“Where fought Mac Colda, and Mac Phadian died.”
“Alaister Mac Coll Cedach.” Alexander, the son of left-handed Coll, was
a Mac Donald, who made a considerable figure in the great civil war: he
brought two thousand men to the assistance of Montrose, and received
from him a commission of lieutenancy in the royal service. He is
mentioned by contemporary writers, under the corrupted name of Kolkitto;
but time has now drawn such a veil over his history, that it is
difficult to ascertain with any degree of certainty from what family of
the Mac Donalds he came. By some it is asserted, that he was an
islesman; but by the most minute and seemingly authentic tradition, he
is positively declared to have been an Irishman, and the son of the earl
of Antrim.
Of his father there is nothing preserved but his name, his fate, and his
animosity to the Campbells, with whom, during his life, he maintained
with deadly assiduity the feud of his clan. It was his piper who was
hanged at Dunavàig in Ceantir, and in his last hour saved the life of
his chieftain by composing and playing the inexpressibly pathetic
pibroch, “Colda mo Roon.” But though he escaped at this juncture, Colda
was afterwards taken by the Campbells, and hung in chains at
Dunstaffnage. His death was the chief ground of that insatiate vengeance
with which his son ever after pursued the followers of Argyle. Long
after the death of his father, Alaister chanced to pass by Dunstaffnage
in return from a descent which he had made in the Campbell’s country. As
he sailed near the castle, he saw the bones of his father still hanging
at the place where he had suffered, and swinging in the sea-breeze. He
was so affected at the sight of the lamentable remains, that he solemnly
vowed to revenge them by a fearful retribution, and hastening his return
to Ireland gathered what force he was able, and sailing back to Scotland
offered his services to Montrose. He was gladly accepted; and during the
various adventures of the marquis in the Hielands, Alaister Mac Colda
was one of the most valuable of his adherents; and his followers were
accounted among the bravest and best experienced in the royal army. Some
of their exploits are recorded in the “Leobhair Dearg,” or “Red Book of
Clanranald,” and fully justify the fame which they received.
Alaister was present at the battle of Inbherlochie, and after the action
he was sent with his followers to the country of Argyle. He entered the
Campbell lands by Glen Eitive, and wherever he came put all who bore the
name of that clan to fire and sword. As he marched down Glen Eitive, he
crossed the bounds of the Mac Intires in Glen O, and in passing the
house of their chieftain, a circumstance occurred, which gives a lively
picture of the extent of the ancient respect paid by a clansman to the
ties of his blood. The Mac Intires were originally descended from the
Mac Donalds, and lived from time immemorial upon the border of the
Campbells, between that race and the south-east march of the Clan Donald
in Glen Coe. Upon the decline of the vast power of this sept after the
fatal battle of Harlow, and upon the subsequent increase of power to the
Campbells, the Mac Intires placed themselves under the latter clan, and
lived with them as the most powerful of their followers. When Alaister
Mac Colda passed through Glen O, he was not acquainted with the name of
the place nor the race of its inhabitants; but knowing that he was
within the bounds of the Campbells, he supposed that all whom he met
were of that clan. Glen O was deserted at his approach, and it is
probable that the men were even then in service with Argyle. Alaister,
in his usual plan of vengeance, ordered fire to the house of the
chieftain. A coal was instantly set in the roof, and the heather of
which it was made was quickly in a blaze. Before, however, the flames
had made much progress, Alaister was told that the house which he was
burning was that of the chieftain of Mac Intire. The man of Mac Donald
immediately commanded his people to do their endeavour to extinguish
the fire; “for,” said he, “it is the house of our own blood.”[228] The
flames were soon overcome, and Colda passed through the glen of the Mac
Intires in peace into Glen Urcha, where he burnt and destroyed all
within his reach. From hence, he marched entirely round Loch Awe,
carrying devastation through the ancient and original patrimony of the
Campbells. As he passed by the Loch of Ballemòr, the inhabitants (a
small race named Mac Chorchadell, and dependant upon the former clan)
retired from their huts into the little castle of their chieftain, which
is situated in the midst of the Loch. Being in no way connected with his
enemies by blood, Alaister did not conceive that with them he held any
feud, and quietly marched past their deserted habitations, without
laying a hand upon their property. But as his men were drawing from the
lake, one of the Mac Chorchadells fired upon their rear, and wounded a
Mac Donald. Alaister instantly turned: “Poor little Mac Chorchadell,”
said he in Gaëlic, “I beg your pardon for my want of respect in passing
you without stopping to pay my compliments; but since you will have it
so, I will not leave you without notice.”--He returned, and burnt every
house in Ballemòr.
The power of the Campbells had been so broken at Inbherlochie, that it
was not until Mac Colda had arrived near the west coast of their
country, that they were again in a condition to meet him in a pitched
fight. At length they encountered him on the skirt of the moss of
Crenan, at the foot of a hill not far from Auchandaroch. The battle was
fought with all the fury of individual and deadly hatred, but at last
the fortune of Alaister prevailed, and the Campbells were entirely
routed, and pursued with great slaughter off the field of battle. Some
time afterwards they again collected what numbers they could gather, and
once more offered battle to Alaister, as he was returning to Loch Awe.
The conflict was fought at the ford of Ederline, the eastern extremity
of the lake; but here the success of the Mac Donalds forsook them. They
were entirely beaten and scattered, so that not six men were left
together; and those who escaped from the field were cut off by their
enemies, as they endeavoured to lurk out of their country. Of
Alaister’s fate each clan and each district has a different story. The
Argyle Campbells say that he was killed at the ford, and a broadsword
said to have been his, and to have been found on the field of battle, is
at this day in the possession of Peter Mac Lellich (smith), at the croft
of Dalmallie. The Louden Campbells, on the contrary, assert, that
Alaister escaped from the overthrow, and wandering into Ayrshire, was
slain by them while endeavouring to find a passage into Ireland. The Mac
Donalds do not acknowledge either of these stories to be true, but
relate that their chieftain not only escaped from the battle, but
(though with much difficulty) effected his flight to Ireland, where a
reward being set upon his head, he was at length, in an unguarded
moment, when divested of his arms, slain by one of the republican
troopers, by whom he was sought out.
The fate of Alaister Mac Colda is said to have been governed by that
fatality, and predicted by that inspiration, which were once so firmly
believed among the Highlanders. His foster-mother, says tradition, was
gifted with the second sight; and, previous to his departure from
Ireland, the chieftain consulted her upon the success of his expedition.
“You will be victorious over all born of woman,” replied the seer, “till
you arrive at Goch-dum Gho; but when you come to that spot, your fortune
shall depart for ever.”--“Let it be so,” said Alaister, “I shall receive
my glory.” He departed, and the spirit of his adventure and the hurry of
enterprise, perhaps, banished from his mind the name of the fatal place.
It was indeed one so insignificant and remote, that its knowledge was
most probably confined to the circle of a few miles, and not likely to
be restored to the notice of Mac Colda, by mention or inquiry. It was on
the eve of his last battle, as his “bratach” was setting up at the ford
of Ederline, that his attention was caught by a mill at a little
distance; for some accidental reason he inquired its name:--“Mullian
Goch-dum Gho,” replied one of his men. The prediction was at once
remembered. The enemy were at hand, and Alaister knew that he should
fall. Convinced of the fatality of the prophecy, he sought not to
retreat from the evil spot: the bourne of his fortune was past, and he
only thought of dying as became him in the last of his fields. He made
no comment upon the name of the place; but, concealing from his
followers the connection which it bore with his fate, gave directions
for the proceedings of the approaching morning. In the battle he behaved
as he was wont, and in the close of the day was seen fighting furiously
with two of the Campbells, who appeared unable to overcome him. Nothing
more was heard of him: his body was never discovered; but when the slain
were buried by the conquerors, his claidh-mòr was found beneath a heap
of dead.
* * * * *
Mac Phadian was an Irish captain, who, with a considerable body of his
countrymen, assisted Edward I. of England in his war to subvert the
independence of Scotland; but though he took a very active part in the
turbulent period in which he lived, and possessed sufficient courage and
talents to raise himself from obscurity to power, yet we have nothing
left of his history but the account of his last enormities, and the
overthrow and death which they finally brought. It is probable, that we
are even indebted for this information to the celebrity of the man by
whom he fell, and which in preserving the victory of the conqueror, has
also perpetuated the memory of the vanquished.
The scene of the last actions of Mac Phadian lay in Lorn and Argyle; and
the old people in the neighbourhood of Loch Awe still retain a
tradition, which marks out the spot where he fell. Time, however, and
the decay of recitation during the last century, have so injured all
which remained of oral record, that the legend of Mac Phadian is now
confined to a very few of the elder fox-hunters and shepherds of the
country, and will soon pass into oblivion with those by whom it is
retained----
Some time in the latter end of the year 1297, or the beginning of the
year 1298, Edward made a grant to Mac Phadian of the lordships of Argyle
and Lorn. The first belonged to sir Niel Campbell, knight, of Loch Awe,
and chief of his clan; the second was the hereditary patrimony of John,
chief of Mac Dougall. Sir Niel did his endeavour to resist the
usurpation of his lands, and though fiercely beset by the traitor lords,
Buchan, Athol, and Mentieth, he for some time maintained his
independence against all their united attempts. But John of Lorn, who
was himself in the interest and service of the English, and at that time
in London, concurred with king Edward in the disponing of his
territories, and received in remuneration a more considerable lordship.
Mac Phadian did not, however, remain in quiet possession of his
ill-acquired domains; he was strongly opposed by Duncan of Lorn, uncle
to the lord; but joining with Buchan, Athol, and Mentieth, he at length
drove out his enemy, and compelled him to seek shelter with sir Niel
Campbell. Upon this success the above-mentioned allies, at the head of a
mixed and disorderly force gathered from all parts, and from all
descriptions, Irish and Scots, to the amount of fifteen thousand men,
made a barbarous inroad into Argyle, and suddenly penetrating into the
district of Nether Loch Awe, wasted the country wherever they came, and
destroyed the inhabitants without regard to age or sex. In this exigency
the Campbell displayed that constancy and experience which had rendered
his name celebrated among his countrymen. Unable to resist the
intoxicated multitude of his enemies, with Duncan of Lorn, and three
hundred of his veteran clansmen, he retired by the head of Loch Awe and
the difficult pass of Brandir to the inaccessible heights of Craiganuni,
and breaking down the bridge over the Awe below, prevented the pursuit
of the enemy to his position. Nothing could be more masterly than the
plan of this retreat.
Mac Phadian, thus baffled and outmanœuvred, not only failed in his
object of offence, but found himself drawn into an intricate and
desolate labyrinth, where his multitude encumbered themselves: the want
of subsistence prevented him from remaining to blockade sir Niel, and
his ignorance of the clues of the place made it difficult to extricate
himself by a retreat. In this exigence he was desirous of returning to
Nether Loch Awe, where there was abundance of cattle and game for the
support of his men. At length he discovered a passage between the rocks
and the water; the way was only wide enough for four persons to pass
abreast; yet, as they were not in danger of pursuit, they retired in
safety, and effected their march to the south side of the lake.
The measures employed by Wallace to relieve the Campbell, and to reach
the fastness wherein Mac Phadian had posted himself, were romantic and
daring----
Mac Phadian’s followers were completely surprised and taken at disarray.
They snatched their arms, and rushed to defend the pass with the boldest
resolution. At the first onset the Scots bore back their enemies over
five acres of ground; and Wallace, with his iron mace, made fearful
havoc among the enemy. Encouraged, however, by Mac Phadian, the Irish
came to the rescue; the battle thickened with more stubborn fury; and
for two hours was maintained with such obstinate eagerness on both
sides, that neither party had any apparent advantage. At length the
cause and valour of Wallace prevailed. The Irish gave way and fled, and
the Scots of their party threw down their arms, and kneeled for mercy.
Wallace commanded them to be spared for their birth sake, but urged
forward the pursuit upon the Irish. Pent in by the rocks and the water,
the latter had but little hope in flight. Many were overtaken and slain
as they endeavoured to climb the crags, and two thousand were driven
into the lake and drowned. Mac Phadian, with fifteen men, fled to a
cave, and hoped to have concealed himself till the pursuit was over; but
Duncan of Lorn having discovered his retreat, pursued and slew him with
his companions; and having cut off the head of the leader, brought it to
Wallace, and set it upon a stone high in one of the crags as a trophy of
the victory.
In one of the steeps of Cruächan, nearly opposite the rock of Brandir,
there is a secret cave, now only known to a very few of the old
fox-hunters and shepherds: it is still called “Uagh Phadian,” Mac
Phadian’s cave; and is asserted by tradition to be the place in which
Mac Phadian died. The remembrance of the battle is nearly worn away, and
the knowledge of the real cave confined to so few, that the den in which
Mac Phadian was killed is generally believed to be in the cliffs of
Craiganuni: this is merely owing to the appearance of a black chasm in
the face of that height, and to a confusion between the action of Mac
Phadian with Wallace, and his pursuit of sir Niel Campbell. But the
chasm in Craiganuni, though at a distance it appears like the mouth of a
cave, is but a cleft in the rock; and the few who retain the memory of
the genuine tradition of the battle of the Wallace, universally agree
that the cave in the side of Cruächan was that in which Mac Phadian was
killed.
* * * * *
The “Bridal of Caölchairn” is a legendary poem, founded upon a very
slight tradition, concerning events which are related to have occurred
during the absence of sir Colin Campbell on his expedition to Rome and
Arragon. It is said by the tale, that the chieftain was gone ten years,
and that his wife having received no intelligence of his existence in
that time, she accepted the addresses of one of her husband’s vassals,
Mac Nab of Barachastailan. The bridal was fixed; but on the day when it
was to have been solemnized, the secret was imparted to sir Colin in
Spain, by a spirit of the nether world. When the knight received the
intelligence, he bitterly lamented the distance which prevented him from
wreaking vengeance upon his presumptuous follower. The communicating
spirit, either out of love for mischief, or from a private familiarity
with sir Colin, promised to obviate this obstacle; and on the same day,
before the bridal was celebrated, transported the chieftain in a blast
of wind from Arragon to Glen Urcha. In what manner sir Colin proceeded,
tradition does not say; it simply records, that the bridal was broken,
but is silent upon the nature of the catastrophe. The legend is now
almost entirely forgotten in the neighbourhood where its events are said
to have taken place. “As far as I know,” says Mr. Allan, “it is confined
to one old man, named Malcolm Mac Nab, who lives upon the hill of
Barachastailan; he is between eighty and ninety years of age, and the
last of the race of ancient smiths, who remains in the place of his
ancestors. A few yards from his cottage there is the foundation of one
of those ancient circular forts built by the Celts, and so frequently to
be met in the Highlands: these structures are usually ascribed by the
vulgar to Fion and his heroes. In a neighbouring field, called ‘Larich
nam Fion,’ there were formerly two others of these buildings; their
walls of uncemented stone were not many years since entire, to the
height of eight or nine feet; but they have since been pulled down and
carried away to repair the neighbouring cottages: it is from these
buildings that the hill received its name of ‘Bar-a-chas-tailan,’ the
‘eminence of the castles.’”
The tide of centuries has rolled away
O’er Innishail’s solitary isle,
The wind of ages and the world’s decay
Has swept upon the Campbells’ fortress pile:
And far from what they were is changed the while
The monks’ grey cloister, and the baron’s keep.
I’ve seen the sun within the dungeon smile,
And in the bridal bower the ivy creep.
I’ve stood upon the fane’s foundation stone,
Heard the grass sigh upon the cloister’s heap,
And sat upon the holy cross o’erthrown,
And marked within the cell where warriors sleep,
Beneath the broad grey stone the timorous rabbit peep.
The legend of the dead is past away
As the dim eye amid the night doth fail.
The memorie of the fearful bridal day
Is parted from the people of the vale;
And none are left to tell the weary tale.
Save on yon lone green hill by Fion’s tower
Yet lives a man bowed down with age and ail:
Still tells he of the fearful legend’s hour--
It was his father fell within the bridal bower.
But though with man there is a weary waste.
It is not so beyond the mortal way;
With the unbodied spirits nought is spaced;
But when the aged world has worn away,
They look on earth where once their dwelling lay.
And to their never-closing eye doth show
All that has been--a fairie work of day;
And all which here their mortal life did show,
Yet lives in that which never may decay;
When thought, and life, and memorie below
Has sunk with all it bore of gladness or of woe.
At eventime on green Inchail’s isle
A dim grey form doth sit upon the hill:
No shadow casts it in the moonshine smile,
And in its folded mantle bowed and still
No feature e’er it showed the twilight chill,
But seems beneath its hood a void grey.
The owlet, when it comes, cries wild and shrill;
The moon grows dim when shows it in its ray,
None saw it e’er depart;--but it is not at day.
By Caölchairn at night when all is still,
And the black otter issues from his lair,
He hears a voice along the water chill,
It seems to speak amid the cloudy air;
But some have seen beyond the Donjon stair
Where now the floor from the wall is gone,
A form dim standing ’mid the ether fair,
No light upon its fixed eye there shone,
And yet the blood seems wet upon its bosom wan.
[226] Statistical Account, vol. viii. p. 347.
[227] Statistical Account of Scotland, vol. viii. p. 346; and
Pennant’s Tour in Scotland, 1774, p. 217.
[228] When the chieftain returned to his house, the coal which had so
near proved its destruction, was found in the roof; it was taken out
by order of Mac Intire, and preserved with great care by his
descendants, till the late Glen O was driven to America by the
misfortunes of the Highlands and the oppression of his superior.
* * * * *