his companions returned with Montrose to his camp at Inverury, where they were courteously received. Here Huntly signed a paper, known in the language of the time as a bond of maintenance, probably containing (for its exact terms were never made clear) those clauses of the Covenant which professed respect to the King's authority and a love for the national religion and liberties, pledging himself also not to interfere with any of his vassals who had a mind to mount the blue ribbon. Such of them as were Papists Montrose, on his part, promised to protect so long as they were willing to assist in maintaining the laws and liberties of their common fatherland. Huntly, however, who saw many of his personal enemies in the camp, Crichton of Frendraught in particular, the sworn foe of his House,[6]was doubtful how far this arrangement would be allowed to hold good. He employed one of his followers, therefore, to warn Montrose against evil counsellors who, he said, would be certain to work himall the mischief they could. Montrose answered that he was well aware that Huntly had many enemies among the Covenanters, but that he should not fail in any part of his word; "only," he added, "there is this difficulty, that business here is all transacted by a vote and a committee, nor can I get anything done of myself." He had already done so much, it was urged, that he might well go on with the rest. He was in command, and if he stood firm the others must give way. "I shall do my utmost for Huntly's satisfaction," was the answer, and with this assurance the Marquis and his friends were suffered to depart.
Their doubts were soon verified. Montrose returned to Aberdeen, where he was joined by Murray, Seaforth, the Master of Lovat, and other zealous Covenanters with a body of cavalry. Encouraged by these reinforcements, Huntly's enemies were soon at work. A council of war was held; it was agreed that the General had been too lenient with a dangerous man, and the Marquis was requested to repair to Aberdeen under a promise of safe conduct. How far Montrose was directly responsible for what followed it is hard to decide. That he had promised more than he was at the time confident of being able to perform is clear; but it is by no means so clear that he did not do his utmost to keep his promise, and it is unreasonable to brand him with treachery because he was not strong enough to carry the day single-handed against the vote and the committee. Yet though he may have meant to deal honestly with Huntly, when he found himself overborne in the council he certainly seems to have shown little hesitation in acting as the agent of those who had no such scruples. After aseries of trifling and vexatious conditions had been offered and refused, it was intimated that the Marquis would do well to return with them to Edinburgh. Conscious that he was in a trap Huntly first asked that his bond should be restored to him. When this had been done, he asked if he was to go as a prisoner or as a free man. "Make your choice," said Montrose shortly. "Then," was the answer, "I will not go as a prisoner, but as a volunteer." Whatever share Montrose may have had in this double dealing he was destined to pay dear for it on a later day. The Marquis never really forgave him; and their subsequent alliance proved costlier to Montrose and to the King than their present enmity proved to Huntly.
Montrose marched south with his prize on April 13th, leaving Aberdeen in charge of a committee composed of the Gordons' bitterest foes. Immediately on his arrival at Edinburgh, Huntly was brought before the Tables and pressed to subscribe the Covenant. "You may take my head from my shoulders," was his answer, "but not my heart from my sovereign." He was at once sent as a prisoner to the Castle, with his heir Lord Gordon who had accompanied him from Aberdeen. His second son, Lord Aboyne, should also have been there, but he had been allowed by Montrose to return home on parole to procure money and other necessaries for the journey, and when safe within his own borders had easily been persuaded to break his word with men who had shown so little care of their own. The House of Gordon, said his kinsmen, could not be left without a head at such a crisis. Lord Lewis, the third son, was too young, and it devolved therefore on him to play his father's part,and to keep the King's flag flying in the midst of traitors and rebels.
Montrose reached Edinburgh on April 20th. On May 1st Hamilton anchored in the Firth of Forth with nineteen sail, five thousand men, and some munitions of war. He came too late. Leith had been fortified. Fife and the Lothians were in arms to a man. Among the crowds who thronged the shore to stare at the English fleet came the old Dowager Countess of Hamilton, riding on horseback, with pistols at her saddle, and vowing, in a spirit worthy of her ancestor, the grim old Reforming Earl of Glencairn, to shoot her son dead with her own hand should he dare to set a hostile foot on Scottish soil. A stouter heart than Hamilton's might well have shrunk from the prospect before him. His men were raw English peasants, without drill or discipline and careless of the cause for which they had been armed with weapons of whose use they were ignorant. Opposed to them was a people as well equipped and better officered, inflamed with the belief that their religion and liberties were at stake, and resolute to accept no compromise till both had been secured. Present action was plainly impossible; but useful time might be gained by diplomacy, which, if it could effect nothing else, might serve to remind the Covenanters that Hamilton, though circumstances had placed him at the head of an English army, was still at heart a Scotsman. He therefore landed his men on the little islands of Inchcolm and Inchkeith, where they could be taught at least how to handle their muskets, opened negotiations with the enemy, and commenced a lugubrious correspondence with the King.
Meanwhile Aboyne had gone south to find Charles, and had met him at Newcastle. The spirited young fellow undertook to raise his father's vassals, if some help in men and money were forthcoming. Money there was none, but some of the men now lying idle in the Forth might be available. Aboyne was therefore sent back to Scotland with instructions to Hamilton to furnish him with what troops he could spare; but before he could reach the fleet the position of affairs had again changed. The Gordons had risen without waiting for their young chief, had scattered the Covenanting garrison in a skirmish popularly known as the Trot of Turriff (which marks the virtual beginning of the Civil War), and had re-occupied Aberdeen. Montrose had marched north again with a force of four thousand men. And Hamilton, on whom the eyes of all Royalists and Covenanters in Scotland were now anxiously turned, had sent two out of his three regiments south to swell the army Charles was now laboriously mustering at York!
This inexplicable movement had been made by the King's order, but on Hamilton's advice. That advice had been given on May 21st, seven days after the Gordons had risen. The order had been sent on the 23rd, and on the next day Charles learned the news from Aberdeen. His position was undoubtedly serious. Leslie was advancing to the Border with an army which, though less than rumour made it at Newcastle, was far larger than the force Charles had as yet been able to collect, far readier and far more eager to fight. But it is clear that such reinforcements as Hamilton could furnish, while they could have availed little against thetrained and resolute troops of Leslie, had been invaluable in the North, where the war was as yet rather feudal than national, where the forces on both sides were small and disorganised, and where five thousand men, however unskilful, would have been sufficient to turn the scale on either side. The Royalists held Aberdeen from the 15th to the 20th of May. Had Hamilton joined them before the latter day it would have been necessary to place a larger force at Montrose's disposal, and Leslie's march to the Border must have been checked for the time. But for three weeks the King's lieutenant seems to have remained in complete ignorance that the King's loyal subjects were in arms for him within less than a hundred miles. We have seen that the rising was known at Newcastle on the 24th. It was known in Edinburgh, it was known even to Huntly in his prison, before the regiments had left the Forth. Yet the one man then in Scotland whom it most concerned to know these things for his master's sake, who alone in Scotland had the means and the warrant to profit by the knowledge, who was at liberty to come and go, to receive messengers and to despatch them, who knew that the young Gordon was in communication with the King, who had some experience of military affairs, and who, with all his faults, has never been called a coward, sat idly through all that precious time apparently in complete ignorance of events with which all the country round him was ringing. He was still ignorant of them when Aboyne arrived in the Forth on the 29th. Hamilton was profuse in regrets and courtesies. Men he had none to spare; but he entertained his young friend sumptuously on board his own ship, with discharge of cannon at every health, afterthe fashion once in vogue at the Court of Denmark, presented him with a few small field-pieces, and an officer whom he warranted to be of the highest skill, courage, and experience, and who vindicated this praise by earning among the Royalists the name of Traitor Gun. Two days later news arrived from Aberdeen, and Aboyne at once sailed north with these valuable succours. Some vague promises were indeed held out to him of possible reinforcements, if they could be spared from England; and it seems that Hamilton, on Aboyne's arrival, had written for more troops, a request which, immediately following the arrival of those he had just parted with, must have considerably puzzled his unfortunate master. That he might possibly have done better to accompany the lad with his remaining regiment than to stay in a place where he had confessed himself unable to be of any service does not appear to have entered into Hamilton's head.
Meanwhile Montrose had reached Aberdeen, and found his work already done. The loyal barons, without any organisation or military skill, and finding no help where they looked for it in the South, had retreated before the Earl Marischal, and the luckless city was once more in the hands of the Covenant. Now at least the punishment which it had twice so righteously deserved would surely not be withheld. The ministers, who had as usual accompanied the troops, pressed Montrose to give up to pillage the degenerate town which had for the second time refused to come to the help of the Lord against the mighty. But again Montrose disappointed them. Some violence there was and some plundering. The day after his arrival was Sunday, and while he andhis officers were at their devotions the soldiers busied themselves in less orthodox fashion. One particular act of wanton cruelty was long remembered. After the Covenanters' last visit the good dames of Aberdeen, allowing their zeal to outrun their judgment, as is sometimes still the wont of female politicians, decked their dogs with blue ribbons in scorn of the rebel colours. Furious at this profanation of their precious symbol the soldiers slaughtered every poor brute they could lay hands on. But on the morrow the General took strict order with his men. A fine of ten thousand marks was laid upon the city. If the money was paid by eleven o'clock on the following day, no further harm should be done; if not, Aberdeen would be given up to plunder. This money was paid punctually, and Aberdeen was spared.
Two days later, on May 30th, Montrose marched north to punish the Gordons. The castle of Gicht was his first point. But Gicht was strong, its defenders were resolute and skilful, and the Covenanters had no siege-train. For two days and nights Montrose battered the walls in vain, and then fell back, or leaped back as his fashion was, on Aberdeen. He had heard that Aboyne was on the sea, and never doubted that Hamilton was with him, for Montrose had left Edinburgh before the English troops had sailed for Holy Island. If a superior force got between him and the capital it might fare hard with both, and his own was not what it had been. Many of his men had deserted, disgusted—so Baillie hints, and probably with truth, for the Highlander was not alone then in holding free quarters and indiscriminate pillage to be an essential part of warfare—at theirGeneral's misplaced humanity. Resting his army for a day in Aberdeen, he marched south on June 4th.
The day after his departure Aboyne dropped anchor in the Dee. Two vessels of sixteen guns each and a Newcastle collier composed his fleet. His fighting force consisted of a few young gentlemen as inexperienced as himself, the field-pieces he had brought from the Forth, and the vaunted Gun. For some days he lay in the harbour, in the vain hope of more aid from Hamilton; but the only result of the delay was the defection of some of his comrades whose loyalty was not proof against inaction. An ally, however, appeared from another quarter. His brother, Lord Lewis, a madcap boy of thirteen, marched into Aberdeen on June 7th at the head of a thousand of his father's retainers, with pipes sounding, drums beating, and flags flying. Fired at this gallant display the citizens mustered to arms, and on June 14th Aboyne took the field with a somewhat miscellaneous army of four thousand men.
Meanwhile Montrose and Marischal had joined forces at Stonehaven. Their numbers were vastly inferior to Aboyne's, and they were ill supplied with cannon. So little did they like the prospect that they had thoughts of intrenching themselves in Marischal's strong castle of Dunnottar. But Gun's folly, or, as some said, his treachery, came to their aid. Within a mile of Stonehaven he turned off from the high road and drew up his men on an open heath exposed to the full fire of Montrose's guns. Fortunately for Aboyne they were not many; but they were more than enough for the Highlanders. They could not face the musket's mother, as they called the cannon, and at the first discharge theybroke and fled. The citizens followed them, raising a cry ofTreachery! Only the cavalry stood firm, gallant gentlemen of the house of Gordon, and masking this ignominious scene enabled Aboyne to fall back on Aberdeen without pursuit.
Hitherto Montrose's victories had been bloodless. He had shown, indeed, all the qualities of a great captain that circumstances had permitted—decision, promptness, activity; but he had not yet come to blows with an enemy. The time was now at hand for him to show his metal in hard fighting.
Aboyne was in a bad plight. The Highlanders were in hot flight back to their mountains. The most part of his artillery and ammunition was on board ship, and the ships were out of reach. The sapient Gun had recommended that the little fleet should keep a course parallel to the land route, and that the heavy guns and ammunition should be sent on board not to cumber the march. But the ships had been blown out to sea, and were now no one knew where. Still the gallant young fellow did not despair. There was the chivalry of his House, six hundred strong, well mounted and armed. The citizens were ashamed of themselves and afraid of Montrose, who they knew would be soon at their gates. Under these combined feelings they rallied to the vigorous call of Colonel Johnston, their provost's son, and mustered round their young leader.
Montrose had only waited to bring up some heavier guns from Dunnottar. On the 17th an advanced party of his troopers encountered an equal number of the Gordon horse within six miles of the town, and were beaten back with the loss of two men. The Gordons were ledby the gallant Johnston, who implored Aboyne to let him advance with the whole body of his cavalry. The advice seemed good to all but Gun, and Aboyne, in the face of repeated warnings, still listened to Gun.
Yet the prospect was far from hopeless. The Dee was in flood, and the only approach was by the bridge, a fine structure of seven arches, two miles distant from the city. This had been hastily fortified. The gate at the southern end had been closed and strengthened with turf and earth; the roadway was lined with stout citizens who knew how to handle a musket. Johnston was in command, and the cavalry were gathered on the farther bank, ready to act should the passage be forced. On the morning of the 18th the attack commenced. Montrose had planted his artillery on a hill a few hundred yards south of the bridge, and under a hot cannonade the Covenanters advanced to the assault. But the guns made more noise than execution, and the Aberdonians were no Highland caterans to be frightened by noise. Twice the assailants fought their way on to the bridge-head, and twice they were beaten back by Johnston and his musketeers. Some companies from Dundee, which had ever been jealous of Aberdeen, made a special request to Montrose to be allowed to try their hands. He bade them go on in the name of the Covenant. But so hot was the fire that met them, and so grim looked the ranks of horsemen on the other side, that they wavered and broke before the gate was reached, amid the jeers of the citizens who, like the three Romans on the bridge at Janiculum, bade their rivals welcome to Aberdeen. The spirit of the city rose high. All ranks swore to stand their ground to thelast; and women, bringing meat and drink down to their gallant defenders, moved about unshrinking amid the storm of shot and the shouts of the combatants. All day the fight raged, and when the sun fell the Covenanters were forced to own themselves as far from Aberdeen as ever.
But his countrymen had now to learn that Montrose was one whose courage and resource only rose higher in the face of defeat. During the night he brought two of his heaviest guns up to the gate of the bridge. In the early morning the assault recommenced. A few discharges from this new battery soon cleared away the rude defences. At the same time Montrose ordered a body of horse to move up the river as though they had found a ford. Gun at once ordered a counter-demonstration. He was told that there was no ford, that the river was passable only by the bridge, and that so long as that was held the city was safe. His only answer was a threat to throw up his commission if his orders were not obeyed. Aboyne yielded to his evil genius once more, and this time with fatal results. As the Gordons moved up the river, Montrose ordered a general assault. Middleton led the way—a rough soldier of fortune, whose name appears now for the first time in the history of a country destined to know it well hereafter. Still the defenders fought bravely, and while Johnston was at their head the issue was still doubtful. But a cannon-shot dislodged a part of the parapet of the bridge that fell upon Johnston and crushed his leg. He was with difficulty extricated and carried into the town. A cry rose that he was dead. The citizens, without their brave leader, lost heart and gave way. The cavalry, returningfrom their bootless ride, might have charged the Covenanters home as they streamed in disorder across the bridge; but Gun, swearing that all was lost, gave the signal for flight. "The Gordons never leave the field without charging," said one of them. Another called Gun a coward and a traitor to his face. But the instinct of safety was too strong. The citizens were in flight on all sides, and the chivalry of the Gordons turned their horses' heads north, and galloped off to Strathbogie with their young chief and the wretched Gun in the midst of them. Montrose had won his first battle.
He was determined, however, to save Aberdeen, and he succeeded after a hard struggle. Scarcely were they within the walls when Marischal and the Frasers were urgent with him to give the city up to fire and pillage, in obedience, as they reminded him, to the warrant of his orders. Montrose bade them sleep a night on the matter. Aberdeen, he said, was a great city, the London of the North, and would be of more value to the Covenant and the country as it stood than when laid smoking in ruins. He was successful in persuading his colleagues not only to adopt his milder measures, but also to sign a paper admitting their share in this disregard of the Covenant's orders. Even then the passions of a victorious soldiery might have prevailed. They had already seized and imprisoned those whom they could recognise as having been most forward in the defence, and had committed other acts of violence. But in the moment of time came the news of the Pacification at Berwick, which had been actually signed on the 18th during the heat of the fight at the bridge. This set thematter at rest. A fine, for the second time within the month, was imposed on the city: the prisoners were set at liberty; and Montrose, withdrawing his army to a safe distance, disbanded it on the terms of the treaty.