" I drink your health, Sassenach, with right goodwill, for you appear to me to be a good-hearted fellow, and I daresay you would not scruple to use your cudgel to some purpose in a good cause."
The speaker was Alisdair Ruadh, a powerful Celt, dressed in full Highland costume, and armed with claymore, dirk, pistols and skean dhu. Leaning against the stump of tree within a yard or so was a target which, judging from its appearance, Alisdair must have had a strong arm before he could use it in battle with that alertness required when engaged in combat, and few could weild their arms in better style than he.
The hopes of Prince Charles Edward had been blasted at Culloden, and Alisdair was now playing at hide-and-seek among the hills with Cumberland's redcoats, and, as a matter of course, leading a life of danger. The individual whom Alisdair had addressed was a sturdy specimen of a Lowlander, about middle-age, with a face unmistakenly expressive of broad, Scottish humour; and the merry twinkle of his light grey eyes showed that Sandy was more given to fun and frolic than to pine in sorrow. Sandy Morrison's lively disposition and generous nature made him a favourite and at all times a welcome guest among the Highlanders. The extraordinary capacity which Sandy possessed for swallowing "great jaws" of whisky, as he expressed it, delighted the hardy mountaineers amazingly.
Sandy's occupation was a strange one, and altogether peculiar, yet the very thing whereby that worthy could indulge in his wandering habits. Sandy had an only brother, who had gone abroad and traded with great success in various parts of the globe. His health giving way, he returned home; and, feeling the hand of death upon him, he bequeathed his whole fortune to Sandy, and shortly thereafter died. Sandy had an excessive fondness for the company of Highlandmen, and after pondering a scheme in his mind, he determined to carry it out, which he did in this wise:- Paying a visit to the Highlands, he succeeded in establishing a trade in buting worsted from the natives, which he managed to sell at a considerable profit among the Lowlanders. The liberal way Sandy dealt with the Highlanders secured their goodwill and friendship. At the time we introduce him to the reader he had accidently met Alisdair Ruadh. After a brief conversation Sandy was satisfied that he was talking to a kindred spirit, and one that had followed Prince Charlie, but now a fugitive and hunted by the redcoats, and he at once determined to befriend him. When we introduced Alisdair to the reader he had just drained a wooden cup of rather formidable dimensions to Sandy's health, and which cup he had just received, filled to the brim, from the jolly Lowlander. In response to his health being drunk, Sandy drew from his pocket a snuff-box, presented it to Alisdair, saying at the same time -
"I maun just thank ye; tak' a sneeshin' an' I'll drink your health in a jolly cupfu', an' you may safely count on me as a frien', true and faithfu' - an' let me add, though a' the diels i' the pit wer' after ye, an' Cumberland houndin' them on."
"For your kind intentions towards me I thank you," replied Alisdair; "I think that we will be true friends indeed, and were powder and bullet out of fashion we would not fear a score of Cumberland's bloodhounds."
"A score o' them!" exclaimed Sandy, "gosh man, giff I had twa fu's o' this same cup I cud wi' this cudgel smash my way through a hale regiment, if pouther and bullet wer' oot o' the way, as ye say."
So saying, Sandy filled his cup a second time, and gulped it over his throat without twisting a feature of his face, and seemingly with no more effort on his part than if it had been milk.
"Noo," continued Sandy, "ye'll just tak' anither cupfu', an' mak' us equal. I sud gien ye ane whan we first met, but, as the sayin' is, 'better late than never,'" and he forthwith presented Alisdair with "anither cupfu'".
Grasping Sandy's hand with a tremendous squeeze, Alisdair exclaimed-"My generous and brave friend, there's the hand of a true man. I drink to our better aquaintance, and I wish better days at hand; I at least need them."
"Squeeze awa', squeeze awa'," Sandy answered briskly; "ye'll no squeeze a hand that can return it better or ony ither friendly compliment."
But Sandy could proceed no further, for both were startled by a loud whistle, and seemingly about two hundred yards from where they sat, and it was evident that someone besides themselves was in the same thicket of hazels on the skirts of which they rested. Both sprang to their feet, and Alisdair, bracing on his target, drew his sword and tood with a defiant air. Sandy hastily wrapped round his left arm an empty bag he kept for carrying worsted in, and stood with as resolute an air as his companion. Sandy spoke first and said -
"If I'm no mista'en there will be a stramash ere mony minutes. It's best to be on oor gaird."
So saying he adjusted his broad Lowland bonnet firmly on his head at the same time.
"We shall not be caight napping, at all events," Alisdair observed, when another whistle was heard, but much nearer, the effect of which was to make our two heroes assume a more determined attitude.
Suddenly a tall man emerged from the bushes, whose air and bearing clearly showed that he was of the military profession. The stranger was buttoned up to the throat in a blue surtout, his nether limbs were encased in light grey trousers; but no weapon other than a cane was visible about his person. Surveying the two individuals before him with a searching glance, he thus addressed Alisdair -
"I presume you lately held the position of an officer in Prince Charles Edward's army. Is it not so?"
"I was an officer," Alisdair replied, "in that army, and a noble body of brave men they were. Better soldiers never marched to battle or carried arms."
"Good," said the stranger, adding - "Will you kindly let me know what particular clan you belong to? My purpose is friendly, and you need have no hesitation to tell me."
"I am, or rather was, an officer among the Macdonnells of Glengarry. I am a Mcdonnell, and I am a relative of the chief of that clan, I am proud to acknowledge," said Alisdair, adding - "You do not, I hope, take my friend and me for wandering vagabonds who cannot give a good account of themselves?"
The stranger turned his glance on Sandy, and observed-
"The person whom you call your friend might easily pass himself off as a vagabond if his fancy inclined him to do so."
At this Sandy bristled up, and answered fiercely - "Tak' care fat you say, my bauld chield. Although you were the Duke himsel' I wadna tak' an insult frae him nor you. I care no a button for ony o' ye."
"Do not speak to me in that sort of way again," the stranger, with a frown, replied, "or I shall chastise you as a stupid, stubborn donkey ought to be when it brays when it is not wanted."
In a moment the point of Sandy's staff passed with lightning speed within an inch or so of the stranger's nose, which sudden movement on Sandy's part threw his opponent off his guard for a second or two. Sandy saw his advantage, rushed in, and butting the stranger in the stomach stretched him at full length across an anthill.
Alisdair and Sandy lost not a moment in raising the fallen stranger, and clearing him of the active and tormenting insects. Sandy's tremendous "butt" had deranged the economy of his inner man. He gradually regained consciousness, however, and, leaning on Alisdair, he briefly addressed him in a low and tremulous tone.
"This has been a most ludicrous and very absurd affair, but in one sense I am pleased that it happened."
"I cannot see," said Alisdair, "how anything pleasant can be associated with such a strange occurrence."
"Listen for a moment or two, and allow me to depart in peace. I am not what I have represented myself to be. I am a traitor, a spy, and a scoundrel of the blackest dye." Pausing a moment, he resumed - "I had hopes that I could decoy you where you would have been pounced upon by soldiers, and borne in triumph to the Duke's presence a relative of Macdonnell of Glengarry, a name to conjure with. A handsome reward and promotion in the Royal Army were the temptations offered, and even a rebel, whose position was that of a gentleman, was eligible to play the traitor and spy, if he could furnish guarantees for his future loyalty."
"Excuse me, sir; but I want to hear no more details of villany. Begone at once, for I see my honest friend's blood is rising; and if you have a second encounter with him, your name and infamous character will perish from the world."
"Flee, you infernal scoundrel," roared Sandy. As the stranger plunged amongst the bushes and disappeared, Sandy filled his black cup, and roared after the traitor at the full pitch of his voice - "Here's to ye, ye black rascal. This black cup has something guid within. You have a blacker heart. May the deil sune ha'e ye in his grips!"
"Noo, Alisdair," Sandy observed in a rather lively mood, "ye maun drink a cupfu' to mair success. We ha'e gotten rid o' yon infernal scoundrel, and we ha'e, o'd kens hoo, mony troubles an' dangers to face ere it can be said we are safe."
Alisdair drank off his cupfu', and on returning it he questioned Sandy as to where and how he came to be in possession of it.
It belangs to the very family ye claim kindred wi' - the MacDonnells o' Glengarry," Sandy answered. It was found on the route maist o' that clan took after Culloden by ane o' thane second -sicht bodies ca'ed seers."
"Give me a few more particulars, Sandy," Alisdair, feeling interested in the cup, somewhat anxiously inquired.
"Sandy Ban Mhor - as the second-sicht body was called- fand it, as I hae said already, amang the heather the very wye the maist o' the Macdonnells took, and coming on a dying clansman, to whom he showed the cup, he learned the following strange particulars:- It was given to one of the chiefs of old by a mountain genius called Boddach Glas, and, it seems, could foretell what evils in the future would befall any of that race. Among others, one particular in connection with the black cup referred specially to the Glengarry family."
"I see something like a crest," observed Alisdair; "it seems the crest of the clan, though somewhat nearly effaced, and it is the craig-na-feaigh, the raven on the rock, I feel quite certain."
"You are quite richt, sir," replied Sandy; "an' fat's mair, the seer body said the family micht lose their lands, but not the title, as lang as that cup remained within the wa's o' the auld castle."
"The cup, then," said Alasdair, "must be restored to the Glengarry family or buried within the walls of the old castle, and if I can I shall see to this."
Our story must now proceed, and the sequel to the legend of the black cup narrated. After various adventures and hair-breadth escapes, the two heroes succeeded in reaching Dunkeld on a dark night, where Sandy was well acquainted, which circumstance enabled them to get safely housed and in comparative safety.
Sandy speedily went to work and procured for Alisdair a suit of clothes to enable him to travel in safety, and at the same time his Highland costume was consigned to the keeping of their host till it could be more conveniently removed. Alisdair and Sandy were so well pleased with each other that they agreed to share each other's fortune. Sandy was wealthy, and our worthies succeeded in purchasing an estate in the lower parts of Perthshire.
In due time Alisdair married a young heiress, as both wished to have a housekeeper to see to their comforts. " As for me," Sandy said on the occasion of the marriage, "I wadna gie the comforts o' a gude punch bowl for a' the wives that ever lived." Two sons were born to Alisdair, and a happier family group could not be found.
Our story now must pass over the years that intervene between 1749 and 1817, a pretty long leap.
In the year of grace 1817 a family group who occupied a house within about 120 yards of the ruins of the old castle were seated round a blazing fire of peats and logs on a clear, frosty, winter night. Footsteps were heard approaching the door, which was pushed open, and two stalwart Highlanders entered in all the glory of tartan array, and two nobler figures, so far as look and bearing go, could not be seen anywhere. The strangers were invited to sit down, and the guidman of the house speedily engaged in a lively conversation with his stately visitors. A black cup was produced by one of the strangers and a flask of whisky by the other, and young and old were invited to drink from the black cup. The strangers told their mission was to restore the cup to the Glengarry family. Further particulars were learned about the black cup, with which the reader is already acquainted; in short, the strangers were regular descendants of Alisdair, who had given instructions on his death-bed that the Glengarry family should be put in possession of the cup by some of his descendants.
Sandy, it seems, had died before Alisdair, leaving all his share of the property to his friend. The guidman showed the strangers the way to Glengarry's house, where they remained for some weeks while a series of games and feasting were got up to do honour to the strangers and celebrate the restoration of the cup.
The writer must now relate what he knows about the final resting place of the cup. One day I was amusing myself chasing butterflies, a kind of fun boys delight in - at least I did so. While so engaged I observed the young chief approaching, a comely boy somewhere about twelve years of age. I also noticed that he carried a small spade in his hand, a rather unusual thing for him to do. Eneas Macdonnell, the young chief, saluted me, and asked me to accompany him to the old castle. We were soon within its grim and storm-battered walls, and the young chief at once drew from his pocket the
black cup, politely requesting me to hold it for a few minutes. He then proceeded to dig a hole among the
debris, and I really felt that I could not conjecture what he intended to do. Having sunk the hole some sixteen or eighteen inches deep, he asked me to give him the cup, which he dropped into the hole with a very solemn expression on his face. He the addressed me as follows:-
"It may be, in course of events, that the Macdonnells of Glengarry lose their lands, but if this cup is buried within these castle walls, so long as it is undisturbed they will retain the site and the title. I have felt," he continued, "that our ancestral possessions may pass away from us; so you see I have taken this step, without letting my parents know, to secure the title of our brave and ancient race, the Macdonnells of Glengarry."
The young chief's surmises have come to pass. The Glengarry family have no lands there now, but still retain the title and ruins of the old castle.
The young chief's father [pictured left*] was a thorough specimen of a Highland chieftain, and he and his eldest daughter were presented to George the Fourth on his visit to Edinburgh in 1822, and he was gathered to his fathers in 1828. The writer of this story has in his possession
a fine view of the ruins of the old castle, which was burned by Cumberland's soldiers in their ruthless and bloodthirsty career through the Highlands after Culloden. Miss Louisa Ranaldson Macdonnell of Glengarry kindly sent me the view of the old castle through a friend; she lives in Rothesay, and is highly esteemed for her benevolent exertions in doing good.
I may add that the writer of the legend of the "Black Cup," once, when a boy, tasted a small drop of the real mountain dew handed to him by the old chief. Of course at that time I was ignorant how the cup had anything to do with the ultimate destiny of the Macdonnells of Glengarry.
Footnote: I have subsequently researched some of the characters mentioned in this story. I found information on Aeneas ("Eneas" in the story) Mcdonnell on a cached page from The Clan Donald Magazine - rather than link to it (because the page has actually gone) I have copied it here.
"Aeneas Ranaldson Macdonell was the only son surviving infancy of Colonel Alastair Ranaldson Macdonell, 15th Chief of Glengarry, and Rebecca, 2nd daughter of Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo. He was born in 1809, almost certainly at Invergarry. On his father's death, from an accident in 1828, when not quite 19 years of age he succeeded as 16th Chief of Glengarry. When Alastair Ranaldson died on 17th January 1828 his estates in Glengarry and Knoydart were heavily encumbered. The trustees sold part of the Glengarry property and the rest was sold in 1837. Only Invergarry Castle, the Well of the Heads (Tobar na Ceann) and the family burying place at Kilfinnan were retained.
Aeneas Ranaldson Macdonell married on 18th December 1833 Josephine, daughter of William Bennet. They had three sons and three daughters.
In 1834 they were living at Inverie in Knoydart. Six years later, in 1840, Aeneas with his wife and young family emigrated to Australia. They sailed from Glasgow in June 1840, taking with them a number of clansmen, shepherds and agriculturists, as well as a splendid stock of Scottish sheep and cattle and farm implements. The Chief's intention was to found a settlement and return to Scotland to arrange for the whole of his Clan and dependants to join him.
Glengarry arrived at Port Phillip in the ship "Perfect" on 8th November 1840 en route for Sydney. The Port Phillip Patriot, 9th November 1840, in the shipping news, lists the passengers of the "Perfect" who were going on to Sydney as Mr and Mrs MacDonnell of Glengarry, Master A. MacDonnell, Miss M. MacDonnell, Miss H.R. MacDonnell, Miss Baird, Messrs McKenzie, Croker, Girdwood, Neish, Wood and Mathew, Mr and Mrs Charles Richards. 44 in steerage: most of these were said to be members of the Glengarry party.
In the leisurely fashion of those days a stay of between five and six weeks was made at Port Phillip, during which time the Scottish residents of Melbourne had the opportunity of entertaining the Chief at a dinner of welcome at the Caledonian Hotel. Newspaper reports describe this as a very successful public function:
"The evening's festivities concluded as they commenced, with the utmost hilarity. Suffice it to say the toast list comprised no fewer than 17 items."
Glengarry and his party went on to Sydney. His first intention was to settle upon the Clarence River, near the Queensland border, but he was induced to accompany Lachlan Macalister on a tour of inspection through the newly opened district of Gippsland and was so favourably impressed that he decided to transfer his little colony there.
Glengarry settled at Greenmount on the banks of the Tarra, not far from the present town of Yarram, and " Glengarry's station" became for a time the first stopping place on the "road to the interior." There is a suggestion, which lacks complete confirmation, that Glengarry first took up Glencoe Station and sold it to John Campbell. The river Glengarry was named after the laird, and although the official name of the Latrobe had already been bestowed on it, the popular name of Glengarry remained. The modern Gippsland township of Glengarry also bears the Chief's name.
A list of Gippsland landholders 1847 mentions the " Glengarry" Station and John MacDonald and Ed. Thomson, whose property, taken up in 1844, was named Glenfalloch or Glenfalaech.
Glengarry appears to have held the lease of "Greenmount" between June 1841 and June 1842, but seems to have spent little time on the property. In mid September 1841 he was in Melbourne and a little later he went to Sydney, leaving his station to the management of others. By July 1842 he had disposed of his stock and discharged his servants. His frame house was moved down to the little village on the beach, subsequently becoming the original Port Albert Hotel, destroyed by fire in the late 1880's.
On 14th June 1842 a public dinner was given to Glengarry in Melbourne prior to his departure for Scotland.
Aeneas Ranaldson Macdonell, 16th Chief of Glengarry, died in January 1852, at Inverie, and is buried at Kilfinnan in Glengarry. His wife, Josephine, died on 5th July 1857, and is buried in Warriston Cemetery, Edinburgh."
If Aeneas was born in 1809 then William Robertson was probably about 11 when he met him on his way to burying the cup.
Social observation of the exploitation of the less fortunate by the upper classes was a favourite theme for William Robertson. In the following poem his scorn is not for the "fallen woman" but rather the man who has abused his power and position to seduce her. He is not interested in moralising against her but rather him and sees her justice being delivered in the next world by God against the man who has seduced her.
