500 guineas, and, after fatiguing marches, reached Loch Arkaig. On the
shores of the remote and lonely loch our Colonel met, and recognised,
his gigantic kinsman, the truculent Col of Barisdale. Col said that
Lochiel and Murray of Broughton were at Achnacarry; he himself and
Lochgarry were mustering men, ‘to try what terms could be got from the
Duke of Cumberland.’ This must have been on May 14. At Achnacarry the
wounded Lochiel received our hero kindly, and Mr. Murray of Broughton
took charge of the remaining 500 guineas and the letter from the Duke
of York to the Prince. Lest any one should think that the Colonel is
romancing, there exists documentary evidence to corroborate his tale. The
unhappy Murray of Broughton, in his accounts of the Prince’s money after
Culloden, writes: ‘From a French officer who had landed upon the East
Coast, £1,000. N.B.—This French officer was charged with 2,000 guineas,
but said he had 1,000 taken from him as he passed through the Mackenzies’
country, and gave in an account of deductions from the other thousand.’
Murray adds that he has charged himself with 1.000_l._, ‘tho’ he still
thinks he did not receive quite so much.’ He must have received the
500_l._ (perhaps in _louis d’or_, which he reckons as guineas), and some
loose cash. Murray was writing from memory, so was Colonel Macdonell.
Murray calls him a French officer, and really he was in French service.
There cannot have been two such officers who, at the same time, were
robbed of 1,000_l._ by the Mackenzies, and reported the loss just after
Culloden.[110]
Macdonell slept at Achnacarry and was wakened by the pipes playing _Cogga
na si_. News had just arrived of an attempted surprise by Cumberland,
whose forces were actually in sight; Barisdale was accused of having
concerted the surprise, but the story is improbable. Eight hundred
Camerons and Macdonalds now retreated by the west end of Loch Arkaig, and
our hero, with Captain Lynch, made for Knoydart. Lynch later returned
to French service, carrying Macdonell’s report to the Duke of York, and
soon fell at the battle of Lafeldt, where the Scots and Irish nearly
captured Cumberland. As for Macdonell, ‘I had put on a resolution,’ he
says, ‘never to leave Scotland while Prince Charles was in the country.’
The death of Macdonell’s father, and the infirmity of old Scottos, also
made his presence at home necessary to his family. So, he says, ‘I waved
the sure prospect I had of advancing myself both to riches and honour,’
in the service of Spain.
Knoydart, during the winter of 1746-47, must have been in a state of
anarchy. Old Glengarry, accused by Barisdale, was a prisoner in Edinburgh
Castle; Young Glengarry was in the Tower. Col Barisdale and his son were
captives in France, on a charge of treason to King James. Lochgarry had
fled to France with the Prince. Old Scottos was decrepit. No rents were
paid; the lands had been wasted by the English; clansmen were seizing
farms at will.[111] In these melancholy circumstances our Colonel marched
alone into the Mackenzie country, to hunt for the money stolen by Colin
Dearg. Then this odd adventure befell him:—
‘I went to take a solitary turn and met a well-dressed man in Highland
clothes also taking the morning air. After civil salutations to each
other, I entered into discourse with him about former transactions in
that country. He of himself began to tell me about French officers
that came to Lochbroom—how the 1,000 guineas had been cut out of one of
their portmanteaus by Colin Dearg, Major Wm. McKenzie of Kilcoy,[112]
and Lieutenant Murdoch McKenzie from Dingwall—all officers of Lord
Cromartie’s regiment, being all equally concerned; and how not only those
who acted the scene, but all the people in that part of the country, had
been despised and ridiculed for their mean and dastardly behaviour; but
that had his (McKenzie’s, who was speaking to me) advice been taken,
there should never have been a word about the matter. The following
dialogue then ensued:—_Question._ “And pray, Sir, what did you advise?”
_Answer._ “To cut off both their heads, a very sure way indeed!” _Q._
“What were they, or of what country?” _A._ “The oldest, and a stout-like
man, was Irish. The youngest was very strong-like, was a Macdonell of the
family of Glengarry.” _Q._ “How was the money divided?” _A._ “Colin Dearg
got 300 guineas, William Kilcoy got 300 guineas, and Lieutenant Murdoch
McKenzie got 300 guineas.” _Q._ “What became of the other hundred?” _A._
“Two men who stood behind the Irish Captain with drawn dirks ready to
kill him, had he observed Colin Dearg cutting open the portmanteau, got
25 guineas each; and I and another man, prepared in like manner for the
young Captain Macdonell, got 25 guineas each.” _Q._ “You tell the truth,
you are sure?” _A._ “As I shall answer, I do.” _Q._ “Do you know to
whom you are speaking?” _A._ “To a friend and one of my own name.” “No,
you d—d rascal,” seizing him suddenly by the breast with my left hand,
at the same instant twitching out my dirk with the right, and throwing
him upon his back, “_I am that very Macdonell_.” I own I was within an
ace of running him through the heart, but some sudden reflection struck
me—my being alone, and in a place where I was in a manner a stranger,
among people which I had reason to distrust, I left the fellow upon his
back, and re-entered the house (Torridon) in some hurry. My landlord,
Mr. McKenzie of Torridon, met me in the entry, asked where I had been.
I answered, “Taking a turn.” “Have you met anything to vex you?” “No,”
I returned smiling. “Sir,” says he, “I ask pardon, you went out with an
innocent and harmless countenance, and you came in with a fierceness in
your aspect past all description.” “Mr. McKenzie,” said I, “none of your
scrutinizing remarks; let us have our morning!” “With all my heart,” he
replied. Soon after, being a little composed, I related to him my morning
adventure. He remarked that the man was a stranger to him, and had been a
soldier in Lord Cromartie’s regiment. That very day I quitted that part
of the country and returned home, where I continued sometime.’
The _some time_ must cover the years from 1747 to the autumn of 1749. Old
Glengarry was released at that date from Edinburgh Castle. To him, at
Invergarry, Colonel John told the story of his wrongs, and from his chief
he obtained an escort of five men. With these at his heels, he marched
to Dundonell, and told Mr. Mackenzie that he desired a meeting with
Colin Dearg. Colin came, but his escort consisted of some thirty-five
men armed with dirks and clubs. The Colonel, however, was determined to
beard his enemy, and devised the following tactics. He himself would sit
between Colin Dearg and Dundonell: two of his five men would slip out
and guard the door with drawn swords; meanwhile the Colonel would insult
the Mackenzies. If they raised a hand he would pistol Colin and dirk
his host, Dundonell; his three retainers would fire the house, and the
Macdonells would escape in the confusion or perish with their foes. It
was a very pretty sketch for a _camisado_.
‘After a short pause Dundonell mentioned the cause of our present meeting
_in as becoming a manner as the subject would admit of_; to which an
evasive answer was returned by his uncle, Colin Dearg, pretending to deny
the fact. I then took him up, and proved that he himself was the very
man who with his own hands had taken the gold out of my portmanteau,
after cutting it open with some sharp instrument. This I said openly in
the hearing of all present. To which I got no other reply than that “the
money was gone and could not be accounted for.” I returned that “If the
cash was squandered the reward due to such actions was yet extant”—and
being asked what that was, I answered, “The gallows.” At this expression
the whole got up standing, and seeing them all looking towards me, I drew
my dirk and side pistol, and presenting one to my right and the other
to my left, swore that if any motion was made against my life, I would
despatch Dundonell and his uncle, who seeing me ready to put my threat
in execution, begged of their people for the love of God to be quiet,
which was directly obeyed. In the meantime my men had taken immediate
possession of the outside of the door and were prepared to act according
to my orders. I called to them to stay where they were, but none of the
people in the house knew what they had gone out for.’
The money was gone, no man dared to touch our hero, and he and Dundonell
went peacefully home together! Our hero had dominated and insulted the
Mackenzies and was obliged to be satisfied with that result.
In the following years (1751-54) Knoydart and Lochaber were perfectly
demoralised. The hidden treasure of Loch Arkaig had set Macdonalds
against Camerons; cousins were betraying cousins, and brothers were
blackmailing brothers. The details (much veiled in this work) are to be
found in the Duke of Cumberland’s MSS. at Windsor Castle. The murder of
Campbell of Glenure by Allan Breck, or by Sergeant Mohr Cameron, and the
reports of Pickle, James Mohr, and a set of other spies, had alarmed
the Government with fears of a rising aided by Prussia. Consequently
arrests were frequent and no man knew whom he could trust. Col of
Barisdale, a double-dyed traitor, was dead in gaol, but his eldest son
was being hunted on island, loch, and mountain. Now in a letter from an
English officer, Captain Izard, dated September 30, 1751, and preserved
at Windsor, he says: ‘Dr. Macdonald, living at Kylles, and brother of
Glengarry, told that young Barisdale lay at his house the Monday before
and proposed going to the Isle of Skye.’
The giver of this information was not a man in whom to confide. Our hero,
however, confided. Disguised as a rough serving-man he went fishing for
lythe with ‘my relation, Dr. Macdonell of Kylles, an eminent physician.’
An English vessel, the _Porcupine_, under the notorious Captain
Fergusson, came in sight. Dr. Macdonell insisted on taking our hero on
board her, and there, as he sat over his punch, informed the English
officers that the servant who accompanied him was a gentleman. Fergusson
arrested Macdonell at once on suspicion of being young Barisdale, and
he lay for some time a prisoner in Fort William. Now the Doctor may
only have blabbed in his cups, but, taken with Captain Izard’s report,
his behaviour looks very odd. Our hero, however, does not suspect his
relation, the Doctor, but denounces his cousin, Captain Allan Macdonald
of Knock, in Sleat, as his betrayer, and ‘the greatest spy and informer
in all Scotland.’ However it be, the betrayal of Colonel John was
apparently a family affair.
A long list of charges, doubtless of Jacobite dealings, was brought
against him, and a midshipman on the _Porcupine_ assured him that Allan
Macdonald of Knock was the informer. So the Colonel was locked up in Fort
William, then, or just before, crowded with prisoners, such as Lochiel’s
uncle Fassifern, his agent, Charles Stuart, Barisdale’s second son, and
Cameron of Glenevis, with his brother Angus. The date must have been June
or July, 1753, for young Barisdale was taken in July, and the Colonel
was then a prisoner. Young Barisdale just escaped hanging; Fassifern was
exiled; Stuart was accused of the Appin murder; Sergeant Mohr Cameron
was betrayed and executed; the traitors were clansmen of the victims,
and, though our Colonel says nothing of all this, the facts gave him
good cause for anxiety. It is fair to add that no mention of his enemy,
Macdonald of Knock, seems to occur in the Cumberland Papers, where so
many spies hide their infamy.
Our hero escaped by aid of Mr. Macleod of Ulnish, sheriff-depute of Skye,
‘being both my friend and relation as well as the friend of justice.’
This gentleman suppressed the only good evidence against the Colonel,
which indeed merely proved his wearing the proscribed kilt. After nine
months of gaol the Colonel was released and seized the first opportunity
to challenge Knock, who would not face him.
So ends the Colonel’s adventure. ‘I was then in love with your mother,’
he says simply, and on this head he says no more. He had ‘kept the bird
in his bosom,’ a treasure lost by many of his kin, and among them,
one fears, by Allan of Knock. A certain Ranald Macdonell of [_in_]
Scammadale and Crowlin, who, born about 1724, married in May 1815,
and died in November of the same year, aged ninety, is said to have
‘severely punished that obnoxious person known as Allan of Knock, over
whose remains there was placed an inscription not less fulsome than
false.’[113] Allan, whether he betrayed the Colonel or not, has obviously
a bad name in Knoydart.
The Colonel lived happily on his property till 1773, when he settled in
Schoharie County, New York. When the American rebellion broke out he
served in the King’s Royal Regiment of New York, and, after the final
collapse of the British, he retired to Cornwall in Ontario. As General
Macdonnell wrote of him in 1746, ‘He has always behaved as an honourable
gentleman and a brave officer, irreproachable in every respect.’
X
THE LAST YEARS OF GLENGARRY
Readers who have followed the adventures of Pickle the Spy may care to
know what were the later fortunes of his inseparable companion, Young
Glengarry. These fortunes were not answerable to the expectations of
the Chief. The death of Henry Pelham, in March 1754, blighted, as we
shall learn, the hopes which Glengarry, like Pickle, had founded on the
promises of the Prime Minister, and left him a debtor to Government
for claims on his lands. That Young Glengarry, on reaching his estates
in November 1754, behaved with oppressive dishonesty to his smaller
wadsetters, men holding portions of his land in pawn, we learn from the
report of Colonel Trapaud, who, for some sixty years, was Governor of
Fort Augustus. Early in 1755, we find Glengarry at Inverness, where he
signs a tack, or lease, on January 24. A copy of an undated letter from
Pickle represents Glengarry as ‘making a grand tour round several parts
of the Highlands, and having concourse of people from several clans
to wait of him.’ Glengarry himself speaks, in a letter to be quoted,
about such a gathering. In 1755, we find General Bland objecting to
Glengarry’s journeyings (when Pickle went to London), and on May 18,
1757, Captain John Macdonnell, of General Frazer’s regiment, departing
for America, makes Glengarry his ‘factor and attorney,’ also his executor
and general legatee.[114] This Captain Macdonnell was the younger
Lochgarry, who accompanied Pickle in Edinburgh, in September 1754. ‘I
hope, in case of accident, you’ll take care of Young Lochgary,’ writes
Pickle.[115] Captain Macdonnell was later Colonel of the 76th, says
General Stewart, and a previous owner of my copy of the General’s book
notes in the margin that ‘he was wounded on the Heights of Abraham.’
Critics who think that Glengarry was personated by Pickle will observe
that Young Lochgarry knew both gentlemen and could not be deceived. He
was Pickle’s companion in Edinburgh when Pickle had just lost his father,
a Highland chief. In 1757 he makes Glengarry (who had suffered a similar
bereavement at the same time as Pickle), his factor and legatee. There
is, of course, no reason to suppose that Young Lochgarry had ever heard
of such a mysterious personage as Pickle.
We know nothing else of Glengarry’s life from 1755 to 1757, when his
manuscript letter book throws a melancholy light on his closing years.
There is a draft of a letter of 1757 and several drafts of 1758-1759,
in a stitched folio wherein he entered the _brouillons_ of his
correspondence, not always in his own hand. On April 28, 1757, he wrote
from London, probably from his rooms in Beaufort Buildings, Strand. He
writes to his Edinburgh agent, Mr. Orme, W.S., on a variety of business.
His action in settling his estates was much impeded by the retention of
his charters and family papers by Sir Everard Falkner (or Faulkner), an
English officer. ‘I have prevailed,’ he says, ‘upon Mr. Brado, how (who)
is a principal man amongst the Jewes, to endeavour to recover my charters
from Sir Everard.’ He expects to redeem all the wadsets on his lands, and
to compound for a few of the most pressing of his father’s debts. But
he must have been disappointed, for on his death, in 1761, more of his
estate was in the hands of wadsetters than in his own. He must, however,
have secured proof of ‘my propinquity to those of my predecessors left
infeft,’ for he was formally inducted into his property before an
Inverness jury in 1758. He mentions that, when he left Scotland, ‘the
appearance of a famine threatened then the whole north,’ and ‘his friends
were buying meal in Buchan.’ A wet summer and autumn always meant dearth
in the Highlands. He alludes to some military oppression of one of his
retainers: ‘the attempt is so flagrant that it would not pass unpunished
amongst the hotentots.’ An unfinished draft appears to be addressed to
General Frazer, son of Old Lovat. With him (if it is Frazer) he wants ‘to
settle family differences _à l’aimable_.’ His correspondent is leaving
Scotland after recruiting.
In June 1758, Glengarry was in correspondence with persons concerned
in the affairs of his sister-in-law, widow of his brother Æneas,
accidentally shot at Falkirk, in 1746. Æneas must have married very
young: he was not twenty when he died, but he left a son and a daughter.
For some unknown reason Glengarry was on ill terms with his brother’s
widow, as will appear, and she would not permit her children to visit
their uncle. To this business the following letter refers:
‘_To Rory McLeod._
‘(Dated Greenfield, 22nd June, 1758.)
‘Dear Sir,—I am favour’d with yours by the last post, and am
not a little surprized to understand by it that Mr Robison
should have wrott either to Mr Drummond or you that I intended
to dispose of my nephew contrar to the present system of moral
education, all I said to Mr Robison that if I sent him abroad
I could have him educated for nothing, but that I did not
myself aprove of this frugall method, but that I would advise
with Mr Drummond how to Dispose of him when I would be at
Edinburgh, that if he inclin’d a military life, I might have
interest to get him a pair of Colours, but then I would insist
the best _moitié_ of his patrimony should be assigned to his
sister, but that what I inclined he should follow was the
law, if he had genius for that profession, and that in that
case if Mr Drummond aprovd of it, I would send him for the
sake of the language to some country schooll in England. This
was all that passed upon honour, and Desired to send over the
boy that I might make him acquaint in the country, and should
only Detain him two months, I had a Double view in this as I
had the countrey about that time all convened, it would have
been fifty pounds in his way, and this I told Mr Robison; and
at the same time, as the lassie had no English, I would Keep
her all winter with my sister so that in spring she might be
presentable, when I would send her for a little time to my
sister’s Dr Chisolme at Inverness. Mr. Robison approved of all
this, particularly of the lassy’s coming, and, that he might
not be blamed for retaining them, sent them to their Mother’s,
where the Girle has ever been, and laid the whole blame to
her charge. I have still Mr Robison’s letter, but he has his
views which I am resolved to frustrate.... I will shew you my
brother’s discharge to my father, and I have living witnesses
that delivered him Cattle in payment of interest, and part
principall, and as one of them is his father’s brother, how
would go all lengths for him, that there can be no objection to
his evidence as Discharges have been burned or Destroyed after
the Castle was blown up....
‘Your affect. Cousine and humble servant,
‘MACKDONELL.’
Burt says that ‘to have the English’ was the mark, among the Highlanders,
of a gentleman’s children. Glengarry’s niece had as yet no English; her
education had doubtless been neglected in the distresses consequent on
the Rising. Probably, too, her mother was poor, her husband’s portion
having been partly paid in cattle. These very cattle may have been among
the 20,000 plundered by Cumberland’s men after Culloden, as a volunteer
writes in his little book of ‘A Journey with the Army into Scotland’
(1747).
In a letter to Mr. Orme, of unknown date, Glengarry says that his
sister-in-law ‘is infamous.’ On the same affair of the nephew he writes
again:—
[No date.]
‘Sir,—I have been frequently since my father’s death abused
in the good opinion conceived in former days of those that
ought and were generally believed steadfast friends to this
familly, but I must confess I least of all expected it from any
of yours, and least of all from yourself personally. I had a
letter lately from Robison of Ballnicaird acquainting me that
Provost Drummond and you, despairing of the amicable agreement
twixt my nephew and me, intended to push matters to the utmost,
this was strange proceedings, without ever acquainting me, and
in any event a strange procedure between me and my nephew when
the opinion of any one or two eminent in the law might in a few
moments decide the whole without further expences, and when
they come to the age to judge for themselves I believe they
will be little oblidged to their present directors, Mr Drummond
only excepted. I sent for my nephew and niece, their not
arriving is laid to your advice, tho up to that time I little
believed it, and from that Instant foresaw Mr Robison and their
infamous mother’s drift. As Mr Drummond is so very good as take
the trouble to look after any so very near connections, least
by others’ drift he should be Deceived, I must act the needful
to have a near relation of the father’s side subjoined with
him to take care of the whole, and their Education, and bring
their Mother and Mr Robison to account for their intermissions
with his effects and moveables, most of which he received as
payment, and at his Death were very considerable, there are
still living witnesses that can prove this, and I have which
I believe may be in my Agent’s custody, his discharge or Bond
for 6000 merks, pay’d by his father of his bond of patrimony.
Should this stand in law, as it ought in equity, and Justice,
I will refer any differences of this kind to any named by Mr
Drummond, and another by me.
‘... Acquaintance, friendship, and blood connection might
expect a friendly demand, not by a Sheriff Officier.
‘But as the world has taken a turn, and that men of business
are not to mind such punctilios, I have nothing to say but
that I hope it may not be long when a blood relation and
connection with this family may be claimed both as an honour
and protection, it was so formerly, and may be still the same.’
(He adds that he wishes proceedings stayed still he comes to
Edinburgh, and refers to his ‘late violent indisposition.’)
‘Your sincere friend and affect. Cousine.’
This undated letter is probably of 1758, though early in 1759 Glengarry
had another very severe illness, from which it may be doubted if he ever
entirely recovered. He writes to Mr. Orme, ‘I am drinking goat-whey and
milk, that is my diet.... I shall be soon upon my leggs, and see you
soon.’
The following is an important letter, undated in the draft, to the Chief
of the Macleods:—
[Undated. Really of June 21, 1758.
‘Dear Macleod,—I thought to have had the pleasure some months
ago of drinking a glass with you at White House. But a Severe
fitt of sickness of which I am now getting the better prevented
me. I have settled my affairs in the country as well as my
present situation and the circumstances of my tenants could
admitt, but as their whole [property] was once destroyed, and
that they have not recovered yet quite in their stock I was
oblidged to give them a longer delay than I expected.’
He therefore asks Macleod to ‘go conjunct with me in security for
borrowing 400_l._’—an invitation which Macleod declined. If Macleod will
not help him, ‘I cannot be active in making aplication to be discharged
of the claims the Government has against my estate, _which I was once
made sure of, but that vanished with those then at the helme_.’
Such a promise, broken on the change of the hand at the helm, is several
times referred to—by Pickle. He writes to the Duke of Newcastle, ‘he
bitterly complains that nothing has been done for him, of what was
promis’d him in the strongest terms, and which he believes had been
strickly performed had your most worthy Brother (Henry Pelham) his great
friend and Patron, survived till now.’[116]