Chronicles of the Canongate

by Walter Scott

  "In the year 1795 a serious disturbance broke out in Glasgow among the Breadalbane Fencibles. Several men having been confined and threatened with corporal punishment, considerable discontent and irritation were excited among their comrades, which increased to such violence, that, when some men were confined in the guard-house, a great proportion of the regiment rushed out and forcibly released the prisoners. This violation of military discipline was not to be passed over, and accordingly measures were immediately taken to secure the ringleaders. But so many were equally concerned, that it was difficult, if not impossible, to fix the crime on any, as being more prominently guilty. And here was shown a trait of character worthy of a better cause, and which originated from a feeling alive to the disgrace of a degrading punishment. The soldiers being made sensible of the nature of their misconduct, and the consequent necessity of public example, SEVERAL MEN VOLUNTARILY OFFERED THEMSELVES TO STAND TRIAL, and suffer the sentence of the law as an atonement for the whole. These men were accordingly marched to Edinburgh Castle, tried, and four condemned to be shot. Three of them were afterwards reprieved, and the fourth, Alexander Sutherland, was shot on Musselburgh Sands.

  "The following semi-official account of this unfortunate misunderstanding was published at the time:—

  "'During the afternoon of Monday, when a private of the light company of the Breadalbane Fencibles, who had been confined for a MILITARY offence, was released by that company, and some other companies, who had assembled in a tumultuous manner before the guard-house, no person whatever was hurt, and no violence offered; and however unjustifiable the proceedings, it originated not from any disrespect or ill-will to their officers, but from a mistaken point of honour, in a particular set of men in the battalion, who thought themselves disgraced by the impending punishment of one of their number. The men have, in every respect, since that period conducted themselves with the greatest regularity, and strict subordination. The whole of the battalion seemed extremely sensible of the improper conduct of such as were concerned, whatever regret they might feel for the fate of the few individuals who had so readily given themselves up as prisoners, to be tried for their own and others' misconduct.'

  "On the march to Edinburgh a circumstance occurred, the more worthy of notice, as it shows a strong principle of honour and fidelity to his word and to his officer in a common Highland soldier. One of the men stated to the officer commanding the party, that he knew what his fate would be, but that he had left business of the utmost importance to a friend in Glasgow, which he wished to transact before his death; that, as to himself, he was fully prepared to meet his fate; but with regard to his friend, he could not die in peace unless the business was settled, and that, if the officer would suffer him to return to Glasgow, a few hours there would be sufficient, and he would join him before he reached Edinburgh, and march as a prisoner with the party. The soldier added, 'You have known me since I was a child; you know my country and kindred; and you may believe I shall never bring you to any blame by a breach of the promise I now make, to be with you in full time to be delivered up in the Castle.' This was a startling proposal to the officer, who was a judicious, humane man, and knew perfectly his risk and responsibility in yielding to such an extraordinary application. However, his confidence was such, that he complied with the request of the prisoner, who returned to Glasgow at night, settled his business, and left the town before daylight to redeem his pledge. He took a long circuit to avoid being seen, apprehended as a deserter, and sent back to Glasgow, as probably his account of his officer's indulgence would not have been credited. In consequence of this caution, and the lengthened march through woods and over hills by an unfrequented route, there was no appearance of him at the hour appointed. The perplexity of the officer when he reached the neighbourhood of Edinburgh may be easily imagined. He moved forward slowly indeed, but no soldier appeared; and unable to delay any longer, he marched up to the Castle, and as he was delivering over the prisoners, but before any report was given in, Macmartin, the absent soldier, rushed in among his fellow prisoners, all pale with anxiety and fatigue, and breathless with apprehension of the consequences in which his delay might have involved his benefactor.

  "In whatever light the conduct of the officer (my respectable friend, Major Colin Campbell) may be considered, either by military men or others, in this memorable exemplification of the characteristic principle of his countrymen, fidelity to their word, it cannot but be wished that the soldier's magnanimous self-devotion had been taken as an atonement for his own misconduct and that of the whole, who also had made a high sacrifice, in the voluntary offer of their lives for the conduct of their brother soldiers. Are these a people to be treated as malefactors, without regard to their feelings and principles? and might not a discipline, somewhat different from the usual mode, be, with advantage, applied to them?"—Vol.II. pp.413-15. 3rd Edit.

  "A soldier of this regiment, (The Argyllshire Highlanders) deserted, and emigrated to America, where he settled. Several years after his desertion, a letter was received from him, with a sum of money, for the purpose of procuring one or two men to supply his place in the regiment, as the only recompense he could make for 'breaking his oath to his God and his allegiance to his King, which preyed on his conscience in such a manner, that he had no rest night nor day.'

  "This man had had good principles early instilled into his mind, and the disgrace which he had been originally taught to believe would attach to a breach of faith now operated with full effect. The soldier who deserted from the 42nd Regiment at Gibraltar, in 1797, exhibited the same remorse of conscience after he had violated his allegiance. In countries where such principles prevail, and regulate the character of a people, the mass of the population may, on occasions of trial, be reckoned on as sound and trustworthy."—Vol.II., p.218. 3rd Edit.

  "The late James Menzies of Culdares, having engaged in the rebellion of 1715, and been taken at Preston, in Lancashire, was carried to London, where he was tried and condemned, but afterwards reprieved. Grateful for this clemency, he remained at home in 1745, but, retaining a predilection for the old cause, he sent a handsome charger as a present to Prince Charles, when advancing through England. The servant who led and delivered the horse was taken prisoner, and carried to Carlisle, where he was tried and condemned. To extort a discovery of the person who sent the horse, threats of immediate execution in case of refusal, and offers of pardon on his giving information, were held out ineffectually to the faithful messenger. He knew, he said, what the consequence of a disclosure would be to his master, and his own life was nothing in the comparison. When brought out for execution, he was again pressed to inform on his master. He asked if they were serious in supposing him such a villain. If he did what they desired, and forgot his master and his trust, he could not return to his native country, for Glenlyon would be no home or country for him, as he would be despised and hunted out of the glen. Accordingly he kept steady to his trust, and was executed. This trusty servant's name was John Macnaughton, from Glenlyon, in Perthshire. He deserves to be mentioned, both on account of his incorruptible fidelity, and of his testimony to the honourable principles of the people, and to their detestation of a breach of trust to a kind and honourable master, however great might be the risk, or however fatal the consequences, to the individual himself."—Vol.1., pp. 52,53, 3rd Edit.

  NOTE TO THE TWO DROVERS.

  Note 11.—ROBERT DONN'S POEMS.

  I cannot dismiss this story without resting attention for a moment on the light which has been thrown on the character of the Highland Drover since the time of its first appearance, by the account of a drover poet, by name Robert Mackay, or, as he was commonly called, Rob Donn—that is, Brown Robert—and certain specimens of his talents, published in the ninetieth number of the Quarterly Review. The picture which that paper gives of the habits and feelings of a class of persons with which the general reader would be apt to associate no ideas but those of wild superstition and rude manners, is in the highest degree int
eresting, and I cannot resist the temptation of quoting two of the songs of this hitherto unheard-of poet of humble life. They are thus introduced by the reviewer:—

  "Upon one occasion, it seems, Rob's attendance upon his master's cattle business detained him a whole year from home, and at his return he found that a fair maiden to whom his troth had been plighted of yore had lost sight of her vows, and was on the eve of being married to a rival (a carpenter by trade), who had profited by the young drover's absence. The following song was composed during a sleepless night, in the neighbourhood of Creiff, in Perthshire, and the home sickness which it expresses appears to be almost as much that of the deer-hunter as of the loving swain.

  'EASY IS MY BED, IT IS EASY,

  BUT IT IS NOT TO SLEEP THAT I INCLINE;

  THE WIND WHISTLES NORTHWARDS, NORTHWARDS,

  AND MY THOUGHTS MOVE WITH IT.

  More pleasant were it to be with thee

  In the little glen of calves,

  Than to be counting of droves

  In the enclosures of Creiff.

  EASY IS MY BED, ETC.

  'Great is my esteem of the maiden

  Towards whose dwelling the north wind blows;

  She is ever cheerful, sportive, kindly,

  Without folly, without vanity, without pride.

  True is her heart—were I under hiding,

  And fifty men in pursuit of my footsteps,

  I should find protection, when they surrounded me most

  closely,

  In the secret recess of that shieling.

  EASY IS MY BED, ETC.

  'Oh for the day for turning my face homeward,

  That I may see the maiden of beauty—

  Joyful will it be to me to be with thee,

  Fair girl with the long heavy locks!

  Choice of all places for deer-hunting

  Are the brindled rock and the ridge!

  How sweet at evening to be dragging the slain deer

  Downwards along the piper's cairn!

  EASY IS MY BED, ETC.

  'Great is my esteem for the maiden

  Who parted from me by the west side of the enclosed field;

  Late yet again will she linger in that fold,

  Long after the kine are assembled.

  It is I myself who have taken no dislike to thee,

  Though far away from thee am I now.

  It is for the thought of thee that sleep flies from me;

  Great is the profit to me of thy parting kiss!

  EASY IS MY BED, ETC.

  'Dear to me are the boundaries of the forest;

  Far from Creiff is my heart;

  My remembrance is of the hillocks of sheep,

  And the heath of many knolls.

  Oh for the red-streaked fissures of the rock,

  Where in spring time the fawns leap;

  Oh for the crags towards which the wind is blowing—

  Cheap would be my bed to be there!

  EASY IS MY BED, ETC.'

  "The following describes Rob's feelings on the first discovery of his damsel's infidelity. The airs of both these pieces are his own, and, the Highland ladies say, very beautiful.

  'Heavy to me is the shieling, and the hum that is in it,

  Since the ear that was wont to listen is now no more on the

  watch.

  Where is Isabel, the courteous, the conversable, a sister in

  kindness?

  Where is Anne, the slender-browed, the turret-breasted, whose

  glossy hair pleased me when yet a boy?

  HEICH! WHAT AN HOUR WAS MY RETURNING!

  PAIN SUCH AS THAT SUNSET BROUGHT, WHAT AVAILETH ME TO TELL IT?

  'I traversed the fold, and upward among the trees—

  Each place, far and near, wherein I was wont to salute my

  love.

  When I looked down from the crag, and beheld the fair-haired

  stranger dallying with his bride,

  I wished I had never revisited the glen of my dreams.

  SUCH THINGS CAME INTO MY HEART AS THAT SUN WAS GOING DOWN,

  A PAIN OF WHICH I SHALL NEVER BE RID, WHAT AVAILETH ME TO TELL

  IT?

  'Since it has been heard that the carpenter had persuaded thee,

  My sleep is disturbed—busy is foolishness within me at

  midnight.

  The kindness that has been between us, I cannot shake off that

  memory in visions;

  Thou callest me not to thy side; but love is to me for a

  messenger.

  THERE IS STRIFE WITHIN ME, AND I TOSS TO BE AT LIBERTY;

  AND EVER THE CLOSER IT CLINGS, AND THE DELUSION IS GROWING TO

  ME AS A TREE.

  'Anne, yellow-haired daughter of Donald, surely thou knowest

  not how it is with me—

  That it is old love, unrepaid, which has worn down from me my

  strength;

  That when far from thee, beyond many mountains, the wound in

  my heart was throbbing,

  Stirring, and searching for ever, as when I sat beside thee on

  the turf.

  NOW, THEN, HEAR ME THIS ONCE, IF FOR EVER I AM TO BE WITHOUT

  THEE,

  MY SPIRIT IS BROKEN—GIVE ME ONE KISS ERE I LEAVE THIS LAND!

  'Haughtily and scornfully the maid looked upon me:—

  Never will it be work for thy fingers to unloose the band from

  my curls.

  Thou hast been absent a twelvemonth, and six were seeking me

  diligently;

  Was thy superiority so high that there should be no end of

  abiding for thee?

  HA! HA! HA! HAST THOU AT LAST BECOME SICK?

  IS IT LOVE THAT IS TO GIVE DEATH TO THEE? SURELY THE ENEMY

  HAS BEEN IN NO HASTE.

  'But how shall I hate thee, even though towards me thou hast

  become cold?

  When my discourse is most angry concerning thy name in thine

  absence,

  Of sudden thine image, with its old dearness, comes visibly

  into my mind,

  And a secret voice whispers that love will yet prevail!

  AND I BECOME SURETY FOR IT ANEW, DARLING,

  AND IT SPRINGS UP AT THAT HOUR LOFTY AS A TOWER.'

  "Rude and bald as these things appear in a verbal translation, and rough as they might possibly appear, even were the originals intelligible, we confess we are disposed to think they would of themselves justify Dr. Mackay (their Editor) in placing this herdsman-lover among the true sons of song."—QUARTERLY REVIEW, NO. XC., JULY 1831.

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