Ironically enough James Graham, Marquis of Montrose (1612–50), first came to prominence as one of the more militant supporters of the National Covenant and only defected to the King’s party as the result of political infighting. While this cost him a spell in prison it did not prevent him from being offered a command in the Scots Army in 1643, but instead he rode south to join the King at Oxford. Assessments of Montrose’s abilities tend to be excessively coloured by the heroic account of his campaigns – effectively a ghosted autobiography – written by his personal chaplain, George Wishart. A more balanced appreciation raises some serious questions. There is no doubt whatsoever that he was handsome, charming, intellectually gifted and charismatic – the very epitome of the dashing cavalier – or of his dogged determination in the face of adversity. These are all excellent qualities in a general, but all too often that determination bordered on a single-minded fanaticism, which alienated as many potential supporters as it attracted. Worse still it blinded him to the necessities of proper intelligence-gathering, reconnaissance and, indeed, just about every other practical aspect of the soldier’s trade. Ultimately this would contribute directly to his defeat at Philiphaugh and the yet more disastrous debacle at Carbisdale in 1650.
This piper’s buff coat suggests that he may be a professional soldier, perhaps serving with Sir Mungo Campbell of Lawers’ Regiment at Auldearn.
Indeed, this neglect very nearly resulted in defeat at Auldearn, but there, as on so many other occasions, it was averted by his major-general, Alasdair MacColla. The eldest son of Coll MacDonald of Colonsay, whose nickname Coll Coitach (or Colkitto) he often shares, he was a professional soldier. He had fought on both sides (twice) in the bloody Irish rebellion before being given command of Antrim’s mercenaries and sent to Scotland. Often portrayed as a stout but not overly intelligent foil to Montrose’s brilliance, he was actually a very capable soldier. His only real ‘failing’ lay in his seizing the opportunity opened by the campaign to set himself up as an independent warlord and embark upon a doomed attempt to unite the Western Clans and re-establish Clan Donald’s hegemony in the Isles. In May 1647 David Leslie caught up with him in Kintyre and although he fled to Ireland he was killed there at the battle of Knocknanus, near Mallow, on 12 November that year.
Initially the rebels had the great good fortune to face a succession of political appointees who had sufficient ability to raise troops, but who lacked the skill to employ them properly. Recognising this the government recalled Lieutenant-General William Baillie from service in England and assigned the job of dealing with the rebels to his professional hands. A very competent soldier, Baillie performed rather better than he is often given credit for when given a free hand, but had a pathological inability to cope with his political masters – a trait that would be just as apparent at Preston in 1648 as it was to be in 1645. Initially he outmanoeuvred Montrose and came very close to capturing him at Dundee, but on the battlefield he was more than a little unfortunate. He appears in fact to have been one of those generals who could bring his army advantageously to the battlefield but then had very little idea what to do with it once he’d got it there. Having been badly beaten at Alford he resigned his commission and thereafter served merely as a reluctant, and indeed downright obstructive, military advisor. Whilst his problems with political operators and appointees command a certain sympathy, perhaps his greatest failing, which again resurfaced at Preston, was a tendency to respond to them by abdicating any and all responsibility for anything.
Although MacIan used this figure to represent the Fergusons, it is very largely based on 16th-century illustrations of Irish swordsmen. Nevertheless, there is some evidence to suggest that yellow shirts of this kind were also worn by Scots Highland leaders.
Yet another professional soldier, this time from Pitfichie in Aberdeenshire, Sir John Hurry (sometimes erroneously referred to as Sir John Urry) had been the drillmaster of the Aberdeen Militia in the 1620s, but thereafter he mainly served as a cavalryman. Alongside Nathaniel Gordon, he initially served in the English Parliamentarian army at the outset of the Civil Wars, before defecting to the Royalists. Gordon returned to Scotland in order to follow his chief, the Marquis of Huntly, and afterwards Montrose. Hurry stayed for a time in England serving under Prince Rupert before once again changing sides at the end of 1644 and taking charge of Baillie’s cavalry. In Scotland at least Hurry proved himself to be an excellent brigade commander and some of his minor operations, such as the raid on Aberdeen and the fighting retreat to Inverness, could well serve as practical illustrations of the precepts laid down in contemporary textbooks such as Cruso’s Militarie Instructions for the Cavallrie. At Auldearn, however, in command of a comparatively large army of both infantry and cavalry, he would prove to be out of his depth.