Calum Dhu: A Highland Tale

CALUM DHU. A HIGHLAND TALE. Calum Dhu was the bravest warrior that followed the banners of the Chief of Colquhoun, with which clan the powerful and warlike M'Gregors were at inveterate feud. Calum lived in a sequestered glen in the vicinity of Ben Lomond. His cottage stood at the base of a steep ferny hill: retired from the rest of the clan, he lived alone. This solitary being was the deadliest foe of the M'Gregors, when the clans were in the red unyielding battle of their mountain chiefs. His weapon was a bow, in the use of which he was so skilful, that he could bring down the smallest bird when on the wing. No man but himself had ever bent his bow; and his arrows were driven with such resistless force, that their feathery wings were always drenched with his foeman's best blood. In the use of the sword, also, he had few equals; but the bow was the weapon of his heart. The son of the chief of the M'Gregors, with two of his clansmen, having gone to hunt, and their game being wide, they wandered far, and found themselves, a little after mid-day, on the top of the hill at the foot of which stood Calum Dhu's cottage. "Come," said the young chief, "let us go down and try to bend Calum Dhu's bow. Evan, you and I have got the name of being the best bowmen of our clan; it is said, no man but Calum himself can bend his bow: but it will go hard with us if we cannot show him that the M'Gregors are men of thews and sinews equal to the bending of his long bow, with which he has so often sent his arrows through and through our best warriors, as if they had been men of straw set up to practice on. Come, he will not know us—and if he should we are

CALUM DHU. 729 three to one; and I owe him something," added he, touching the hilt of his dirk, "since the last conflict, where he sent an arrow through my uncle's gallant bosom. Come, follow me down!" he continued, his eye, gleaming with determined vengeance, and his voice quivering with suppressed passion. The will of a highland chieftain was law at the time of which we speak. "We will go down, if a score of his best clans- men were with him," said Evan. "Ay, but be cautious." "We shall bend his bow, then break it," replied the young M'Gregor, "and then—then for my uncle's blood." "He is good at the sword," said the third M'Gregor; "but this (show- ing his dirk), will stretch him on the sward." "Strike him not behind," said the young chief: "hew him down in front; he deserves honorable wounds, for he is brave, though an enemy." They had been concealed by a rising knoll from being seen from the cottage, which they now reached. Knocking loudly at the door, after some delay they were answered by the appearance of a little, thick-set, grey-eyed, oldish-looking man, with long arms and a black bushy beard hung with grey threads and thrums, as if he had been employed in weaving the course linen of the country and the time. But as he had none of the muscular symptoms of prodigious strength, which Calum Dhu was reported to possess, and which had often proved so fatal to their clan, they could not suppose this to be their redoubted foeman; and, to the querulous question of what they wanted, uttered in the impatient tone of one who has been interrupted in some necessary worldly employment, they replied by inquiring if Calum Dhu was at home. "Na, he's gane to the fishing; but an ye hae ony message frae our chief, (Heaven guard him!) about the coming of the red M'Gregors, and will trust me with it, Calum will get it frae me. Ye may as well tell me as him, he stays lang when he gaes out, for he is a keen fisher." "We were only wanting to try the bending of his bow," said the disappointed young chief, "which we have heard no man can do save himself." "Hoo! gin that is a', ye might hae tell'd it at first, an' no keepit me sae lang frae my loom," said the old man: "but stop"—and giving his shoulders an impatient shrug, which,

730 IMPROVEMENT ERA to a keen observer, would have passed for one of satisfaction, triumph, and determination, he went into the house and quickly returned, bringing out a strong bow, and a sheaf of arrows, and flung them carelessly on the ground, saying, "Ye'll be for trying your strength at a flight?" pointing to the arrows; "I have seen Calum send an arrow over the highest point o' that hill, like a glance o' lightning; and when the M'Gregors were coming raging up the glen, like red deevels as they are, mony o' their best warriors fell at the farthest entry o' the pass, every man o' them wi' a hole in his breast and its fellow at his back." He had taken a long arrow out of the sheaf, and stood playing with it in his hand while speaking, seemingly ready to give to the first man who should bend the bow. The M'Gregors were tall muscular men, in the prime of youth and manhood. The young chief took up the bow, and after ex- amining its unbending strength, laying all his might to it, strained till the blood rushed to his face, and his temples throbbed almost to bursting—but in vain; the string remained slack as ever. Evan and the other M'Gregor were alike un- successful; they might as well have tried to root up the gnarled oaks of their native mountains. "There is not a man," cried the young chief of M'Gregor, greatly chagrined at the absence of Calum Dhu, and his own and clansmen's vain attempts to bend the bow,—"There is not a man in your clan can bend that bow, and if Calum Dhu were here, he should not long bend it!"—Here he bit his lip and suppressed the rest of the sentence, for the third M'Gre- gor gave him a glance of caution. "Ha!" said the old man, still playing with the long arrow in his hand, and without seeming to observe the latter part of the M'Gregor's speech, "If Calum was here, he would bend it as easily as ye wad bend that rush; and gin ony o' the M'Gregors were in sight, he wad drive this lang arrow through them as easily as ye wad drive your dirk through my old plaid, and the feather wad come out at the other side, wet wi' their heart's bluid. Sometimes even the man behind is wounded, if they are ony way thick in the battle. I once saw a pair o' them stretched on the heather, pinned together with ane of Calum's lang arrows."

CALUM DHU. 731 This was spoken with the cool composure and simplicity of one who is talking to friends, or is careless if they are foes. A looker-on could have discerned a checkered shade of pleasure and triumph cross his countenance as M'Gregor's lip quivered, and the scowl of anger fell along his brow at the tale of his kinsmen's destruction by the arm of his most hated enemy. "He must be a brave warrior," said the young chief, compressing his breath, and looking with anger and astonish- ment at the tenacious and cool old man. "I should like to see this Calum Dhu. "Ye may soon enough; an' gin ye were a M'Gregor, feel him too. But what is the man glunching and glooming at! Gin ye were Black John himsel, ye couldna look mair deevil- ish-like. And what are you fidging at man?" addressing the third M'Gregor, who had both marked and felt the anger of his young chief, and had slowly moved nearer the old man, and stood with his right hand below the left breast of his plaid, probably grasping his dirk, ready to execute the ven- geance of his master, as it was displayed on his clouded countenance, which he closely watched. The faith of the Gael is deeper than "to hear is to obey," the slavish obedi- ence of the East: his is to anticipate and perform—to know and accomplish or die. It is the sterner devotedness of the north. But the old man kept his keen grey eye fixed upon him, and continued, in the same unsuspecting tone: "But is there ony word o' the M'Gregors soon coming over the hills? Calum would like to try a shot at Black John, their chief; he wonders gin he could pass an arrow through his great hardy bulk as readily as he sends them through his clansmen's silly bodies. John has a son, too, he wad like to try his craft on; he has the name of a brave warrior—I forget his name. Calum likes to strive at noble game, though he is sometimes forced to kill that which is little worth. But I'm fearfu' that he o'errates his ain strength; his arrow will only, I think, stick weel through Black John, but—" "Dotard, peace!" roared the young chief, till the glen rang again; his brow darkening like midnight: "Peace! or I shall cut the sacri- legious tongue out of your head, and nail it to that door, to

732 IMPROVEMENT ERA. show Calum Dhu that you have had visitors, since he went away, and bless his stars that he was not here." A dark flash of suspicion crossed his mind as he gazed at the cool old tormentor, who stood before him, unquailing at his frowns; but it vanished as the imperturbable old man said, "Haoh! ye're no a M'Gregor—and though ye were, ye surely wadna mind the like o' me! But anent bending this bow," striking it with the long arrow, which he still held in his hand, "there is just a knack in it; and your untaught young strength is useless, as ye dinna ken the gait o't. I learned it frae Calum, but I'm sworn never to tell it to a stranger. There is mony a man in the clan I ken naething about. But as ye seem anxious to see the bow bent, I'll no disappoint ye; rin up to yon grey stane—stand there and it will nae be the same as if ye were standing near me when I'm doing it, but it will just be the same to you, for ye can see weel enough, and when the string is on the bow, ye may come down, an' ye like, and try a flight; it's a capital bow, and that ye'll fin." A promise is sacred with the Gael; and as he was under one, they did not insist on his exhibiting his art while they were in his presence; but, curious to see the sturdy bow bent, a feat of which the best warrior of their clan would have been proud, and which they had in vain essayed; and perhaps thinking Calum Dhu would arrive in the interval; and as they feared nothing from the individual, who seemed ignorant of their name, and who could not be supposed to send an arrow so far with any eflect; they therefore walked away in the di- rection[pointed out, nor did they once turn their faces till they reached the grey rock. They now turned, and saw the old man (who had -waited till they had gone the whole way) sud- denly bend the stubborn yew, and fix an arrow on the string. In an instant it was strongly drawn to his very ear, and the feathered shaft, of a cloth-breadth length, was fiercely launched in air. "M'Alp—hooch!" cried the young chief, meaning to raise the M'Gregor war-cry, clapping his hand on his breast as he fell. "Ha!" cried Calum Dhu, for it was he himself; "clap your hand behin'; the arm shot that never sent arrow that came out where it went in;"—a rhyme he used in battle,

CALUM DHV. 733 when his foes fell as fast as he could fix arrows to the bow- string. The two M'Gregors hesitated a moment whether to rush down and cut to atoms the old man who had so suddenly caused the death of their beloved young chief; but seeing him fix another arrow to his bow, of which they had just seen the terrible effects, and fearing they might be prevented from carrying the news of his son's death to their old chieftain, and thus cheat him of his revenge, they started over the hill like roes. But a speedy messenger was after them; an arrow caught Evan as he descended out of sight over the hill; sent with powerful and unerring aim, it transfixed him in the shoulder. It must have grazed the bent that grew on the hill top to catch him, as only his shoulders could be seen from where Calum Dhu stood. On flew the other M'Gregor with little abatement of speed, till he reached the chieftain with the bloody tidings of his son's death. "Raise the clan!" was Black John's first words, "dearly shall they rue it." A party was soon gathered. Breathing all the vengeance of mountain warriors, they were soon far on their way of fierce retaliation, with Black John at their head. Calum Dhu was in the meantime not idle; knowing, from the escape of one of the three M'Gregors, that a battle must quickly ensue, he collected as many of his clansmen as he could, and taking his terrible bow, which he could so bravely use, calmly waited the approach of the M'Gregors, who did not conceal their coming, for loud and fiercely their pipes flung their notes of war and defiance on the gale as they approached: and moun- tain cliff and glen echoed far and wide the martial strains. They arrived, and a desperate struggle immediately commen- ced. The M'Gregors carried all before them: no warriors of this time could withstand the hurricane onset, sword in hand, of the far-feared, warlike M'Gregors. Black John raged through the field like a chafed lion, roaring in a voice of thunder, heard far above the clash, groans, and yells of the unyielding combatants—"where was the murderer of his son?" None could tell him—none was afforded time, for he cut down, in his headlong rage, every foe he met. At length, when but few of his foes remained, on whom he could wreak his wrath, or exercise his great strength, he spied an

734 IMPROVEMENT ERA. old man sitting on a ferny bank, holding the stump of his leg, which had been cut off in the battle, and who beckoned the grim chief to come nearer. Black John rushed forward, brandishing his bloody sword, crying, in a voice which startled the yet remaining birds from the neighboring moun- tain cliffs, —"Where was his son's murderer!" "Shake the leg out o' that brogue," said the old man, speaking with diffi- culty, and squeezing his bleeding stump with both hands, with all the energy of pain, "and bring me some o' the water frae yon burn to drink, and I will show you Calum Dhu, for he is yet in the field, and lives: rin, for my heart burns and faints." Black John, without speaking, shook the leg out of the brogue, and hasted to bring water, to get the wished for intelligence. Stooping to dip the bloody brogue in the little stream, "M'Alp—hooch!" he cried, and splashed lifeless in the water, which in a moment ran thick with his blood. "Ha!" cried Calum Dhu, for it was he again; "clap your hand behin'; that's the last arrow shot by the arm that sent those which came not out where they went in." THE VANITY OF FAME. "The noise Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind, That blows from divers points, and shifts its name Shifting the point it blows from. Shalt thou more Live in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh Part shrivel'd from thee, than if thou hadst died Before the coral and the pap were left. Or ere some thousand years have past? And that Is, to eternity compar'd, a space, Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye To the heaven's slowest orb. * * * * Your renown Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go And his might withers it, by whom it sprang Crude from the lap of earth. Dante Alighieri.