Chronicles of the Canongate

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"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.

ÿ
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
interesting, 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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