THE HIGHLAND WATCH was once more functioning vigorously, successfully, with peace and security returning to the troubled lands where the Highlands and Lowlands meet. It is clear that, by and large, the lairds, landowners and farmers welcomed its return wholeheartedly, as much the lesser of two evils. It may not have been a semi-official body, as formerly, but the authorities seem to have made little attempt to suppress it – apart from Montrose’s own private vendetta against Rob, its leader. The following years are full of stories concerning Rob’s activities on this score, and his methods of convincing reluctant or backsliding clients that their course was a foolish one. He seems to have succeeded almost entirely in this – at least, we hear of none of the protests and independent actions of the objectors being successful. The Watch went from strength to strength. All cattle-lifting, by others, was sternly put down, and the cattle trade was thriving again.
So a couple of years passed. Then, quite suddenly, as a result of some murky political manoeuvre, Argyll was back in favour in London. I have never discovered the reasons behind this. Clearly Montrose was just as bitterly against him as ever, and was still accusing him of Jacobite sympathies and perhaps with some reason, for we read that next year, when King George seems to have reached a new level of unpopularity, King James in France began to believe that he might soon find himself being called to the throne, and expected the Duke of Argyll to be foremost in assisting him in this course. Be that as it may, in 1719 the duke was restored to his offices and created Baron Chatham and Earl and Duke of Greenwich in the peerage of Great Britain, re-admitted to the Privy Council, and given the appointment of Lord Great Chamberlain. This undoubtedly aided Rob Roy further in his climb back to prosperity, for he could not but gain by the increased power of his protector.
That Montrose was all too well aware of this is illustrated by an amusing clash between the two dukes over Rob Roy – not on their native heath but within the august portals of the Privy Council itself, in London. Apparently Montrose, stung to renewed anger by an attack by Rob, in the January of that year, on one of the principal Montrose tenants, Graham of Drunkie, and the theft of a large number of his beasts, declared before the council that this most notorious rebel and outlaw was being harboured by a certain nobleman who ought to know better. Argyll did not fail to take him up.
‘I am well acquainted with the man,’ he said, ‘and it is true that I have allowed him wood and water on my land, as I do the meanest of my clan. But I would be sorry to think that there was any harm in this; for it is common knowledge that Your Grace has been yet more generous, keeping Rob Roy in beef and grain for many years past!’
No doubt the English Privy Councillors were much mystified.
Montrose could not do much about Argyll now, but he could still try to bring Rob to book. Receiving word that Rob was using a certain house in Glen Falloch, at the head of Loch Lomond, he sent a party of regular soldiers on a swift and secret mission to waylay him there. But Rob had his own informers, and escaped from the house in time, returning after dark with 50 armed Gregorach to surprise the house, in which the military were now spending the night. Their approach seems to have been spotted by a sentry, who fired, and a general exchange of shots, followed, in which one soldier was killed. Rob drew off his men until morning, when the military set off for the south again. Whereupon he ambushed the troop in his usual expert manner. This time he appeared to have contented himself with disarming them all, and sending them unharmed on their way, with messages for Montrose – perhaps the Watch was running short of arms and ammunition.
That this open attack on regular troops was not followed up by severe reprisals – or any action by the new Lord Great Chamberlain – shows how powerful was Argyll’s championship of the outlaw, and of course how scanty was the respect, even in the highest quarters, for law and order at that period.
But no doubt the authorities had greater worries on their minds. That same spring, in April 1719, still another Jacobite Rising was attempted in Highland Scotland. This one seems to have been a curiously sudden and unpremeditated affair, rather mysterious indeed, a rising nobody appears to know a great deal about. First, three ships arrived quite unexpectedly in the sea loch of Loch Alsh, between the mainland and Skye, bringing about 300 Spanish soldiers and four of the exiled leaders of the Rising of 1715, including Atholl’s heir, the Marquis of Tullibardine, and the chief of the Mackenzies, the Earl of Seaforth. Here they took over Eilean Donan Castle, a MacKenzie stronghold traditionally held for the chiefs by the MacRaes, and sent the bulk of their force further up Loch Duich to hold the pass of Glen Shiel, almost the only land link with the rest of Scotland. From Eilean Donan the fiery cross was once again sent out to the clans.
Not unnaturally perhaps the clans were less than enthusiastic in their welcome. Other notables arrived from France, including Tullibardine’s brother, Lord George Murray, Cameron of Locheil, and Brigadier Mackintosh of Borlum. But even with all these leaders back in the country, the Jacobites were unwilling to rise for a third attempt. A much greater Spanish force was alleged to be on the way, under the Duke of Ormond – Spain was at present at war with England over the American colonies, and undoubtedly, from their point of view, this was just a Spanish diversion in that struggle. The chiefs in Scotland, going by past experience, were on the whole inclined to wait until they saw the Stewarts’ foreign allies actually in the flesh before they again committed themselves.
Not so Rob Roy MacGregor, however. Despite the fact that he had now struggled back to a fair level of security and prosperity, and was risking all once more, he threw himself into this new attempt with his usual enthusiasm for the cause, in spite of Gregor of Glengyle’s refusal to partake on this occasion. Those who insist on casting doubt on Rob’s genuineness in Jacobite support should recognise this. He marched north without the Glengyle contingent, with only 40 men of his own, and joined Tullibardine in Glen Shiel. Very few other clans had in fact sent contingents as yet. There were a good number of local MacKenzies and MacRaes assembled, some Camerons, MacDonalds, MacKinnons and others, totalling only about 1200 men.
Still the large Spanish invasion force did not turn up; it had actually been scattered and dispersed before by a great storm off Cape Finisterre. Some English warships did arrive, however, and under the threat of the cannon, Eilean Donan had to be given up. The small army in Glen Shiel waited, in some doubt as to what to do next.
The government had been waiting too. General Wightman, at Inverness, was the present commander in the Highlands, but he had no large number of troops to face a new revolt.
When it became obvious, however, that the clans did not appear to be rising this time, or at least, not yet – Wightman set off for the west with about 2,000 men, including four battalions of regular infantry, a mixed force of cavalry, and a contingent of Whig clans from the North-east, Munroes, Rosses and Sutherlands.
The Battle of Glen Shiel, fought on June 11th, 1719, was indeed no true battle. There seems to have been a great lack of liaison between the Spaniards and the Highlanders who held the steep pass. Wightman’s troops do not appear to have distinguished themselves either. He had brought along many mortars with which he bombarded the Jacobite positions, but they do not seem to have done a lot of damage. It was very bad country for cavalry, of course – a very steep and winding rocky glen. A certain amount of skirmishing went on, with long-range musket fire, but no close fighting. The Jacobites held a very strong position, and waited therein – a procedure which would never commend itself to the impetuous Highland sword-fighters, however much the Spaniards may have approved of it. Night fell with Wightman still not having made any major attack.
Unfortunately, though the Jacobites were said to have lost only one man killed against the government’s 20, amongst those wounded was the Earl of Seaforth. chief of the MacKenzies, whose clan made up the largest body of troops present. Disgruntled by this, and by the fact that they had been kept inactive all day in the face of mortar and musket fire, they seem to have dispersed to their homes during the night. One contingent from a small clan also marched off, declaring that they had only come for one day’s fighting as an obligation to their friend Seaforth! In the morning, amongst the swirling mountain mists, the Spaniards, from their high position on the hillside, decided that they had been deserted by the Highlanders, and marched out to surrender to Wightman – who must have been very surprised to receive them. That pointed mountain is still called Sgurr na Spainteach, the Peak of the Spaniards, to this day. Thereafter, the main body of the Highlanders melted away.
Nobody gained much credit from Glen Shiel.
But Rob Roy at least, with his Gregorach, did something useful. In the retreat, he alone appears to have thought of the stores of arms and ammunition cached at Kintail. Rather than let this fall into government hands, he and his men went out of their way to blow it up, before heading discreetly southwards into the wild mountains.
That was the end of the so-called Rising of 1719.