|
THE West Highland Railway, we
are told, passes through a country torn to tatters by inland lochs and arms
of the sea—"the most amphibious country," as the Irishman put it, "ever seen
with the naked eye." It is no less true that the branch line from Spean
Bridge to Fort-Augustus runs through a district second to none in Scotland
for the grandeur of its scenery, and teeming with sites redolent of historic
and romantic interest.
Starting from Spean in the
heart of Far Lochaber, the line passes through the lands of Keppoch
Macdonalds, and skirting the territories of Loch Eil, traverses a part of
the famous Glengarry country till it reaches in the ancient fortress of
Fort-Augustus the extreme western outpost of the Lovat property, a territory
wrangled over, fought for, and successively possessed by Macdonalds, Grants
and Frasers, and now a favourite resort of health-seeker, fisher and
sportsman.
Leaving Spean Bridge, where
there is a good hotel with comfortable accommodation and excellent fishing,
the line bends towards the north, crosses the bridge, and makes its way
along the eastern bank of the river. Shortly after crossing the Bridge we
see just on the opposite side of the river a curiously shaped hollow known
as "Sloc an fhamhair," or the giant's hole. It is a large pit hollowed out
by one of the streams which dash down the hillside, and so deep that the sun
hardly ever penetrates its inmost recesses. On one side of this cavern,
corbelled out from the face of the overhanging cliff is a large rock
resembling a huge bed. Tradition has it that this was the giant's resting
place. Even Highland seanachies have been unable to trace the exact
genealogy of this worthy; but if he belongs to that mythical race of beings
so dear to the heart of the Highlander and of all primitive races, spirits
of a more reliable nature have inhabited this cave within recent years.
Here it was that a limb of
the law surprised a gang of smugglers engaged in illicit distilling. The
guager (Anglice, exciseman) in question was accustomed to parade the country
in full Highland costume with a great ash-plant in his hand, and on this
night, full of his own importance, he stealthily made his way to the
entrance of the cavern. But long before he reached the place, the smugglers'
scouts had given the alarm, and as the intruder entered the "giant's hole" a
sack was skilfully flung over his head, and for many a long day he had
reason to regret that the kilt afforded such admirable facilities for
administering condign punishment. The distillers rolled him into the burn,
and he returned to his home a wetter and wiser man, cursing the wild
caterans of Lochaber who in the nineteenth century paid so little regard to
the laws of Queen Victoria. To this day he is ignorant of the.names of his
assailants.
On another occasion he was
scarcely more successful. Having surprised the smugglers in their hut he
found a puncheon of illicit whisky standing in the middle of the room. Not
in the least taken aback, the distillers, knowing his convivial habits,
suggested that they should pledge the new year in a bumper of their best
spirits. Nothing loth, the guager accepted the proposal, but fearing some 11
plant," took his seat upon the great cask of whisky. When an hour later he
rolled off his throne to take possession of the prize, the faithless cask
was dry—and the "barley bree" already far away and safe in hiding where the
smugglers alone could find it. An unseen member of the band had secretly
tapped the cask and drawn the spirit off through the wall of the hut while
the ingenuous exciseman drank and made merry.
A few yards past the "giant's
hole," but higher up the hill, lies a whitewashed keeper's house, nestling
in a grove of Scotch firs. At the back of this house there is a deep pool in
the soft peat moss, now partially filled in, but still known as "Poll nan
con," the dogs' pool. Here it was that the last of the Macgregors, who had
fled to Lochaber for safety and who were being tracked down by
sleuth-hounds, threw their foes off the scent by drowning the dogs in this
little loch.
The Clan Gregor, as is well
known in Highland history, was for centuries persecuted by the Campbells, a
name for ever odious in the Highlands. As early as the reign of David II.,
the Campbells managed to procure a legal title to the Macgregor territory.
When the Macgregors, after the manner of simple mountaineers, defended their
land with claymore and dirk, without regard to the quibbles of the law,
their wily opponents obtained writs of the crown against them, so that, as
Mr. Skene says, from 1502 "the history of the Macgregors consists of a mere
list of acts of Privy Council by which commissions are granted to pursue the
clan with fire and sword, and of various atrocities which a state of
desperation, the natural result of these measures, as well as a deep spirit
of vengeance against both the framers and the executors of them, frequently
led the clan to commit." Finally they were completely proscribed, obliged
under pain of death to change their name, forbidden to carry any weapon save
a knife without a point to cut their food, or to meet together in greater
number than four at a time, and the execution of these commands was
entrusted to their hereditary foes the Campbells. These laws remained in
force till little more than a century ago, when they were repealed by the
Parliament of 1784. In spite of all the efforts of their foes, strong bands
of Macgregors held out in the high mountains and rocky fastnesses, and were
able to muster a considerable force both in 1715 and 1745. Many are the
tales of generosity and courage on the part of the persecuted people, and
all through they show to far greater advantage than their treacherous and
cunning enemies.
One well-known tale which
brings the Macgregors before us in a very honourable light may be worth
recording here. The son of Macgregor of Glen Strae out hunting one day fell
in with the young laird of Lamont and a companion travelling towards
Inverlochy. They passed the day together and in the evening sat down to
dinner. During the course of the meal a quarrel arose, dirks were drawn, and
young Macgregor was slain. Lamont at once leapt out of the room and fled,
closely pursued by some of the slain man's retainers. Fleet of foot he
outstripped his foes, and by chance ran for protection to the very house of
Glen Strae where young Macgregor's father dwelt. Without stating whom he had
slain, Lamont implored Glen Strae's assistance. At once the old chief passed
his word to protect him as far as in him lay. Almost directly after up
rushed the members of the clan in hot pursuit, and angrily cried out for the
murderer to be delivered up to them in atonement for the blood he had shed.
But the brave old chief on learning whom he had captured, cried out, "Not a
hair of his head shall be touched while he is under my roof-tree. Glen Strae
has pledged his honour, and never shall it be said that a Macgregor went
back on his word." Later the chief himself secretly escorted the youth out
of the Macgregor country to his own land, and bidding him farewell said,
"Lamont, you are now safe upon your own ground. I cannot and will not
protect you further. Keep away from my people, and may God forgive you for
what you have done! " Lamont was not ungrateful, and shortly afterwards when
Glen Strae with his family was proscribed, destitute, and a wanderer, the
young man received them into his house and for a time protected them from
their enemies. But the Philistines were too strong, and the honest o!d chief
was treacherously 11 done to death" by Argyle, and hanged at the Market
Cross in Edinburgh.
The little band who had fled
to Lochaber, and who had for a time eluded pursuit by drowning the dogs as
we said above, lived in a cave at the back of Tir na Dris, about a mile from
Spean Bridge. They were finally hunted down by their relentless foes, and a
clump of trees marks the spot where the three made their last gallant stand.
Some years ago a gentleman of the district, anxious to prove the truth of
the tradition, dug up the grave and found the three skeletons. He then
removed them to the banks of the burn on the east side of Tir na Dris, about
a hundred yards below where the bridge on the high road crosses the stream.
Three fir trees—the badge of the clan--mark the spot where they now lie
buried.
As the train swings round the
next corner of the run we catch a glimpse of High Bridge, which spans the
river with a graceful arch. It connects the section of the old military road
between Port-Augustus and Blackletter with that which runs on to
Fort-William, and a tablet in the centre of the arch commemorates its
completion by Marshal Wade in 1736. This bridge is one of the forty that the
famous General built during the construction of the two hundred miles of
road that traverse the country from Dunkeld to Fort-William. It is perhaps
one of the most notable of all his bridges, rising as it does to a height of
almost one hundred feet above the stream beneath---a remarkable achievement
for the times and circumstances under which it was accomplished. The Spean,
which in summer seems little more than a mountain stream, when swollen by
winter rains boils and roars beneath the bridge, flinging tongues of foam
far up on to the masonry and enveloping the whole in a cloud of spray.
It was here that an exciting
incident took place in 1745, which had much to do with the rising of the
loyal clans for Prince Charlie, and the Prince's subsequent adventures.
Charles Edward Stuart had landed on the west coast some time before, with
the intention of winning back for himself and his descendants the kingdom
from which he had been ousted by the Hanoverians. But the enterprise hung
fire ; many of those favourably inclined towards the expedition deeming the
preparations inadequate and the time inopportune. The following incident
decided the wavering chiefs and brought on a general rising of the clans.
The matter may perhaps be best described in the words of Robert Chambers,
the historian of the '45.
 "The
governor of Fort-Augustus (a military post, at the distance of forty or
fifty miles from Charles's landing-place) concluding, from reports he heard,
that the Moidart people were hatching some mischief, thought proper, on the
16th of August, to dispatch two companies of the Scots Royals to
Fort-William, as a reinforcement to awe that rebellious district. The
distance between the two forts is twenty-eight miles, and the road runs
chiefly along the edge of a mountain, which forms one side of the Great
Glen, having the sheer height of the hill on one side, and the long narrow
lakes, out of which the Caledonian Canal has since-been formed, on the
other. The men were newly raised, and, besides being inexperienced in
military affairs, were unused to the alarming circumstances of an expedition
in the Highlands. When they had travelled twenty out of the eight-and-twenty
miles, and were approaching High Bridge, a lofty arch over a mountain
torrent, they were surprised to hear the sound of a bagpipe, and to discover
the appearance of a large party of Highlanders, who were already in
possession of the Bridge. The object of their alarm was in reality a band of
only ten or twelve Macdonalds of Keppoch's clan ; but by skipping and
leaping about, displaying their swords and firelocks, and by holding out
their plaids between each other, they contrived to make's very formidable
appearance. Capt. (afterwards General) Scott, who commanded the two
companies, ordered an immediate halt, and sent forward a sergeant with his
own servant to reconnoitre. These two persons no sooner approached the
bridge, than two nimble Highlanders darted out and seized them. Ignorant of
the number of the Highlanders, and knowing he was in a disaffected part of
the country, Captain Scott thought it would be better to retreat than enter
into hostilities. Accordingly, he ordered his men to face about, and march
back again. The Highlanders did not follow immediately, lest they should
expose the smallness of their number, but permitted the soldiers to get two
miles away (the ground being so far plain and open) before leaving the post.
As soon as the retreating party had passed the west end of Loch Lochy, and
were entering upon the narrow road between the lake and the hill, out darted
the mountaineers, and ascending the rocky precipices above the road, where
there was shelter from both bush and stone, began to fire down upon the
soldiers, who only retreated with the greater expedition.
"The party of Macdonalds who
attempted this daring exploit was commanded by Macdonald of Tiendrish, who,
having early observed the march of the soldiers, had sent expresses to
Locheil and Keppoch, whose houses were only a few miles distant on both
sides of High Bridge, for supplies of men. They did not arrive in time, but
he resolved to attack the party with the few men he had ; and he had thus
far succeeded, when the noise of his pieces causing friends in all quarters
to fly to arms, he now found himself at the head of a party almost
sufficient to encounter the two companies in the open field."
When Captain Scott reached
the east end of Loch Lochy, wishing to avoid the little village of Laggan
Achadrum, where knots of Highlanders had gathered, and who, he was afraid,
might dispute his passage, he turned aside from the road, crossed the neck
of land between Loch Lochy and Loch Oich, and forming his men into a square,
made towards Invergarry—the seat of M'Donell of Glengarry—intending to take
possession of the castle. This move only increased his difficulties. By this
time Keppoch, who had overtaken him by a rapid march across the hill, swept
down upon the right flank of the troop, while a small band of Kennedys from
Glengarry appeared in front and barred the way. At once the Highlanders
began a vigorous attack, whilst the soldiers, cowed and dispirited, scarcely
dared to offer any resistance. By the first volley four of the military were
killed and several wounded, including Captain Scott himself, who received a
bullet in the shoulder. Then Keppoch, anxious to avoid further bloodshed,
came forward sword in hand and called upon the Captain to surrender,
pointing out that now the blood of the clansmen was up, and any further
resistance would be a signal for the force to be cut in pieces. The soldiers
had no alternative but to lay down their arms, and scarcely had they done so
when Locheil arrived with a body of Camerons from another quarter, and it
was agreed to send the prisoners that night to his residence at Achnacarry.
This affair decided those chiefs who were wavering. Keppoch sent Captain
Scott's charger to the Prince in Moidart, and a week later the standard was
raised amidst great rejoicing at Glen Finnan.
It may be worth stating for
the benefit of southron tourists who look upon the Highlanders of that time
as uncivilized barbarians that Scott was treated by Locheil more as a
brother than a prisoner, and when the governor of Fort-William refused to
send a doctor to attend him, Captain Scott was released upon parole and
escorted to Fort-William. It is gratifying to be able to relate that the
gallant Captain was one of the very few English soldiers who kept their
parole. A man who acted with honour and bravery throughout, very different
from the swashbuckler type of which Cumberland's subduing force of 1746 was
so generally composed.
Donald Macdonald, Tir na Dris,
the hero of this opening encounter of the '45 at High Bridge, seems to have
been an exceptionally loveable character. "A brave, undaunted, honest man,
of a good countenance and of a strong and robust make," and, as is well
known, he is supposed to he the person Sir Walter Scott had in his mind when
drawing the character of Fergus M'Ivor in " Waverley." In later life his
daughter Mary, when living at Bath with the Countess of Dundonald, used
frequently to meet General Scott, who always asseverated that it was her
father who saved his life. It may be noted that the predecessor of the
present Duke of Portland, who so frequently passes the scene of the
encounter on his way to fish at Invergarry, was a lineal descendant of
General Scott.
It is singular to 'note that
this great stone bridge raised by Wade and his sturdy soldiers, which has
stood the invasion of armies and the wear and tear of well nigh two
centuries, has succumbed within the last few years to a simple amusement on
the part of children going to school. The winter rains flowing down the
straight stretch of road leading on to the bridge invited an engineering
experiment. The side drain was blocked in order to see how high the water
would run between the parapets of the bridge. Subsequent frosts burst the
masonry asunder, and one arch has already crumbled away beyond repair.
After passing the Bridge we
see for a moment, perched on the hill behind, the little white stage-house,
now a crofter's cottage. It was one of the houses built by General Wade at
regular distances all along his roads, to provide refreshment for
travellers. The connection between fresh water and good and evil spirits is
well known and this superstition seems to have been exceptionally prevalent
amongst the Celts ; witness the Holy Wells so plentiful in the Highlands,
Wales and Ireland. Water poured over a large crystal, kept for the purpose,
used to free cattle from many ills. The Bible on which Robert Burns and
Highland Mary plighted their troth, with hands dipped in the stream, the
book held between them, one standing on either bank of the Faillie burn, is
still preserved, and the sprawling inscription of the poet may yet be seen
on the fly-leaf. To this day many a Highlander who feels unwell and out of
sorts and is manifestly beset by the devil, will tell us that he obtains
instant relief by crossing a running stream, the evil spirit being unable to
cross a flowing brook.
Doubtless it was to a
reluctance on the part of evil spirits to cross the river that the late
Glengarry - a famous character—attributed his good fortune, when after a
long, strong "deoch and doruis," or stirrup-cup at the High Bridge change
house, he leapt on to the box of his coach and put the horses at a gallop
down the hill, only to be neatly capsized on a green hillock some hundred
yards from the doorstep. Ten yards further and the coach with all its
inmates must infallibly have been dashed to pieces on the rocks of the river
bed, and the last chief of .a noted Highland clan would not have survived to
meet his end in a gallant attempt to succour a lady in distress.
We've now enter the
Dochanassie district, belonging to a sept of Camerons famous for their
fighting qualities even amongst that warrior clan. Who ever asked a
Highlander or an Irishman for a fight and was disappointed? When they were
not engaged in wars with external enemies the clans would fight amongst
themselves, and when even this source of amusement failed them the families
would quarrel with one another just to keep their hand in. Fairs and
funerals were the recognised occasions for these brawls. In the "Origines
Parochiales" we read that James VII. in 1685 granted the patronage of the
church of Kilmonivaig to the Duke of Gordon, and included the rights of a
yearly fair, called the '1 ruid fair," to be held in this township on the
2nd of September. This was in the days before the greed of landlords had
swept the hardy Highlanders from their hills, to seek a fortune beyond the
seas, and the barren moorland above and below the railway was covered with
the houses of a strong and healthy people. For service at fairs and funerals
in time of peace the Camerons had a harmless (?) weapon known to this day as
the "Dochanassie stick." It was a short, thick oak bludgeon, with a heavy
head, much like the Irish shillalah of to-day, and many are the stories told
of heavy blows given in these encounters. The approved length recommended by
a famous bruiser was three fist-widths of a stick with a heavy head, and in
house fights, where the room was low, they were advised to grip the "dochy"
in the middle. -There were giants upon the earth in those days," or else the
rooms were small. Perhaps both. A man yet living remembers "the houses that
took three days to build and twenty persons would gather round the fire by
night, and there was not a candle between this and Inverness." Slips of fir
logs dug out from the peat mosses, where forests had been submerged in
primeval times, took the place of the tallow dip and oil lamp of to-day. To
this district belongs Alexander Anton Cameron, the world-famed athlete of
to-day ; probably the strongest natural man alive at the present time :
those who take an interest in such things will remember that the records of
Dinnie, Fleming, Davidson, and Macrae have all fallen before him, and now he
stands unchallenged as the best all-round athletic living. When a mere tyro,
without experience in wrestling, Lunch, the conqueror of Hackenschmidt, was
quite unable to place him on his two broad shoulders, and if he were yet to
enter the lists in this form of single combat few would care to pit
themselves against him. Standing over six feet in height, with a chest
measurement of fifty-two inches, Cameron weighs seventeen stone, yet his
well-proportioned frame possesses all that agility and lightness of foot
characteristic of the Highlander. He is an excellent sprinter, can cover at
a broad jump some twenty feet, while at a standing high leap he has been
known to clear five feet all but an inch —truly a phenomenal performance for
a man scaling seventeen stone in weight.
Just before we reach
Gairlochy station there stands on the hill above us a conical-shaped mound
called "Tom a Bhrataich," or mound of the standard. It rises on the ridge
between two gentle swells where the mountain chain dividing Glen Spean from
the Great Glen of Albyn sinks down to the junction of the Spean and Lochy
rivers, and in which some worthy, by a wild flight of imagination, saw a
resemblance to the bovine face, hence named "Stron a ba," or the cow's nose.
This mound of the standard, though little more than a molehill, is
conspicuous from its situation and peculiar shape, and shows out far up the
Great Glen towards Fort-Augustus. It is one of a chain of beacons which girt
the country from east to west, and which, in days before the telegraph, was
wont to alarm the country in any sudden rising of the clans or when danger
threatened from external foe. From Craig Phadruig by Inverness the news was
flung from side to side of the great valley through the line of vitrified
forts---the source of so much discussion in antiquarian circles—until it
reached Kytra by Fort-Augustus, whence this mound of the standard took up
the tale and flashed it on far across the great fiat moss which stretches to
the foot'•of Ben Nevis. Here again a vitrified fort received the news and
sent on the warning message to alarm the west coast.
|
