Joseph Mitchell was born in Forres in 1803, and, like his father, worked for the great engineer Thomas Telford. He became Superintendent and Engineer of Highland Roads, Bridges and Railways, and wrote a memoir in which he evokes the Inverness and Highlands of his childhood and early working life.
Public Executions
The hangman was a distinguished and awful functionary. The official who then held the appointment was a person condemned for sheep-stealing, which was at this time a capital crime; but he received a pardon on condition that he agreed to act as hangman, an office very unpopular. The former hangman, Taylor, had died from severe treatment by a mob. The office was no sinecure, as there was generally a hanging at every circuit in April and August. The man, however, was well to do. He had a comfortable house, £60 a year, and some control over the fish and meal markets. He rang the ‘bell’ when there was fish in town, and had a perquisite of a haddock out of every creel, and a handful of meal out of every sack that came into the market for sale.
The penal laws were then very severe. Theft and sheep-stealing as well as murder were capital offences. To add to the misery of the unhappy criminals, the penalty was delayed for six weeks after sentence. The execution was conducted with great solemnity. The gallows was erected at the Longman, a green on the sea-shore about two miles from the town. Round the gallows, twelve feet from the ground, was a raised platform on which the clergy and magistrates stood, the culprit on the drop.
According to my recollection the procession between the jail and the place of execution was very dreadful. A company of soldiers was generally required from Fort George as a guard. First came the town’s officers with their red coats and halberds; then the magistrates and council. The culprit followed, attended by either one or two clergymen. He was clothed in a white robe, with bare neck, over which the noose of the rope hung loose, the upper end being borne by the hangman, who walked behind. Then followed respectable citizens. The military formed a guard on each side. Some of the culprits were worked up into a state of enthusiasm and prayed aloud, while at other times praise and prayer were conducted by the clergymen. When a man was hanged for sheep-stealing (and this was frequent) it was very sad to see his relatives weeping in deep distress at the foot of the gallows – poor, ignorant people.
Lunatics
There was no Lunatic Asylum or Poor House in the North, and five or six half-witted creatures used to go about the streets, tormented often by idle boys. A poor creature was kept for many years in the jail, who was said to have committed murder in a fit of insanity, and was condemned to confinement for life. He was placed in a cell with a small grated aperture for air and light, a pallet of straw for his bed, and bread and water for food. He lay there for many years, the community perfectly indifferent to his condition, till in 1816 he was removed to the Lunatic Asylum of Dundee, where in a few years he died. We children were told that if we were not good we would be sent to ‘Trochter’; such was the name he was called, being the Gaelic for murderer. He used, in a stentorian voice, which was heard a long way off, up and down the street, to cry out in Gaelic, ‘Oh yea, yea, Thighearna nan gras dean trochair orm’, translated ‘O Lord of Grace, have mercy on me.’ The people became so accustomed to the cry that they thought nothing of it; but in the middle of the night, when the shouts were frequent, the noise was very appalling.
Smuggling
The Highlanders seem to have liked the idle, risky, and adventurous trade, and they felt they had the public sympathy in their favour. There was a romance about it. The still was generally placed in some secluded spot, in the ravine of a Highland burn, or screened by waving birch and natural wood, so that the smoke of the fire could scarcely be observed. There were scouts placed around, often three or four savage-looking men, sometimes women and boys. I have witnessed such a wild and romantic scene, a fit subject for an artist.
So general was smuggling that at Inverness there were two or three master coppersmiths who had a sign about their shops of a whisky still, indicating their employment. I recollect the mysterious manner in which my mother got her supply of whisky, and in perfect safety, although the collector of Excise lived some six doors away. Everybody declared ‘small still’ or smuggled whisky was the only spirit worth drinking. The Highland smugglers baffled the Government …
One morning as I was driving up Glenmoriston before breakfast, and taking a turn in the road of that beautiful valley, I saw before me at some little distance about twenty-five Highland horses tied to each other, and carrying two kegs of whisky each. They were attended by ten or twelve men, some in kilts and all with bonnets and plaids, and carrying large bludgeons. When they saw me approach two of them fell back until I came up with them. They scrutinized me sharply and said, ‘It is a fine morning, sir;’ to which I responded. Then one turned to the other and said, ‘Ha rickh shealess ha mach Mitchell fere rate – mohr;’ the literal translation of which is, ‘You need not mind; it is the son of Mitchell, the man of the high roads.’
He then turned to me and said, ‘Would you took a dram?’ and on my assenting he took out of his pocket a round tin snuff-box, then common, but without the lid, holding about a large wine-glassful, and filled it with whisky from a bottle which he took from his side-pocket.
After some kindly greeting and talk and drinking my dram, I passed on, the other men politely touching their bonnets as I left. This was another scene for an artist, and is not likely to be seen again.
Almost all wines, spirits, and foreign commodities supplied to the Highlands were smuggled, chiefly from Holland.
I recollect, while visiting tacksmen on the west coast, being brought to a cave where a whole cargo of kegs of foreign spirits was piled up. The last cargo from Holland ‘run’ in the Moray Firth was in 1825, brought by one Donald MacKay, the fishermen of Campbelltown assisting.
I happened, with a friend, to be visiting an official of the fort, who had a cottage on the moor outside; and on our admiring the brandy (although being lads, twenty-one years of age, my friend and I were no great judges), he said if we liked we might have a supply; it was part of the cargo lately ‘run’ on the adjoining beach. His gardener placed two kegs (which with others were buried in the garden) in my gig, in which they were triumphantly carried to Inverness, notwithstanding the proximity of the collector of Excise.