“Faces and footsteps, and
all things strange.”—Mrs. Hensons.
THE remark has often been made that the
progress of civilization tends to reduce individual peculiarities, and
assimilate all men to a common model; and there can be no doubt that the
circumstances of a primitive state of society are more favourable to the
development of whatever idiosyncrasies nature may have bestowed than
those of a more refined condition.
In times such as ours a high and uniform system of education lays hold
on the infant character, rubs off its angularities, and, by sheer dint
of training, reduces all but the most indocile minds to a certain degree
of sameness; and what is thus begun in youth is, through the intercourse
of men in business and commerce, perpetuated in riper years, so that his
peculiarities must be very strong, or his nature very stubborn, who can
resist the combined power of all these influences to cast his character
in the common mould.
But in less artificial times nature was the principal nurse of her own
gifts, and under her training they not only escaped bondage to the hard
and fast lines of red-tapeism, but received encouragement to shoot out
and branch off according to their original bent They had thus, even
before reaching maturity, assumed forms as different from those produced
by model schools and Revised Codes, as that of the oak of the forest
from the espalier pippin of the orchard
“The difference is, that in the days of old
Men made the manners—manners now make men.”
At the beginning of the present century, and
for long after, the natives of Highland Deeside and its tributary glens
were primitive and unsophisticated to a degree of which southerns, who
have known them only during the last twenty years, can form but a very
faint conception. The aspect of the country has not undergone a greater
change—great as that has been—than the feelings, the manners, and even
the morals of the people. The visitor of to-day can scarcely believe, as
he passes through this beautiful valley, and sees on every hand neat and
comfortable farm steadings, fields cultivated after the most approved
methods, forests clothing the sides of the mountains and climbing to
their summits, and the mansions of the chief, the peer, the prince, and
the sovereign bespangling the scene, that little more than half a
century ago, with the exception of two or three gentlemen’s residences,
there was scarcely a white walled house in the district; that the
peasants’ dwellings could at a little distance hardly be distinguished
from the surrounding heath-clad hillocks; that what are now fertile
fields were then but uncouth wastes of bog and heather, or at best but
narrow poverty-stricken ridges of arable, with huge baulks and heaps of
stones intervening; and that a fenced field was not to be seen in the
whole country.
To give an idea of the manner in which the small patches, that with some
latitude of meaning might be called arable, were farmed, the following
in reference to the parish of Glenmuick is extracted from the Old
Statistical Account of Scotland,\ published in 1794:—
“The ordinary crops are bear and oats, some rye with a mixture of oats,
and a few pease. When the weather will permit (which has not been the
case for some years) the seedtime is begun about the 20th of March, and
finished about Whitsunday. Harvest is begun towards the end of August,
and is generally over by the middle of October. Where the soil is late
the tenants endeavour to obviate the disadvantage by sowing their bear
after their oats without any interval.*
“One bar on improvements in farming is a number of services which the
tenants are obliged to perform to the proprietors, such as carting,
winning, and leading their peats in summer, harrowing in seedtime,
reaping in harvest, and long carriages from Aberdeen and other places.
“Of course the mode of farming has undergone little variation here,
excepting on some farms where there are outfields (lands only
occasionally cropped), the tenants generally go over all their arable
land with dung once in three years. This is followed by two succeeding
crops of oats, after which the ground is dunged again, and the same
rotation of crops observed as before; and thus the greater part of the
arable land here has been treated time immemorial, without rest or any
other cleaning than throwing off some of the weeds raised by the harrow
in a dry season. Very good crops, however, both of bear and oats, are
raised in this way.
To ascertain when the soil was in suitable condition to receive the bear
seed was often a matter of considerable difficulty with these farmers,
and in default of a thermometer to test the temperature, they had
recourse to various experiments, some of which were more primitive than
elegant.
“In good years the parish produces more victual than is sufficient to
supply the inhabitants, and affords a considerable surplus of butter,
cheese, black cattle, and sheep. The butter and cheese are generally
carried to market at Tarland."
“Creels only are used for carrying both dung and peats. In the lower
parts of the parish carts have been introduced, and one gentleman keeps
a carriage. In the whole parish there are 170 ploughs, some of which are
drawn by eight, some by ten, and some by twelve cattle; some by cattle,
and horses before them, and a great many by horses alone. The tenants
mostly yoke four horses abreast, the driver, who holds the halters in
his hand to regulate their motions, walks before the horses, after his
back.
“Agriculture may be said to be only in its infancy here. The country is
open, and winter herding is unknown, or, at least, it is looked upon as
an intolerable grievance, and therefore not practised From the time that
harvest is over, which is generally about the middle of October, they
neither yoke a plough nor do anything about their farms till the seed
time comes on, when man, woman, and child are employed in huddling over
the work in the most superficial manner— and when the bustle of sowing
is over, all concern about the farm is again laid aside till harvest
begins.
“Their farms, or rather crofts, are by far too small, few of them exceed
twelve, and in general they are from five to eight acres. But whilst I
accuse the men of indolence, I should do great injustice to the women if
I did not exempt them from the charge, by whose diligence and industry
their families are in great part supported”
The Cheese Market of Coldstone was the principal fair in the district
for the exchange of this article of dairy produce, and generally bore
ample testimony to the skill and industry with which that department at
least was managed.
Since the above was written, man has been busy with external nature, and
has stamped upon it indelible impressions of his skill and refinement.
Yet, though not so patent to the eye, no less wonderful changes have
been effected on the social character and habits of the people. Their
ideas and opinions are quite different, their feelings and sentiments
are now so much the opposite of what they then were, that one frequently
hears the rising generation refer with affected horror to the customs of
seventy years ago, as if their grandfathers had then only begun to
emerge from barbarism and idolatry. The political measures of late
years, and still more the great advancement made in education, and the
immense spread of knowledge by various means among the humbler classes,
have, within a short period, produced the most radical changes in their
social habits, their objects of pursuit and interest, and modes of
living. This is true of the Scottish peasantry generally, but it is
especially true of those of Deeside, on whom these influences and others
have been brought to bear with greater force than perhaps in any other
part of the kingdom.
It has been already stated that at the close of last century there was
not, in the whole of the united parishes of Glenmuick, Tullich, and
Glengaim, but one carriage, by which was meant any wheeled vehicle from
a gig upwards. Now they are to be counted by scores, and those that pass
along the roads by hundreds if not by thousands.
At that time, “men servants’ wages for the year was £6; women’s ditto,
£3.” Now they are, for the former, £24; and for the latter, £9; that is
to say, men servants obtained one-fourth, and female servants one-third
part of what they now receive.
But, whilst admitting the social improvement effected, it may be
questioned whether we have not also lost something in the decay of that
chivalrous and generous spirit which distinguished our forefathers. The
worship of mammon, which forms so large a portion of the religion of the
present day, has in no country or age been favourable to the growth of
high and noble sentiments; and in the interest of truth it must be
admitted that even on Deeside that species of idolatry has not failed to
produce its usual effect Whether we be, as a foreign potentate once
described us, “a nation of shopkeepers ” or not, it cannot be denied
that even in our Highland glens the “almighty dollar” has displaced the
feudal or patriarchal superior, and usurped his functions.
Take a glance at the old dynasty as it existed only half a century ago.
Chieftainship, though legally shorn of its ancient authority, was
neither forgotten nor repudiated. Its spirit and all its finer features
survived, and to a great extent regulated the relations and intercourse
of landlord and tenant The bondage of military service had indeed given
place to the payment of an equivalent in money, and the power of pot and
gallows had been commuted into the milder jurisdiction of the Justice of
Peace; but these remnants of ancient authority were sufficient to keep
alive in the bosom of the chief the feeling that he was still the father
of his clan. His tenants and followers reciprocated the kindly sentiment
with a heartiness, that showed anything but a disposition on their part
to break loose from their former allegiance.
A mere list of the tenants’ names on the different properties will show
how this feeling operated. The lands of Glenmuick and Abergeldie were
owned by cadets of the great house of Gordon, and Gordons the occupants
were, almost without exception. They considered themselves under the
special protection of their proprietors; and the proprietors had, from a
similar feeling towards them, allowed them the sole tenancy of their
estates for generations. By the mutual, though tacit consent of both
parties, the patriarchal institution, in so far as it wrought for good,
was in full vigour amongst them. Even some points of clanship of
questionable benefit were still clung to. These Gordons were rather
prone to club together on all occasions and for all purposes, and an
injury offered to one brought the whole tribe on the hapless offender.
This is not much to be wondered at, since they were all more or less
connected either by blood or marriage, frequently by both ties till
their inter-relationship had become proverbial People were wont to say
of any inextricable problem, “ye might as soon unravel the sibness o'
the Gordons o' Gimock.”
The same principle of clanship regulated the occupancies on the other
estates, though the tenants were not so exclusively of the clan surname.
From Coilacreich to Monaltrie the Browns held almost as complete a
monopoly of the holdings under Invercauld as the Gordons on the other
side of the river under Abergeldie. The MacHardies, Mackintoshes, and
Abercrombies, all claiming kindred with the Farquharson clan, were
equally favoured in the upper glens.
As another instance of the prevalence of clan feeling may be adduced the
difference of language in contiguous districts. The Gordons were not of
Celtic origin, though they had many Highland possessions, yet such was
their influence with their Gaelic speaking tenants, that in the whole
district on the right bank of the Dee, from Balmoral to Glenmuick, of
which they were resident proprietors, the old language had completely
disappeared long before the beginning of the century, while on the
opposite bank of the river, where the proprietors were either Celtic or
non-resident, the Gaelic continued to be the household language of
almost every family down to 1830 at least, a state of things which could
not have long subsisted had proprietors been given to change their
tenants.1 Indeed, it has long been a point of honour with the Invercauld
family, and it is believed is so still, never to dismiss a dependant or
remove an old tenant, except for some flagrant offence, or the most
hopeless incapacity. The honour and influence of the chief was, in the
days of our grandfathers, the pride of the tenants; and the prosperity
of the tenants was equally the pride of the chief.
This fine feeling is now almost extinct The relationship between them
has become an entirely commercial one. High rents and not high
sentiments are what proprietors want in return for the use of their
lands. They might have secured both had they exercised their influence,
in a kind friendly way, to foster in their tenants habits of industry
and enterprise. But in too many cases the enterprising tenant finds
himself at the expiry of his lease more harshly dealt with than his
neighbour who had done nothing to raise the value of his farm. His
industry is turned against himself, no adequate consideration being
allowed him for his improvements. “ Foolish man! ” is the general
remark, “ he is laying out money for the laird.” A single example of
such treatment has gone far to damp the energies of a whole
neighbourhood, and repeated examples have alienated the kindly feelings
of the tenants, who now too generally, and in some cases with too much
reason, regard the proprietor in the light of a heartless taxgatherer,
if his vexatious proceedings in respect of game preservation have not
presented him in the light of a still more unfeeling oppressor.
From whatever causes, a most unhealthy state of feeling has arisen
between them—one which all must regret, but which only one of the
parties has the power to remedy, and that in a few things by
“A return to the ways
Of the good old days."
The question has often been discussed with
various objects in view, and consequently with widely different
conclusions arrived at, whether the morals of the peasantry have kept
pace with the amelioration of their condition, the diffusion of
knowledge, and the improvement in arts, or whether there has not been a
corresponding retrogression. There are difficulties in the way of
estimating the full amount of the change that has taken place in the
morals of the people. Session Records deal but with cases of notorious
delinquency, and only indirectly supply information regarding the
general, social, and domestic life; besides, national or class morality
is a plant of slow growth, and rapid decay. There can, however, be
little doubt on the mind of any unprejudiced individual, conversant with
the details of our Session Records about the middle of last century,
that, while in some respects the labouring classes have not made that
progress in morality which might have been expected from their
advantages, the grosser violations of the decalogue, then so common,
have now almost disappeared from among them.
But whether we be better, or better off, than our forefathers, there can
be no question that we are very different— so different in many
respects, that the following authentic narratives will now with
difficulty be believed to relate to persons who have lived, and events
which have occurred.
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