Our friend Grant's sad story of John Macpherson of Invereshie and
his unhappy lady produced so powerful an effect on his auditors,
that we continued to walk on in silence for some time after he had
concluded, each of us musing after his own fashion. We had been
accidentally joined by a stranger, a stout made athletic little man,
in an old-fashioned rusty black coat and waistcoat, corduroy breeches,
and grey worsted stockings. In one hand he carried a good oaken
stick, and in the other a little bundle, tied up in a red cotton
handkerchief. This personage walked sturdily forth from a small
house of refreshment by the wayside a few minutes before our friend
had commenced his narrative; and we had been too much occupied with
our own conversation at the time of his appearance to notice him
further than by exchanging with him the customary "good day to you"
of salutation. But the stranger, having taken even this much as
a sufficient introduction among pedestrians travelling in the same
direction in so lonely a country as that we were then passing through,
ventured to continue to keep pace with us in such a way as to be
all the while within earshot of what was said. To the story of John
Macpherson he listened with most unremitting attention; and to our
no small surprise he was the first person to open his mouth to make a
comment upon it, now that it was ended. After taking a short trot of
several yards, to bring himself abreast of our friend the narrator, and
at the same time taking off a very well worn hat with an air of marked
respect towards him whom he was addressing, he spoke as follows:--
Stranger.--Might I be so bold, sir, as to offer a few remarks,
critical, historical, and explanatory on the fragment of Macpherson
history which you have just finished rehearsing?
Grant (somewhat surprised).--Certainly, sir; I shall be very glad to
hear them.
Stranger (with a grave and solemn air).--Why, then, courteous sir,
whilst I am altogether wishful to render unto your tale every such
praise as may be justly found to be due to it as the produce of
one remarkable for that sort of inventive genius which caused Homer
to contrive so pretty a story out of the bare facks of the Trojan
War, and which enabled Virgil to interest us so much with that long
tale which he tells, by exaggerating those few dry adventures which
befell the Pious Æneas as he fled from Troy to found a new kingdom
in Italy, yet must I honestly admit that I cannot compliment the
historical fragment which you have given furth to your friends for
being parteeklarly verawcious.
Clifford.--Bravo! Well done, old fellow. Ha! ha! ha! You beat
Touchstone all to sticks. Never heard the lie more ingeniously given
in my life.
Stranger (with great earnestness, and very much abashed).--Howt no,
sir. Upon my solemn credit, I meant no such-an-a-thing. I only meant to
convey to this gentleman, and that with all due respect and courtesy,
my humble opinion, that in a grave piece of history, having reference
to a brave and honourable Highland clan, the true yevents should
be closer stuck to than it may be necessar to do where the subject
matter is nothing better than such dubious and unimportant trash as
that which the auncient Greek and Latin poets had to deal with.
Grant (a little nettled).--And what reason have you to suppose that
this is not the true and authentic statement of the facts of John
Macpherson's history as they really occurred? I gave them as I got
them from another. You do not suppose that I altered or invented them?
Stranger (with an obsequious inclination of his body).--Howt away,
no, no. No such-an-a-thing. If you got them from another I have no
manner of doot but you have rehearsed them simply as ye had them,
without adding, or eiking, or paring, or changing one whit. But,
nevertheless, the real facks have been sorely and most grievously
tampered with by some one.
Grant.--Indeed. And how came you to know anything about this Macpherson
story? and what is your authority for saying that the facts have been
tampered with?
Stranger (with oracular gravity).--Firstly, or, in the first place,
I beg to premeese, that I am a schoolmaster; and therefore it is that
I am greatly given to accurate and parteeklar inquiry. Secondly, or,
in the second place, having daily practeesed myself into a habit of
correcting the errors of my scholars, it is not very easy for me to
pass silently by the blunders of other folk. And, thirdly, or, in
the third place, and to conclude, I am a Macpherson myself; and as
it is natural that I should on that account be all the more earnest
and punctilious in expiscating the facks connected with the history
of that great clan, so is it also to be presumed that I may have had
greater opportunity for conducking such an investigation. And so,
having premeesed this much, I may add, by way of an impruvment on
the subject, that I shall be just as well pleased to correct your
version of this history as I should be to correct the theme of any
of my own boys.
Grant (smiling).--I am truly obliged to you for this gratuitous offer
of your tuition.
Stranger (whom I shall now call Dominie Macpherson).--Not in the
very least obliged to me, sir. The greatest pleasure of my life is
to instruct the ignorant; and in yespecial I deem it a vurra high
honour and delight to me to have this opportunity of instructing such
a gentleman as you. Proud truly may I be of my scholar.
Clifford (with mock gravity).--The master and the scholar, methinks,
are quite worthy of each other.
Dominie (with a bow to the speaker).--I am greatly obligated to you for
the compliment, sir (then turning to Grant with a more confident and
self-satisfied air than he had hitherto ventured to assume).--Firstly,
or in the first place, then, sir, you must be pleased to know that
John Macpherson of Invereshie did not espoose a south country woman;
for his wife was a Shaw of Dalnabhert, on Spey-side there. Secondly,
or in the second place, the leddy never had any such extraordinar
fascination over him as you have described her to have; for she
was in reality so ill-natured a woman, that she and her goodman
were continually discording and squabbling together. In the third
place, or, as I should say, thirdly,--and it being one of the few
conditions in which your tale in some sort agrees with the true
history,--she was undoottedly so great a spendthrift, that many was
the bitter quarrel that arose 'twixt her goodman and her, because
of her extravagances. But, fourthly, or in the fourth place, the
worthy John Macpherson did not throw the lady into the Feshie; and
this is a fack which I would in yespecial crave you to correct in any
future edition, seeing that it brings an evil and scandalous report
upon the said John, and would seem to smell of murder, when the true
parteeklars of the history, known to me from the time I was a babe,
are as follows, to wit:--It happened one day that the dispute between
them ran to a higher pitch than common, and the lady left the house
with the intention of fleeing to her father at Dalnabhert. There was
neither bridge nor boat upon Feshie at that same time; but the woman
was so demented with rage that she plunged into the water with the
determination of wading through. Well, she had not gone three steps
into the ford when she was carried off her legs entirely; but her
body being buoyed up by reason of her petticoats, of which it is said
that she was used to wear not less than four (my grandmother, honest
woman, did the same), she floated down the stream into the deep water,
until being brought by the swirl of an eddy near to a jutting out rock,
she caught at a twig or branch that grew near the edge, and held by it
like grim death. And here I must admit that, fifthly, or in the fifth
place, Macpherson did of a surety apply the edge of his skian dhu to
the bit twiggy she had a grip of. But, then, most people charitably
believe that it was nothing else but pure courtesy that induced him
to do so to the lady; for, as appearances most naturally caused him
to believe that she had taken to the water with the full intent of
making away with herself by drowning, he thought that the least that
he as her husband could in common civility do, was to render to her
what small help he could towards the effecting of her purpose. And
then, as to his parting with her in these memorable words--which, to
the great edification of all the wives of Badenoch, have since become
a proverb in that country, to wit, "you have already taken much from
me, you may take that with you too," it must strike you as being most
evident, gentlemen, that if Macpherson was to part with his lady at
all, he could not have parted with her in terms more truly obliging,
or with words more generously liberal. But the most extraordinary
and most important deviation from fack, of which the author of your
romance has been guilty, yet remains to be noticed; for, in the sixth
place, or sixthly, Macpherson, who seems in the whole matter to have
had no other intention than that his lady should get a good dookie
(as we say, Scottice) in the Feshie, whereby to extinguish the fire
of her rage, did not only most gallantly jump into the water to try
to save her life, but he actually did save it, or at least the lady's
life was saved somehow or other, seeing that she was afterwards the
mother of Æneas Macpherson of Invereshie, the direct ancestor of the
present worthy Laird of Invereshie and Ballindalloch.
The modest yet dignified air of triumph which the schoolmaster
gradually assumed, as he thus went on unfolding fact after fact, and
which was considerably augmented as he approached the conclusion of
this his critical oration, very much amused us all.
Grant (with an assumed gravity).--I see that I have not only to do
with a gentleman of liberal classical acquirement, with one, too, who,
blessed with great acumen, has made the art of criticism an especial
study, but with a person who is also great as an authority touching
the particular historical point which is now in question. And yet,
daring as it may be in one of my inexperience to enter the arena with
an opponent so powerful, I may perhaps be permitted to observe, in
defence of that version of this piece of history of which I have been
possessed, that the apparent discrepancy between it and that which
you are disposed to consider as the true statement, is, in truth,
little or nothing in importance, and may, after all, be very easily
reconciled. For, if we attend to the circumstances, we shall find,
firstly, or in the first place, that there is nothing before us that
may render it impossible for us to believe that Miss Shaw of Dalnabhert
might not have received a boarding school education at Edinburgh, as
many young ladies of Badenoch unquestionably do, yea, and an education,
too, which might have well enough fitted her to have mingled in the
gaieties of a court. Secondly, or in the second place, as to the
discordings which you say took place between her and her husband, I
think you must do me the justice to recollect that these were alluded
to in my narrative, though they were delicately touched on, as you
will allow that all such family quarrels should be. But even if you
do not admit the propriety of this, you must at least grant that if
I fell into an error at all in this respect, it was less an error of
fact than of deeree. In the third place, or thirdly, the evidence of
both authorities is agreed as to the fact of the lady's extravagance,
as well as in the important circumstance that her extravagance was
the cause which ultimately led the parties to the brink of the river
Feshie. Fourthly, or in the fourth place, the conflicting statements
in the two several reports regarding the mode in which the lady first
got into the water will appear to be of little or no moment when we
give to them a due consideration. We are nowhere informed that any
one was present but Macpherson and his wife; and when we reflect
that these two individuals must have been at the time in a state of
excitement and agitation so very great as altogether to deprive them
of the power of judging distinctly of anything, it would be quite
vain for us to look to either of them for any accurate statement as
to how the matter occurred. All accounts, however, are agreed as to
the use made by Macpherson of the skian dhu. As to your sixthly, or
in the sixth place, I think you will be disposed candidly to admit,
that as my informant saw fit to carry his narrative only to a certain
point of time, so as to break off at the black cloud and the despair,
it is not only perfectly possible, but extremely probable, that he
meant to tell, in his second chapter, of the happy recovery of the
lady from the waters of the Feshie,--of the perfect reconcilement of
the pair,--of her reformation in all respects,--of the retrenchment
of her expenditure,--of the disappearance of all dandies with plumed
hats and piked shoes,--of the happy birth of the young Æneas,--and
of his merry christening, with many other matters which the historian
has now left us darkly to guess at.
The astonished critic was utterly confounded by our friend's reply, so
solemnly and seriously uttered as it was; and after one or two "hums"
and "has!" and a "very true!" or two, he fell back some footsteps in
rear of us; and notwithstanding divers malicious attempts made on the
part of Clifford to bring him once more into the fight, he relapsed
into an humble and attentive listener.
Author.--Your tale, Grant, brings to my recollection a circumstance
which, as tradition tells us, happened after the celebrated Raid
of Killychrist.
Grant.--I am not aware that I ever heard of the Raid of Killychrist,
celebrated though you call it.
Author.--I believe the outline of the story of that raid has been given
somewhere or other in print by a literary friend of mine, though, to
tell you the truth, I have never as yet had the good fortune to see
it. But I will cheerfully give you my edition of it, such as it is,
if you are willing to listen to it.
Clifford.--But stop for one moment; and, ere you begin your story,
tell me, if you can, what that strange scarecrow looking figure is,
which we see standing in yonder green marshy islet near the edge of
the small lake immediately before us?
Author.--That figure has excited much speculation. It for some time
greatly puzzled myself. I passed by this way more than once in the
belief, from the cursory view I had of it, that it was a solitary
heron. But my curiosity was excited at last, by observing that it
was invariably and immovably in the same spot in the islet, whilst
I discovered to my no small wonder, that the islet itself was never
found by me twice successively in the same part of the little lake,
being sometimes stationed in the middle of it and at other times
somewhere towards either end, or near to either of the sides.
Clifford.--Come, come! ha! ha! ha! you are coming magic over us
now. You don't expect that we are to believe any such crammer as this!
Author.--I assure you that what I state is strictly and literally true,
though I must admit that you have some reason for doubt until you have
a further explanation; and I am glad that I have it in my power to give
it to you as it was given to myself by an intelligent man who lives
in this neighbourhood. What you see is in reality a floating island.
Clifford.--A floating island! I know that you Scots are said to be
fond of migration; but I had no idea that any part of your soil was
in the habit of making voyages either for profit or pleasure.
Author.--Nay, nor does a Scot himself often move from any station
where he finds himself comfortable, except it may be for the purpose
of migrating into some other which may hold out yet greater advantages
than that which he possesses. But this whimsical islet shifts its
position without reason, exactly like an idle Englishman, who,
without any fixed object, moves from one spot of Europe to another,
he cannot himself tell why, and merely as the breezes of caprice may
blow him about.
Grant.--A Roland for your Oliver, Master Clifford! But (addressing
Author) tell us how you account for this strange phenomenon?
Author.--The mass, as you see, is not very large. Its extent is only
a few yards each way. It is composed of a light, fibrous, peaty soil,
which was probably originally torn from its connecting foundation
by the influx of some sudden flood, aided by a contemporaneous and
tempestuous wind. Being once fairly turned adrift in the lake,
we can easily conceive that its specific gravity must have been
every succeeding day lessened by the growth of the matted roots of
the numerous aquatic plants that grew on it, till it rose more and
more out of the water, and became at length so very buoyant as to be
transported about by every change of the wind.
Clifford.--Bravo! You have lectured to us like a geologist; and I must
confess, with as much show of reason in your theory as those of many
of these antediluvian philosophers can pretend to. But you have yet
to play the part of the zoologist, and to give us some account of that
strange animal, human being or beast, alive or stuffed, as it may be,
that so strangely stands sentry yonder in the midst of it. One might
almost fancy it to be one of Macbeth's weird sisters.
Grant.--It has indeed a most uncouth and ghostly appearance when seen
at this distance. It looks so much like some withered human figure,
where we cannot easily reconcile it to reason that any human figure
could possibly be.
Author.--Yes; and when we think what its effect must be when it is
seen by a stranger, sailing slowly over the surface of the little
lake, impelled by a whistling wind, at that hour when spirits of all
kinds are supposed to have power to burst their cerements, when the
moon may give sufficient light to display enough of its wasted and
wizard looking form to beget fearful conceptions, without affording
such an illumination as might be sufficient to explain its nature,
we may easily believe that many are the rustic hearts that sink
with dread, and many are the clodpate heads of hair that bristle up
"like quills upon the fretful porcupine," whilst whips and spurs are
employed with all manner of good will on the unfortunate hides of
such unlucky animals as may chance to be carrying lated travellers
past this enchanted lake towards their distant place of repose.
Clifford.--I can well enough conceive all this. But you have yet to
tell us what the figure really is.
Author.--Notwithstanding its imposing appearance, it is nothing more,
after all, than a figure made of rushes and rags carelessly tied
about a pole by some of the simple shepherds of these wilds. It is
comparatively of recent creation; but I understand that the islet is by
no means of modern origin, though I am led to believe that, like other
more extensive pieces of earth, it has undergone many changes since its
first creation. It must have been liable to be increased and diminished
by various natural causes at different periods of its history.
Dominie Macpherson (half advancing into the group, with a chastened
air, and more obsequious inclination of his body than he had ever
yet used.)--If I may make so bold as to put in my word--ha--hum. If
I might be permitted to make so bold as to speak, I can assure you,
gentlemen, that the bit island yonder has long existed. I have known
these parts for many a long year; and I can testify to the fack,
from my own observation, added to and eiked out by that of men who
were old when I was born. Superstitious people call it the witches'
island, and believe that the weird sisterhood hold it under their
yespecial control and governance.
Clifford.--Much better sailing in it than in a sieve. But have
you gathered none of the adventures of the Beldams to whom you say
it belongs?
Dominie.--God forbid, sir, that I should say it belongs to such uncanny
people! But truly there is a very strange story connected with it.
Clifford.--A story, Mr. Macpherson, pray let's have your story
without delay, if you please, that we may forthwith judge whether
you are to rank higher in the world of letters as an historian or as
a critic. "Perge Domine!"
Grant.--You will gratify us much, sir.
Dominie.--I shall willingly try my hand, sir; and if you find not
the sweetness of Homer or Maro in my narrative, at least you shall
be sure of that accuracy as to fack which so much distinguished the
elegant author of the Commentaries.
Clifford (with mock gravity).--Doth the narrative touch your own
adventures, my friend? Are you, like Cæsar, the historian of your
own deeds?
Dominie.--Not so, sir; but I had all the facks from my father,
who knew the hero and heroine, and all the persons whose names are
mentioned in it.
Clifford.--Ha! you have a hero, then, and a heroine too? Why that,
methinks, looks somewhat more like romance than history.
Grant (smiling).--Be quiet, Clifford! You forget that you are all this
while keeping us from our story. Pray, sir, have the goodness to begin.
The schoolmaster bowed; and taking a central place in the line of
march, he proceeded with his narrative in language so mingled with
quaint and original expressions, that I cannot hope, and therefore
do not always pretend, to render it with the same raciness with which
it was uttered.