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WHEN the Caledonian Canal was
formed in 1822 the course of the Lochy river was altered for some few
hundred yards, the original river-bed being utilised in the formation of the
canal. In its new course the Lochy tumbles into the Spean over a high fall
which prevents salmon getting into the loch and_ higher reaches of the
river. An attempt has been made to encourage the fish to ascend by means of
a rude ladder, but so far efforts in this direction" have not been crowned
with great success. A well-planned salmon ladder would add enormously to the
possibilities of Loch Lochy as a fishing lake, and enhance the value of a
large stretch of river as angling water. We may mention that ancient
documents speak of these upper reaches, which to-day are practically
worthless, as affording most excellent salmon fishing. It is curious to
notice, as marking a changed order of affairs, that in 1841, James, the
first Lord Abinger, obtained from Government for the sum of £600 a charter
for the salmon rights of all the waters in the lordship of Lochaber. To-day
the yearly rental obtained for these fishings is close on £3000,. or nearly
five times the original purchase price.
In the angle formed by the
junction of the Spean and the, Lochy stands the parish church of Kilmonivaig.
To this church of old was attached the right of sanctuary, for whatever that
privilege may have been worth in this wild and lawless district. A very
ancient document curiously enough bears witness to the populous state of
this part of the country in bygone times, and throws a sidelight on the
manners and customs of the inhabitants; though the quaint phraseology leaves
us in some doubt as
to whether the houses and
inhabitants, or the wine, the ale, or the hazel nuts had their abode in the
chapel, and seems to hint at wild orgies in the house of God. "There is a
small town where a chappel was built of old . . . wherein the oldest men
declare they did see in this chappel many houses and inhabitants of that
town selling wine, ail, and aqua vita—the Scots quart of wine for 18 pennies
Scots, a quart of wine, a quart of hazell nuts, and a quart oatmeal for
three pennies Scots, and that this place was a sanctuarie among the country
people."
The different values of coins
and standards of measures was a continual source of bewilderment to the
casual English visitor to Scottish soil. The pound Scots was only worth a
few pence, whilst the Scottish pint held as much as a moderate sized bucket.
An incensed English lackey said to his Scottish brother, "Out upon your
master; he gave me a pound tip and I am but a penny the richer!" "That may
be," dolefully replied the Scotsman—who dearly lo'ed his whiskey, O—'abut my
curse upon the country that invented the small pint stoup!"
In our modern days of money
and materialism it is the custom to deny all belief in ghosts, spirits,
second-sight or miracles, and to scoff at any interference in material
things by beings of an unseen world. But the spirit of superstition still
lingers amidst the Highland hills, and well authenticated instances of
second sight, if not so frequent now as formerly, are still far from
uncommon throughout the north and west. Some hundred years ago the faculty
of second-sight was so well known that we find the authorities in Rome
ordering an enquiry into the matter on the part of the Catholic bishops of
this country. One bishop wrote a full account to Rome, proving beyond doubt
the existence of this power and the frequency of its display, and pointing
out that this singular gift seemed to run in families, the Macdonalds of
Morar, for example, possessing it in a particularly marked degree. The
worthy bishop had also a theory to explain this singular phenomenon, but as
he was not asked for any explanation he kept it to himself and it has been
lost to posterity. This was, of course, long before the Psychical Research
Society appeared upon the scene, with its cryptomnesia, hyperpromethia,
glossolaly, dynamogeny, phantasmogenetic centres, psychorragic diathesis and
a whole host of other lucid terms to supply a simple explanation of
well-known facts. In those good old days the mantle of the Highlander seems
sometimes even to have descended on the outsider, and an interesting case of
second-sight occurred in this district, the broad facts of which we may give
here, leaving the explanation to individual opinion. In the early decades of
last century a certain Protestant landed proprietor, who in his youth had
led a wild life, was smitten with remorse and became a most enterprising
revivalist—a brand snatched from the burning—and having settled in this
district, he used to preach up and down the country to those still sitting
in the shadow of sin and death. His discourses were seasoned with many
astonishing, if not altogether edifying, experiences of his own early life.
One evening the worthy revivalist happened to pass the little country inn,
and was attracted by an unwonted glare from the kitchen window. A few
minutes later he was seen returning to the window with a friend, murmuring
in deep, earnest tones: "The finest vision ever you saw; three fairies from
heaven in diaphanous drapery sporting themselves by the fire. Step quietly,
man, lest you disturb them and they wing their way back to the skies." His
friend peeped through a chink in the blinds, and to his horror recognised
his own wife and two lady friends, who had been caught in a thunderstorm,
drying their "shifts" at the fire. The apparition passed, but the nymphs did
not fly back to heaven. Some say that the honest revivalist knew better, and
was speaking with his tongue in his cheek. But these manifestly are children
of Belial who know not the workings of the Highland mind nor the ways of the
Lord's anointed.
As the train steams out of
the station we get a glimpse of the ford in the Lochy where the whole of
Prince Charlie's little force crossed the river on its way to meet the
Government troops under Sir John Cope at the top of Corriearrick at the
opening of the campaign in 1745. The following year, after Culloden had been
fought and lost and the Prince had successfully remained hidden from his
enemies for close on five months, he crossed this same river under very
different circumstances, when on his way with a few faithful companions to
get on board the vessel which was to carry him to France. The story may best
be told in the quaint language of Donald Macpherson, given in the "Lyon in
Mourning," a MS. in the Advocates' Library:
"As they approached towards
Locheil's seat, Auchnacarry, they came to the river Lochy at night, being
fine moonshine. The difficulty was how to get over. Upon this Clunes Cameron
met them on the water-side, at whom Locheil asked how they would get over
the river. He said 'Very well: for I have an old boat carried from Loch
Arkaig, that the enemy left unburnt of all the boats you had, Locheil.'
Locheil asked to see the boat. Upon seeing it, he said, 'I am afraid we will
not be safe with it.' Quoth Clunes, 'I shall cross first, and show you the
way.' The matter was agreed upon. Clunes, upon reflection, said, 'I have six
bottles of brandy, and I believe all of you would be the better of a dram.'
This brandy was brought from Fort-Augustus, where the enemy lay in garrison,
about nine miles from that part of Lochy where they were about to cross.
Locheil went to the Prince, and said,' Will your Royal Highness take a
dram?' 'Oh,' said the Prince, 'can you have a dram here?' Yes,' replied
Locheil, 'and that from Fort-Augustus, too;' which pleased the Prince much,
that he should have provisions from his enemies. He said, 'Come, let us have
it.' Upon this three of the bottles were drunk. Then they passed the river
Lochy by three crossings: CIunes Cameron in the first with so many; then the
Prince in the second with so many; and in the last Locheil with so many. In
the third and last ferrying, the crazy boat leaked so much, that there would
be four or five pints of water in the bottom, and in hurrying over, the
three remaining bottles of brandy were all broke. When the Prince called for
a dram, he was told that the bottles were broke, and that the common fellows
had drunk all that was in the bottom of the boat, as being good punch, which
had made the fellows so merry, that they made great diversion to the company
as they marched along."
A few days later Prince
Charlie, amidst the tears of his followers who had sacrificed everything for
their loyalty to the Stuart cause, embarked on a small vessel and escaped in
safety to the French coast.
 Away
beyond the pool where this incident occurred, a little further west on the
opposite side of the Great Glen, stands the little farm of Moy. It was here
that Dundee paraded his army before marching to Killiecrankie. Macaulay's
famous description of this gathering of the clans is too well known to bear
quotation here. Still further down the glen is the farm of Erracht, famous
as being once the residence of Colonel Alan Cameron, who raised the 79th
Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders. The raising of this regiment is a most
singular instance of the martial ardour of the Highlanders and of the
strength of the old clan spirit which caused the natives of Lochaber to
rally round their leader. Letters of service were granted to Colonel Cameron
in 1793, and no bounty was granted as in the case of other regiments raised
in this way, the men being recruited solely at the expense of the officers,
yet within six months the regiment was 1000 strong. Two years later, after
suffering severely in the ill-fated campaign In Flanders, an impolitic
attempt was made to disband the regiment, drafting the men into four other
regiments. But the German commander-in-chief, who understood neither the
spirit of the Highlanders nor the character of old Erracht, had reckoned
without his host. Colonel Cameron demanded an interview, and plainly told
the Royal Duke: "To draft the 79th is more than you or your Royal father
dare do." The Duke replied: "The King my father will certainly send the
regiment to the West Indies." Colonel Cameron, losing his temper, said : 11
You may tell the King your father from me that he may send us to hell if he
likes, and 1 will go at the head of them, but he daurfta draft us." The
fiery Highlander had his way, and the 79th entered upon a career which for
loyalty, gallantry and brilliance of achievement has perhaps never been
surpassed by any regiment in the service. Some two years later, when the
regiment had been almost decimated by the unhealthy climate of the West
Indies, it was once more in danger of being drafted, but old Erracht
returned to Lochaber and in a few weeks raised a fresh body of 780 men.
Bungling seems early to have
been the leading characteristic of the War Office, though, unfortunately,
there has not always been a Colonel Cameron at hand to bring it to its
senses. A few years later a plan was in contemplation by which the Camerons
were to be deprived of the kilt and clad instead in tartan trews. Before
putting the order into execution, Erracht was asked to state his private
opinion as to the expediency of the change. He replied in four vigorous and
pithy sentences whicn need not be given here. Suffice it to say that the
gallant Colonel had his way, and the ancient proverb anent the Highlander
and his national dress is still verified as regards the 79th, "Ye canna tak'
the breeks aff a Hielandman."
Rounding the next corner we
traverse a barren moss and see below us the village of Gairlochy, with its
little whitewashed inn rejoicing in the name of the "Teapot." Why so named
is not conspicuously clear. It lies in the old bed of the river Lochy, which
was diverted from its course during the construction of the Canal. It was in
this neighbourhood that the incident is supposed to have occurred attributed
by Crockett i0 his "Lochinvar " to
Coll of Keppoch. A
storm-stayed traveller having sought refuge in one of these huts from the
fury of the elements was refused admittance. In desperation he cried out,
"Is there no Christian here who will grant me one night's shelter?" "Na, na,
we are a' Camerons," was the prompt reply, and he had to seek a haven
elsewhere.
Looking back from this point
we get a good view of Ben Nevis. It is often a puzzle for the stranger to
distinguish this loftiest of Scottish peaks from the great mountains which
surround it. On the Irishman's method of singling out the bull from the herd
of cows lying down in a field, we may note that the hill which to the
perfervid Celtic imagination is supposed to resemble a recumbent mummy with
knees slightly drawn up, is not Ben Nevis; but the summit standing out
against the sky just beyond it is the site of the famous observatory and the
highest hill in Britain. The top of the mountain is as a rule capped with
mist, but on a clear day the observatory buildings can easily be seen on the
sky line between the two highest of the three peaks which rise like turrets
above the steep hill face.
In a few moments the train is
bowling along Loch Lochy side. On the opposite shore, embosomed amid a grove
of splendid trees and lying back a little from the deep bay, we see
Achnacarry Castle, the seat of Locheil, the chief of the Cameron Clan.
The origin of the Camerons,
like that of many other Highland clans, is buried in obscurity, but the
names of Sir Ewen, Donald Cameron, junior—the Gentle Locheil of the '45—and
Dr. Cameron, would alone be sufficient to render the sept famous; while the
authentic records of the clan throw much light upon the manners and customs
of the Highlands in early times. We find one of the first chiefs engaged in
thirty-five battles before he was thirty-two. But this was too hot to last,
even in the Highlands, and he did not live to complete his thirty-third
year.
The military genius of Sir
Ewen, who soon after succeeded to the chiefship, must have singled him out
for distinction in any age or country. At a time when the Royalist army and
every other chief had surrendered to the Roundheads, alone at the head of a
small band of his followers Sir Ewen defied all the might of the
Commonwealth and of General Monk, Cromwell's right-hand man. Threat,
entreaty, bribe, were all tried in vain, and as a last resource Monk
established a garrison at InverIochy, now Fort-William, in the heart of the
disaffected country.
Nothing dismayed, Sir Ewen
set himself down in the close neighbourhood to await developments. They were
not long in coming. He was so successful in harassing the Government troops
and defeated them so often that Monk was compelled to grant him honourable
terms of peace. It is significant that the acceptance of this truce was only
obtained from Locheil by an appeal to his higher nature. In the course of
the numerous conflicts between the Highlanders and the English, a mutual
regard had sprung up between the officers and Sir Ewen. This soon passed
into friendship and out of pity and respect Locheil accepted the terms of
peace, full indemnity being granted to himself and his clan for all losses
occasioned by the conflict. A full account of his exploits would here be out
of place. They may be read in "Pennant's Tour in Scotland" of 1769. But one
well-known instance may be quoted as an example of his versatility.
"Five days after their
arrival at Inverlochy, the Governor dispatched 300 of his men on board of
two vessels which were to sail westward a little, and to anchor on each side
of the shore near Achdalew. Locheil heard their design was to cut down his
trees and carry away his cattle, and was determined if possible to make them
pay well for every tree and every hide; favoured by the woods, he came
pretty close to the shore, where he saw their motions so perfectly that he
counted them as they came out of the ship, and found the number of the armed
exceeded 140, besides a number of workmen with axes and other instruments.
Having fully satisfied
himself, he returned to his friends, and asked their opinion. The younger
part of them were keen for attacking; but the older and the more experienced
remonstrated against it, as a most rash and hazardous enterprise. Locheil
then enquired of two of the party who had served for some time under
Montrose if ever they saw him engage on so disadvantageous terms; they
declared they never did. He, however, animated by the ardor of youth, or
prompted by emulation (for Montrose was always in his mouth), insisted in a
short but spirited harangue, that if his people had any regard for their
King or their Chief, or any principle of honor, the English should be
attacked: 'for,' says he, 'if every man kills his man, which I hope you will
do. I will answer for the rest.' Upon this, none of his party made further
opposition, but begged that he and his brother Allan should stand at a
distance from the danger. Locheil could not hear with patience the proposal
with regard to himself, but commanded that his brother Allan should be bound
to a tree, and that a little boy should be left to attend him; but he soon
flattered or threatened the boy to disengage him, and ran to the conflict.
"The Camerons being some more
than thirty in number, armed partly with musquets, and partly with bows,
kept up their pieces and arrows till their very muzzles and points almost
touched their enemies' breasts, when the very first fire took down about
thirty. They then laid on with their swords, and laid about with incredible
fury. The English defended themselves with their musquets and bayonets with
great bravery, but to little purpose. The skirmish continued long, and
obstinate at last. the English give way, and retreated towards the
ship, with their faces to the enemy, fighting with astonishing resolution.
But Locheil, to prevent their flight, commanded two or three of his men to
run before, and from behind a bush to make a noise, as if there was another
party of Highlanders to intercept their retreat. This took so effectually,
that they stopped, and animated by rage, madness and despair, they renewed
the skirmish with greater fury than ever, and wanted nothing but proper arms
to make Locheil repent of his stratagem. They were at last, however, forced
to give way, and betake themselves to their heels; the Camerons pursued them
chin deep in the sea; 138 were counted dead of the English, and of the
Camerons only five were killed.
"In this engagement Locheil
himself had several wonderful escapes. In the retreat of the English, one of
the strongest and bravest of the officers retired behind a bush, when he
observed Locheil pursuing, and seeing him unaccompanied with any, he leaped
out, and thought him his prey. They met one another with equal fury. The
combat was long and doubtful. The English gentleman had by far the advantage
in strength and size; but Locheil exceeding him in nimbleness and agility,
in the end tript the sword out of his hand: upon which, his antagonist flew
upon him with amazing rapidity; they closed, and wrestled till both fell to
the ground in each other's arms. The English officer got above Locheil, and
pressed him hard; but stretching forth his neck by attempting to disengage
himself, Locheil, who by this time had his hands at liberty, with his left
hand seized him by the collar, and jumping at his extended throat, he bit it
with his teeth quite through, and kept such a hold of his grip, that he
brought away his mouthful: this, he
said was the sweetest bite he
ever had in his life time. Immediately afterwards, when continuing the
pursuit after that encounter was over, he found his men chin deep in the
sea; he quickly followed them and, observing a fellow on deck aiming his
piece at him, plunged into the sea and escaped, but so narrowly that the
hair on the back part of his head was cut, and a little of the skin ruffled.
In a little while a similar attempt was made to shoot him: his
foster-brother threw himself before him, and received the shot in his mouth
and breast, preferring his Chief's life to his own."
It is said that some years
later when Sir Ewen was paying a visit to London he went into a barber's
shop to be shaved. In the course of conversation the barber said, "I see,
sir, you come from the north." "Yes," answered Locheil, "I do. Have you any
friends in the north?" "No," bitterly replied the barber, "nor do I wish to;
they are all savages up there. Would you believe it, one of them tore my
father's throat out with his teeth! I only wish I had the scoundrel's throat
as near me as I have yours just now!" Sir Ewen, not in the least
disconcerted, sympathised with the fellow, but did not go back to the same
shop again to be shaved.
On another occasion, with
only one hundred and fifty men, he cut off and almost annihilated a force of
some five hundred from the garrison who had come out to gather firewood, not
a single officer escaping. Almost the Iast appearance of Sir Ewen in a
military capacity was at Killiecrankie; but after the fall of Dundee, in
disgust at the petty jealousies and ignorance of warfare displayed by the
leaders, he returned to Achnacarry, leaving the clan under the command of
his son.
Hard by the present mansion
house stand the ruins of the former castle burnt by Cumberland on the 28th
May, 1746. The marks of the camp fires where the soldiers boiled their
kettles are still to be seen on the stems of the fine avenue of plane trees
leading towards the castle.
No man sacrificed more
domestic comfort through loyalty to the Stuart cause than Donald Cameron,
younger of Lochiel, who led the clan in 1745. No man had clearer views of
the result. On hearing that Prince Charlie had landed at Borrodale he
hastened in person to dissuade him from the attempt. On the way he passed
his brother's house at Passifern. Having stated the object of his journey,
his brother implored him to express his views by letter, for, he added, "I
know you better than you know yourself; if the Prince once sets eyes on you,
he will make you do anything he pleases."
The event proved the wisdom
of his judgment. The Prince taunted Locheil with cowardice, and stung by his
reproach, in the enthusiasm of the moment the chief exclaimed, "I will share
the fate of my Prince, and so shall every man over whom nature or fortune
has given me any power." With these words he hurried away to raise the clan.
Had Locheil persisted in his refusal to raise the clan, says Home, no other
chief would have joined the standard and the spark of rebellion must have
been instantly extinguished. Badly wounded at Culloden, Locheil lurked for
six months in the Highlands, sharing in the famous "cage" on Benalder side,
the fortunes of his Prince and Macpherson of Cluny ; finally he escaped to
France and died in exile.
The forfeited estates were
restored in 1806. During that period the clan paid the usual rent to the
Government and also contributed to maintain their chief and his family
abroad. When the family returned the tenants clubbed together and from their
holdings re-stocked Achnacarry.
Not far from the present
house is a row of fine trees, but planted in defiance of all approved laws
of forestry, even the German. The story of these trees is as follows4
Locheil was engaged in planting and beautifying his grounds at the time the
news came of the landing of Prince Charlie. When he raised the clan, as told
above, the seedlings were hastily placed in a trench with the intention of
being taken out and planted in their proper places when the chief returned
from the war. Of course Locheil never came back, and the seedlings remained
in the trench to grow into the row of stately trees we see to-day.
Leading up towards Achnacarry
from the loch is a stretch of road known as the dark mile, from the fact of
its being so densely shaded by the great plane trees that rise on either
side, flinging their leafy boughs across the road that even on the brightest
summer day scarce a ray of sunshine falls on the road beneath. Winter storms
have now considerably thinned the trees, but a little past the milestone
about the centre of the avenue there still stands "Prince Charlie's Tree."
Tradition has it that hidden in the hollow trunk the Prince, from the round
hole facing the west, took stock of Cumberland's troops as they passed in
quest of him. From the hundreds of initials cut on the trunk we may judge
that Jacobite sympathisers still linger in the north, and that the British
tourist may be recognised not merely by tracing figures with his walking
stick in the dust but also by inscribing his name on every available
monument.
Straight behind the tree
there rises a steep and rugged hill, and amongst the grey rocks at the top
may still be seen the cave in which Prince Charlie found shelter during his
wanderings after Culloden.
A little below where the
river flows out of Loch Arkaig the beautiful falls of Kaig are well worth
the attention of one who visits this neighbourhood. The loch itself reaches
back some ten miles into the very heart of the great rampart of mountains
that girdles the west coast of Scotland. The loch has an interest of its own
independent altogether of its scenic splendour and the glamour of romance.
On the 8th May, 1746, two French vessels carrying seven barrels of gold -
37,000 louis d'or from the King of France, to assist the ill-fated
expedition of Prince Charlie, touched at Borrodale. After landing the money
the sailors heard of the desperate condition of the enterprise—Culloden had
been fought some three _weeks previously—and demanded the restoration of the
money. They might have known the Highlanders better. They even landed a
party in search of the seven barrels, but all in vain, and two English
vessels appearing on the coast they had to forsake their quest and fight
their way to the open sea. The treasure was then carried to the head of Loch
Arkaig, where a council of war was held. With the English soldiers scouring
the country far and wide it was impossible to carry the gold from place to
place, so enough having been removed to relieve immediate wants, the rest
was buried part in the little river that runs in at the head of Loch Arkaig
and the rest near the lower end of the same lake. Later the treasure was dug
up again and re-buried, and later searches failed to discover the place of
concealment. A very considerable portion of the 37,000 louis d'or has never
yet been satisfactorily accounted for. We have it on good authority that a
gentleman of the country—who must for the present be nameless—did discover
some at least of the long lost treasure, but it is more than possible that a
rich find yet remains for the enterprising and intelligent seeker.
A little rise in the
foreground now hides Achnacarry from our view, and in a few moments we cross
the lattice steel girder bridge across the GIoy. Pew who have not lived in
the Highlands could conceive the force of this harmless streamlet, which
flows below, when swollen by winter rains. So suddenly does the water rise
that not long ago a large number of sheep and the best part of a little herd
of cattle grazing on its banks were surprised and swept into the loch.
Before the days of roads and bridges perils of this sort by water formed an
important item in the daily life of the Highlanders. |
