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THE CELTIC MAGAZINE.
No. V. MARCH 1876.
THE MASSACRE OF GLENCOE.
VERY interesting and instructive, though very sad it is to chronicle
certain undeniable and not unfrequent facts in the history of human
nature, outbursts, as Carlyle calls them, of the feral nature, that
element which man holds in common with the brutes, and which, when it
breaks forth in him, assumes, by contrast, a more hideous and savage
character than in them, even as fire seems more terrible in a civilized
city than amidst a howling wilderness; among palaces and bowers than
among heathery moorlands or masses of foliage, and even as the madness
of a man is more fearful than that of a beast. It is recorded of Bishop
Butler that one day walking in his garden along with his Chaplain
immersed in silent thought, he suddenly paused and turning round asked
him if he thought that nations might go mad as well as individuals. What
reply the Chaplain gave we are not informed; but fifty years after the
French Revolution with its thunder-throat answered the Bishop's
question. Nay--it had been answered on a less scale before by Sicilian
Vespers--Massacres of Bartholomew, and the Massacre of Glencoe, and has
been answered since, apart from France, in Jamaica, India, and
elsewhere. God has made of one blood all nations that dwell on the face
of the earth. Yet alas, that blood when possessed by the spirit of
wrath, of revenge, of fierce patriotism, or of profound religious zeal,
and heated sevenfold, becomes an element only inferior in intensity to
what we can conceive of the passions of hell, such as Dante has painted
in his Ugolino in the Inferno, gnawing his enemy's skull for evermore;
such as Michael Angelo has sculptured on the roof of the Sistine Chapel,
in eyes burning with everlasting fury, and fists knotted to discharge
blows, the least of which were death, but which hang there arrested as
if for ever on the walls, and such as Milton has represented in Moloch's
unappeaseable malignity, and in Satan's inexorable hate.
It is to one of these frightful outcomes of human ferocity, an event with
which even after a period of 200 years that all Scotland, and especially
all the Highlands, rings from side to side, and which unborn generations
shall shudder at, that we propose to turn the attention of the readers of
the _Celtic Magazine_. We do so partly, no doubt, from the extreme
interest of the subject, and partly also, because important lessons of
humanity, of forgiveness, of hatred at wrong and oppression, of the
benefits of civilization, of the gratitude we feel for the extinction of
clan quarrels and feuds, and the thousand other irregularities and
inhumanities which once defaced the grandest of landscapes, and marred a
noble and a manly race of men; because such lessons may be, if not
formally drawn, yet may pervade and penetrate the whole story as with a
living moral.
The occasion of the Massacre of Glencoe was as follows:--Although the
Lowlands, since the date of the Revolution, were now quiet, it was far
different with the Highlands. There, indeed, the wind was down, but
still the sea ran high. The Highlanders were at that time very poor,
very discontented, and very pugnacious. To subdue them seemed a long and
difficult process. To allow them to exterminate one another, and
re-enact on a much larger scale, the policy of the battle between the
clans on the North Inch of Perth seemed as unwise as it was cruel. There
was a third course proposed and determined on, that of buying them up,
bribing them in short, applying that golden spur which has, in all ages,
made the laziest horse to go, and the most restive to be obedient. The
Government of King William resolved to apply to this purpose a sum
variously estimated at £12,000 and £20,000. This sum was committed to
John, Earl of Breadalbane, the head of a powerful branch of the great
Clan Campbell. He was one of the most unprincipled men of that day; had
turned his coat, and would have turned his skin had it been possible and
worth while; and is described by a contemporary as "Grave as a Spaniard,
cunning as a fox, wiry as a serpent, and slippery as an eel." He was the
worst of persons to have the charge of pacifying the Highlands committed
to him, being distrusted by both parties, and hated by the Jacobites
with a deadly hatred. Nevertheless the negotiations went on, although
slowly. Breadalbane lived at Kilchurn Castle, which, now a fine old
ruin, stands on the verge of the magnificent Loch Awe, looks up to the
gigantic Ben Cruachan, and which Wordsworth has glorified in one of his
finest minor poems. To that romantic castle, now silent in its age, but
then resounding with the music and revelry of the clans, were to be seen
some of the leading Jacobite chieftains crossing the mighty mountains to
the northwest, and holding conferences with the crafty head of the
Campbells; and on the 30th of January 1690 a large assembly met at
Achallaster in Glenorchy, to arrange matters between the Earl and the
Highlanders, but in vain. There was mutual distrust. The chiefs were
willing to come to terms, but they suspected that Breadalbane meant to
deceive them and to keep a portion of the cash in his own Sporran. He,
on the other hand--ill-doers being usually ill-dreaders--thought that
they were playing a double game. More than a year passed in fruitless
negotiations, and the autumn of 1691 saw the matter unsettled. At last
Lord Stair and the other advisers of the King resolved to try the effect
of threats as well as bribes; and in August they issued a proclamation
promising an indemnity to every rebel who should swear the oath of
allegiance in the presence of a Civil Magistrate before the 1st January
1692, and threatening with dire penalties, letters of fire and sword, as
they were called, all who delayed beyond that day. The proclamation was
drawn up by Stair in conjunction with Breadalbane. He had wished to form
a Highland Regiment in favour of Government, and to get, if possible,
all the Highland chiefs to transfer their allegiance from King James to
the New Dynasty. This he found very difficult. The chiefs were fond
enough of the money, but fonder at heart of the Stewarts. Many of them,
including the Macdonalds stood out for more favourable terms. The
negotiations were broken off, and the fatal proclamation was issued.
Stair's letters show to a certainty that he and King William's
Government cherished the hope that the chiefs would not submit at all,
or at least that they would hold on beyond the prescribed time. Like
Hyder Ali, as described by Burke, he had determined, in the gloomy
recesses of a mind capacious of such things, to make the broad Highlands
a monument of his vengeance.
The great object, let it be remembered, of the Government was to get the
troops employed in the Highlands disengaged and free for service in
other places. To serve this purpose they were willing to pay a certain
sum, but if this proved ineffectual they were still more willing to
inflict summary punishment on the principal offenders. Hence Stair had
collected troops at Inverlochy, had resolved to take advantage of the
winter when the passes would be probably stopped with snow, and when the
Highlanders, not expecting the attack, would be likely to fall an easy
prey. And thus, not like an injured and infuriated Hyder Ali, but like a
tiger on the edge of his jungle, did this inhuman lawyer lie eagerly
biding his time. Hear his own language illustrating a character whom
Macaulay elaborately defends. "If the rest are willing, as crows do, to
pull down Glengarry's nest so as the King be not hindered from drawing
four regiments from Scotland, in that case the destroying him and his
clan will be to the full as acceptable as his coming in." What a fiend
in the form of one pretending to worship equity and distribute justice!
It is generally thought that the chiefs got information of the designs
of their enemies, probably by communication from King James. At all
events, in the end of the year to the profound mortification of Stair,
the principal of them, Lochiel, Glengarry, Clanranald, Keppoch, and
others came forward and took the oath of allegiance, all save one,
MacIan, or Macdonald of Glencoe. Stair, as chief after chief took the
oath, had been more and more chagrined and desirous that some one or
other of the clans should refuse and become the victim of his vengeance.
And one such tribe did at last fall into his vindictive and quivering
jaws. It was the tribe of the Macdonalds, inhabiting, as a munition of
rocks, the Valley of Glencoe.
Glencoe is well known to the lovers of the picturesque as one of the
very grandest scenes in Scotland. We have seen some of the sublimest
scenes in Switzerland and in Norway, but none of them, not Chamouni nor
the Romsdale Valley have obliterated the memory or lessened the
admiration of that awful glen which we have often thought of as a
softened Sinai--a smaller but scarcely gentler similitude of the Mount
that might be touched. There are, of course, many diversities. Through
the valley of Glencoe winds a stream called the Cona--a name of perfect
music, soft as Italian, and which seems the very echo of the pathetic
and perpetual wail of a lonely river. No such stream laves the foot of
Sinai's savage hill. Then there lies below one of the boldest hills of
the pass, a lovely little sheet of water, being the Cona dispread into
a small lake looking up with childlike, trustful, untrembling, eye to
the lowering summits above, and here and there a fine verdure creeps up
the precipices and green pastures, and still waters encompass hills on
which Aaron might have waited for death, or Moses ascended to meet God.
But the mural aspect of many of the precipices, the rounded shape of
some of the mountains contrasted with the sharp razor-like ridges of
others, the deep and horrid clefts and ravines which yawn here and
there, the extent, dreariness, solitude, and grandeur of the mountain
range above--the summits you see, but scarcely see behind their nearer
brethren, as though retiring like proud and lonely spirits into their
own inaccessible hermitages, the appearance of convulsion and tearing in
pieces and rending in twain, and unappeasable unreconciliation which
insulates as it were, and lifts on end the whole region are those of
Horeb, as we have seen it in picture or in dream, and the beholder
might, on a cloudy and dark day, or on an evening which has set all the
hills on fire, become awestruck and silent, as if waiting for another
Avatar of the Ancient One on the thundersplit and shaggy peaks. In other
moods, and when seen from a distance while sailing from Fort-William,
its mountains have suggested the image of the last survivors of the
giants on the eve of their defeat by Jove, collected together into one
grim knot of mortal defiance with grim-scathed faces, and brows riven by
lightning, retorting hatred and scorn on their triumphant foes. And when
you plunge into its recesses and see far up among its cliffy rocks spots
of snow unmelted amid the blaze of June, the cataracts, which after
rain, descend from its sides in thousands; its solitary and gloomy
aspect which the sunshine of summer is not entirely able to remove, and
which assumes a darker hue and deepens into dread sublimity, when the
thunder cloud stoops his wing over the valley, and the lightning runs
among the quaking rocks, you feel inclined to call Glencoe, in
comparison with the other glens of Scotland, the "Only One," the
secluded, self-involved, solemn, silent valley. Green covers the lower
parts of the hills, but it seems the green of the grave, its sounds are
in league with silence, its light is the ally of darkness. The feeling,
however, finally produced is not so much terror as pensiveness, and if
the valley be, as it has been called, the valley of the Shadow of Death,
it is death without his sting--the everlasting slumber there; but the
ghastliness and the horror fled. Yet at times there passes over the mind
as you pass this lonely valley, the recollection of what occurred 200
years ago, and a whisper seems to pierce your ear, "Here! blood basely
shed by treachery stained the spotless snow. These austere cliffs, where
now soars and screams the eagle, once listened to the shriek of murdered
men, women, and children; and on this spot where peaceful tourists now
walk admiring the unparalleled grandeur, and feeling the spirit of the
very solitary place bathing them in quiet reverie and dream-like bliss
was transacted a scene of cruelty and cold-blooded murder which all ages
shall arise and call accursed!"
As the clime is, so the heart of man. The Macdonalds were worthy of
their savage scenery, and more savage weather. True children of the mist
were they, strong, fearless, living principally on plunder, at feud with
the adjacent Campbells to which clan Breadalbane belonged, and often had
the blood of the race of Dermid smoked on their swords. MacIan, their
chieftain, was a noble specimen of the Highland character. He was a man
of distinguished courage and sagacity, of a venerable and majestic
appearance, was stately in bearing, and moved among his neighbouring
chieftains like a demigod. He had fought at Killiecrankie and was a
marked man by Government. He had had a meeting with Breadalbane on the
subject of the proclamation and their mutual differences, but they had
come to a rupture, and MacIan went away with the impression that
Breadalbane would do him an injury if he could. And yet, with a strange
inconsistency amounting almost to infatuation, he delayed taking the
oath, and thereby securing his own safety, till the appointed period was
nearly expired. In vain is the net set in the sight of any bird. But
Stair had set the net before the eyes of Macdonald, and had openly
expressed a hope that he would fall into it, and still the old man
lingered.
A few days, however, before the first of January, Colonel Hill is
sitting in his room at Fort-William when some strangers claim an
audience. There enter several Highlanders, all clad in the Macdonald
tartan--one towering in stature over the rest, and of a dignified
bearing--all armed, but all in an attitude of submission. They are
MacIan and the leaders of his tribe, who have come at the eleventh hour
to swear the oath of allegiance to King William. The Colonel, a scholar
and a gentlemen, is glad and yet grieved to see them; for, alas! being a
military and not a civil officer, he has no power to receive their
oaths. He tells them so, and the old chieftain at first remonstrates,
and at last, in his agony, weeps--perhaps his first tears since infancy,
like the waters of the Cona, breaking over the channels of their rocky
bed! The tears of a brave patriarch are the most affecting of all tears;
and Colonel Hill, moved to the heart, writes out a letter to Sir Colin
Campbell, Sheriff of Argyleshire, requesting him, although legally too
late, to stretch a point and receive the submission of the chief; and
with this letter in his Sporranmollach, away he hied in haste from
Fort-William to Inverary. The road lay within a mile of his dwelling,
but such was his speed that he did not even turn aside to salute his
family. The roads were horrible; the very elements seemed to have joined
in the conspiracy against the doomed Macdonalds; a heavy snow-storm had
fallen, and in spite of all the efforts he could make, he reached
Inverary too late--the first of January was past. Worse still, he found
the Sheriff absent, and had to wait three days for his return. He told
him his story, and he being a sensible and a humane man, after a little
hesitation, moved by the old man's tears, and the letter of Colonel
Hill, consented to administer to him the oath, and sent off at the same
time a message to the Privy Council relating the facts of the case, and
explaining all the reasons of his conduct. He also wrote to Colonel
Hill, requesting him to take care that his soldiers should not molest
the Macdonalds till the pleasure of the Privy Council in the matter was
made known.
GEO. GILFILLAN.
(_To be Continued._)
THE HIGHLAND CEILIDH.
BY ALASTAIR OG.
[CONTINUED.]
During the relation of the first part of the legend--that which
described the atrocious conduct of _Allan Dubh_ and his associates, the
members gave evident signs of disapprobation. Norman was constantly
interrupted with such exclamations as "_Ubh ubh_," "_Oh na traillean_,"
"_Na bruidean_," "_Na murtairean_," and various others of the same
complimentary nature ("Oh the servile wretches," "The brutes," "The
murderers"), but as the story proceeded, and the tide turned in favour
of the revenging Mackenzies, although their own means of retaliation
were almost equally inhuman, the tone of the circle gradually changed;
and when Norman finished there was a general chorus of satisfaction at
the final result, the only expression of regret being the death of the
young and brave leader of the Mackenzies, and the escape of _Allan Dubh
Mac Ranuil_ from the clutches of his pursuers.
"A capital story and well told" says _Ian a Bhuidhe_ (John Buidhe). "I
heard it before somewhere, but my version of it was not near so full as
yours, and it differed in various particulars. According to mine there
was a chief of Glengarry in the early part of the 17th century whose
name was Angus Macdonnel, and who held a small property called Strome,
in the centre of the lands belonging to the Mackenzies, in the
neighbourhood of Lochalsh. The Mackenzies were most anxious to get rid
of their neighbour, and finding it impossible to dispossess him of
Strome by lawful means, they, during the night, seized, and, in cold
blood, murdered the Master of Glengarry, who was at the time indisposed
and unable to escape.
"A few survivors of the Master's adherents returned to Glengarry and
informed the old Chief of the death of his eldest son and heir, through
the perfidy of the Mackenzies. Angus became frantic with rage and
regret, and sat silent and moody, exhibiting only 'the unconquerable
will, the study of revenge, immortal hate!' On the following day he sent
a messenger to Ardachy to the _Gille Maol Dubh_, informing him that he
had to perform a sacred duty to his Chief and kindred, and that for its
effectual and complete discharge one possessing the four following
qualifications was indispensably necessary--namely, '_Misneachd,
scoltachd, treubhantas, agus maisealachd_' (courage, cunning, bravery,
and beauty). The _Gille Maol Dubh_ said he knew the very man, and sent
to his chief, Ronald Macranuil, whom he guaranteed to possess all the
necessary qualifications. Glengarry was much pleased with Ronald's
appearance and fierce disposition, and having informed him of his son's
violent and untimely death said, 'I want you to revenge it, and your
reward shall depend on the extent of your service. Go then, gather your
followers, and heedless of place or time destroy all who bear the
hateful name of Mackenzie.'
"_Macranuil_ selected the flower of the clan, marched during the night
and arrived at the Chapel of Cilliechriost on the Sabbath morning, where
they massacred the unsuspecting inmates as described in your version of
the legend far more graphically than in mine, but they are on all fours,
regarding the facts and incidents except that in mine, the Mackenzies
overtook and routed the Macdonalds at _Lon na fola_ or the 'Bog of
Blood,' near Mealfuarvonie, and that it was at _Ault a Ghiuthais_,
across a chasm four hundred feet high, with a fearful and foaming
cataract beneath, that Lundi made his celebrated leap, and not in
_Ault-Sigh_ as in yours. I am, however, disposed to think your version
is the most correct of the two."
We shall now give the following poem composed by Andrew Fraser of
Inverness, and inscribed to Sir Kenneth S. Mackenzie, Baronet of Gairloch,
during his minority, to whom we are indebted for the manuscript. It
corroborates Norman's version of the Raid of Cilliechriost in almost
every particular, and has considerable merit of its own as an original
composition:--
THE RAID OF MACRANUIL--BURNING OF CILLIECHRIOST.
_Most respectfully inscribed to the Heir of Gairloch, &c., &c._
Gathered are Glengarrie's pride
On Lochlundie's mossy side,
The Crantara they obey,
They are met they know not why,
But they bind the broadsword on;
And the studded buckler shone
As the evening's sunny rays
Burnt in summer's orient blaze
Through the silent sombre wood
That lines the margin of the flood.
Mark, O mark that eagle crest,
Towering lordly o'er the rest,
Like the tall and monarch pine
Which waves its head in dark Glenlyne,
When the stormy cloud is cast
Above that region of the blast.
Mark that forehead's fitful glow,
Mark that grey and shaggy brow,
Mark, O mark that dreadful eye
Which glistens but on misery.
Now rolling in revengeful mood
O'er the thoughts of coming blood,
Then casting to the glorious sky
A glance of hopeless agony.
Warrior of the savage breast,
Fell Macranuil 'twas thy crest,
'Twas the banner of thy race
Which the wondering eye might trace,
As it wound by wood and brake,
Rolling stream and stilly lake,
As it fluttered for a while
On the brow of dark Torgoil,
Or descended the rough side
Of the Moristone's wild tide.
Silent is Macranuil's tread
And his followers' stealthy speed,
As they cross the lovely glen
Where Urquhart's waters, flow between
Hillocks where the zephyrs dwell,
In the blue and fragrant bell:
Groves where echo answers ever
The low murmurs of the river;
And the mountain top is seen
Snow-speck'd in the distant scene.
Mhicranuil! why that softened pace?
Thou seek'st not now the wary chase?
Why do'st thou and thy warriors keen
So fold your plaids that nought is seen
Of arms or armour, even the lance
Whereon your pendant used to glance
Its blazoned "Lamh dhearg" 'mid the rays
Of solar light, or battle blaze,
Has disappeared, and each wild look
Scowls at the music of the brook,
As if sweet nature seemed to scan
The inmost heart of guilty man?
Oh! can you in a scene so loved
By all that's holy stand unmoved?
Can vengeance in that heart be found
Which vibrates on this blessed ground?
Can that lone deep cathedral bell
Cast all around its sacred spell?
And yet on ruthless murder bent,
Its voice to thee in vain be sent?
Mhicranuil? raise thy haggard eye,
And say beneath the glowing sky
Is there a spot where man may rest
More beautiful, more truly blest
Than where the Beauly pours its stream
Through nature's all-romantic Dream,[A]
Down to that ridge which bounds the south
Of Nephia's salmon-spangled mouth?
The voice of praise was heard to peal
From Cillechriost's low holy aisle,
And on the Sabbath's stilly air
Arose the hopeful soul of pray'r:
When on the pastor's thoughtful face
Played something like a radiant grace;
Still was each thought to heaven sent,
Still was each knee in prayer bent;
Still did each heart in wonder rise
To something far beyond the skies,
When burst, as an electric cloud
Had wrapt them in a flaming shroud,
The roof above, the sides around,
The altar--nay the very ground
Seemed burning, mingled with the air
In one wild universal flare!
Hark, heaven! through the lurid air
Sprung the wild scream of mad despair,
Those that so late did breath but love,
Whose kindred hearts were interwove,
Now tore away strong nature's ties
Amidst her stronger agonies;
Affection, frantic, burst the band
That linked them often hand to hand,
And rushed along the maddening tide
Which rolled in flames from side to side.
Eager the crowded porch to gain
In hopes of safety. Ah! how vain?
The demon ministers of death.
From stern Glengarrie's land of heath
Stood bristled round the burning fane
Like hells last hopeless, hideous chain,
That even the infant might not die
Beneath a brighter, cooler sky,
Whilst in their savageness of joy
The war-pipe screams their victory.
PIOBREACHD CILLECHRIOST.
Ho! Clanchonich? mark the blaze
Reddening all your kindred skies,
Hear ye not your children's cries
Welcoming Macranuil?
Hear ye not the eagle scream
O'er the curling, crackling flame
Which flies to heaven with the name
Of glorious Clandonuil?
Ho! horo? the war-note swell,
Burst aloud Clanchonich's wail!
Hark! it is their wild farewell
To Allan-du-Macranuil!
Never yet did victor smile
On a nobler funeral pile,
Than rushes from this holy aisle
In memory of Clandonuil!
Never shall pale sorrow's tear
Blanch the cheek that slumbers here,
They have pressed a warmer bier
For Allan-du-Macranuil!
Never shall a footstep roam
From their dreary voiceless home
They have slept in one red tomb
For grateful Clandonuil!
The house of prayer in embers lay,
The crowded meeting wore away;
The quieted herdboy saw them go
With downcast look, serene and slow;
But never by the wonted path
That wound so smoothly through the heath
And led to many a cottage door
By meadow-stream, and flow'ry moor,
Came back a human voice to say
How that meeting sped away.
The Conon lends the ready ford,
The Conon glitters back the sword,
The Conon casts the echo wide,
"Arise Clanchonich! to the raid;
Pursue the monsters to their lair,
Pursue them hell, and earth, and air;
Pursue them till the page of time
Forgets their name, forgets their crime."
The sun had sunk in the far sea,
But the moon rose bright and merrily,
And by the sparkling midnight beam
That fell upon the gladdened stream;
The wild deer might be seen to look
On his dark shadow in the brook,
Whilst the more timorous hind lay by
Enamoured of the lovely sky.
Bright heaven! 'twas a glorious scene,
The sparry rock, the vale between,
The light arch'd cataract afar
Swift springing like a falling star
From point to point till lost to view,
It fades in deep ethereal blue.
So lone the hour, so fair the night,
The scene, the green and woody height,
Which rises o'er Glenconvent's vale
Like beauty in a fairy tale.
Here where the heavenward soul might stray,
The red remorseless spoiler lay,
Where holy praise was wont to rise
Like incense to the opening skies:
In broken and unhallowed dreams
He laughs amid the roar of flames.
Ha! see he starts, afar is heard
The war-cry wild of "Tullach Ard."
Away Mhicranuil! with thy band,
Away, Clanchonich is at hand,
Scale rock and ravine, hill, and dale,
Plunge through the depths of Urquhart's vale,
And spread thy followers one by one,
'Tis meet that thou should'st be alone.
It boots not for the jerkin red,
Fit emblem of the man of blood,
Is singled still, and still pursued
Through open moor and tangled wood.
High bounding as the hunted stag
He scales the wild and broken crag,
And with one desperate look behind
Again his steps are on the wind.
Why does he pause? means he to yield?
He casts aside his ponderous shield,
His plaid is flung upon the heath,
More firm he grasps the blade of death,
And springing wildly through the air
The dark gulf of Altsigh is clear!
Unhesitating, bold, and young,
Across the gulf Mackenzie sprung;
But ah! too short one fatal step,
He clears, but barely clears the leap,
When slipping on the further side
He hung suspended o'er the tide;
A tender twig sustained his weight,
Above the wild and horrid height.
One fearful moment whilst he strove
To grasp the stronger boughs above.
But all too late, Macranuil turns
With fiendish joy his bosom burns,
"Go, I have given you much," he said,
"The twig is cut--the debt is paid."
F.
"Notwithstanding the hideousness of this double crime of sacrilege
and murder, which certainly in magnitude of atrocity was rarely, if
ever, equalled in this quarter; it is strange that many will be
found at no great distance from the scene of horror referred to in
the poem who are not only ignorant of the cause of the fearful
catastrophe, but even of the perpetrators of it. It is, therefore,
the intention of the author to accompany the printed copy[B] with a
copious note.
"INVERNESS, 4th Dec. 1839."
"Ah," says _Domhnull a Bhuidhe_, another of the bard's sons, "these men
of Glengarry were a fine race. For real courage and bravery few in the
Highlands could excel them. I remember once hearing a story of young
'Glen,' in which, perhaps, is exhibited the finest example of daring
ever recorded in the annals of our country. Once upon a time Old
Glengarry was very unpopular with all the northern chiefs in consequence
of his many raids and spoliations among the surrounding tribes; but
although he was now advanced in years and unable to lead his clan in
person none of the neighbouring chiefs could muster courage to beard him
in his den single-handed. There was never much love lost between him and
the chief of the Mackenzies, and about this time some special offence
was given to the latter by the Macdonnels, which the chief of
_Eilean-donnan_ swore would have to be revenged; and the insult must be
wiped out at whatever cost. His clan was at the time very much
subdivided, and he felt himself quite unable to cope with Glengarry in
arms. Mackenzie, however, far excelled his enemy in ready invention, and
possessed a degree of subtlety which usually more than made up for his
enemy's superior physical power.
"'Kintail' managed to impress his neighbouring chiefs with the belief
that Glengarry purposed, and was making arrangements to take them all by
surprise and annihilate them by one fell swoop, and that in these
circumstances it was imperative for their mutual safety to make
arrangements forthwith by which the danger would be obviated and the
hateful author of such a diabolical scheme extinguished root and branch.
By this means he managed to produce the most bitter prejudice against
Glengarry and his clan; but all of them being convinced of the folly and
futility of meeting the 'Black Raven,' as he was called, man to man and
clan to clan, Mackenzie invited them to meet him at a great council in
Eilean-donnan Castle the following week to discuss the best means of
protecting their mutual interests, and to enter into a solemn league,
and swear on the 'raven's cross' to exterminate the hated Glengarry and
his race, and to raze, burn, and plunder everything belonging to them.
"Old Glengarry, whom the ravages of war had already reduced to one son
out of several, and he, only a youth of immature years, heard of the
confederacy formed against him with great and serious concern. He well
knew the impossibility of holding out against the combined influence and
power of the Western Chiefs. His whole affections were concentrated on
his only surviving son, and, on realizing the common danger, he bedewed
him with tears, and strongly urged upon him the dire necessity of
fleeing from the land of his fathers to some foreign land until the
danger had passed away. He, at the same time, called his clan together,
absolved them from their allegiance, and implored them also to save
themselves by flight; and to their honour be it said, one and all
spurned the idea of leaving their chief, in his old age, alone to his
fate, exclaiming--'that death itself was preferable to shame and
dishonour.' To the surprise of all, however, the son, dressed in
his best garb, and armed to the teeth, after taking a formal and
affectionate farewell of his father, took to the hills amidst the
contemptuous sneers of his brave retainers. But he was no sooner out of
sight than he directed his course to Lochduich, determined to attend the
great council at Eilean-donnan Castle, at which his father's fate was to
be sealed. He arrived in the district on the appointed day and carefully
habilitating himself in a fine Mackenzie tartan plaid with which he had
provided himself, he made for the stronghold and passed the outer gate
with the usual salutation--'Who is welcome here?' and passed by
unheeded, the guard replying in the most unsuspicious manner--'Any, any
but a Macdonnell.' On being admitted to the great hall he carefully
scanned the brilliant assembly. The Mackenzie plaid put the company
completely off their guard; for in those days no one would ever dream of
wearing the tartan of any but that of his own leader. The chiefs had
already, as they entered the great hall, drawn their dirks and stuck
them in the tables before them as an earnest of their unswerving
resolution to rid the world of their hated enemy. The brave and intrepid
stranger coolly walked up to the head of the table where the Chief of
Kintail presided over the great council, threw off his disguise, seized
Mackenzie by the throat, drew out his glittering dagger, held it against
his enemy's heart, and exclaimed with a voice and a determination which
struck terror into every breast--'Mackenzie, if you or any of your
assembled guests make the slightest movement, as I live, by the great
Creator of the universe I will instantly pierce you to the heart.'
Mackenzie well knew by the appearance of the youth, and the commanding
tone of his voice, that the threat would be instantly executed if any
movement was made, and tremulously exclaimed--'My friends, for the
love of God stir not lest I perish at the hands of my inveterate foe
at my own table.' The appeal was hardly necessary, for all were
terror-stricken and confused, sitting with open mouths, gazing vacantly,
at each other. 'Now,' said the young hero, 'lift up your hands to heaven
and swear by the _Long, am Bradan, agus an Lamh Dhearg_ (the ship, the
salmon, and the bloody hand) that you will never again molest my father
or any of his clan.' 'I do now swear as you request,' answered the
confused chief. 'Swear now,' continued the dauntless youth, 'you, and
all ye round this table, that I will depart from here and be permitted
to go home unmolested by you or any of your retainers.' All with
uplifted hands repeated the oath. Young Glengarry released his hold on
Mackenzie's throat, sheathed his dirk and prepared to take his
departure, but was, extraordinary to relate, prevailed upon to remain at
the feast and spend the night with the sworn enemies of his race and
kindred, and the following morning they parted the best of friends. And
thus, by the daring of a stripling, was Glengarry saved the fearful doom
that awaited him. The youth ultimately became famous as one of the most
courageous warriors of his race. He fought many a single combat with
powerful combatants, and invariably came off victorious. He invaded and
laid waste Glenmoriston, Urquhart, and Caithness. His life had been one
scene of varied havoc, victory, ruin, and bloodshed. He entered into a
fierce encounter with one of the Munros of Fowlis, but ultimately met
the same fate at the hands of the 'grim tyrant' as the greatest coward
in the land, and his body lies buried in the churchyard of
_Tuiteam-tarbhach_."
ALASTAIR OG.
(_To be Continued._)
FOOTNOTES:
[A] The Dream is a scene on the River Beauly, whose picturesque
properties realizes this term in its utmost limits.
[B] This is the only _printed_ copy that ever saw the light, and if the
"copious note" was ever written we were unable to procure it.
A. O.
THE GAELIC SOCIETY OF INVERNESS.--The following are the newly
elected office-bearers for 1876:--Chief--Professor Blackie;
Chieftains--Mr Charles Mackay, builder; Mr Alexander Fraser,
accountant; and Bailie Noble, Inverness; Honorary Secretary--Mr Wm.
Mackay, solicitor; Secretary--Mr William Mackenzie, _Free Press_
Office, Inverness; Treasurer--Mr Evan Mackenzie, solicitor,
Inverness; Council--Mr Alexander Mackenzie, of the _Celtic
Magazine_; Councillor Huntly Fraser; Mr James H. Mackenzie,
bookseller; Mr James Fraser, C.E.; and Mr Lachlan Macbean;
Librarian--Mr Lachlan Macbean; Bard--Mrs Mary Mackellar; and
Piper--Pipe-Major Maclennan, Inverness. The following members have
been elected since the beginning of the year:--Mr A. R. Munro, 57
Camphill, Birmingham; Councillor D. Macpherson, Inverness; Mr W. A.
Mackay, bird-stuffer, do.; Mr Jonathan Nicolson, Birmingham; Major
William Grant, factor for the Earl of Seafield, honorary; Mr Donald
Macleod, painter, Church Street, Inverness; Mr Hugh Shaw, tinsmith,
Castle Street, Inverness; Rev. Lachlan Maclachlan, Gaelic Church,
Inverness; Mr Archibald Macmillan, Kaituna, Havelock, Marlborough,
New Zealand; Mr William Douglas, Aberdeen Town and County Bank,
Inverness; Mr Donald Macdonald, farmer, Culcraggie, Alness; Mr
Andrew Mackenzie, ironmonger, Alness; Mr Hugh Mackenzie, postmaster,
Alness; Mr William Mackenzie, factor, Ardross; Mr W. Mackenzie,
solicitor, Dingwall; Captain Alex. Matheson, Dornie, Lochalsh; Mr
Christopher Murdoch, gamekeeper, Kyleakin, Skye; Mr Norman M'Raild,
Caledonian Canal, Laggan, Fort-Augustus; Mr James Hunter, Bobbin
Works, Glengarry; Mr Fergusson, schoolmaster, Guisachan; Mr Maclean,
schoolmaster, Abriachan; Mr D. Dott, Caledonian Bank, Inverness; and
Dr Farquhar Matheson, Soho Square, London. Mr Alex. Mackenzie, of
the _Celtic Magazine_, on the 17th February, resigned his connection
with the Society's Publishing Committee, as convener of which he
edited, last year, vols. III. and IV. of the Society's
"Transactions."
DICTIONARY OF THE WELSH LANGUAGE.--We are glad to learn that a
Dictionary of the Welsh language is in preparation, compiled from
original sources by D. Silvan Evans, B.D., Professor of Welsh at
University College, Aberystwyth, Wales, and late Editor of the
"Archæologia Cambrensis." Professor Evans is a Celtic scholar of
high repute, and his work will, we are assured, prove a great
acquisition to the student of Philological Science.
THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDERS GOING TO CAROLINA.
THE sunny plains of Carolina was the first emigration field taken
advantage of by the Scottish Highlander. And there is no denying that
his temporal interests required a change for the better. Oppressed with
poverty in his own wild glens, in the endeavour to eke out an existence
from the returns of a soil the reverse of fertile, or from the produce
of a small flock of trifling value, or from the precarious productions
of stormy lochs, the honest Gael becomes gradually convinced that his
condition might be much improved in the genial climes recently opened
up. With this in view he gives a willing ear to the kindly suggestions
of those who sought to promote his welfare; and he resolves at length,
in acting upon these suggestions, to rupture the ties that bound him to
his home, and to face a voyage which was then regarded as the highest
test of courage, but which can now be accomplished in as little time,
and with as little concern as a voyage in those days from Mull or Skye
to the banks of the Clyde.
It has often been said that the Highlander is wanting in a spirit of
adventure, and that in consequence there is still a great amount of
poverty and wretchedness at home, which might easily be remedied by a
little more pluck in taking advantage of the rich soil of colonial
fields. This phenomenon, which is only too true, has its explanation in
a strange mystic spell of attachment to the native heath with all its
associations. This is proverbially true of the Highlander in distinction
from all other nationalities, and it cannot be ignored by those who wish
to see him emigrate to countries where he can soon raise himself, by a
little industry, to a position of affluence and independence which he
never dreamed of in his native country.
Even the physical aspect of his native scenery has a charm for the Gael
which can never be lost. His very heath in autumnal bloom spread out
like a gorgeous carpet, towering summits, wild cascades, birch and
rowans, verdant hill sides, browsing flocks, bounding deer, soaring
eagles, and the vast expanse of land and water--all form an enchanting
panorama which indelibly instamps itself on the mountaineer's mental
vision. Add to this the social aspect of his nature, and you have a
still stronger chain of attachment to his barren home. He feels himself
as an individual member of a large family or confederacy, with common
interests, common language and traditions. The huge mountain barriers
which prevent the inhabitants of a glen from general communication with
others, and completely isolate them, tends to generate this feeling of
clannishness. They work in a great measure together, tending their
flocks, cultivating their crofts, capturing their fish. And especially
is their social nature developed in their long winter evening gatherings
from house to house, in rehearsing their traditionary folk-lore, and
cultivating the poetic muse in every variety of verse and style of
chorus. Nor does the holy day of rest interrupt their gregarious
proclivities. They meet at the same kirk, they survey with becoming
emotion the last resting place of those who were content to have their
remains repose in their native valley, they hear proclamations of
plighted affection between parties who have no higher ambition than to
share each other's future lot on the scantiest fare, they join "their
artless notes" together in grateful thanksgiving to the Sovereign of all
lands for such temporal gifts as others might think "small mercies," and
more especially do they hear, in their own expressive vernacular,
impressive lessons upon time and its manifold labours, its constant
changes and solemn issues.
All this constitutes a sacred tie of affection to the native spot,
lasting as the hills, and which no other can understand like the
Scottish Gael. It must, therefore, be duly recognised and weighed by all
benefactors of the race, if they would loosen its hold upon the
individual without outraging his feelings, and loosening "the brittle
thread of life." Of this strong attachment many instances might be
given. We have been told by a venerable divine of a Highland parish how
repeatedly he had witnessed the fond affection of his parishioners in
taking their departure, how they approached the sacred edifice, ever
dear to them, by the most hallowed associations, and with tears in their
eyes kissed its very walls, how they made an emphatic pause in losing
sight of the romantic scenes of their childhood, with its kirks and
cots, and thousand memories, and as if taking a formal and lasting
adieu, uncovered their heads and waved their bonnets three times towards
the scene, and then with heavy steps and aching hearts resumed their
pilgrimage towards new scenes in distant climes.
But in thus quitting his native land the Highlander did not leave his
loyalty and patriotism behind. The country to which he was steering his
course was under the colonial away of George the Second; and to that
region he transferred his loyalty and clannishness, and all those traits
of character which distinguish him from other races. Unless, indeed,
these peculiarities were taken advantage of, the foreign field for
emigration, with its various inducements, might have appealed in vain.
As a clannish being, and accustomed throughout his whole historical life
to follow the direction of chiefs and leaders, the Scottish Gael is now
invited to resign himself to the same leadership with the view of
crossing the great Atlantic. Accordingly emigration leaders were found
who made it their business to attend to the interests of their
countrymen, and accompany their footsteps to their new homes. The first
of these leading benefactors who broke the ice of emigration to Carolina
was a Neil M'Neill of Kintyre, who succeeded in leading a whole shipload
of his countrymen to that colony and settled them on the banks of the
Cape Fear River, where he himself also made his permanent home, and
where his name is still perpetuated by a numerous and respectable
offspring to the present day.
Here at the head of navigation, and at a distance of more than a hundred
miles from the sea coast, the immigrants literally pitched their camp, for
the country was then almost an unbroken wilderness and few human abodes to
offer shelter, the chief occupants of the soil being droves of wild
horses, wild cattle, deer, turkeys, wolves, raccoons, oppossums, and last
but not least, huge rattlesnakes in hideous coils, ready to oppose the
disturbers of their marshy tranquillity. Fortunately for the homeless
pioneers the climate was genial and favourable, and all that could be
expected from its southern latitude of 35 degrees. The only protection,
therefore, absolutely necessary for health and comfort was some temporary
shelter from the heavy autumnal dews of that region; and this they could
speedily extemporise or discover already at hand in the arching canopy of
stately hickories, mulberries, and walnut trees, where in patriarchal
fashion, "each one under his own vine and fig tree" they could while away
days and weeks without any serious discomfort or detriment to health. But
they soon set about the work of improvement in their new domains. They
construct more permanent abodes in the shape of log cottages, neat, clean,
and tidy, and two for a family, according to subsequent use and wont in
that warm country. They begin to fell the primeval forest, to grub, drain,
and clear the rich alluvial swamps bordering on that stream, to reduce to
ashes in a thousand conflagrations the most valuable timber of every
variety and sort, and to supersede this primeval growth by the more
precious production of rice, cotton, maize, melons, pumpkins, peaches,
grapes, and other endless varieties for comfort and luxury. All this is
accomplished, be it known, by ways and means of which, in the case of the
new settler, stern necessity is the inventing mother. And may we not here
suggest the reflection how much the residuary occupants of our glens are
interested in these bush clearances. In receiving in regular supplies from
that very district, the famous "Carolina Rice," chief of its class, not to
speak of other products, is there not awakened a feeling of interest and
grateful thanks to the memory of our hardy kinsman in the days of yore.
But progression and improvement is the rule in every colony and growing
community. By the increase of population and settlement of a country the
laws of society imperatively demand a different mode of life. The
abundant supply of the necessities of life soon creates a desire for its
comforts, and these in turn for its conveniences and luxuries. This
progressive change is distinctly marked in the case before us. Very soon
the nucleus of a town is seen in the centre of the settlement, where the
products of industry could be bartered and sold, and where the usual
system of commerce could afford facilities for supplying the growing
demands of a prosperous community. The name of Campbelton is given to
this hamlet, thus identifying the national origin of its patriotic
founders, and when by subsequent emigrations it grew to a large and
commercial importance, rivalling and soon surpassing its namesake in the
Fatherland, and becoming the seat of justice and general centre of
traffic for that whole Highland district, the names of its commercial
firms, of its civic officials, judges, and barristers, unmistakeably
declared that the name of the town was well chosen. And although the
course of events afterwards changed its original designation to that of
La Fayette or Fayetteville, which it still retains, yet it will always
be remembered with a lively interest by Scottish Highlanders as the
abode of their brave countrywoman, the renowned heroine Flora Macdonald,
whose memory is still cherished in the country of her sojourn, and whose
name is preserved from oblivion by the gay and gallant little steamer
"Flora Macdonald," which plies up and down the unruffled waters of the
Cape Fear.
As already remarked, this was the beginning of the tide of emigration to
Carolina, and at a period now buried in the annals of well nigh a
century and a half. The ice being thus broken, and the pioneers of the
flock giving good accounts of the new pasture, others soon eagerly began
to follow their footsteps in large numbers. There was, in fact, a
Carolina mania at that time, and which did not fairly subside until
within the last half century. It is here necessary to note the great
event which gave such a special impetus to the movement. That was the
disastrous results which followed the memorable rebellion of '45. The
collapsing of the romantic scheme which enlisted so many brave
mountaineers, and unsheathed so many claymores, proved ruinous to the
whole race of Scottish Celts. There was no discrimination made in the
exercise of punishment between those "who were out" for Charlie, and
those who followed _Maccallan Mor_ and others in defence of the reigning
dynasty. All were alike nationally persecuted, so that the whole system
of clanship was completely and for ever broken up. The golden chain of
patriarchal respect and affection to the chief, cemented by law or
immemorial usage, was now severed. No military service or vassalage
could any more be exacted by a feudal superior, and no support or
protection could henceforth be expected by the vassal. All was now at an
end; and the ghostly idea of chieftainship, which still hovers in our
mists, is only entertained as a harmless sentiment or a pleasant
burlesque. The Highlander was totally disarmed. Those weapons, as
naturally associated with the mountaineer's life as the implements of
husbandry to the farmer, were wrested from him, and heavy fines and
transportation enforced in case of disobedience. Nay more, his very garb
was proscribed. A romantic costume, suggestive of the well-known dirk
and other weapons of military warfare, and of prowess, bravery, and
skill, in the use of them, falls under the ban of the state. What must
have been the Gael's feelings, from this state of things, we can easily
imagine. Dispirited, insulted, outlawed, without chief or protector,
with such a complete revolution in his social life, he has no
alternative but to quit his native haunts and try to find peace and rest
in the unbroken forests of Carolina. Accordingly the flame of enthusiasm
for foreign adventure passes like wild fire through the Highland glens
and islands at the period to which we refer. It pervades all classes,
from the poorest crofter to the well-to-do farmer, and in some cases men
of easy competence, who were, according to the appropriate song of the
day, "_dol a dh'iarruidh an fhortain do North Carolina_," (i.e.,
_sequenturi fortunam usque Carolinam_).
Within a short time great crowds had left the country. Large ocean
crafts, from several of the Western Lochs, laden with hundreds of
passengers, sailed direct for the far west, and this continuous tide
kept rolling westwards from year to year, until at the era of the
Colonial Revolution, the Highland settlers in Carolina could be numbered
by many thousands. And there you find their worthy sons at the present
day, occupying a large area of the state, no less than five counties in
a body, all preserving the genuine names and sterling qualities of their
sires; and with their known enterprise and patient industry, exerting
more than their numerical share of political influence in that country.
They constitute doubtless the largest Gaelic community out of Scotland,
tenaciously holding the religion of their fathers, and preserving, to
some extent, their language and customs. And be it known to our "Brither
Scots" of Saxon origin, that these are known by their neighbours as
pre-eminently "the Scotch," and their tongue "the Scotch language," so
that a native of Auld Reeky or Dumfries, without a knowledge of the
Celtic tongue, could hardly pass muster among them for being a genuine
son of Scotia.
But the clans were not long settled in the land of their adoption before
having their national character put to the test. The occasion was
furnished by the unfortunate revolt of the North American Colonists,
arising from causes useless to dilate upon at this time of day, but
which might have been obviated at the time by wise imperial policy, and
thus retained under the imperial aegis an enormous territory which has
since then become an independent and powerful rival. Of course the
Carolina Highlander was not a disinterested spectator of the rising
struggle. Nor was it with him a question for a moment upon which side
his claymore should be unsheathed. Naturally Conservative, and ever
loyal to constituted authorities, he at once enlisted under the banner
of King George the Third, and resolved with devoted loyalty and wonted
military prowess to exert his utmost endeavours to perpetuate the
British sway and quell the great rebellion. At the call of his leaders,
and to the martial strains of his national pipes, he readily obeys; and
with such alacrity as if summoned by the fiery cross of old, he musters
to the central place of rendezvous, band after band, day after day,
until a whole regiment of active volunteers are enrolled and ready for
action. This was called the "Highland Regiment of Carolina," a body of
men, let us remark, less known in history than it deserves; for in
resolute courage, strength of nerve and muscle, intrepid bravery and
unshaken fidelity, few instances could be found of superior excellence
within the annals of the empire. The officers of the regiment were taken
from influential leaders among the emigrants, and it need hardly be
said, were of the same sterling metal. When we mention the name of Capt.
Macdonald of Kingsborough, the husband of the famous Flora, and another
officer of the same clan, as also the names of Macleod and M'Arthur, all
of whom were the ruling chiefs of the "Royalists," it will at once
appear how homogeneous was the body, and how naturally they were all
animated by a kindred spirit with the view of achieving the same great
end. Thus marshalled under the royal standard, they rush into the
contest, with the sole determination, be the issue what it might, of
discharging their conscientious duty to their king and country, and
resolved with true Highland courage to conquer or to die. But, alas,
this latter was, in substance, the inevitable alternative to which they
had to succumb. The odds against them was overpowering. For even
supposing them to have had the advantages of regular military
discipline, they were not able to withstand the immense numbers by which
they were assailed. Almost the whole colonies were in a state of revolt,
and the imperial forces, from well-known causes, were few and far
between. There was, therefore, no help for the royal cause. After long
and fatiguing marches by night and day, through creeks and swamps, in
arid sand and scorching sun, and after several desperate encounters with
the numerous foe, meeting them at various points, they had finally to
disperse, and thus for ever surrender a cause which it was hopeless to
have undertaken. Their leaders had to flee for life and find their way
through swamp and forest to the far distant sea-board, as their only
hope of safety. This they made out, and then found the means of transit,
though by a circuitous voyage, across the ocean to their native land.
The perils and hardships endured by these in their several routes could
not be narrated in the space at our disposal. But we cannot take leave
without briefly relating the daring exploit of one of their leaders
after being captured and imprisoned. This, however, must be reserved for
a subsequent number.
JOHN DARROCH, M.A.
GENERAL SIR ALAN CAMERON, K.C.B., COLONEL 79TH CAMERON HIGHLANDERS.
[CONTINUED].
CHAPTER VI.
TWO years before Alan's return from America, the Highland Society of
London was instituted for "Promoting objects of advantage to the
Highlands generally; and good fellowship with social union, among such
of its natives as inhabited the more southern part of the island." To
the foregoing summary were also added several specific objects, such as
the restoration of the Highland dress; the preservation of the music;
and cultivation of the Celtic language, &c., &c. An institution for the
support of these objects would have particular attraction for Alan; and
now that he was not otherwise specially employed, he could give some
attention to their promotion. The members of the society were composed
of almost all the men of rank and position belonging to, or connected
with, Scotland. In the list Alan appears to have been elected at a
meeting on 21st January 1782, and with the names of other gentlemen on
the same occasion that of John Home (Author of _Douglas_) is included.
The Act of Parliament which enacted the suppression of the Highland
dress was in force in Scotland during Alan's childhood, and up to the
time of his departure from it, after the encounter with _Morsheirlich_,
so that he had never worn the garb of his ancestors until he had joined
his regiment in America. Its use was still (1782) prohibited in the old
country. Alan and many of his friends became the most active members for
promoting the objects of the society. Having found that one of these was
the restoration of the Highland dress, they formed a committee to
co-operate with a member of the Legislature to have that obnoxious Act
obliterated from the Statute Book. Of that committee the following were
the Executive, and being the authors of the extirpation of this national
stigma, they are entitled to be remembered, by Highlanders especially,
with admiration and everlasting gratitude. They were--Hon. General
Fraser of Lovat (President); Lord Chief Baron Macdonald; Lord Adam
Gordon; Earl of Seaforth; Colonel Macpherson of Cluny; Captain Alan
Cameron (Erracht); and John Mackenzie (Temple), Honorary Secretary.
Fortunately for the committee, the Marquis of Graham, one of the members
of the society, had a seat in the House of Commons, and to this nobleman
they entrusted a Bill for the repeal of the Act passed in 1747, commonly
known as the _Unclothing Act_. The noble Marquis took charge of the
bill, which he introduced to the House in May 1782, with so much
earnestness that it passed through the various stages in both Houses of
Parliament with unusual rapidity. Indeed, within a few months after this
date, the legal restriction placed on the dress of a people for the past
thirty-five years, was obliterated for ever. "The thanks of the Society
were given to his Lordship for his exertions in procuring a law so
acceptable to all Highlanders."[C] Addresses in prose and poetry were
presented to the Marquis from all the Highland parishes, while at the
same time the contemporary Gaelic bards were profuse with patriotic
songs of praise, notably among them, that by Duncan M'Intyre
(_Donnachadh Ban_) commencing--
Fhuair mi naidheachd as ùr
Tha taitinn ri rùn mo chridh
Gu faigheamaid fasan na dùtch
A chleachd sinn an tùs ur tìm,
O'n tha sinn le glaineachan làn,
A bruidhinn air màran binn,
So i deoch slainte Mhontrois
A sheasamh a choir so dhuinn.
The next action of national importance which engaged the attention of
the Society was the publication of the Poems of Ossian in the original
Gaelic. In the prosecution of this project Alan Cameron was also
zealous, but before it was completed he was called away to duties of a
sterner nature. About the same time the controversy respecting the
authenticity of the poems was continuing to run its rancour unabated.
During the few days of Alan's sojourn as a fugitive in Mr Bond's house,
they had conversed on the merits of Ossian's poems, the latter gentleman
informed Alan that he had such evidence in favour of their ancient
existence that he was convinced of their being the genuine remains of
poetry of a very remote period, adding that he owed his intimacy with
Ossian to the acquaintance of the Rev. Colin M'Farquhar (a native of one
of the Hebrides), at this time minister in Newhaven of Pennsylvannia. It
occurred to Alan that it would be desirable to get the testimony of the
reverend gentleman respecting the poems, therefore he decided to address
himself to his kind friend in Philadelphia on the subject. In due time
Mr Bond replied with a communication from Mr M'Farquhar, dated,
"Newhaven, Penn., January 1806," stating as follows:--"It is perfectly
within my recollection when I was living in the Highlands of Scotland,
that Mr James Macpherson was there collecting as many as he could find
of the Poems of Ossian. Among those applied to was a co-presbyter of
mine, who knew that a man of distinguished celebrity had resided in my
congregation, and he requested the favour of me to have an interview
with him and take down in writing some of these poems from his lips for
Mr Macpherson, which I did, but cannot recollect at this distance of
time the names of the poems, though I well remember they were both
lengthy and irksome to write, on account of the many mute letters
contained in almost every word. Indeed, it would be difficult to find
one among ten thousand of the Highlanders of the present day who could
or would submit to the task of committing one of them to writing or
memory, though in former ages they made the repetition of the poems a
considerable part of their enjoyment at festive and convivial
entertainments. Well do I remember the time when I myself lent a willing
ear to the stories of Fingal, Oscar, Ossian, and other heroes of the
Highland bard. I cannot, therefore, forbear calling that man an ignorant
sceptic, and totally unacquainted with the customs of the history of the
Highlanders, and the usages prevailing amongst them; who can once doubt
in his mind their being the composition of Ossian? And as to being the
production of Macpherson or any of his companions, I have no more doubt
than I have of the compositions of Horace or Virgil to be the works of
these celebrated authors."
The Secretary laid Mr Bond's letter and its inclosure with the foregoing
statement of the Reverend Mr M'Farquhar before the Highland Society,
which they considered so important as to have adopted it in Sir John
Sinclair's "Additional Proofs of the Authenticity of the Poems of
Ossian." While on this subject, another reference must be made to Mr
Bond. The Highland Society in acknowledging the receipt of his
communications, alluded to the service he had rendered to their
fellow-countryman (Erracht) when in distress. The Marquis of Huntly, who
was President, moved that the Society's Gold Medal be conferred on Mr
Bond; also that he be elected an _Honorary_ member of the Society.[D]
The propositions were unanimously approved, and thus his friendship to
the benighted prisoner was not forgotten by the members of this noble
and patriotic Society.