The Cummings were always a turbulent and haughty race, who for many
generations inhabited the wilds of Strathspey and Badenoch. One of them
upon a time claimed the throne of Scotland; and the deceitful wretch,
who, after having entered into a mutual bond with Robert the Bruce
(the great deliverer of Scotland from English oppression and tyranny,
and who for ever established the independence of his country), for the
deliverance of their common country, betrayed him to Edward. Bruce,
however, managed to get away from the English court, and meeting the
deceitful Cumming in the church of the Grey Friars in Dumfries, on the
10th of February 1305, a warm altercation took place, in the course
of which Bruce charged the Comyn, as he was called, with treachery to
himself and his country. The Comyn returned an insulting answer, when
Bruce instantly stabbed him with his dagger on the steps of the high
altar. The Cummings and the Shaws were always at feud with each other,
the latter, being the weaker, at least in point of numbers, always
getting the worst of it; and on one occasion their chief was murdered
by their inveterate enemies and oppressors, the Cummings. A general
slaughter took place at this particular period; but Shaw’s only child,
a boy of only a few months old, escaped, he having fallen into the
hands of a devoted female dependent of the family, who, to secure him
from danger and to avoid the general carnage, made off across hills
and mountains, through moors and forests, to the residence of the
laird of Strathardale in the Highlands of Perthshire, whom she knew as
an old and trusted friend of her late chief. She arrived, after much
fatigue and many hardships, at the ‘Baron’s’ residence; informed him
of the cruel fate of her late master, and the flower of his clan; how
she escaped with her precious charge, and entreated Strathardale, for
the love he bore the late Rothiemurchus, and the long and intimate
friendship which had existed between them, to take charge of his
youthful son, and save him from the savage clutches of the Cummings.
Matters were soon arranged to the satisfaction of both parties, and
the faithful woman went home quite satisfied that the youth would be
well attended to, and brought up among Strathardale’s own children, as
befitted the rightful and youthful heir of Rothiemurchus.
She returned to her own country in due time, found all her old
acquaintances and friends slaughtered or trampled upon, and scourged by
the blood-thirsty and cruel Cummings; all the ancient possessions of the
Shaws ruled by and, apparently, in the everlasting possession of the
inveterate enemies of her kith and kin. Years and days passed away, and
those days and years added growth and vigour to the young heir, who,
until he attained to years of discretion, was carefully kept in the
dark as to the real and true nature of his birthright. When at last it
was revealed to him, his whole soul seemed to have been roused, and he
determined to spend his whole time and all the energies of his body and
mind to prepare and carry out a scheme for the recovery of his ancient
patrimony, to contest his claim with the proud and haughty house of
Cumming, and avenge the cruel murder of his father and kinsmen.
In due time young Shaw decided upon paying a visit to his native
district to ascertain the real state of matters, and if possible to
wrench from his enemies the heritage which they had so long and so
unjustly possessed. Arriving at Rothiemurchus, after a most perilous
journey and escorted by a strong body of followers, he lost no time in
calling upon his benefactor, Janet Shaw, whose history, antecedents,
and devoted conduct to himself in his early days he had learnt from his
Perthshire protector. He was directed to her lonely cottage, the door
of which he found strongly bolted from the inside. He at once announced
himself and begged to be admitted, but his voice was quite strange
to Janet’s ear. No amount of entreaty or persuasion would induce her
to unbolt the door until she had satisfactory proof that she was not
being deceived; for poor Janet had good reason to have little faith in
her surroundings. She could not bring herself to believe that her old
protégé could be so foolhardy as to appear in the district among the
sworn enemies of his race. Shaw, however, continued to insist upon his
individuality, and at last Janet told him to exhale his breath through
the keyhole and she would thus soon satisfy herself as to his identity.
Doubting this singular and delicate mode of recognition on the part of
Janet, Shaw requested one of his attendants to supply his place in the
first experiment. This done Janet at once firmly and sternly resented
the attempt made to deceive her by one who, she said, must be an
enemy trying to secure an entrance to her place of abode with no good
intention, and told him ‘Bi falbh, bi falbh, a chealgaire, cha’n eil
gaoth t’ainealach ach fuaraidh an aite anail mhilis, bhlasda leanaban
mo ghaoil’ (Be off, be off, deceitful wretch, the odour of your breath
is but cold in comparison with the sweet and savoury breath of my own
beloved child). Shaw could no longer trifle with the feelings of one
whom he discovered had still continued to take such an interest in him,
and he felt vexed that he had acted in, what might be construed by
Janet, such a heartless manner. He asked her to give him another chance
to meet her in her own way, explained the hoax to her, breathed through
the keyhole himself, satisfied the devoted Janet that he was really
‘her own beloved child,’ when, with an exclamation of joy, she unbolted
and threw open the door, warmly saluted and received him in her arms,
and bedewed him with tears of affection. For the moment his manhood
failed him, and the two wept—it is difficult to decide whether most
in consequence of the vivid recollections brought up of misfortune and
misery in the past, or from a spontaneous outburst of joy in meeting
one another in such peculiar circumstances, after such a long, and as
Janet believed, permanent separation.
Young Shaw, however, soon recovered himself, and after mutual
congratulations and various references and inquiries as to the past
lives and adventures of each other, he learnt from Janet that all the
male Cummings were away on a foraging expedition in the south, and that
they were expected to return with the creach on the following day. This
was considered a most favourable and opportune circumstance, and one
which must be taken advantage of without hesitation or delay. Shaw at
once decided to intercept them on their way home and extinguish them
root and branch or perish in the attempt. He and his trusted followers
passed a sleepless night in Janet’s cottage. To satisfy their hunger
she insisted upon having her only cow slaughtered at once. This was
done, and it was soon roasted before a blazing fire of peat and moss
fir. No effort was spared on Janet’s part to make them as comfortable
as possible, no doubt naturally feeling that if her favourite was
successful in his desperate enterprise she would be well provided for
during the remainder of her days.
The rest of the night was spent by Shaw and his plucky companions
sorting their arms and arranging their dispositions for the following
morning. They started before the break of day, and took a secluded
position on the Callort Hill, at the eastern extremity of Rothiemurchus,
situated between two roads leading from Strathspey. They exultingly
felt that they had the Cummings in the immediate grasp of their
inveterate vengeance, and sure of their ability to complete their utter
destruction and annihilation. Old Janet, who accompanied Shaw and his
friends, recommended this as the best and most convenient spot from
which to attack the enemy, as they were sure to return by that route,
and she was determined to take a part in the fortunes of war herself;
for, she said, if the day went against them, it was certain death for
her, whether she followed them and shared their danger or stopped at
home in her lonely cottage. She then ascended a neighbouring hill,
which commanded a good view of the two roads, by one of which the
Cummings must return. Janet was soon on the top, and after a period
of watchful suspense, descried the enemy slowly advancing straight
upon the very spot where Shaw and his followers lay in ambush. She
immediately gave the alarm by a pre-arranged signal, the watchword
being—‘Tha na gobhair anns a Challort’ (The goats are in the Callort).
Shaw and his companions immediately prepared for the mortal combat,
in which he was to secure the patrimony of his race or die in the
attempt. Like a horde of hungry wolves falling on their innocent and
defenceless prey, Shaw and his companions fell on the first batch of
their astonished and unprepared victims, and felled them to the ground
like mown grass. They were travelling in detached companies, each party
driving a separate lot of cattle lifted from the Southron, and as each
party came up, ignorant of the fate of the preceding one, they were
soon dispatched by the infuriated and successful Shaws; not a Cumming
was allowed to escape. They were all buried on the spot, which is to
this day called Lag-nan-Cuimeanach, or the Hollow of the Cummings.
‘The green grassy mounds which, after the lapse of centuries, overtop
the heather at this scene of blood-thirsty vengeance, mark the resting
place and commemorate the overthrow of one of the most savage races
that ever existed in the Highlands of Scotland.’
After this desperate and successful encounter with the Cummings
no serious difficulties presented themselves against Shaw taking
possession of the estate and property of his predecessors. His kinsmen
and friends, who so long writhed under the oppressive yoke of the
hated enemy, now rallied round their young and rightful chief with
alacrity and unmistakable signs of delight. It was not long, however,
before matters took another and an ugly turn. Shaw’s mother survived
the general massacre and ruin of the clan when the Cummings took
possession, and matters had so far prospered with her, still residing
in the district, that during the minority and absence of her son she
again entered the matrimonial state with a “Southron,” whose name was
Dallas. Young Shaw had so far condoned this step on his mother’s part,
considering the straitened circumstances in which she was left, that
he not only forgave her, but invited herself and her husband to reside
with him in his mansion of Doune. Matters continued pleasantly and
smoothly for a time, but, as usual in such cases, after a while some
disagreeable and discordant elements began to manifest themselves, and
the youth was too proud and haughty in spirit to conceal his increasing
ill-will and animosity towards his stepfather. On a certain occasion,
among a large company of their friends, this disagreeable feeling
found vent, when unpleasant remarks were given expression to on both
sides. Shaw looked daggers, but held his hand until on his way home,
at a lonely and secluded spot, he suddenly drew forth his dagger, and
with little or no preliminary ceremonial dispatched his stepfather
by stabbing him to the heart. The place is known to this day as
Lag-an-Dalaisich. Not satisfied with this brutal and murderous deed, he
severed the head from the body, and carrying the bloody trophy to his
mother, stuck on the point of his dagger, on arriving at home, he threw
it at her, tauntingly exclaiming, “There it is for you, take it, the
head of your blackguard and detested husband.”
The state of the poor woman’s feelings at the sight of such a horrid
spectacle, brought about by the hand of her own offspring, cannot be
described. She cursed him loudly for the unnatural part he had acted.
The keenest resentment was aroused in her breast, and she determined
to use every means in her power to have him punished for his cruel and
detestable conduct. She urged upon every one whom she could influence,
and who had any influence in the district, to stir up and rouse the
vigilance of the law, feeble as it then was in such an out-of-the-way
place. She unceasingly impressed upon everyone the detestable nature
and enormity of the crime her son had been guilty of, and the great
injustice he had inflicted upon herself. The result was that young Shaw
was soon proclaimed an outlaw, and his whole property, rights, and
possessions reverted to the Crown. He soon after died broken-hearted,
despised by friends and foes alike; and his heritage has continued
since to be the property of the ‘Lairds of Grant,’ who, for a mere
nominal sum, bought the forfeiture from the Crown.
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