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Who was Rob Roy MacGregor?
Rob Roy: Highland Hero 1670-1734
Copyright © 1998 Gathering of the Clans, all rights reserved.
He was a soldier alongside his father and brother at the age of eighteen. He was a farmer, whose respect for the Highland way of life won him a place in the legend of the country. He was an outlaw, a thief, or a dedicated family man, depending on how you look at it.Like any Highland boy of good family, young Rob Roy MacGregor's education came from within his community, where nightly ceilidhs included games designed to strengthen the oral tradition and a child’s grasp of Highland history. His knowledge of literature as well as politics was considerable, particularly in a time when illiteracy was common. He was taught the skills that Highland cattle owners needed. Most importantly, his father, chief Donald Glas ensured that his children know their clan’s history and it was this aspect of his education that would most greatly influence Rob Roy’s place in history.
Along with many Highland clans, at the age of eighteen Rob Roy went to battle with his father to support the Stewart King James against his challenger, William of Orange. Although victorious in initial battles, the clans’ leader was killed and their fortunes fell. Rob’s father was taken to jail, where he was held on doubtful treason charges for two years.
Rob’s mother Margaret’s health faltered and then failed during Donald’s time in prison. By the time Donald was finally released, his wife was dead, and his reason for living also gone. The Gregor chief would never return to his former spirit or health. For his whole life, Rob had weathered the seasonal challenges and political threats under his parents’ protection. Now, his parents and the way of life his clan had relied upon was being swept away by political winds from as far away as London and France. And his own political convictions were being formed.
From this point, Rob Roy's convictions were formed. He despised needless bloodshed, and fought against the injustice that plagued his clan -- aggressively but with foresight. He was to become a hero of the Highlands. In his early twenties, Rob worked with his brother’s cattle watch and developed his own trade in cattle. He married his sweetheart, Mary Helen MacGregor of Comar, and set about building a home for his family. This relied on long Highland customs of cattle raids, and on Rob’s own expertise in tracking and driving through the hills.
One particular raid on the herdship at Kippen landed Rob in the jail where his father had spent two years, but before his death sentence was carried out, friends were able to help him escape and he returned home to Mary and their infant son James. It was Rob’s personality and facility for leadership, at least as much as any linear claim, that earned him respectable holdings in Inversnaid and Graigrostan, and acting chieftanship of Clan Dughaill Ciar. Rob Roy had inherited his mother's pale complexion and red hair, and it is said that he cut a striking figure. He was known as a fair and honest businessman, and was considered the best swordsman in the land. At the time of his dispute with Montrose, he was well-known throughout Scotland, not only by appearance, but by reputation.
Rob had been doing business with the Marquis of Montrose for ten years, borrowing large amounts of cash from him to facilitate his cattle trade. Rob had a reputation for honesty; the Marquis was known for his greed, and although Montrose had made a lot of money through his investments in MacGregor's trade, he spared no mercy for Rob. When one of Rob's agents absconded with one thousand pounds, a fortune even for a relatively wealthy landowner, Montrose pressed his advantage, hoping to claim Rob's land. After a determined search for the thief, Rob was captured by Montrose, but escaped.
In 1715, Rob led his clan to battle in support of the Jacobites. He was charged with treason, but again escaped from prison. He lived the rest of his life as an outlaw, taking protection from allies and making narrow escape from enemies. Rob Roy died at home at the age of 63. He was buried in the small churchyard in Balquidder.
Rob Roy's Grave by William Wordsworth, 1888
A famous man is Robin Hood,
The English ballad-singer's joy!
And Scotland has a thief as good,
An outlaw of as daring mood;
She has her brave Rob Roy!
Then clear the weeds from off his Grave,
And let us chant a passing stave,
In honour of that Hero brave!
Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless heart
And wondrous length and strength of arm:
Nor craved he more to quell his foes,
Or keep his friends from harm.
Yet was Rob Roy as wise as brave;
Forgive me if the phrase be strong;--
A Poet worthy of Rob Roy
Must scorn a timid song.
Say, then, that he was 'wise' as brave;
As wise in thought as bold in deed:
For in the principles of things
'He' sought his moral creed.
Said generous Rob, "What need of books?
Burn all the statutes and their shelves:
They stir us up against our kind;
And worse, against ourselves.
"We have a passion--make a law,
Too false to guide us or control!
And for the law itself we fight
In bitterness of soul.
"And, puzzled, blinded thus, we lose
Distinctions that are plain and few:
These find I graven on my heart:
'That' tells me what to do.
"The creatures see of flood and field,
And those that travel on the wind!
With them no strife can last; they live
In peace, and peace of mind.
"For why?--because the good old rule
Sufficeth them, the simple plan,
That they should take, who have the power,
And they should keep who can.
"A lesson that is quickly learned,
A signal this which all can see!
Thus nothing here provokes the strong
To wanton cruelty.
"All freakishness of mind is checked;
He tamed, who foolishly aspires;
While to the measure of his might
Each fashions his desires.
"All kinds, and creatures, stand and fall
By strength of prowess or of wit:
'Tis God's appointment who must sway,
And who is to submit.
"Since, then, the rule of right is plain,
And longest life is but a day;
To have my ends, maintain my rights,
I'll take the shortest way."
And thus among these rocks he lived,
Through summer heat and winter snow:
The Eagle, he was lord above,
And Rob was lord below.
So was it--'would', at least, have been
But through untowardness of fate;
For Polity was then too strong--
He came an age too late;
Or shall we say an age too soon?
For, were the bold Man living 'now',
How might he flourish in his pride,
With buds on every bough!
Then rents and factors, rights of chase,
Sheriffs, and lairds and their domains,
Would all have seemed but paltry things,
Not worth a moment's pains.
Rob Roy had never lingered here,
To these few meagre Vales confined;
But thought how wide the world, the times
How fairly to his mind!
And to his Sword he would have said,
Do Thou my sovereign will enact
From land to land through half the earth!
Judge thou of law and fact!
"'Tis fit that we should do our part,
Becoming, that mankind should learn
That we are not to be surpassed
In fatherly concern.
"Of old things all are over old,
Of good things none are good enough:--
We'll show that we can help to frame
A world of other stuff.
"I, too, will have my kings that take
From me the sign of life and death:
Kingdoms shall shift about, like clouds,
Obedient to my breath."
And, if the word had been fulfilled,
As 'might' have been, then, thought of joy!
France would have had her present Boast,
And we our own Rob Roy!
Oh! say not so; compare them not;
I would not wrong thee, Champion brave!
Would wrong thee nowhere; least of all
Here standing by thy grave.
For Thou, although with some wild thoughts,
Wild Chieftain of a savage Clan!
Hadst this to boast of; thou didst love
The 'liberty' of man.
And, had it been thy lot to live
With us who now behold the light,
Thou would'st have nobly stirred thyself,
And battled for the Right.
For thou wert still the poor man's stay,
The poor man's heart, the poor man's hand;
And all the oppressed, who wanted strength,
Had thine at their command.
Bear witness many a pensive sigh
Of thoughtful Herdsman when he strays
Alone upon Loch Veol's heights,
And by Loch Lomond's braes!
And, far and near, through vale and hill,
Are faces that attest the same;
The proud heart flashing through the eyes,
At sound of Rob Roy's name.