The mother’s charge to her boy cannot be said to be tempered with much Christian feeling or principle, yet it was according to the generally cherished practices of the system under which she lived. Then it was that might was right, and revenge bravery. But to return to the subject—the widow’s cries and tears, excitement and eloquence, were all in vain. The officer made off with the horse, and delivered it to his chief.
Matters went on in this way, in various quarters, for a considerable time, until at length, and about twenty years thereafter, the same officer appeared on the same errand at a neighbouring widow’s door, and deprived her as usual of her best horse. The circumstance was brought under the notice of Lachlan Og, and having been, no doubt, frequently reminded of the cruelty inflicted by that official on his mother, he determined to embrace the present befitting occasion for displaying his dire revenge. It may be stated that young Lachlan was noted in the district for his great agility and muscular strength. He made no delay in pursuing the officer, and having come up to him at a distance of some miles, he seized him by the neck and sternly demanded the widow’s horse, reminding him, at the same time, of the treatment inflicted by him on his mother twenty years before. The officer stood petrified with fear, seeing fierceness and revenge depicted so very unmistakably in young Mackinnon’s face. Yet still he grasped the animal by the halter, and would not permit his youthful assailant to intermeddle with it. The strife commenced, and that in right earnest, but in a few moments the officer fell lifeless on the ground. Mackinnon, seizing his dirk, dissevered the head from the body, and washed it in a fountain by the wayside, which is still pointed out to the traveller as ‘Tobar a’ chinn,’ or ‘The Well of the Head.’ He then, at once, mounted the horse, and galloped off to the residence of his chief, carrying the bloody head in his left hand on the point of his dirk. His appearance at the main entrance, with the ghastly trophy still bleeding in his hand, greatly alarmed the menials of the mansion. Without dismounting, he inquired if Mackinnon was at home, and being told that he was, he said, ‘Go and tell my chief that I have arrived to present him with the head of his officer “Donnachadh Mor,” in case that he might wish to embalm it and hang it up in his baronial hall as a trophy of heartlessness and cruelty.’ The message was instantly delivered to the laird, who could not believe that such a diabolical deed could be perpetrated by any of his clan, but still he came out to see. On his appearance in the court, Lachlan Og dismounted, did obeisance to his chief, and prominently exhibited the dripping head by lifting it up on his dirk. ‘What is this, Lachlan; what murder is this?’ asked the excited chief. Lachlan explained the whole in full detail, and related the circumstances of the present transaction, as well as of the inhuman treatment which his mother had received when he was a child. The chieftain pondered, paused, and declared that these cruelties had been practised unknown to him. He granted a free pardon to Lachlan Og, appointed him his officer in room of Donnachadh Mor, and issued an edict over all his estate that thereafter neither widow nor orphan, heir, nor kindred, would ever be deprived by him of their horse, or of any other part of their property.
JAMES GRANT OF CARRON.
Seumas-an-Tuim, alias James Grant of Carron, in Strathspey, is one of those Highland notabilities who have made themselves famous for deeds of lawlessness and rapine. Seumas is the subject of the well-known song:—
A mhnathan a ghlinne,│ Ye women of the glen, A mhnathan a ghlinne,│ Ye women of the glen, A mhnathan a ghlinne,│ Ye women of the glen, Nach mithich dhuibh eiridh, │ Is it not time for you to rise, ’Seumas-an-Tuim ’ag iomain │ And James-an-Tuim driving
na spréidhe, │away your cattle.
The melody of this song is a beautiful one, and has been adapted to the great Highland bagpipe, in the shape of a well-known pibroch—‘The Breadalbane Gathering,’ or ‘Bodaich na’m briogais,’ and associated with a victory, which John Glas, first Earl of Breadalbane, gained over the Sinclairs of Caithness, at Allt-nam-mearlach. This was towards the close of the seventeenth century. But the air belongs to an earlier period. Seumas-an-Tuim flourished at the beginning of that century.
The wild career of this man seems to have originated in accident. Unintentionally he slew his cousin, one of the Ballindalloch family. The consequence was a fierce feud between the Grants of Ballindalloch and the Grants of Carron, and James, finding his enemies implacable, became lawless and desperate. In retaliation for his deeds of spoliation, Ballindalloch, hearing that John Grant of Carron, James’s brother, with a party of his men, was cutting timber in the forest of Abernethy, set upon them and slew the Laird of Carron, on the presumption that he aided the outlaw. The Earl of Murray, then Lord Lieutenant of the county, interposing to protect Ballindalloch, Seumas-an-Tuim vowed that he would avenge himself by his own hand. On the 3rd of December 1630, he came with a number of followers to Pitchas, the residence of Ballindalloch, burned his corn-yard, his barns, byres, and stables, with the cattle, horses, and sheep, driving away such as escaped the flames. Then he went with his men to Tulchin, the residence of old Ballindalloch, where he did in like manner, driving away as many of his cattle and horses as escaped the conflagration. Notwithstanding all this, he succeeded in eluding every attempt on the part of the Earl of Murray to capture him; who having failed in every effort to do so by force, had recourse to stratagem. Acting in accordance with the proverb of ‘setting a thief to catch a thief,’ he employed three ‘broken men,’ with whom he made a compact, offering handsome rewards should they succeed in bringing Seumas-an-Tuim into his hands dead or alive. The principal man of the three—a curious comment on the social condition of those times—was a brother of the Chief of the Clan Mackintosh. For a time they were unable to effect their purpose either by force or by stealth; such was the prowess, as well as the vigilance of Grant and his men. At length they managed to surprise him in a house at Achnakill, in Strathaven, where he happened to be, along with a party of ten men. Not expecting danger, and unprepared for resistance, James and his men betook themselves to flight. Mackintosh pursued him, slew four of his followers, and wounded James himself with arrows, inflicting eleven wounds. He was captured along with six of his men. The men were hanged. And as soon as his own wounds were cured he was conducted under safe guard to the Castle of Edinburgh; being, says Spalding in his quaint style, “admired and looked upon as a man of great vassalage.”