No people were more attached to the fulfilment of all the domestic duties, and the sacred obligation of the marriage vow, than the Highlanders. A violation thereof was of course of unfrequent occurrence, and among the common people a separation was almost unknown. Rarely, indeed, did a husband attempt to get rid of his wife, however disagreeable she might be. He would have considered his children dishonoured, if he had driven their mother from the protection of his roof. The punishment inflicted by the ecclesiastical authority for an infringement of the marriage vow was, that “the guilty person, whether male or female, was made to stand in a barrel of cold water at the church door, after which, the delinquent, clad in a wet canvas shirt, was made to stand before the congregation, and at close of service the minister explained the nature of the offence.”[493] Illicit intercourse before marriage between the sexes was also of rare occurrence, and met with condign punishment in the public infamy which attended such breaches against chastity.
This was the more remarkable, as early marriages were discouraged, and the younger sons were not allowed to marry until they obtained sufficient means to keep a house and to rent a small farm, or were otherwise enabled to support a family.
The attachment of the Highlanders to their offspring, and the veneration and filial piety which a reciprocal feeling produced on the part of their children, were leading characteristics in the Highland character, and much as these mountaineers have degenerated in some of the other virtues, these affections still remain almost unimpaired. Children seldom desert their parents in their old age, and when forced to earn a subsistence from home, they always consider themselves bound to share with their parents whatever they can save from their wages. But the parents are never left alone, as one of the family, by turns, remains at home for the purpose of taking care of them in terms of an arrangement. “The sense of duty is not extinguished by absence from the mountains. It accompanies the Highland soldier amid the dissipations of a mode of life to which he has not been accustomed. It prompts him to save a portion of his pay, to enable him to assist his parents, and also to work when he has an opportunity, that he may increase their allowance, at once preserving himself from idle habits, and contributing to the comfort and happiness of those who gave him birth. I have been a frequent witness of these offerings of filial bounty, and the channel through which they were communicated, and I have generally found that a threat of informing their parents of misconduct, has operated as a sufficient check on young soldiers, who always received the intimation with a sort of horror. They knew that the report would not only grieve their relations, but act as a sentence of banishment against themselves, as they could not return home with a bad or blemished character. Generals M’Kenzie, Fraser, and M’Kenzie of Suddie, who successively commanded the 78th Highlanders, seldom had occasion to resort to any other punishment than threats of this kind, for several years after the embodying of that regiment.”[494]
Nor were the Highlanders less alive to the principles of honesty and fair dealing, in their transactions with one another. Disgrace was the usual consequence of insolvency, which was considered ex facie criminal. Bankrupts were compelled to undergo a singular punishment. They “were forced to surrender their all, and were clad in a party-coloured clouted garment, with the hose of different sets, and had their hips dashed against a stone, in presence of the people, by four men, each taking a hold of an arm or a leg. This punishment was called Toncruaidh.”[495]
Such was the confidence in their honour and integrity, that in the ordinary transactions of the people, a mere verbal obligation without the intervention of any writing, was held quite sufficient, although contracted in the most private manner,[496] and there were few instances where the obligation was either unfulfilled or denied. Their mode of concluding or confirming their money agreements or other transactions, was by the contracting parties going out into the open air, and with eyes erect, taking Heaven to witness their engagements, after which, each party put a mark on some remarkable stone or other natural object, which their ancestors had been accustomed to notice.
Accustomed, as the Highlanders were, to interminable feuds arising out of the pretensions of rival clans, the native courage which they had inherited from their Celtic progenitors was preserved unimpaired. Instances of cowardice were, therefore, of rare occurrence, and whoever exhibited symptoms of fear before a foe, was considered infamous and put under the ban of his party. The following anecdote, as related by Mrs. Grant, shows, strongly, the detestation which the Highlanders entertained towards those who had disgraced themselves and their clan by an act of poltroonery: “There was a clan, I must not say what clan it is, who had been for ages governed by a series of chiefs, singularly estimable, and highly beloved, and who, in one instance, provoked their leader to the extreme of indignation. I should observe, that the transgression was partial, the culprits being the inhabitants of one single parish. These, in a hasty skirmish with a neighbouring clan, thinking discretion the best part of valour, sought safety in retreat. A cruel chief would have inflicted the worst of punishments—banishment from the bounds of his clan,—which, indeed, fell little short of the curse of Kehama. This good laird, however, set bounds to his wrath, yet made their punishment severe and exemplary. He appeared himself with all the population of the three adjacent parishes, at the parish church of the offenders, where they were all by order convened. After divine service, they were marched three times round the church, in presence of their offended leader and his assembled clan. Each individual, on coming out of the church door, was obliged to draw out his tongue with his fingers, and then cry audibly, ‘Shud bleider heich,’ (i.e.) ‘This is the poltroon,’ and to repeat it at every corner of the church. After this procession of ignominy, no other punishment was inflicted, except that of being left to guard the district when the rest were called out to battle.... It is credibly asserted, that no enemy has seen the back of any of that name (Grant) ever since. And it is certain, that, to this day, it is not safe for any person of another name to mention the circumstance in presence of one of the affronted clan.”[497]
The Highlanders, like the inhabitants of other romantic and mountainous regions, always retain an enthusiastic attachment to their country, which neither distance of place nor length of time can efface. This strong feeling has, we think, been attributed erroneously to the powerful and lasting effect which the external objects of nature, seen in their wildest and most fantastic forms and features, are calculated to impress upon the imagination.
No doubt the remembrance of these objects might contribute to endear the scenes of youth to the patriotic Highlander when far removed from his native glens; but it was the recollection of home,—sweet home!—of the domestic circle, and of the many pleasing associations which arise from the contemplation of the days of other years, when mirth and innocence held mutual dalliance, that chiefly impelled him to sigh for the land of his fathers. Mankind have naturally an affection for the country of their birth, and this affection is felt more or less according to the degree of social or commercial intercourse which exists among nations. Confined, like the Swiss, for many ages within their natural boundaries, and having little or no intercourse with the rest of the world, the Highlanders formed those strong local attachments for which they were long remarkably distinguished; but which are now being gradually obliterated by the mighty changes rapidly taking place in the state of society.
Firmly attached as they were to their country, the Highlanders had also a singular predilection for the place of their birth. An amusing instance of this local attachment is mentioned by General Stewart. A tenant of his father’s, at the foot of the mountain Shichallion, having removed and followed his son to a farm which the latter had taken at some distance lower down the country, the old man was missing for a considerable time one morning, and on being asked on his return where he had been, replied, “As I was sitting by the side of the river, a thought came across me, that, perhaps, some of the waters from Shichallion, and the sweet fountains that watered the farm of my forefathers, might now be passing by me, and that if I bathed they might touch my skin. I immediately stripped, and, from the pleasure I felt in being surrounded by the pure waters of Leidna-breilag (the name of the farm) I could not tear myself away sooner.” But this fondness of the Highlander was not confined to the desire of living upon the beloved spot—it extended even to the grave. The idea of dying at a distance from home and among strangers could not be endured, and the aged Highlander, when absent from his native place, felt discomposed lest death should overtake him before his return. To be consigned to the grave among strangers, without the attendance and sympathy of friends, and at a distance from their family, was considered a heavy calamity; and even to this day, people make the greatest exertions to carry home the bodies of such relations as happen to die far from the ground hallowed by the ashes of their forefathers.[498] This trait was exemplified in the case of a woman aged ninety-one, who a few years ago went to Perth from her house in Strathbrane in perfect health, and in the possession of all her faculties. A few days after her arrival in Perth, where she had gone to visit a daughter, she had a slight attack of fever. One evening a considerable quantity of snow had fallen, and she expressed great anxiety, particularly when told that a heavier fall was expected. Next morning her bed was found empty, and no trace of her could be discovered, till the second day, when she sent word that she had slipt out of the house at midnight, set off on foot through the snow, and never stopped till she reached home, a distance of twenty miles. When questioned some time afterwards why she went away so abruptly, she answered, “If my sickness had increased, and if I had died, they could not have sent my remains home through the deep snows. If I had told my daughter, perhaps she would have locked the door upon me, and God forbid that my bones should be at such a distance from home, and be buried among Gall-na-machair, The strangers of the plain.”[499]