I'm Bruce Fummey. Today I want to tell you a story from history that's become folklore. You'll find
a piece of that folklore, in the shape of a broken fiddle, here in the Clan Macpherson museum,
in Newtonmore. Another piece of that folklore is here in the Dufftown Clock Tower. Now originally
this was built as the town jail, but today's story comes to a head at a jailhouse a little further
north, in Banff, but first I need to tell you about a Laird, and a beautiful gypsy girl.
If you're interested in the people, places and events in Scottish history, then click the
subscribe button at the bottom right hand side of the screen, in the meantime let me tell you a story.
You can probably just see through the trees behind me Invereshie House, it's private, but
in 1675, the Laird Macpherson of Invereshie lived there, just here outside Kingussie.
Now I can't think of a better way for a story to start than for a gentleman Laird, and a beautiful
gypsy girl to meet at a wedding, and fall in love. It's got all the feeling of hope and tearing down
of culture and social barriers. When the beautiful gypsy girl falls pregnant, does he disown the child?
No, this is a beautiful tale of love and happy ever after. Not quite, you see he doesn't go off to live
the life of a gypsy, and she doesn't become the demure but exotic lady of the manor, but Macpherson
of Invereshie does take this child into his house, and bring up the young lad, Jamie, as his own son,
which he was, but not mum, so no fairy-tale of social and cultural barrier destruction,
but young Jamie Macpherson grows up a product of two worlds. That cocktail
of country Laird, and gypsy traveller in the Speyside landscape, must have distilled into one man
self-assurance and leadership, skill as a swordsman, but also physical strength and unparalleled
musical talent as a fiddler, a point we'll come back to. Now a tall, strong, handsome, musically
talented swordsman, born the son of a Highlander, illegitimate or no, bodes for a comfortable life,
until his dad was killed by caterans, cattle rustlers. I can see the funeral in my mind's eye,
a hushed church, with whispered words, lips hidden behind cusped hands, as judgmental eyes peer over
them. With his father gone, obviously the gypsy boy can't stay in the big house. We're told that Jamie
went to live permanently with his gypsy family. By all accounts he did well. Naturally he rose to lead
his own band, trading horses. Respected and moving between both communities. Then there was a change.
There's a wee railway society that runs day trip trains from Dufftown to Keith,
and ends just next to St Rufus' Church behind me. As we've moved from the Cairngorms west to Moray,
there's been a metamorphosis in Jamie, from honest gypsy horse trader, to the leader of
a group of free booting, livestock thieves, but not like the caterans that had killed his father, no.
It's said that no act of cruelty or robbery of the widow, the fatherless, or the distressed,
was ever perpetrated under his command. He was like a Robin Hood that ate rowies (Aberdeen baked goods), it's a Doric thing. The
difference was that Jamie Macpherson, Jamie of the hills, as some people called him, was a real person,
maybe more like another Scotsman who lived further south at the same time, Rob Roy. Your attitude to
Jamie Macpherson depended on your position. We're told that if you were poor, you thought he was a
great guy, if you were a wealthy landowner, hmm, let me introduce you to Laird Alexander Duff of Braco. (Booooo)
He was like the Duke of Montrose to Rob Roy, the Sheriff of Nottingham to Robin Hood.
The most infuriating thing about Macpherson and his band, was that they didn't skulk about and hide
and hit and run. On a market day when landowners brought their livestock to market, Macpherson's
band were known to march into town behind a piper, nick the livestock, and then march out again. I mean
that is humiliating, and yet the people loved him. He would give some of his ill-gotten gains to the
poor, oh and he could play the fiddle. There were captures and escapes, collusion and cooperation,
until, one of the more unsavoury members of his band, wanted to rob a gentleman's house, whilst the man
was mourning the death of his wife and children, laid out for internment, and Macpherson said no.
Now, you don't argue with a powerfully strong, skilled swordsman like Jamie Macpherson. What you do,
is betray him to Laird Alexander Duff of Braco, and so on the day of the St Rufus' fair in Keith,
hence the location. In the Autumn of 1700, when Macpherson's band came into town,
Duff of Braco, and his men were waiting. As Macpherson walked along the street, a
woman dropped a blanket on him from above, and Duff's posse pounced. In the struggle,
one of Macpherson's men was killed, and they were captured and taken to the Toll Booth in Banff.
If I've got this right, then it used to be located in this building here, and public executions were
often held at Mercat crosses just like the one behind me. I can only guess, but it strikes me
that at the trial, they must have struggled to find witnesses to Macpherson's criminal behaviour.
You see, he wasn't convicted of theft, robbery or plunder. On November 8, 1700, Jamie Macpherson was
the last man condemned to death, by a sheriff appointed by hereditary title. He was sentenced
to hang for the crime of being a gypsy! I'm going to leave that hanging for just a moment.
Remember the clock tower? Heritable jurisdictions meant that the Sheriff by hereditary title,
had jurisdiction in Banff, but the legend goes, that a friend of Macpherson's, had ridden
to Aberdeen and gained a pardon. When Duff of Braco, remember him saw a lone rider galloping
towards town with a pardon in his outstretched hand. He had the clock put forward by 15 minutes,
thus hanging Macpherson, who should have gone free before his time. The clock was later removed
here to Dufftown and placed above this tollbooth, where it remains today. In the week leading up to
Macpherson's execution, he's said to have composed a tune that's entered Scottish folk culture called
Macpherson's Rant. Now the fact that both Robert Burns and Walter Scott worked on it to produce
their own versions, meant Macpherson's Rant was sure to impact on the national psyche.
Add to that, the tale that Jamie Macpherson's last act was to sing and play the tune on the gallows
for the expectant crowd, before offering his fiddle to anyone who could play it. There were no takers,
and so he smashed the fiddle, which lies in the Macpherson Museum in Newtonmore to this day. If
you'd like to hear about the other Scottish rogue who lived at the same time as Jamie Macpherson, then
why not watch my video about Rob Roy Macgregor here. Tha mi an dochas gum bith lath math leibh. Tiorridh an drasda.