Dawson,[23] Macdonald, Grant, Batterbury, and Hamis Coutts; Hamis
is Gaelic for James, and is pronounced “Hamish.” The road has been
improved since last year, and though it is still very rough, there are
no fords to pass, nor real difficulties any longer. We rode the whole
way, and Albert only walked the last two miles. He took a Gaelic lesson
during our ride, asking Macdonald, who speaks it with great purity,
many words, and making him talk to Jemmie Coutts. Albert has already
picked up many words: but it is a very difficult language, for it is
pronounced in a totally different way from that in which it is written.
[23] Now Hon. Mrs. Parnell.
[Illustration: THE SHIEL OF ALT-NA-GIUTHASACH.
_After a Sketch by the Queen._]
We arrived at our little “bothie” at two o’clock, and were amazed at
the transformation. There are two huts, and to the one in which we live
a wooden addition has been made. We have a charming little dining-room,
sitting-room, bed-room, and dressing-room, all _en suite_; and there
is a little room where Caroline Dawson (the Maid of Honour) sleeps,
one for her maid, and a little pantry. In the other house, which is
only a few yards distant, is the kitchen, where the people generally
sit, a small room where the servants dine, and another, which is a
sort of store-room, and a loft above in which the men sleep. Margaret
French (my maid), Caroline’s maid, Löhlein[24] (Albert’s valet), a
cook, Shackle[25] (a footman), and Macdonald, are the only people with
us in the house, old John Gordon and his wife excepted. Our rooms are
delightfully papered, the ceilings as well as walls, and very nicely
furnished. We lunched as soon as we arrived, and at three walked down
(about twenty minutes’ walk) to the loch called “Muich;” which some say
means “darkness” or “sorrow.” Here we found a large boat, into which
we all got, and Macdonald, Duncan, Grant, and Coutts rowed; old John
Gordon and two others going in another boat with the net. They rowed up
to the head of the loch, to where the _Muich_ runs down out of the _Dhu
Loch_, which is on the other side.
[24] This faithful and trusty valet nursed his dear master most
devotedly through his sad illness in December, 1861, and is now always
with me as my personal groom of the chambers or valet. I gave him a
house near Windsor Castle, where he resides when the Court are there.
He is a native of Coburg. His father has been for fifty years Förster
at Fülbach, close to Coburg.
[25] Who was very active and efficient. He is now a Page.
The scenery is beautiful here, so wild and grand,--real severe Highland
scenery, with trees in the hollow. We had various scrambles in and
out of the boat and along the shore, and saw three hawks, and caught
seventy trout. I wish an artist could have been there to sketch the
scene; it was so picturesque--the boat, the net, and the people in
their kilts in the water, and on the shore. In going back, Albert rowed
and Macdonald steered; and the lights were beautiful.
We came home at a quarter-past seven. At eight we dined; Löhlein,
Macdonald, and Shackle waiting on us.
After dinner we played with Caroline Dawson at whist with dummy, and
afterwards walked round the little garden. The silence and solitude,
only interrupted by the waving of the fir-trees, were very solemn and
striking.
A BEAT IN THE ABERGELDIE WOODS.
_September 3, 1849._
At a quarter-past eleven we drove (the three gentlemen going in another
carriage) to the road along which we went with Lord Portman the other
day, and up to a small path, where I mounted my pony, Albert and the
others walking. We came to _Geannachoil_, and Albert was much pleased
with the splendid view. The lights were most beautiful, but the heat
was overpowering, and the sun burning
We turned to the right when out on the moors, where I got off and
walked; and we seated ourselves behind a large stone, no one but
Macdonald with us, who loaded the guns, and gave notice when anything
was to be seen, as he lay upon the ground. The gentlemen were below
in the road; the wood was beat, but nothing came, so we walked on and
came down a beautiful thickly-wooded glen; and after a good deal of
scrambling to get there, and to get up one side of the glen, we sat
down again. We then scrambled over to the opposite side, where we again
concealed ourselves; in this beat Albert shot a roe, and I think would
have shot more had they not been turned back by the sudden appearance
of an old woman who, looking like a witch, came along through the wood
with two immense crutches, and disturbed the whole thing. Albert killed
the roe just as she was coming along, and the shot startled her very
much; she was told to come down, which she did, and sat below in the
glen, motionless, having covered her head with her handkerchief. When
two of the beaters came down and were told to take up the roe, they
first saw the old woman, and started, and stared with horror--which
was very amusing to see. I rode a little way afterwards, and then we
seated ourselves behind a bush, in the rear of the wood, close to the
distillery; but this beat brought nothing. Albert killed a young black
cock before we came to the second beat. We were home at a quarter-past
three o’clock.
VISIT TO THE DHU LOCH, &c.
_September 11, 1849._
The morning was very fine. I heard the children repeat some poetry in
German, and then at ten o’clock we set off with Lady Douro[26] in our
carriage, and drove on beyond _Inch Bobbard_, changing horses near
_Birkhall_, and stopping for a moment at the _Linn of Muich_; here we
found the ponies, which we mounted, forded the river, and were almost
immediately at the hut. We stopped there only for an instant, and
remounted our ponies directly; Grant, Macdonald (who led my pony the
whole time, and was extremely useful and attentive), Jemmie Coutts
(leading Lady Douro’s pony), Charlie Coutts, and John Brown going with
us: old John Gordon leading the way. It was half-past twelve when we
began ascending the hill immediately behind the house, and proceeded
along over the hills, to a great height, whence the view was very fine,
quite overhanging the loch, and commanding an extensive view of _Glen
Muich_ beyond on the opposite side. The road got worse and worse. It
was particularly bad when we had to pass the _Burn of the Glassalt_,
which falls into the loch, and was very full. There had been so much
rain, that the burns and rivers were very full, and the ground quite
soft. We rode over the _Strone_ _Hill_, the wind blowing dreadfully
hard when we came to the top. Albert walked almost from the first, and
shot a hare and a grouse; he put up a good many of them. We walked to a
little hollow immediately above the _Dhu Loch_, and at half-past three
seated ourselves there, and had some very welcome luncheon. The loch is
only a mile in length, and very wild; the hills, which are very rocky
and precipitous, rising perpendicularly from it.
[26] Now Duchess of Wellington.
In about half an hour we began our journey homewards. We came straight
down beside the _Muich_, which falls in the most beautiful way over the
rocks and stones in the glen. We rode down, and only had to get off
to cross the _Glassalt_, which was an awkward ford to scramble over.
The road was rough, but certainly far less soft and disagreeable than
the one we came by. I rode “Lochnagar” at first, but changed him for
Colonel Gordon’s pony, as I thought he took fright at the bogs; but
Colonel Gordon’s was broken-winded, and struggled very much in the soft
ground, which was very disagreeable.
We were only an hour coming down to the boat. The evening was very
fine, but it blew very hard on the lake and the men could not pull,
and I got so alarmed that I begged to land, and Lady Douro was of my
opinion that it was much better to get out. We accordingly landed, and
rode home along a sort of sheep-path on the side of the lake, which
took us three-quarters of an hour. It was very rough and very narrow,
for the hill rises abruptly from the lake; we had seven hundred feet
above us, and I suppose one hundred feet below. However, we arrived
at the hut quite safely at twenty minutes to seven, thankful to have
got through all our difficulties and adventures, which are always very
pleasant to look back upon.
We dined a little before eight with Lady Douro, and played two rubbers
of whist with her.
Old John Gordon amused Albert by saying, in speaking of the bad road we
had gone, “It’s something steep and something rough,” and “this is the
only best,” meaning that it was _very_ bad,--which was a characteristic
reply.
ASCENT OF BEN-NA-BHOURD.
_September 6, 1850._
At half-past ten o’clock we set off with Lady Douro and Ernest
Leiningen,[27] and drove to _Invercauld_, about three-quarters of a
mile beyond the house, where we found our people and ponies, together
with Arthur Farquharson, Shewin, and others. We then walked a little
way, after which we mounted our ponies and began the ascent towards
_Ben-na-Bhourd_; Macdonald leading my pony, good little “Lochnagar,”
and James Coutts Lady Douro’s. There is an excellent path, almost a
narrow road, made up to within the last two miles and a half, which
are very steep and rocky. The scenery is beautiful. We first rode up
a glen (where a stone of the house in which Finla, the first of the
Farquharsons, was born, is still shown,) through which the _Glassalt_
runs. Further on comes a very narrow, rocky, and precipitous glen,
called the _Sluggan_, said to mean the “swallow,” or “swallowing.”
Some little distance after this the country opens widely before you,
with _Ben-na-Bhourd_ rising towards the left; and then you enter the
_Forest of Mar_, which the Duke of Leeds rents from Lord Fife. There
is a very pretty little shooting-box, called _Sluggan Cottage_, which
is half way from _Invercauld_ to the top of _Ben-na-Bhourd_. Below
this is the _Quoich_, which we forded. The last bit of the real road
is a long steep ascent on the brow of a hill, the name of which means
the “Tooth’s craig.” (Macdonald translated all the names for us.) The
ascent, after the path ceases, is very stony; in fact, nothing but bare
granite. Albert had walked a great deal, and we ladies got off after
it became more uneven, and when we were no longer very far from the
top. We came upon a number of “cairngorms,” which we all began picking
up, and found some very pretty ones. At the top, which is perfectly
flat, the ground is entirely composed of stones or wet swampy moss,
and the granite seems to have stopped just a few feet below. We sat
down at a cairn and had our luncheon. The wind was extremely cold, but
whenever we got out of it, the air was very hot. The view from the
top was magnificent and most extensive: _Ben-na-Bhourd_ is 3,940 feet
high. We saw _Ben-y-Ghlo_ very clearly, _Cairngorm_ and _Ben Muich
Dhui_ quite close but in another direction; the _Moray Firth_, and,
through the glass, ships even could be seen; and on the other side rose
_Loch-na-Gar_, still the jewel of all the mountains here.
[27] Our nephew.
After luncheon we began our downward progress, and walked the whole of
the steep part till we reached the path; we came down very quickly,
my pony making great haste, though he had half a mind to kick. Albert
found some beautiful little rock crystals in the _Sluggan_, and walked
the remainder of the way; we ladies left our horses about a quarter of
a mile before we met the carriage. The whole distance from _Invercauld_
to the top of _Ben-na-Bhourd_ is nine miles, so we must have been at
least 18 miles riding and walking. It has been a delightful expedition.
It was six o’clock when we reached the carriage, and we were home at a
little past seven.
THE GATHERING.
_September 12, 1850._
We lunched early, and then went at half-past two o’clock, with the
children and all our party, except Lady Douro, to the Gathering at the
_Castle of Braemar_, as we did last year. The Duffs, Farquharsons, the
Leeds’s, and those staying with them, and Captain Forbes[28] and forty
of his men who had come over from _Strath Don_, were there.[29] Some
of our people were there also. There were the usual games of “putting
the stone,” “throwing the hammer” and “caber,” and racing up the hill
of _Craig Cheunnich_, which was accomplished in less than six minutes
and a half; and we were all much pleased to see our gillie Duncan,[30]
who is an active, good-looking, young man, win. He was far before
the others the whole way. It is a fearful exertion. Mr. Farquharson
brought him up to me afterwards. Eighteen or nineteen started, and it
looked very pretty to see them run off in their different coloured
kilts, with their white shirts (the jackets or doublets they take
off for all the games), and scramble up through the wood, emerging
gradually at the edge of it, and climbing the hill.
[28] Now Sir Charles Forbes, of Castle Newe.
[29] A work shortly to be published, entitled _Highlanders of
Scotland_, by Kenneth Macleay, Esq., R.S.A., contains excellent
portraits of some of the men of these and other of the principal
Highland clans, as well as of the Retainers of the Royal Household.
[30] One of the keepers since 1851: an excellent, intelligent man, much
liked by the Prince. He, like many others, spit blood after running
the race up that steep hill in this short space of time, and he has
never been so strong since. The running up hill has in consequence
been discontinued. He lives in a cottage at the back of Craig Gowan
(commanding a beautiful view) called Robrech, which the Prince built
for him.
After this we went into the castle, and saw some dancing; the prettiest
was a reel by Mr. Farquharson’s children and some other children, and
the “Ghillie Callum” beautifully danced by John Athole Farquharson, the
fourth son. The twelve children were all there, including the baby, who
is two years old.
Mama, Charles, and Ernest joined us at _Braemar_. Mama enjoys it all
very much: it is her first visit to _Scotland_. We left after the
dancing.
SALMON LEISTERING.
_September 13, 1850._
We walked with Charles, the boys, and Vicky to the river side above the
bridge, where all our tenants were assembled with poles and spears, or
rather “leisters” for catching salmon. They all went into the river,
walking up it, and then back again, poking about under all the stones
to bring fish up to where the men stood with the net. It had a very
pretty effect; about one hundred men wading through the river, some in
kilts with poles and spears, all very much excited. Not succeeding the
first time, we went higher up, and moved to three or four different
places, but did not get any salmon; one or two escaping. Albert stood
on a stone, and Colonel Gordon and Lord James Murray waded about the
whole time. Duncan, in spite of all his exertions yesterday, and having
besides walked to and from the Gathering, was the whole time in the
water. Not far from the laundry there was another trial, and here we
had a great fright. In one place there was a very deep pool, into which
two men very foolishly went, and one could not swim; we suddenly saw
them sink, and in one moment they seemed drowning, though surrounded by
people. There was a cry for help, and a general rush, including Albert,
towards the spot, which frightened me so much, that I grasped Lord
Carlisle’s arm in great agony. However, Dr. Robertson[31] swam in and
pulled the man out, and all was safely over; but it was a horrid moment.
[31] The gentleman who has had from the beginning the entire management
of our property at Balmoral, &c. He is highly esteemed, and is a
most amiable man, who has carried out all the Prince’s and my wishes
admirably.
A salmon was speared here by one of the men; after which we walked to
the ford, or quarry, where we were very successful, seven salmon being
caught, some in the net, and some speared. Though Albert stood in the
water some time he caught nothing: but the scene at this beautiful spot
was exciting and picturesque in the extreme. I wished for Landseer’s
pencil. The sun was intensely hot. We did not get back till after three
o’clock, and then took luncheon. The Duchess of Gordon came to see us
afterwards; and while she was still with us, Captain Forbes (who had
asked permission to do so) marched through the grounds with his men,
the pipers going in front. They stopped, and cheered three-times-three,
throwing up their bonnets. They then marched off; and we listened with
pleasure to the distant shouts and the sound of the pibroch.
We heard afterwards that our men had carried all Captain Forbes’s men
on their backs through the river. They saw the fishing going on, and
came to the water’s edge on the opposite side; and on being greeted by
our people, said they would come over, on which ours went across in one
moment and carried them over--Macdonald at their head carrying Captain
Forbes on his back. This was very courteous, and worthy of chivalrous
times.
LOCH MUICH.
_September 16, 1850._
We reached the hut at three o’clock. At half-past four we walked
down to the loch, and got into the boat with our people: Duncan, J.
Brown,[32] P. Coutts,[33] and Leys rowing. They rowed mostly towards
the opposite side, which is very fine indeed, and deeply furrowed by
the torrents, which form glens and corries where birch and alder trees
grow close to the water’s edge. We landed on a sandy spot below a fine
glen, through which flows the _Black Burn_. It was very dry here; but
still very picturesque, with alder-trees and mountain-ash in full fruit
overhanging it. We afterwards landed at our usual place at the head
of the loch, which is magnificent; and rode back. A new road has been
made, and an excellent one it is, winding along above the lake.
[32] The same who, in 1858, became my regular attendant out of doors
everywhere in the Highlands; who commenced as gillie in 1849, and was
selected by Albert and me to go with my carriage. In 1851 he entered
our service permanently, and began in that year leading my pony,
and advanced step by step by his good conduct and intelligence. His
attention, care, and faithfulness cannot be exceeded; and the state
of my health, which of late years has been sorely tried and weakened,
renders such qualifications most valuable, and indeed, most needful in
a constant attendant upon all occasions. He has since (in December,
1865), most deservedly, been promoted to be an upper servant, and
my permanent personal attendant. He has all the independence and
elevated feelings peculiar to the Highland race, and is singularly
straightforward, simple-minded, kind-hearted, and disinterested;
always ready to oblige; and of a discretion rarely to be met with.
He is now in his fortieth year. His father was a small farmer, who
lived at the Bush on the opposite side to Balmoral. He is the second
of nine brothers,--three of whom have died--two are in Australia and
New Zealand, two are living in the neighbourhood of Balmoral; and the
youngest, Archie (Archiebald) is valet to our son Leopold, and is an
excellent, trustworthy young man.
[33] Now, since some years, piper to Farquharson of Invercauld.
The moon rose, and was beautifully reflected on the lake, which, with
its steep green hills, looked lovely. To add to the beauty, poetry, and
wildness of the scene, Coutts played in the boat; the men, who row very
quickly and well now, giving an occasional shout when he played a reel.
It reminded me of Sir Walter Scott’s lines in _The Lady of the Lake_:—
“Ever, as on they bore, more loud
And louder rung the pibroch proud.
At first the sound, by distance tame,
Mellow’d along the waters came,
And, lingering long by cape and bay,
Wail’d every harsher note away.”
We were home at a little past seven; and it was so still and pretty
as we entered the wood, and saw the light flickering from our humble
little abode.
TORCH-LIGHT BALL AT CORRIEMULZIE.
_September 10, 1852._
We dined at a quarter-past six o’clock in morning gowns, (not ordinary
ones, but such as are worn at a “breakfast,”) and at seven started for
_Corriemulzie_, for a _torch-light ball_ in the open air. I wore a
white bonnet, a grey watered silk, and (according to Highland fashion)
my plaid scarf over my shoulder; and Albert his Highland dress which he
wears every evening. We drove in the postchaise; the two ladies, Lord
Derby and Colonel Gordon following in the other carriage.
It was a mild though threatening evening, but fortunately it kept fine.
We arrived there at half-past eight, by which time, of course, it was
quite dark. Mr. and Lady Agnes Duff[34] received us at the door, and
then took us at once through the house to the open space where the ball
was, which was hid from our view till the curtains were drawn asunder.
It was really a beautiful and most unusual sight. All the company were
assembled there. A space about one hundred feet in length and sixty
feet in width was boarded, and entirely surrounded by Highlanders
bearing torches, which were placed in sockets, and constantly
replenished. There were seven pipers playing together, Mackay[35]
leading--and they received us with the usual salute and three cheers,
and “Nis! nis! nis!” (pronounced: “Neesh! “neesh! neesh!” the Highland
“Hip! hip! hip!”) and again cheers; after which came a most animated
reel. There were about sixty people, exclusive of the Highlanders, of
whom there were also sixty; all the Highland gentlemen, and any who
were at all Scotch, were in kilts, the ladies in evening dresses. The
company and the Highlanders danced pretty nearly alternately. There
were two or three sword dances. We were upon a _haut pas_, over which
there was a canopy. The whole thing was admirably done, and very well
worth seeing. Albert was delighted with it. I must not omit to mention
a reel danced by eight Highlanders holding torches in their hands.
[34] Now Earl and Countess of Fife.
[35] My Piper from the year 1843, considered almost the first in
Scotland, who was recommended by the Marquis of Breadalbane; he
unfortunately went out of his mind in the year 1854, and died in 1855.
A brother of his was Piper to the Duke of Sussex.
We left at half-past nine o’clock, and were home by a little past
eleven. A long way certainly (14 miles I believe).
ACCOUNT OF THE NEWS OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S DEATH.
_Alt-na-Giuthasach, Thursday, September 16, 1852._
We were startled this morning, at seven o’clock, by a letter from
Colonel Phipps, enclosing a telegraphic despatch with the report, from
the sixth edition of the _Sun_, of the Duke of Wellington’s death the
day before yesterday, which report, however, we did not at all believe.
Would to God that we had been right; and that this day had not been
cruelly saddened in the afternoon.
We breakfasted with Miss Seymour;[36] and, after writing and reading,
we started at a quarter to eleven with her and our Highland party.
The day was not cold, and would, in fact, have been very fine, if it
had not been for a constant succession of very slight showers, or
clouds coming down. We walked along the loch, the road up to which
is excellent. It has been widened and would admit of a carriage. We
arrived at the _Alt-na-Dearg_, a small burn and fall, which is very
fine and rapid. Up this a winding path has been made, upon which we
rode; though some parts are rather steep for riding. The burn falls
over red granite; and in the ravine grow birch, mountain-ash, and
alder. We got off and walked a good long way on the top of the very
steep hills overhanging the loch, to the _Stron_, and the _Moss of Mon
Elpie_, whence you overlook all the country belonging to Lord Panmure,
_Mount Keen_, the _Ogilvie Hills_, &c. We stopped to rest a little
while--though the walking is excellent, so hard and dry--on a point
overlooking the _Shiel of the Glassalt_, and the head of the loch. Here
I suddenly missed my watch, which the dear old Duke had given me; and,
not being certain whether I had put it on or not, I asked Mackenzie[37]
to go back and inquire. We walked on until we reached the higher part
of the _Glassalt_, which we stepped across. We had passed over the tops
of these hills on that expedition to the _Dhu Loch_ three years ago,
when the ground was so soft, that ponies could scarcely get along, the
roads were so very bad.
[36] Now Hon. Lady Biddulph.
[37] One of our keepers and a very good man; he lives at
Alt-na-Giuthasach.