Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
A LEGEND OF MONTROSE
by
Sir Walter Scott
CONTENTS.
I. Introduction to A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.
II. Introduction (Supplement). Sergeant More M'Alpin.
III. Main text of A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.
IV. Appendix No. I Clan Alpin's Vow.
No. II The Children of the Mist.
V. Notes Note I Fides et Fiducia sunt relativa.
Note II Wraiths.
Note: Footnotes in the printed book have been inserted in the
etext in square brackets ("[]") close to the place where
they were referenced by a suffix in the original text.
I. INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.
The Legend of Montrose was written chiefly with a view to place before
the reader the melancholy fate of John Lord Kilpont, eldest son of
William Earl of Airth and Menteith, and the singular circumstances
attending the birth and history of James Stewart of Ardvoirlich, by
whose hand the unfortunate nobleman fell.
Our subject leads us to talk of deadly feuds, and we must begin with
one still more ancient than that to which our story relates. During
the reign of James IV., a great feud between the powerful families
of Drummond and Murray divided Perthshire. The former, being the most
numerous and powerful, cooped up eight score of the Murrays in the kirk
of Monivaird, and set fire to it. The wives and the children of the
ill-fated men, who had also found shelter in the church, perished by the
same conflagration. One man, named David Murray, escaped by the humanity
of one of the Drummonds, who received him in his arms as he leaped from
amongst the flames. As King James IV. ruled with more activity than most
of his predecessors, this cruel deed was severely revenged, and several
of the perpetrators were beheaded at Stirling. In consequence of the
prosecution against his clan, the Drummond by whose assistance David
Murray had escaped, fled to Ireland, until, by means of the person whose
life he had saved, he was permitted to return to Scotland, where he and
his descendants were distinguished by the name of Drummond-Eirinich, or
Ernoch, that is, Drummond of Ireland; and the same title was bestowed on
their estate.
The Drummond-ernoch of James the Sixth's time was a king's forester in
the forest of Glenartney, and chanced to be employed there in search of
venison about the year 1588, or early in 1589. This forest was adjacent
to the chief haunts of the MacGregors, or a particular race of them,
known by the title of MacEagh, or Children of the Mist. They considered
the forester's hunting in their vicinity as an aggression, or perhaps
they had him at feud, for the apprehension or slaughter of some of their
own name, or for some similar reason. This tribe of MacGregors were
outlawed and persecuted, as the reader may see in the Introduction to
ROB ROY; and every man's hand being against them, their hand was of
course directed against every man. In short, they surprised and slew
Drummond-ernoch, cut off his head, and carried it with them, wrapt in
the corner of one of their plaids.
In the full exultation of vengeance, they stopped at the house of
Ardvoirlich and demanded refreshment, which the lady, a sister of the
murdered Drummond-ernoch (her husband being absent), was afraid or
unwilling to refuse. She caused bread and cheese to be placed before
them, and gave directions for more substantial refreshments to be
prepared. While she was absent with this hospitable intention, the
barbarians placed the head of her brother on the table, filling the
mouth with bread and cheese, and bidding him eat, for many a merry meal
he had eaten in that house.
The poor woman returning, and beholding this dreadful sight, shrieked
aloud, and fled into the woods, where, as described in the romance,
she roamed a raving maniac, and for some time secreted herself from all
living society. Some remaining instinctive feeling brought her at length
to steal a glance from a distance at the maidens while they milked the
cows, which being observed, her husband, Ardvoirlich, had her conveyed
back to her home, and detained her there till she gave birth to a child,
of whom she had been pregnant; after which she was observed gradually to
recover her mental faculties.
Meanwhile the outlaws had carried to the utmost their insults against
the regal authority, which indeed, as exercised, they had little reason
for respecting. They bore the same bloody trophy, which they had so
savagely exhibited to the lady of Ardvoirlich, into the old church of
Balquidder, nearly in the centre of their country, where the Laird of
MacGregor and all his clan being convened for the purpose, laid their
hands successively on the dead man's head, and swore, in heathenish
and barbarous manner, to defend the author of the deed. This fierce and
vindictive combination gave the author's late and lamented friend,
Sir Alexander Boswell, Bart., subject for a spirited poem, entitled
"Clan-Alpin's Vow," which was printed, but not, I believe, published, in
1811 [See Appendix No. I].
The fact is ascertained by a proclamation from the Privy Council, dated
4th February, 1589, directing letters of fire and sword against the
MacGregors [See Appendix No. II]. This fearful commission was executed
with uncommon fury. The late excellent John Buchanan of Cambusmore
showed the author some correspondence between his ancestor, the Laird of
Buchanan, and Lord Drummond, about sweeping certain valleys with their
followers, on a fixed time and rendezvous, and "taking sweet revenge for
the death of their cousin, Drummond-ernoch." In spite of all, however,
that could be done, the devoted tribe of MacGregor still bred up
survivors to sustain and to inflict new cruelties and injuries.
[I embrace the opportunity given me by a second mention of this tribe,
to notice an error, which imputes to an individual named Ciar Mohr
MacGregor, the slaughter of the students at the battle of Glenfruin.
I am informed from the authority of John Gregorson, Esq., that the
chieftain so named was dead nearly a century before the battle
in question, and could not, therefore, have done the cruel action
mentioned. The mistake does not rest with me, as I disclaimed being
responsible for the tradition while I quoted it, but with vulgar fame,
which is always disposed to ascribe remarkable actions to a remarkable
name. - See the erroneous passage, ROB ROY, Introduction; and so soft
sleep the offended phantom of Dugald Ciar Mohr.
It is with mingled pleasure and shame that I record the more important
error, of having announced as deceased my learned acquaintance, the Rev.
Dr. Grahame, minister of Aberfoil. - See ROB ROY, p.360. I cannot now
recollect the precise ground of my depriving my learned and excellent
friend of his existence, unless, like Mr. Kirke, his predecessor in the
parish, the excellent Doctor had made a short trip to Fairyland, with
whose wonders he is so well acquainted. But however I may have been
misled, my regret is most sincere for having spread such a rumour; and
no one can be more gratified than I that the report, however I have been
induced to credit and give it currency, is a false one, and that Dr.
Grahame is still the living pastor of Aberfoil, for the delight and
instruction of his brother antiquaries.]
Meanwhile Young James Stewart of Ardvoirlich grew up to manhood
uncommonly tall, strong, and active, with such power in the grasp of his
hand in particular, as could force the blood from beneath the nails of
the persons who contended with him in this feat of strength. His temper
was moody, fierce, and irascible; yet he must have had some ostensible
good qualities, as he was greatly beloved by Lord Kilpont, the eldest
son of the Earl of Airth and Menteith.
This gallant young nobleman joined Montrose in the setting up his
standard in 1644, just before the decisive battle at Tippermuir, on the
1st September in that year. At that time, Stewart of Ardvoirlich shared
the confidence of the young Lord by day, and his bed by night, when,
about four or five days after the battle, Ardvoirlich, either from a fit
of sudden fury or deep malice long entertained against his unsuspecting
friend, stabbed Lord Kilpont to the heart, and escaped from the camp of
Montrose, having killed a sentinel who attempted to detain him. Bishop
Guthrie gives us a reason for this villainous action, that Lord Kilpont
had rejected with abhorrence a proposal of Ardvoirlich to assassinate
Montrose. But it does not appear that there is any authority for this
charge, which rests on mere suspicion. Ardvoirlich, the assassin,
certainly did fly to the Covenanters, and was employed and promoted by
them. He obtained a pardon for the slaughter of Lord Kilpont, confirmed
by Parliament in 1634, and was made Major of Argyle's regiment in 1648.
Such are the facts of the tale here given as a Legend of Montrose's
wars. The reader will find they are considerably altered in the
fictitious narrative.
The author has endeavoured to enliven the tragedy of the tale by the
introduction of a personage proper to the time and country. In this
he has been held by excellent judges to have been in some degree
successful. The contempt of commerce entertained by young men having
some pretence to gentility, the poverty of the country of Scotland, the
national disposition to wandering and to adventure, all conduced to lead
the Scots abroad into the military service of countries which were at
war with each other. They were distinguished on the Continent by
their bravery; but in adopting the trade of mercenary soldiers, they
necessarily injured their national character. The tincture of learning,
which most of them possessed, degenerated into pedantry; their good
breeding became mere ceremonial; their fear of dishonour no longer kept
them aloof from that which was really unworthy, but was made to depend
on certain punctilious observances totally apart from that which was
in itself deserving of praise. A cavalier of honour, in search of his
fortune, might, for example, change his service as he would his shirt,
fight, like the doughty Captain Dalgetty, in one cause after another,
without regard to the justice of the quarrel, and might plunder the
peasantry subjected to him by the fate of war with the most unrelenting
rapacity; but he must beware how he sustained the slightest reproach,
even from a clergyman, if it had regard to neglect on the score of duty.
The following occurrence will prove the truth of what I mean: -
"Here I must not forget the memory of one preacher, Master William
Forbesse, a preacher for souldiers, yea, and a captaine in neede
to leade souldiers on a good occasion, being full of courage, with
discretion and good conduct, beyond some captaines I have knowne, that
were not so capable as he. At this time he not onely prayed for us, but
went on with us, to remarke, as I thinke, men's carriage; and having
found a sergeant neglecting his dutie and his honour at such a time
(whose name I will not expresse), having chidden him, did promise to
reveale him unto me, as he did after their service. The sergeant being
called before me, and accused, did deny his accusation, alleaging, if he
were no pasteur that had alleaged it, he would not lie under the injury,
The preacher offered to fight with him, [in proof] that it was truth
he had spoken of him; whereupon I cashiered the sergeant, and gave his
place to a worthier, called Mungo Gray, a gentleman of good worth,
and of much courage. The sergeant being cashiered, never called Master
William to account, for which he was evill thought of; so that he
retired home, and quit the warres."
The above quotation is taken from a work which the author repeatedly
consulted while composing the following sheets, and which is in great
measure written in the humour of Captain Dugald Dalgetty. It bears the
following formidable title: - "MONRO his Expedition with the worthy
Scots Regiment, called MacKeye's Regiment, levied in August 1626, by Sir
Donald MacKeye Lord Rees Colonel, for his Majestie's service of Denmark,
and reduced after the battle of Nerling, in September 1634, at Wormes,
in the Palz: Discharged in several duties and observations of service,
first, under the magnanimous King of Denmark, during his wars against
the Empire; afterwards under the invincible King of Sweden, during
his Majestie's lifetime; and since under the Director-General, the
Rex-Chancellor Oxensterne, and his Generals: collected and gathered
together, at spare hours, by Colonel Robert Monro, as First Lieutenant
under the said Regiment, to the noble and worthy Captain Thomas
MacKenzie of Kildon, brother to the noble Lord, the Lord Earl of
Seaforth, for the use of all noble Cavaliers favouring the laudable
profession of arms. To which is annexed, the Abridgement of Exercise,
and divers Practical Observations for the Younger Officer, his
consideration. Ending with the Soldier's Meditations on going on
Service." - London, 1637.
Another worthy of the same school, and nearly the same views of the
military character, is Sir James Turner, a soldier of fortune, who
rose to considerable rank in the reign of Charles II., had a command in
Galloway and Dumfries-shire, for the suppression of conventicles, and
was made prisoner by the insurgent Covenanters in that rising which
was followed by the battle of Pentland. Sir James is a person even
of superior pretensions to Lieutenant-Colonel Monro, having written
a Military Treatise on the Pike-Exercise, called "Pallas Armata."
Moreover, he was educated at Glasgow College, though he escaped to
become an Ensign in the German wars, instead of taking his degree of
Master of Arts at that learned seminary.
In latter times, he was author of several discourses on historical and
literary subjects, from which the Bannatyne Club have extracted and
printed such passages as concern his Life and Times, under the title
of SIR JAMES TURNER'S MEMOIRS. From this curious book I extract the
following passage, as an example of how Captain Dalgetty might have
recorded such an incident had he kept a journal, or, to give it a more
just character, it is such as the genius of De Foe would have devised,
to give the minute and distinguishing features of truth to a fictitious
narrative: -
"Heere I will set doun ane accident befell me; for thogh it was not
a very strange one, yet it was a very od one in all its parts. My tuo
brigads lay in a village within halfe a mile of Applebie; my own quarter
was in a gentleman's house, ho was a Ritmaster, and at that time with
Sir Marmaduke; his wife keepd her chamber readie to be brought to bed.
The castle being over, and Lambert farre enough, I resolved to goe to
bed everie night, haveing had fatigue enough before. 'The first night
I sleepd well enough; and riseing nixt morning, I misd one linnen
stockine, one halfe silke one, and one boothose, the accoustrement under
a boote for one leg; neither could they be found for any search. Being
provided of more of the same kind, I made myselfe reddie, and rode to
the head-quarters. At my returne, I could heare no news of my stockins.
That night I went to bed, and nixt morning found myselfe just so used;
missing the three stockins for one leg onlie, the other three being left
intire as they were the day before. A narrower search then the first
was made, bot without successe. I had yet in reserve one paire of whole
stockings, and a paire of boothose, greater then the former. These I put
on my legs. The third morning I found the same usage, the stockins for
one leg onlie left me. It was time for me then, and my servants too, to
imagine it must be rats that had shard my stockins so inequallie with
me; and this the mistress of the house knew well enough, but would not
tell it me. The roome, which was a low parlour, being well searched with
candles, the top of my great boothose was found at a hole, in which
they had drawne all the rest. I went abroad and ordered the boards to be
raised, to see how the rats had disposed of my moveables. The mistress
sent a servant of her oune to be present at this action, which she knew
concerned her. One board being bot a litle opend, a litle boy of mine
thrust in his hand, and fetchd with him foure and tuentie old peeces of
gold, and one angell. The servant of the house affirmed it appertained
to his mistres. The boy bringing the gold to me, I went immediatlie to
the gentlewomans chamber, and told her, it was probable Lambert haveing
quarterd in that house, as indeed he had, some of his servants might
have hid that gold; and if so, it was lawfullie mine; bot if she could
make it appeare it belongd to her, I should immediatlie give it her. The
poore gentlewoman told me with many teares, that her husband being none
of the frugallest men (and indeed he was a spendthrift), she had hid
that gold without his, knowledge, to make use of it as she had occasion,
especiallie when she lay in; and conjured me, as I lovd the King (for
whom her husband and she had suffered much), not to detaine her gold.
She said, if there was either more or lesse then foure and tuentie whole
peeces, and two halfe ones, it sould be none of hers; and that they were
put by her in a red velvet purse. After I had given her assureance of
her gold, a new search is made, the other angell is found, the velvet
purse all gnawd in bits, as my stockins were, and the gold instantlie
restord to the gentlewoman. I have often heard that the eating or
gnawing of cloths by rats is ominous, and portends some mischance
to fall on those to whom the cloths belong. I thank God I was never
addicted to such divinations, or heeded them. It is true, that more
misfortunes then one fell on me shortlie after; bot I am sure I could
have better forseene them myselfe then rats or any such vermine, and yet
did it not. I have heard indeed many fine stories told of rats, how they
abandon houses and ships, when the first are to be burnt and the second
dround. Naturalists say they are very sagacious creatures, and I beleeve
they are so; bot I shall never be of the opinion they can forsee future
contingencies, which I suppose the divell himselfe can neither forknow
nor fortell; these being things which the Almightie hath keepd hidden
in the bosome of his divine prescience. And whither the great God hath
preordained or predestinated these things, which to us are contingent,
to fall out by ane uncontrollable and unavoidable necessitie, is a
question not yet decided." [SIR JAMES TURNER'S MEMOIRS, Bannatyne
edition, p. 59.]
In quoting these ancient authorities, I must not forget the more modern
sketch of a Scottish soldier of the old fashion, by a masterhand, in
the character of Lesmahagow, since the existence of that doughty
Captain alone must deprive the present author of all claim to absolute
originality. Still Dalgetty, as the production of his own fancy, has
been so far a favourite with its parent, that he has fallen into the
error of assigning to the Captain too prominent a part in the story.
This is the opinion of a critic who encamps on the highest pinnacles of
literature; and the author is so far fortunate in having incurred his
censure, that it gives his modesty a decent apology for quoting the
praise, which it would have ill-befited him to bring forward in an
unmingled state. The passage occurs in the EDINBURGH REVIEW, No. 55,
containing a criticism on IVANHOE: -
"There is too much, perhaps, of Dalgetty, - or, rather, he engrosses
too great a proportion of the work, - for, in himself, we think he is
uniformly entertaining; - and the author has nowhere shown more affinity
to that matchless spirit who could bring out his Falstaffs and his
Pistols, in act after act, and play after play, and exercise them every
time with scenes of unbounded loquacity, without either exhausting their
humour, or varying a note from its characteristic tone, than in his
large and reiterated specimens of the eloquence of the redoubted
Ritt-master. The general idea of the character is familiar to our comic
dramatists after the Restoration - and may be said in some measure to
be compounded of Captain Fluellen and Bobadil; - but the
ludicrous combination of the SOLDADO with the Divinity student of
Mareschal-College, is entirely original; and the mixture of talent,
selfishness, courage, coarseness, and conceit, was never so happily
exemplified. Numerous as his speeches are, there is not one that is not
characteristic - and, to our taste, divertingly ludicrous."
POSTSCRIPT.
While these pages were passing through the press, the author received
a letter from the present Robert Stewart of Ardvoirlich, favouring him
with the account of the unhappy slaughter of Lord Kilpont, differing
from, and more probable than, that given by Bishop Wishart, whose
narrative infers either insanity or the blackest treachery on the part
of James Stewart of Ardvoirlich, the ancestor of the present family of
that name. It is but fair to give the entire communication as received
from my respected correspondent, which is more minute than the histories
of the period.
"Although I have not the honour of being personally known to you, I hope
you will excuse the liberty I now take, in addressing you on the subject
of a transaction more than once alluded to by you, in which an ancestor
of mine was unhappily concerned. I allude to the slaughter of Lord
Kilpont, son of the Earl of Airth and Monteith, in 1644, by James
Stewart of Ardvoirlich. As the cause of this unhappy event, and the
quarrel which led to it, have never been correctly stated in any history
of the period in which it took place, I am induced, in consequence of
your having, in the second series of your admirable Tales on the History
of Scotland, adopted Wishart's version of the transaction, and being
aware that your having done so will stamp it with an authenticity which
it does not merit, and with a view, as far as possible, to do justice to
the memory of my unfortunate ancestor, to send you the account of this
affair as it has been handed down in the family.
"James Stewart of Ardvoirlich, who lived in the early part of the 17th
century, and who was the unlucky cause of the slaughter of Lord Kilpont,
as before mentioned, was appointed to the command of one of several
independent companies raised in the Highlands at the commencement of
the troubles in the reign of Charles I.; another of these companies was
under the command of Lord Kilpont, and a strong intimacy, strengthened
by a distant relationship, subsisted between them. When Montrose raised
the royal standard, Ardvoirlich was one of the first to declare for him,
and is said to have been a principal means of bringing over Lord Kilpont
to the same cause; and they accordingly, along with Sir John Drummond
and their respective followers, joined Montrose, as recorded by Wishart,
at Buchanty. While they served together, so strong was their intimacy,
that they lived and slept in the same tent.
"In the meantime, Montrose had been joined by the Irish under the
command of Alexander Macdonald; these, on their march to join Montrose,
had committed some excesses on lands belonging to Ardvoirlich, which
lay in the line of their march from the west coast. Of this Ardvoirlich
complained to Montrose, who, probably wishing as much as possible to
conciliate his new allies, treated it in rather an evasive manner.
Ardvoirlich, who was a man of violent passions, having failed to receive
such satisfaction as he required, challenged Macdonald to single combat.
Before they met, however, Montrose, on the information and by advice,
as it is said, of Kilpont, laid them both under arrest. Montrose, seeing
the evils of such a feud at such a critical time, effected a sort of
reconciliation between them, and forced them to shake hands in his
presence; when, it was said, that Ardvoirlich, who was a very powerful
man, took such a hold of Macdonald's hand as to make the blood start
from his fingers. Still, it would appear, Ardvoirlich was by no means
reconciled.
"A few days after the battle of Tippermuir, when Montrose with his
army was encamped at Collace, an entertainment was given by him to his
officers, in honour of the victory he had obtained, and Kilpont and
his comrade Ardvoirlich were of the party. After returning to their
quarters, Ardvoirlich, who seemed still to brood over his quarrel with
Macdonald, and being heated with drink, began to blame Lord Kilpont
for the part he had taken in preventing his obtaining redress, and
reflecting against Montrose for not allowing him what he considered
proper reparation. Kilpont of course defended the conduct of himself
and his relative Montrose, till their argument came to high words; and
finally, from the state they were both in, by an easy transition, to
blows, when Ardvoirlich, with his dirk, struck Kilpont dead on the
spot. He immediately fled, and under the cover of a thick mist escaped
pursuit, leaving his eldest son Henry, who had been mortally wounded at
Tippermuir, on his deathbed.
"His followers immediately withdrew from Montrose, and no course
remained for him but to throw himself into the arms of the opposite
faction, by whom he was well received. His name is frequently mentioned
in Leslie's campaigns, and on more than one occasion he is mentioned as
having afforded protection to several of his former friends through his
interest with Leslie, when the King's cause became desperate.
"The foregoing account of this unfortunate transaction, I am well aware,
differs materially from the account given by Wishart, who alleges that
Stewart had laid a plot for the assassination of Montrose, and that he
murdered Lord Kilpont in consequence of his refusal to participate in
his design. Now, I may be allowed to remark, that besides Wishart having
always been regarded as a partial historian, and very questionable
authority on any subject connected with the motives or conduct of those
who differed from him in opinion, that even had Stewart formed such a
design, Kilpont, from his name and connexions, was likely to be the
very last man of whom Stewart would choose to make a confidant and
accomplice. On the other hand, the above account, though never, that I
am aware, before hinted at, has been a constant tradition in the family;
and, from the comparative recent date of the transaction, and the
sources from which the tradition has been derived, I have no reason to
doubt its perfect authenticity. It was most circumstantially detailed as
above, given to my father, Mr. Stewart, now of Ardvoirlich, many years
ago, by a man nearly connected with the family, who lived to the age of
100. This man was a great-grandson of James Stewart, by a natural son
John, of whom many stories are still current in this country, under his
appellation of JOHN DHU MHOR. This John was with his father at the time,
and of course was a witness of the whole transaction; he lived till
a considerable time after the Revolution, and it was from him that
my father's informant, who was a man before his grandfather, John dhu
Mhor's death, received the information as above stated.
"I have many apologies to offer for trespassing so long on your
patience; but I felt a natural desire, if possible, to correct what I
conceive to be a groundless imputation on the memory of my ancestor,
before it shall come to be considered as a matter of History. That he
was a man of violent passions and singular temper, I do not pretend to
deny, as many traditions still current in this country amply verify;
but that he was capable of forming a design to assassinate Montrose, the
whole tenor of his former conduct and principles contradict. That he was
obliged to join the opposite party, was merely a matter of safety, while
Kilpont had so many powerful friends and connexions able and ready to
avenge his death.
"I have only to add, that you have my full permission to make what use
of this communication you please, and either to reject it altogether, or
allow it such credit as you think it deserves; and I shall be ready at
all times to furnish you with any further information on this subject
which you may require, and which it may be in my power to afford.
"ARDVOIRLICH, 15TH JANUARY, 1830."
The publication of a statement so particular, and probably so correct,
is a debt due to the memory of James Stewart; the victim, it would
seem, of his own violent passions, but perhaps incapable of an act of
premeditated treachery.
ABBOTSFORD, 1ST AUGUST, 1830.
II. INTRODUCTION (Supplement).
Sergeant More M'Alpin was, during his residence among us, one of the
most honoured inhabitants of Gandercleugh. No one thought of disputing
his title to the great leathern chair on the "cosiest side of the
chimney," in the common room of the Wallace Arms, on a Saturday evening.
No less would our sexton, John Duirward, have held it an unlicensed
intrusion, to suffer any one to induct himself into the corner of
the left-hand pew nearest to the pulpit, which the Sergeant regularly
occupied on Sundays. There he sat, his blue invalid uniform brushed
with the most scrupulous accuracy. Two medals of merit displayed at his
button-hole, as well as the empty sleeve which should have been occupied
by his right arm, bore evidence of his hard and honourable service.
His weatherbeaten features, his grey hair tied in a thin queue in the
military fashion of former days, and the right side of his head a little
turned up, the better to catch the sound of the clergyman's voice, were
all marks of his profession and infirmities. Beside him sat his sister
Janet, a little neat old woman, with a Highland curch and tartan plaid,
watching the very looks of her brother, to her the greatest man upon
earth, and actively looking out for him, in his silver-clasped Bible,
the texts which the minister quoted or expounded.
I believe it was the respect that was universally paid to this worthy
veteran by all ranks in Gandercleugh which induced him to choose
our village for his residence, for such was by no means his original
intention.
He had risen to the rank of sergeant-major of artillery, by hard service
in various quarters of the world, and was reckoned one of the most tried
and trusty men of the Scotch Train. A ball, which shattered his arm in
a peninsular campaign, at length procured him an honourable discharge.
with an allowance from Chelsea, and a handsome gratuity from the
patriotic fund. Moreover, Sergeant More M'Alpin had been prudent as well
as valiant; and, from prize-money and savings, had become master of a
small sum in the three per cent consols.
He retired with the purpose of enjoying this income in the wild Highland
glen, in which, when a boy, he had herded black cattle and goats, ere
the roll of the drum had made him cock his bonnet an inch higher, and
follow its music for nearly forty years. To his recollection, this
retired spot was unparalleled in beauty by the richest scenes he had
visited in his wanderings. Even the Happy Valley of Rasselas would have
sunk into nothing upon the comparison. He came - he revisited the loved
scene; it was but a sterile glen, surrounded with rude crags, and
traversed by a northern torrent. This was not the worst. The fires had
been quenched upon thirty hearths - of the cottage of his fathers
he could but distinguish a few rude stones - the language was almost
extinguished - the ancient race from which he boasted his descent
had found a refuge beyond the Atlantic. One southland farmer, three
grey-plaided shepherds, and six dogs, now tenanted the whole glen, which
in his youth had maintained, in content, if not in competence, upwards
of two hundred inhabitants.
In the house of the new tenant, Sergeant M'Alpin found, however, an
unexpected source of pleasure, and a means of employing his social
affections. His sister Janet had fortunately entertained so strong a
persuasion that her brother would one day return, that she had refused
to accompany her kinsfolk upon their emigration. Nay, she had consented,
though not without a feeling of degradation, to take service with the
intruding Lowlander, who, though a Saxon, she said, had proved a kind
man to her. This unexpected meeting with his sister seemed a cure
for all the disappointments which it had been Sergeant More's lot to
encounter, although it was not without a reluctant tear that he
heard told, as a Highland woman alone could ten it, the story of the
expatriation of his kinsmen.
She narrated at great length the vain offers they had made of advanced
rent, the payment of which must have reduced them to the extremity of
poverty, which they were yet contented to face, for permission to live
and die on their native soil. Nor did Janet forget the portents which
had announced the departure of the Celtic race, and the arrival of the
strangers. For two years previous to the emigration, when the night wind
howled dawn the pass of Balachra, its notes were distinctly modelled
to the tune of "HA TIL MI TULIDH" (we return no more), with which the
emigrants usually bid farewell to their native shores. The uncouth cries
of the Southland shepherds, and the barking of their dogs, were often
heard in the midst of the hills long before their actual arrival.
A bard, the last of his race, had commemorated the expulsion of the
natives of the glen in a tune, which brought tears into the aged eyes of
the veteran, and of which the first stanza may be thus rendered: -
Woe, woe, son of the Lowlander,
Why wilt thou leave thine own bonny Border?
Why comes thou hither, disturbing the Highlander,
Wasting the glen that was once in fair order?
What added to Sergeant More M'Alpin's distress upon the occasion was,
that the chief by whom this change had been effected, was, by tradition
and common opinion, held to represent the ancient leaders and fathers of
the expelled fugitives; and it had hitherto been one of Sergeant More's
principal subjects of pride to prove, by genealogical deduction, in what
degree of kindred he stood to this personage. A woful change was now
wrought in his sentiments towards him.
"I cannot curse him," he said, as he rose and strode through the room,
when Janet's narrative was finished - "I will not curse him; he is the
descendant and representative of my fathers. But never shall mortal man
hear me name his name again." And he kept his word; for, until his dying
day, no man heard him mention his selfish and hard-hearted chieftain.
After giving a day to sad recollections, the hardy spirit which had
carried him through so many dangers, manned the Sergeant's bosom against
this cruel disappointment. "He would go," he said, "to Canada to his
kinsfolk, where they had named a Transatlantic valley after the glen of
their fathers. Janet," he said, "should kilt her coats like a leaguer
lady; d - n the distance! it was a flea's leap to the voyages and marches
he had made on a slighter occasion."
With this purpose he left the Highlands, and came with his sister as far
as Gandercleugh, on his way to Glasgow, to take a passage to Canada.
But winter was now set in, and as he thought it advisable to wait for a
spring passage, when the St. Lawrence should be open, he settled among
us for the few months of his stay in Britain. As we said before, the
respectable old man met with deference and attention from all ranks
of society; and when spring returned, he was so satisfied with his
quarters, that he did not renew the purpose of his voyage. Janet was
afraid of the sea, and he himself felt the infirmities of age and hard
service more than he had at first expected. And, as he confessed to the
clergyman, and my worthy principal, Mr. Cleishbotham, "it was better
staying with kend friends, than going farther, and faring worse."
He therefore established himself and his domicile at Gandercleugh, to
the great satisfaction, as we have already said, of all its inhabitants,
to whom he became, in respect of military intelligence, and able
commentaries upon the newspapers, gazettes, and bulletins, a very
oracle, explanatory of all martial events, past, present, or to come.
It is true, the Sergeant had his inconsistencies. He was a steady
jacobite, his father and his four uncles having been out in the
forty-five; but he was a no less steady adherent of King George, in
whose service he had made his little fortune, and lost three brothers;
so that you were in equal danger to displease him, in terming Prince
Charles, the Pretender, or by saying anything derogatory to the dignity
of King George. Further, it must not be denied, that when the day of
receiving his dividends came round, the Sergeant was apt to tarry longer
at the Wallace Arms of an evening, than was consistent with strict
temperance, or indeed with his worldly interest; for upon these
occasions, his compotators sometimes contrived to flatter his
partialities by singing jacobite songs, and drinking confusion to
Bonaparte, and the health of the Duke of Wellington, until the Sergeant
was not only flattered into paying the whole reckoning, but occasionally
induced to lend small sums to his interested companions. After such
sprays, as he called them, were over, and his temper once more cool, he
seldom failed to thank God, and the Duke of York, who had made it much
more difficult for an old soldier to ruin himself by his folly, than had
been the case in his younger days.
It was not on such occasions that I made a part of Sergeant More
M'Alpin's society. But often, when my leisure would permit, I used to
seek him, on what he called his morning and evening parade, on which,
when the weather was fair, he appeared as regularly as if summoned by
tuck of drum. His morning walk was beneath the elms in the churchyard;
"for death," he said, "had been his next-door neighbour for so many
years, that he had no apology for dropping the acquaintance." His
evening promenade was on the bleaching-green by the river-side, where
he was sometimes to be seen on an open bench, with spectacles on
nose, conning over the newspapers to a circle of village politicians,
explaining military terms, and aiding the comprehension of his hearers
by lines drawn on the ground with the end of his rattan. On other
occasions, he was surrounded by a bevy of school-boys, whom he sometimes
drilled to the manual, and sometimes, with less approbation on the part
of their parents, instructed in the mystery of artificial fire-works;
for in the case of public rejoicings, the Sergeant was pyrotechnist (as
the Encyclopedia calls it) to the village of Gandercleugh.
It was in his morning walk that I most frequently met with the veteran.
And I can hardly yet look upon the village footpath, overshadowed by
the row of lofty elms, without thinking I see his upright form advancing
towards me with measured step, and his cane advanced, ready to pay me
the military salute - but he is dead, and sleeps with his faithful Janet,
under the third of those very trees, counting from the stile at the west
corner of the churchyard.
The delight which I had in Sergeant M'Alpin's conversation, related
not only to his own adventures, of which he had encountered many in the
course of a wandering life, but also to his recollection of numerous
Highland traditions, in which his youth had been instructed by his