circ. 1735
The Austrians, after all, lost the day, and a certain Miles Macdonnell rescued our hero, and had him carried into hospital. Recovering, he returned to Rome, and was welcomed in a flattering manner both by his King, who presented him with a sum of money, and by the young Duke of York. After seeing some service on the Po, young Macdonell obtained leave to go to France and join a detachment which was to aid Prince Charles in Scotland. At Lyons they heard of the Prince’s defeat of Hawley at Falkirk, but at Paris the news was worse, and of all the Jacobite volunteers (who were Irish) John Macdonell alone persevered. He urged that, as the Prince’s affairs went ill, ‘It was ungenerous not to give what aid we were capable of, but I could not prevail on any of them to be of my opinion.’ In fact, it was now plain that France did not mean to lend any solid assistance to the Cause. The Duke of York since Christmas had been waiting at Dunkirk and Boulogne, expecting permission to sail for England with a large force, but delay followed delay. Young Macdonell now went to Boulogne, where he met the Duke, and was introduced by him to the Duc de Fitzjames and to Lally Tollendal. Here the good Colonel’s memory deceives him, for he avers that Lally wished to take him to Pondicherry. Now Lally was deep in the Scottish rising, and did not leave France for India till ten years after 1746.[108] Young Macdonell, in these weeks of hope deferred, lived with the Duke of York at Boulogne, Dunkirk, and St. Omer. Finally, he set sail from Dunkirk with several Irish officers on the very day of Culloden, April 16.
Here the Colonel is guilty of an artistic blunder in his narrative. It is plain, from his later statements, that the Duke of York made him the bearer of a letter, and a sum of 1,500l. or 2,000l. in gold, to Prince Charles. But we do not hear, till later, of the money or the missive. The little company with Macdonell rounded the Orkneys, landed in Loch Broom, and at once heard the fatal news of Culloden. Macdonell’s uncle, Scottus, had fallen with twenty of his men, ‘and nobody knew what was become of the Prince.’ Colonel Macdonell never gives dates, but he must have arrived in Loch Broom between May 8 and May 12, 1746. On May 8, a meeting of chiefs was held at Murlagan, and a tryst appointed at Loch Arkaig, in Lochiel’s country, for May 15.[109] Our hero heard something of this at Loch Broom, and determined to join the rallied clans. He first went to Laggy, at the head of Little Loch Broom, where he found Colin Dearg Mackenzie of Laggy, with several other Mackenzie gentlemen, and sixty of the clan. ‘We thought ourselves as safe [he and his friend, Lynch, an Irish officer,] as in the heart of France.’
Now began the purely personal romance of the Colonel. The Mackenzies entertained him and Captain Lynch at dinner in a dark and crowded room; he noticed that men gathered suspiciously behind him, and he remembered that they had remarked on the weight of his portmanteau. He therefore rose more than once from table to inspect that valise, but, while the company were drinking the Prince’s health, Colin Dearg walked out. Absent, too, was the portmanteau, when the guests left the table, but Colin explained that he had packed it on the back of our Colonel’s horse. There, indeed, it was, but when the Colonel stopped at Dundonell, and opened his valise in search of a pair of shoes, a canvas bag containing 1,000l. was missing. A gentleman of the Mackenzie clan had slashed open the portmanteau and stolen the money of the Prince whose health they were drinking! It was the affair of the Loch Arkaig hoard on a smaller scale. The situation of our injured hero was the more awkward, as Dundonell, where he found, himself, was the estate of a Mr. Mackenzie, nephew to the thief, Colin Dearg. Mr. Mackenzie was absent; Mrs. Mackenzie was at home, but in bed. However, she saw Macdonell, who told her what had occurred, and entrusted to her another bag of five hundred guineas: ‘If killed, I bequeath it to your ladyship. God be with you! I wish you a good morning.’ Accompanied by Lynch, Macdonell now returned to Laggy. He dared not use force against Colin Dearg, for, if he fell, Colin would win his own pardon by producing a letter from the Duke of York to Charles, which our hero was carrying, though he now mentions it for the first time. Accused by Macdonell of taking the money, Colin Dearg denied all knowledge of it, and, as he was attended by a tail of armed clansmen, Macdonell had no resource but in retreat.
He breakfasted at Dundonell with ‘the most amiable lady,’ took up the 500 guineas, and, after fatiguing marches, reached Loch Arkaig. On the shores of the remote and lonely loch our Colonel met, and recognised, his gigantic kinsman, the truculent Col of Barisdale. Col said that Lochiel and Murray of Broughton were at Achnacarry; he himself and Lochgarry were mustering men, ‘to try what terms could be got from the Duke of Cumberland.’ This must have been on May 14. At Achnacarry the wounded Lochiel received our hero kindly, and Mr. Murray of Broughton took charge of the remaining 500 guineas and the letter from the Duke of York to the Prince. Lest any one should think that the Colonel is romancing, there exists documentary evidence to corroborate his tale. The unhappy Murray of Broughton, in his accounts of the Prince’s money after Culloden, writes: ‘From a French officer who had landed upon the East Coast, £1,000. N.B.—This French officer was charged with 2,000 guineas, but said he had 1,000 taken from him as he passed through the Mackenzies’ country, and gave in an account of deductions from the other thousand.’ Murray adds that he has charged himself with 1.000l., ‘tho’ he still thinks he did not receive quite so much.’ He must have received the 500l. (perhaps in louis d’or, which he reckons as guineas), and some loose cash. Murray was writing from memory, so was Colonel Macdonell. Murray calls him a French officer, and really he was in French service. There cannot have been two such officers who, at the same time, were robbed of 1,000l. by the Mackenzies, and reported the loss just after Culloden.[110]
Macdonell slept at Achnacarry and was wakened by the pipes playing Cogga na si. News had just arrived of an attempted surprise by Cumberland, whose forces were actually in sight; Barisdale was accused of having concerted the surprise, but the story is improbable. Eight hundred Camerons and Macdonalds now retreated by the west end of Loch Arkaig, and our hero, with Captain Lynch, made for Knoydart. Lynch later returned to French service, carrying Macdonell’s report to the Duke of York, and soon fell at the battle of Lafeldt, where the Scots and Irish nearly captured Cumberland. As for Macdonell, ‘I had put on a resolution,’ he says, ‘never to leave Scotland while Prince Charles was in the country.’ The death of Macdonell’s father, and the infirmity of old Scottos, also made his presence at home necessary to his family. So, he says, ‘I waved the sure prospect I had of advancing myself both to riches and honour,’ in the service of Spain.
Knoydart, during the winter of 1746-47, must have been in a state of anarchy. Old Glengarry, accused by Barisdale, was a prisoner in Edinburgh Castle; Young Glengarry was in the Tower. Col Barisdale and his son were captives in France, on a charge of treason to King James. Lochgarry had fled to France with the Prince. Old Scottos was decrepit. No rents were paid; the lands had been wasted by the English; clansmen were seizing farms at will.[111] In these melancholy circumstances our Colonel marched alone into the Mackenzie country, to hunt for the money stolen by Colin Dearg. Then this odd adventure befell him:—
‘I went to take a solitary turn and met a well-dressed man in Highland clothes also taking the morning air. After civil salutations to each other, I entered into discourse with him about former transactions in that country. He of himself began to tell me about French officers that came to Lochbroom—how the 1,000 guineas had been cut out of one of their portmanteaus by Colin Dearg, Major Wm. McKenzie of Kilcoy,[112] and Lieutenant Murdoch McKenzie from Dingwall—all officers of Lord Cromartie’s regiment, being all equally concerned; and how not only those who acted the scene, but all the people in that part of the country, had been despised and ridiculed for their mean and dastardly behaviour; but that had his (McKenzie’s, who was speaking to me) advice been taken, there should never have been a word about the matter. The following dialogue then ensued:—Question. “And pray, Sir, what did you advise?” Answer. “To cut off both their heads, a very sure way indeed!” Q. “What were they, or of what country?” A. “The oldest, and a stout-like man, was Irish. The youngest was very strong-like, was a Macdonell of the family of Glengarry.” Q. “How was the money divided?” A. “Colin Dearg got 300 guineas, William Kilcoy got 300 guineas, and Lieutenant Murdoch McKenzie got 300 guineas.” Q. “What became of the other hundred?” A. “Two men who stood behind the Irish Captain with drawn dirks ready to kill him, had he observed Colin Dearg cutting open the portmanteau, got 25 guineas each; and I and another man, prepared in like manner for the young Captain Macdonell, got 25 guineas each.” Q. “You tell the truth, you are sure?” A. “As I shall answer, I do.” Q. “Do you know to whom you are speaking?” A. “To a friend and one of my own name.” “No, you d—d rascal,” seizing him suddenly by the breast with my left hand, at the same instant twitching out my dirk with the right, and throwing him upon his back, “I am that very Macdonell.” I own I was within an ace of running him through the heart, but some sudden reflection struck me—my being alone, and in a place where I was in a manner a stranger, among people which I had reason to distrust, I left the fellow upon his back, and re-entered the house (Torridon) in some hurry. My landlord, Mr. McKenzie of Torridon, met me in the entry, asked where I had been. I answered, “Taking a turn.” “Have you met anything to vex you?” “No,” I returned smiling. “Sir,” says he, “I ask pardon, you went out with an innocent and harmless countenance, and you came in with a fierceness in your aspect past all description.” “Mr. McKenzie,” said I, “none of your scrutinizing remarks; let us have our morning!” “With all my heart,” he replied. Soon after, being a little composed, I related to him my morning adventure. He remarked that the man was a stranger to him, and had been a soldier in Lord Cromartie’s regiment. That very day I quitted that part of the country and returned home, where I continued sometime.’
The some time must cover the years from 1747 to the autumn of 1749. Old Glengarry was released at that date from Edinburgh Castle. To him, at Invergarry, Colonel John told the story of his wrongs, and from his chief he obtained an escort of five men. With these at his heels, he marched to Dundonell, and told Mr. Mackenzie that he desired a meeting with Colin Dearg. Colin came, but his escort consisted of some thirty-five men armed with dirks and clubs. The Colonel, however, was determined to beard his enemy, and devised the following tactics. He himself would sit between Colin Dearg and Dundonell: two of his five men would slip out and guard the door with drawn swords; meanwhile the Colonel would insult the Mackenzies. If they raised a hand he would pistol Colin and dirk his host, Dundonell; his three retainers would fire the house, and the Macdonells would escape in the confusion or perish with their foes. It was a very pretty sketch for a camisado.
‘After a short pause Dundonell mentioned the cause of our present meeting in as becoming a manner as the subject would admit of; to which an evasive answer was returned by his uncle, Colin Dearg, pretending to deny the fact. I then took him up, and proved that he himself was the very man who with his own hands had taken the gold out of my portmanteau, after cutting it open with some sharp instrument. This I said openly in the hearing of all present. To which I got no other reply than that “the money was gone and could not be accounted for.” I returned that “If the cash was squandered the reward due to such actions was yet extant”—and being asked what that was, I answered, “The gallows.” At this expression the whole got up standing, and seeing them all looking towards me, I drew my dirk and side pistol, and presenting one to my right and the other to my left, swore that if any motion was made against my life, I would despatch Dundonell and his uncle, who seeing me ready to put my threat in execution, begged of their people for the love of God to be quiet, which was directly obeyed. In the meantime my men had taken immediate possession of the outside of the door and were prepared to act according to my orders. I called to them to stay where they were, but none of the people in the house knew what they had gone out for.’