ABERUCHAIL.
Prior to the great Rising of the Clans in 1715, Rob Roy was engaged
as usual in several small skirmishes and frays, in which his skill
and strategy as a leader were prominent; and he gained yet more the
reputation of being the protector of the poor against the rich, and
of the defenceless against those who would oppress them.
In spite of the Duke of Montrose, he had re-established himself again
at Craigrostan, from whence he never went abroad attended by less
than twenty or thirty well-armed men, including his henchman and
Greumoch.
These were his _Leine Chrios_, or body-guard.
Some of the Grahames of Montrose, and others who were obnoxious to
himself or to the cause of the exiled king, he confined occasionally
in a place which is still named Rob Roy's prison.
This is a mural rock, the eyry of the osprey or water-eagle, which
rises to the height of thirty feet on the north-eastern shore of Loch
Lomond, about four miles from Kowardennan.
Slung by ropes, he occasionally lowered them from the summit, and
after permitting them to swing in mid-air for a time, would give them
a severe ducking in the loch below and compel them to shout--
"God save King James VIII."
They were then permitted to depart amid the laughter of his
followers; and it must be borne in mind that this was very gentle
treatment when compared with that to which the MacGregors were
subjected when captured by the same people.
As the old Highland proprietors or heads of septs held their lands in
virtue of an occupancy coeval with the first settlement of the tribes
in Scotland, and consequently disdained to hold possession by virtue
of a skeepskin rather than by their sword-blades, in later years, a
system of suppressing the smaller lairds by force of arms had long
been pursued with success by the house of Argyle in the west.
A powerful landowner of that name, who had recently been created a
baronet, seized at the point of the sword a small estate in
Glendochart, and expelled the proprietor with all his family and
kindred.
MacGregor, who could not permit an act of such injustice to pass
unpunished, sent Greumoch with forty men to the Braes of Glenorchy,
with orders to "bring this oppressor of the poor a prisoner before
him."
It was in the sweet season of spring, when the lapwing came to the
bowers of silver birch and the green plover winged its way over the
purple heather, when the MacGregors departed on this expedition; and
being aware of the place and time when their prey would probably
pass, they concealed themselves among the bleak granite rocks of Ben
Cruachin, a vast mountain, the red furrowed sides of which--furrowed
by a thousand water-courses--rise above Loch Awe, and terminate in a
sharp cone.
Here stood the wall of a ruined chapel, founded of old by a MacGregor
chief, and through it a well, deemed holy, flowed into a stone basin,
under an old yew-tree. To the stem was chained an iron ladle, by
which the thirsty pilgrim or wayfarer might drink, and at the bottom
of the basin lay little copper Scottish coins which had been dropped
therein as offerings, while knots of ribbons, rags, and trifles
decorated the boughs of the aged yew.
"A place of good omen!" said Greumoch, looking around him; "for here
it was that Clan Alpine won the lands of Glenorchy, when there were
no paper courts in Dunedin, or redcoats in Dumbarton."
It chanced that on a day in summer, King David I., of Scotland, was
hunting with Malcolm MacGregor, the eighth chief of Clan Alpine, on
the side of Cruachin, when a wild boar, of marvellous strength, size,
and ferocity, appeared in a rugged defile. It at once assailed the
monarch, whose hunting-spear broke and left him at its mercy; but
instead of rushing forward, the boar retired to whet its tusks
against the rocks, so Malcolm craved the king's permission to attack
it.
"E'en do," said the king; "but spaire nocht!"
"_Eadhon dean agus na caomhain!_" shouted MacGregor, translating the
king's lowland Scottish into Gaelic, as he tore up a young tree by
the roots, and kept the boar at bay until he could close with it and
bury his long dagger in its throat. At the third stab he slew it.
To reward his courage, David granted him the lands of Glenorchy, and,
in remembrance of the day, added to his arms _argent_, an oak-tree
uprooted _vert_, across a claymore _azure_, which every MacGregor may
bear to this day.
But now the Campbells were lords of Glenorchy, and just as Greumoch
had ended this legend of the clan, which no doubt all his hearers
knew before, the great personage they were in search of rode into the
defile, when he was surrounded, and his retainers were scattered in a
moment.
On finding himself a prisoner, and knowing well to whom, the baronet
proposed a ransom; but bribes were offered and threats uttered in
vain to Greumoch, who ordered the prisoner to be tied up in a long
plaid, which was slung over the shoulders of Alaster Roy and another
tall gilly; and thus by turns, with two bearers at a time, he was
conveyed for about fourteen miles to a place called Tyndrum, where he
was brought before Rob Roy.
This village is at the head of Strathfillan in Breadalbane, on the
western military road.
Rob upbraided the prisoner with his cruelty and oppression, and
threatened to toss him over the rock into Loch Lomond, with a stone
in his plaid, if he did not restore the lands in Glendochart to their
original owner.
Paper was produced, a document was drawn up and signed, by the tenor
of which he and his heirs renounced them formally and for ever.
He now hoped to be allowed to depart; but there arose a cry of,--
"To the well! to the well! give him a dip in the Holy Pool of St.
Fillan!"
It was Paul Crubach who spoke.
"Be it so," said Rob; "if the water has not lost its virtue, a dip
therein may improve the Campbell's spirit of honour, and prevent him
from robbing the poor again."
In spite of his earnest entreaties, the MacGregors bore their
prisoner, who feared they were about to drown him, to the well of St.
Fillan. The whole population of the village followed, and lame Paul
hobbled in front, chuckling and laughing, while his eyes flashed with
insane delight, his long grizzled hair streaming in elf-locks on the
wind, as with one hand he brandished his wooden cross, and with the
other tolled vehemently the ancient bell of St. Fillan, which in
those days always stood upon a gravestone in the churchyard.
After permitting his men to duck the prisoner soundly, Rob procured a
horse, and sent him homeward with a safe escort under his son Coll;
but though these indignities were too great to be forgotten, in
followers Rob was too strong now to be captured, even by the
Campbells of Argyle.
For the forthcoming revolt money was requisite, and Campbell of
Aberuchail, taking advantage of Rob Roy's outlawry, had long withheld
his tribute of black-mail, so, before returning to Craigrostan, our
hero resolved on levying it, and marching from Tyndrum at the head of
his followers, appeared before the mansion of Aberuchail, the
proprietors of which had been baronets since 1627.
Having heard that the MacGregors had been seen in motion in the
neighbourhood, all the cattle had been hastily collected in a dense
herd within the outer walls of Aberuchail tower, around which there
grew a fine wood of oak-trees that for ages had cast their shadows on
the Ruchail, which means the _red-stream_.
A strong gate, loopholed for musketry, and surmounted by a coat of
arms with the motto, _Victoriam coronat Christus_, was closed and
secured as the MacGregors approached, and all was still within, save
the lowing and bellowing of the cattle, so closely penned within the
barbican.
Rob Roy thundered with his sword-hilt on the outer gate, in which an
eyelet-hole was opened, and thereat the porter's face appeared, with
an expression of anxiety and alarm, which was no way lessened when he
found himself front to front with the keen eyes, the ruddy beard, and
sunburned visage of the Red MacGregor, whom he knew instinctively.
"Is the laird at home?" asked the resolute visitor.
"Yes," stammered the gate-ward.
"Why does he not come in person when he knows who are here?" was the
haughty query.
"He is at dinner."
"What! Is this Highland manners, to close your gates at meal-time,
when other men open theirs wide, that all men may enter? Is this the
way your master rewards those who protect him from thieving MacNabs
and broken men of the Lennox?"
"Sir James Livingstone, Sir Humphrey of Luss, and several gentlemen
are at dinner with him, and I dare not disturb them," urged the
porter, whose orders were to keep out Rob at all hazards.
"Gentlemen!" repeated Rob. "Whigs, probably, plotting treason
against King James. Tell your master that the Red MacGregor of
Inversnaid is here, without, where it is not his wont to be kept,
awaiting his arrears of black-mail, and that he shall see him, even
if the King of Scotland and the Hanoverian Elector, too, were at
table with him!"
After a time, the gate-ward returned, trembling, to say that "his
master knew no such persons as either the King, the Elector, or the
Laird of Inversnaid."
"By the grave of Cior Mhor, Aberuchail shall repent of this false
whiggery!" exclaimed Rob, as he took a horn from his belt, and blew a
blast so loud and shrill that the whole house and the woods around it
rang with echoes.
Then anew the cattle bellowed, and the porter shut the eyelet-hole
and fled, lest he might be pistolled.
Four pipers now struck up the "Battle of Glenfruin;" the MacGregors
uttered a shout, and assailing the gate soon forced it; for the
_clach neart_--the putting-stone of strength--which lay beside it,
was dashed like a cannon-ball upon its planks by the most powerful of
the band, till the barrier crumbled to pieces before them; after
which they proceeded with drawn swords to goad and drive off the
cattle.
On this, the baronet of Aberuchail came hastily to the door of the
tower, and taking Rob Roy by the hand, made many apologies for what
he alleged to be the stupidity of the porter, and led his unwelcome
visitor into the house, where, however, neither Livingstone nor Luss
appeared.
Then he handed him the "black-mail," for which MacGregor gave his
receipt; they drank a bottle of claret together, and separated, to
all appearance, good friends. The cattle were all left in the parks,
and the MacGregors marched back to Craigrostan.
But does it not seem strange that when Pope was writing at
Twickenham, when Addison and Steele were contributing to the
_Spectator_, and when Betterton was acting at Old Drury Lane, this
wild work was being done among the Highland hills?