The Marquis then mounted a led horse, which was held
by one of his attendants, and rode on to view the
scene of his victory, which was more decisive than
even his ardent hopes had anticipated. Of Argyle’s
gallant army of three thousand men, fully one-half
fell in the battle, or in the flight. They had
been chiefly driven back upon that part of the plain
where the river forms an angle with the lake, so that
there was no free opening either for retreat or escape.
Several hundreds were forced into the lake and drowned.
Of the survivors, about one-half escaped by swimming
the river, or by an early flight along the left bank
of the lake. The remainder threw themselves into
the old Castle of Inverlochy; but being without either
provisions or hopes of relief, they were obliged to
surrender, on condition of being suffered to return
to their homes in peace. Arms, ammunition, standards,
and baggage, all became the prey of the conquerors.
This was the greatest disaster that ever befell the
race of Diarmid, as the Campbells were called in the
Highlands; it being generally remarked that they were
as fortunate in the issue of their undertakings, as
they were sagacious in planning, and courageous in
executing them. Of the number slain, nearly five
hundred were dunniwassels, or gentlemen claiming descent
from known and respected houses. And, in the opinion
of many of the clan, even this heavy loss was exceeded
by the disgrace arising from the inglorious conduct
of their Chief, whose galley weighed anchor when the
day was lost, and sailed down the lake with all the
speed to which sails and oars could impel her.
CHAPTER XX.
Faint the din of battle
bray’d,
Distant down the hollow
wind;
War and terror fled
before,
Wounds and death remain’d
behind.—Penrose.
Montrose’s splendid success over his powerful
rival was not attained without some loss, though not
amounting to the tenth of what he inflicted.
The obstinate valour of the Campbells cost the lives
of many brave men of the opposite party; and more
were wounded, the Chief of whom was the brave young
Earl of Menteith, who had commanded the centre.
He was but slightly touched, however, and made rather
a graceful than a terrible appearance when he presented
to his general the standard of Argyle, which he had
taken from the standard-bearer with his own hand,
and slain him in single combat. Montrose dearly
loved his noble kinsman, in whom there was conspicuous
a flash of the generous, romantic, disinterested chivalry
of the old heroic times, entirely different from the
sordid, calculating, and selfish character, which the
practice of entertaining mercenary troops had introduced
into most parts of Europe, and of which degeneracy
Scotland, which furnished soldiers of fortune for
the service of almost every nation, had been contaminated
with a more than usual share. Montrose, whose
