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P. 18. His wife did not
long survive him.—She was killed on the 2nd of August i'jçi, in a
carriage accident, whilst travelling from England to Rothiernurchus with
her daughter and son-in- law on a first visit to their northern home.
They stopped at the inn of Feshie to water the horses, and whilst the
bits were out of their mouths, a herd of pigs dashed round the corner of
the inn, and knocking down a ladder leaning against the wall, startled
the horses, who set off at full speed towards the bridge over the Feshie;
the bridge had no parapets, the wheels went over the side, and phaeton
and all fell over down the steep rocky banks to the bed of the river.
The landlord, who had rushed after, arrived in time to save the laird by
catching hold of his heel as he was disappearing over the brink; he was
severely injured, but Mrs Ironside was killed on the spot. Mrs Grant,
with her baby, Eliza, was in another carriage, and witnessed the
accident; it is still remembered in the countryside how the poor lady
scrambled down through the shrubs and rocks, crying on her mother, to
find her lying dead below.
P. 24. A long low
hill.—The Doune hill is supposed to be inhabited by one of the numerous
Brownies of tradition. This one was a friendly little fellow who used to
come out nightly from his hill, and work hard in the kitchen tinkering
the pots and pans in return for "the cream-bowl duly set." But one
unfortunate night the laird was kept awake by the hammering, and cried
out peevishly to the Brownie to stop his noise and be off with him. The
Brownie, in high dudgeon, retired within his hill, and has never resumed
his service at the Doune, though he is supposed to account for the
occasional disappearance of milk left standing in the offices. He may
still be heard at work inside the hill, and there is a belief that in
time his resentment will subside and he will return to his former
haunts. One of the babies of "the family," born in 1843, was
peculiar-looking as a new-born child from having marked features and
unusually long dark hair; at first sight of her one of the old women who
had come for the occasion cried out, "Eh, sirs I it's the Brounie come
back againI"
P. 64. Where they came
from . . I really do not know. —In 1701 four brothers Raper, Richard of
Langthorne, Henry, Matthew, and Moses, were entered at Heralds' College
as grandsons of Richard Raper of Bodesley, county of York, and entitled
to bear his arms. Moses married Martha, daughter of Sir William
Billings, Lord Mayor of London, from whom he bought the manor of Thorley
in 1714. Dying without issue, he left Thorley to his brother Matthew of
Wendover Dean, in the county of Bucks, who married Elizabeth, sister of
Sir William Billings. This Matthew had seven children, of whom the
eldest succeeded him at Thorley, and is the great-uncle Matthew of the
Memoirs; the fourth was John of Twyford House, ancestor of the Grants
and Freres; the sixth was Henry, father of Admiral Raper.
P. 64. Descended in the
direct line from Sir John Beaumont—There is a mistake here. Elizabeth
Beaumont, though of the same stock as the Beaumonts of Grace Dieu, did
not (alas I) descend from them but from an elder branch. Sir Thomas
Beaumont, the second son of John, first Viscount Beaumont, married
Philippa Maureward, heiress of the Manors of Godesby and Cole Orton. He
had two sons, John, who succeeded him (d. 1459), and Thomas, ancestor of
the Beaumonts of Grace Dieu. The fourth in descent from John was Sir
Nicolas of Cole Orton (d. 1502). The descendants of his eldest son, Sir
Henry, carried on the main Cole Orton line for a time, when it reverted
to the descendants of his second son, Sir Thomas of Stoughton Grange;
the male line of the Beaumonts of Cole Orton came to an end with Sir
George Beaumont, the friend of Wordsworth, fifth in descent from Sir
Thomas of Stoughton Grange. Elizabeth Beaumont was fourth in descent
from the same Thomas; she married Dr William Hale, and died 1726; he
died in 1758, aged 84. Their only child, Elizabeth, married John Raper
of Twyford House.
P. 68. He must have been
the Admirars father.—He was the Admiral himself, and figures as a boy of
ten or twelve in his cousin's diary. There are, however, various
passages in it concerning "Dick," afterwards Lord Howe, who seems to
have loved and have sailed away. When his sister-in-law, Mrs Howe, has
to inform Miss Raper of Captain Howe's marriage elsewhere, she enters in
her diary: "Thought I should have died. Cried heartily, damned him as
heartily, and went about loose with neither life nor soul." Another
curious entry under 10th October 1758 describes how a largish party of
ladies went to the fair at Blackheath, and continues, "Got out again
safe and sound, a pretty good crowd, got kissed three of us in coming
back." The diary is mostly in cipher.
P. 108. Sir William
Grant, the Master of the Rolls.—The story goes that on one occasion,
when Dr William Grant arrived from London late at night, he was met at
Aviemore by his brother, the laird, who bade him go at once to the help
of one of the floaters' wives, who was in sore trouble. He did so, and
before morning a lad-bairn, the future Master of the Rolls, was safely
born. Perhaps he owed his fore-name to this circumstance.
P. 174.—Among the skits
of this witty satirist was a doggerel ballad rhyming all the crack-jaw
names of the Highland clans. One of the verses runs thus:—
Come the Grants of
Tullochgorum
Wi' their pipers gaun before 'em,
Proud the rnithers are that bore 'em,
Fee fa fudle fum.
Come the Grants of Rothiemurchus,
Ilka ane his sword and dirk has,
Ilka ane as proud as a Turk is,
Fee fa fudle fum.
P. 181.—.The kirkyard at
Rothiemurchus contains the tomb of the Shaw who was captain of the Clan
Chattan in the battle between the clans at the Inch of Perth. On the
slab covering him stand five curious cylinder-shaped stones, one at each
corner and one in the middle, which tradition says disappear and
reappear with the ebb or flow of the fortunes of the family in
possession of Rothiemurchus. While the Duke of Bedford rented the Doune,
one of his footmen, an Englishman, carried off one of the stones for a
frolic, causing great indignation among the people, not appeased by his
being made to bring it back and when, a few days after, the poor fellow
was drowned in fording the Spey, no doubt was entertained that he had
brought on his doom by his temerity in meddling with the Shaw's stone.
P. 184. In the year 1556,
I think.—It was in 1570 that Patrick received from his father a charter
of the lands of Muckerach and others; in 1580, upon his own resignation,
he received another of the same lands, in which he is designed "of
Rothiemurchus."
P. 184. The Shaws having
displeased the Government by repeated acts of insubordination.—Allan
Shaw, the last of the Shaws of Rothiemurchus, was outlawed and his
estates confiscated for the murder of his step-father, Sir John Dallas.
There was bad blood between the two, his mother's marriage being highly
displeasing to the young man. One afternoon, as Allan was walking along
the road, his dog, seeing Dallas enter the smithy, followed, and was
kicked out by him. Allan drew his sword, entered the smithy, cut off
Dallas' head, and returning to the Doune threw it down at his mother's
feet. The room she was sitting in is still pointed out. The scene of the
murder was a spot now included in the garden, and every August the scent
of blood is said to rise there in memory of the deed committed in that
month. Shaw fled from justice, and met with his death shortly
afterwards. The Chief of Grant purchased for a large sum his estates, or
rather the right to hold them if he could, and bestowed them with the
same condition on his second son Patrick. The Mackintosh, as Shaw's
chief, considered the defaulter's property should have fallen to him,
and Patrick's possession was by no means an easy one.
P. 186. Grizzel Mor.—During
the troubles of 1688 this lady successfully defended the Castle of
Loch-an-Eilan from an attack made upon it after the Battle of Cromdale,
by a party of the adherents of James II. under General Buchan.
P. 186. Surnamed
Macalpine, I don't know why.—He was formally adopted into the Clan
Alpine, and given the name, in recognition of his friendliness and good
offices to the unfortunate Clan Macgregor.
P. 186. Lovat.—There is a
story well known in the north that Macalpine and Lovat, playing cards
together, and Macalpine hesitating long over his play, Lovat grew
impatient and urged him to go on with the game. "Well, Lovat," said
Macalpine, "the truth is, I have a hand that puzzles me; you'd be fitter
to play it yourself, for it's a knave between two kings."
P. 187. Stories of
Macalpine's days.—They are still to be heard by those who bring an ear
for the Gaelic. Here are one or two.
The Mackintosh set up a
mill just outside the Rothiemurchus west march, and threatened to divert
the water from the Rothiemurchus lands. Macalpine, having received Rob
Roy's promise to back him, sent a haughty letter to the Mackintosh, who
thereupon vowed to march in his men and burn the Doune. Macalpine was at
this time at variance with his chief, and could not expect assistance
from him, and, being unable to cope alone with so powerful a chief as
the Mackintosh, grew very uneasy as time passed and Rob Roy made no
sign. The Mackintoshes were assembled in force on the march, and
Macalpine sat one night in his room with his head down on his arms on
the table, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and a voice spoke,
"What though the purse be empty the night, who knows how full it may be
in the morn?" He started up, and there was Rob Roy, alone, with no sign
of followers. After a hearty greeting, the laird asked "But where are
your men, Rob?" "Take you no heed of that," said Rob, and called for his
piper. Up and down in front of the Doune house paced the piper playing
the "Macgregors' Gathering"; and as he played, on the opposite side of
the Spey in Kinrara appeared two Macgregors, and then three Macgregors,
and then two Macgregors, till at last a hundred and fifty of the
prettiest men in Rob Roy's band were standing there fully armed, And the
piper had orders not to stop playing till all were out, and it nearly
burst him. And as the Macgregors came out by twos and threes, the
Mackintoshes on the opposite side stole off by fours and fives, until,
as the last Macgregor took his place, the last Mackintosh disappeared.
Then Rob Roy wrote a letter to the Mackintosh (which is repeated from
beginning to end in the original Gaelic), in which he threatened to go
through his country and leave not a man alive nor a house unburned if
any further displeasure were offered to Rothiemurchus. And he bade
Macalpine send for him if occasion arose, and he would come, no matter
how far. "But," said Rob, "it's a far cry to Baiquhidder, and no one
here who knows the way"; so he left behind him two of his young men,
great runners, who would go to hell if he bade them, to be despatched to
fetch him if need were, for they would do a hundred miles in twenty-four
hours. The Mackintosh's mill was destroyed, and a song was made of it
called "The Burning of the Black Mill." The tune is one of the best reel
tunes in the country-side.
Macalpine had a daughter
(natural) called Maine bhuie, or yellow-haired Mary. One of the young
men left behind by Rob Roy fell in love with her, and she with him, but
Macalpine would not hear of it. So Macgregor and she ran off together,
and hid themselves in a distant part of Rothiemurchus. About five or six
years afterwards the laird was Out hunting and lost his way. Presently
he saw a bothie, and Maine, looking out, saw him, and bade her husband
run quickly Out at the back and hide. And when Macalpine came in she
warmed and comforted him, and gave him good food and good drink, until,
when he was rested and refreshed, he said to her, "Noo fetch me the
guidman's heid in your apron." "Na, na, Laird," she answered, "I've ower
mony heids at my fireside for me to spare you his heid." "Hoot, lassie,"
said Macalpine, "gae 'Wa and bid him come ben," So Macgregor was called
in, and Macalpine gave him the farm of Altdru. They lived there from
generation to generation till the time of Hamish Macgregor, who was the
last of the race. He died in the Doune Square in 1890.
It is said that Macalpine
never slept at night without praying for two men, Rob Roy and the Duke
of Gordon.
P. 188. His second
bride.—The story goes that Macalpine, being determined to marry, asked
Tullochgorm if he had any marriageable daughters, and was answered two,
who were entirely at his disposal. So Macalpine went wooing to
Tullochgorm, but the two young ladies, brought in one after the other,
declined the old laird's proposal. Nothing daunted, Macalpine asked if
there was no other daughter of the family, and was answered, "Ay,
there's a bit lassie rinnin' aboot." Macalpine bade them send for her.
"So Rauchel was fetched in from the byre, and when she came ben she just
made a graan' curtsey, and said, 'Deed, Macalpine, it's proud I'll be to
be Leddy Rothiemurchus.'" So they were married, and she became the
mother of several fine sons.
Macalpine's age both at
death and at his marriage with Rachel has been greatly exaggerated by
tradition. Their eldest son, William, received a commission in the
Highland Regiment in 1742; he was probably a year older than his brother
Lewis, who was born in 1728. This would bring Macalpine's second
marriage to 1726 at latest, at which date he was sixty-one years old.
His first wife was the daughter of Patrick, tutor of Grant, second son
of John Grant, sixth of Freuchie, Chief of Grant.
P. 252. He was long
regretted.—"The Captain" is so well remembered that he is still seen at
times looking out of the upper windows of the house at Inverdruie.
P. 263. A certain William
Grant.—It was when Dr William Grant was living at the Doune that there
befell a quarrel in the kitchen between the cook and the turnspit; she
came crying to her master that the boy had raised a knife at her and cut
off her hair; he meanwhile took to his heels, and Dr William, coming to
the door, saw him running down the avenue at top speed. "Come back, you
black thief, till I give you your wage!" shouted the Doctor in Gaelic.
"Wait you till I ask for it," called back the boy. This was how General
William Grant came to enlist.
P. 369. Sir Walter
Scott.—Scott has a reference to one of the Rothiemurchus traditions in
the fourth canto of Marmion
And such a phantom, too,
'tis said,
With Highland broadsword, targe, and plaid,
And fingers red with gore,
Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade,
Or where the sable pine-trees shade
Dark Tomantoul and Auchnaslaid,
Dromouchty, or Glenmore.
The gigantic figure is
said to offer battle to the belated traveller through the woods; to him
who boldly accepts it no harm is done, but a display of terror is
punished by death. |
