Part 12 (1/2)
And now we return to the point from which we started. All that the pa.s.ser-by can see of this object is a chimney-crowned gable. Nearer approach shows an arched chamber. But the whole history of an interesting past appears to be covered with debris. It is impossible to fancy the feelings of Abbot or Earl were he to rise from his tomb and hear to what uses the fabric of his cherished house was being devoted.
Pig-styes, barn-walls, fences--these comprise the objects to which the ”holy stones” are set. _O tempora, O mores_.
If these words should meet the eye of antiquarian enthusiasts, and should happen to stir within them the desire of research, a welcome and a courteous lodging will be found at the Manse of Maderty.
A SOUTHERN OUTPOST ON THE EDGE OF THE HIGHLANDS
By Rev. HUGH M. JAMIESON, Monzie
Monzie--a southern outpost on the edge of the Highlands--is said to derived from the Gaelic _Moeghe_, signifying ”a good plain.” It is a long, narrow, irregular parish, extending for nearly twelve miles up both sides of the River Almond, until it touches, on the north, the parishes of Dull, Weem, and Kenmore.
The vale of Monzie--the southern boundary of the parish--where stands the church, the hamlet, and the Castle of Monzie, extends for nearly three miles in a north-east direction, gradually rising to the height of several hundred feet. The most striking peculiarity of the surroundings of Monzie is the combination of wild and mountainous scenery with cultivation and picturesqueness. One of the finest views in the whole of Strathearn can be had from the Highland Road, to the east of the church. In the foreground are the luxuriant woods, the rich pastures, and the Castle of Monzie, and at a distance of seven or eight miles is the Aberuchill range, towering in majesty on the horizon, with the giant Ben Voirlich just visible over their heads. A little to the left is Turleum--a conical-shaped hill of respectable alt.i.tude; while Benchonzie and other off-shoots of the Grampians bound the view on the north. The general effect is exceedingly beautiful, and the mingling, within a short distance, of the sublime and the picturesque is probably not surpa.s.sed anywhere in Scotland.
There are three streams rising in the hills to the north that find their way into the vale. The Barvick, which runs for three or four miles along the western boundary of the parish, descends rapidly with leaps and bounds into a deep and rocky dell, until it terminates in the fall known as Spout Barvick. The Keltic, rising in the hills some four miles to the north, enters a rocky ravine fully a mile up from the turnpike road, and tumbling precipitously down a height of eighty feet it reaches the vale, skirts the castle grounds, and, joining the s.h.a.ggie, falls along with it into the Turret. The third stream--the s.h.a.ggie--rises to the north-east of the Keltie, and, threading its way for three miles between lofty banks covered with wood, it pa.s.ses the village, and pursues its course beneath the old ivy-crowned Roman bridge, through the castle parks, until it becomes lost in the Turret.
The neighbourhood is peculiarly rich in trees. On the lawn behind Monzie Castle are three of five famous larches planted in the year 1738--the fourth one fell during the November gale of 1893. They rival those of the Duke of Athole at Dunkeld. There is a tradition that the Duke's gardener, on his way home with the seed, was hospitably entertained at Monzie, and planted them in remembrance of his visit.
The gardener was sent annually to observe their growth and report to his master. ”When this functionary returned and made his wonted report, that the larches at Monzie were leaving those of Dunkeld behind in the race, his Grace would jocularly allege that his servant had permitted General Campbell's good cheer to impair his powers of observation.”[1] Altogether, the district is beautifully and bountifully wooded, and many a laird gathered to his fathers must have laid to heart some such advice as the laird of Dumbied.y.k.es gave to his son--”Jock, when ye hae naething else tae dae, ye may be aye stickin'
in a tree; it will be growin', Jock, when ye're sleepin'.”
The valley of the Almond runs parallel to the vale of Monzie. Leaving the manse, and pa.s.sing the church and the school, the Keppoch Road joins the road to Glenalmond, and after a walk of fully two miles the traveller finds himself at the entrance to what is known as the Sma'
Glen--a romantic pa.s.s, stretching along the sides of the Almond for a distance of fully two miles. Standing half-way up the glen on a summer's day, looking northwards, the scenery is magnificent. Here, from the mountain's brow rushes a foaming stream; there, a clump of trees dressed in the most luxuriant green; here, mountains towering bleak and wild; there, a few spots of verdure growing amid the rocks; behind, the swift, pellucid Almond water; before, hills stretching on and on till they are lost in the azure sky.
The banks of the Almond along the vale are a.s.sociated with much romance. Some time in the last century there lived at Corrivarlich a noted sheep-stealer named Alastair Bane. Little is known of his boyhood. He was supposed to have been brought to the district by Highlanders who were in the habit of bringing to Crieff cartloads of split pine from Rannoch Forest, which they sold to riddle-makers to make riddle rims. During one of those visits the child is supposed to have been left. He was called Alastair, owing to his supposed Highland descent, and Bane, because of his white hair. As he grew up to manhood he showed symptoms of a wandering disposition, and went frequently to Amulree and Falkirk, acting in the capacity of a drover. While pursuing this occupation he became acquainted with many of the ferocious caterans who were at that time following the same calling.
How long Alastair continued a drover is not chronicled in oral tradition. After a time he a.s.sociated himself with a band of bare-legged mountaineers, sixty in number, who located themselves under his leaders.h.i.+p in a cave in the glen, to the great terror and annoyance of the district. It is said that the last combined effort of the band at cattle-lifting was at a farm situated in the moor between Fowlis-Wester and Buchanty. On this occasion dissension broke out amongst the thieves, which ultimately ended in the breaking up of the band. That Alastair Bane had his dwelling-place among the rocks in Wester Glenalmond was well known, but every effort to discover its whereabouts was in vain, until one night a shepherd, wandering on the hills, chanced to see a light s.h.i.+ning through a crevice in the rocks.
Creeping cautiously forward and peering through the opening, he observed the formidable thief sitting on the floor, amusing himself with an old fiddle and singing--
”Many a cow has lost her calf, many a sheep her lamb, But I'll sit on a stane, and sing at my den-- The thief of Glenalmond will never be ta'en.”
He was taken, however, and paid the full penalty of the law at Perth--hanging for sheep-stealing being in practice at that date. When on the scaffold he prophesied that ”the water o' Almond runs ower mony a stane, but it'll ne'er run twa years withoot takin' ane.” The prophecy has reference to the number of people drowned in the river, which is remarkable for the impetuosity of its floods.
At Fendoch--the entrance to the Sma' Glen--we tread on historical ground. Here, at Tom-an-Die--”Hill of G.o.d”--there is no reason to doubt, was one of the chief stations of the Romans, a standing camp, formed, not for a halt of a few days, but to be occupied for a considerable time. It was formed by Agricola in the year 84 A.D., in his seventh and last campaign, probably a little before the Battle of Mons Grampius. It had many advantages of situation, and we may well believe that it continued to be occupied by the Romans so long as they had possession of North Britain;--by Lollius Urbicus, who in the next century anew drove back the Caledonians to their fastnesses beyond the Grampians; and by the Emperor Severus in the beginning of the third century. So distinct were the traces of the camp in the year 1795, when the first Statistical Account of the parish was written, as to admit of its being measured. At that time the trenches were entire, and in some places six feet deep; but both rampart and trenches have disappeared under the operation of the plough. Though the camp covered upwards of fifty acres, nothing can now be seen but a small piece of breast-work facing the Almond.
At the mouth of the Sma' Glen there is a round knoll--Tom-an-Tighe--”the House of the Hill”--where Fingal, the father of Ossian, is said to have dwelt until his house was destroyed by Gara.
The place is called Fendoch, a corruption of Finn-Tighe--”Finn's House.” When Fendoch was burnt, Fingal built a fort on the summit of Dunmore, on the east side of the glen, where he and his father, Comhal, are said to be buried. The remains of this fort, still visible, show it to have been a place of retreat almost impregnable. That Comhal, his son, and grandson lived in the parish, the etymology of the place can scarcely leave a doubt. Not only have we Fingal's house, but on the moor contiguous to Fendoch we have Cairn-Comhal--”the cairn over the grave of Comhal”; while at Cultoquhey we have a camp called in Gaelic Comhal Cults--that is, ”Comhal's battle”; and it is worthy of note that, towards the close of last century, some urns with ashes in them were dug up in this locality.
In the centre of the glen stands Clach-na-Ossian--”Ossian's Stone”--which tradition held to cover the mortal remains of Scotia's early bard. When the Government troops under General Wade were engaged in carrying a highway through the glen, they found it necessary to s.h.i.+ft the position of Ossian's Stone. The detailed narrative of what took place is as follows:--
”I have so lately mentioned Glenalmond, in the road from Crieff, northward, that I cannot forbear a digression, though at my first setting out, in relation to a piece of antiquity which happened to be discovered in that vale, not many hours before I went through it in one of my journeys southwards.
”A small part of the way through this glen having been marked out by two rows of camp-colours, placed at a good distance one from another, whereby to describe the line of the intended breadth and regularity of the road by the eye, there happened to lie directly in the way an exceedingly large stone, and, as it had been made a rule from the beginning to carry on the roads in straight lines, as far as the way would permit, not only to give them a better air, but to shorten the pa.s.senger's journey, it was resolved that the stone should be removed, if possible, although otherwise the work might have been carried along on either side of it.
”The soldiers, by vast labour, with their levers and jacks, or hand-screws, tumbled it over and over till they got it quite out of the way, although it was of such an enormous size that it might be matter of great wonder how it could ever be removed by human strength and art, especially to such who had never seen an operation of that kind; and upon their digging a little into that part of the ground where the centre of the stone had stood, there was found a small cavity, about two feet square, which was guarded from the outward earth, at the bottom, top, and sides, by square flat stones.”[2]
”The people of the country,” says Newte, who travelled through the district in 1791, ”venerating the memory of the bard, rose with one consent, and with bagpipe music carried the sacred dust away by force, and buried it on the top of Dunmore, in the centre of his father's fort.” Burns visited Ossian's grave. Writing to his brother, on his return to Edinburgh from the North, he says--”Being warm from Ossian's country, where I have seen his very grave, what care I for fertile plains and fis.h.i.+ng villages?” Whether the dust of Ossian slumbers amidst these mountains or within this glen no one can say--we have but dim tradition to guide us; but surely no spot seems more suitable for the resting-place of the Caledonian bard. No monument is erected to perpetuate his memory, nor speaking stone whispers to each pa.s.ser-by in the language of Wordsworth--
”In this still place remote from men Sleeps Ossian in the narrow glen”;
but it is surrounded by mountains torn and thunder-split, and it is laved by a stream as pellucid as his own Cona, which ever sings as it flows the lonely dirge of the bard who sang of battles and the breath of stormy war. ”We feel a pride,” says Fittis, writing of Ossian's tomb, ”we feel a pride in cheris.h.i.+ng the thought that the h.o.a.ry bard's pilgrimage closed in Perths.h.i.+re's 'narrow glen,' where the murmuring Almond sang his requiem, and that his ashes still rest not far from the banks of the stream.”