Duncan Campbell

Ticonderoga, A Tale of the Highlands

by Robert Louis Stevenson

_____

by Greenwood Saint-Wicker.

Piper’s Refrain (Duncan Campbell)

©1983 Bop Talk Music (Rich Nardin).

Recorded by Gordon Bok, Ann Mayo Muir & Ed Trickett for And So Will We Yet (1990); and by Stan Ransom, the Connecticut Peddler for Songs of Lake Champlain (1995).

There are two songs (at least) about Duncan Campbell, the Highland Brigade, and the French and Indian War. One by Margaret MacArthur and the other this one by Rick Nardin. Margaret’s song starts with the death of the cousin, the other starts in Canada.

It is a wonderful legend. Duncan Campbell is woken one night with a friend at the door asking to be hidden from pursuit and swears Duncan to silence. The search party arrives and says they are looking for the man who killed Duncan’s cousin. Since Duncan promised, he says he has not seen him. The cousin’s ghost comes and tell him he will die at Ticonderoga. Years later, Duncan and his son are in a highland brigade in the French and Indian War and are marching toward a fort with a French name, “but the Indians call Ticonderoga”. They try to keep the name from Duncan (they have heard the tale) and when he finds out, he knows he will die in the battle. He and his son are two of the three casualties that day.

—SOF

I’ll tell it to you as they told it to me,

in the glow of the campfire burning.

By the banks of the water where we sported and played,

they once faced the fury of battle.

In Scotland an officer decades before,

had given a murderer shelter.

The murdered man’s ghost had promised revenge,

at a place called Ticonderoga.

And up to the Champlain came the Highland Brigade,

the pipes and the drummer played “Scotland the Brave.”

But when they sailed home the piper’s refrain,

was, “Oh, how cruel the volley.”

To one Duncan Campbell it came in a dream,

that he’d meet his fate where he never had been;

Where the blue waters roll and the stickerbush tear,

It’s “Travel well, Duncan, I’ll wait for you there.”

“For the French and the Indian have challenged our King.”

(To a soldier like Duncan, no need to explain.)

“It’s many a time I’ve travelled the waves,

to find my fate in the fire.”

Chorus

From Fort William Henry their boats pushed away,

to the North of Lake George in the morning;

to the place the Frenchmen call Carillon,

and the Indians: Ticonderoga.

And the word struck Duncan like a thunderbolt there;

everyone knew of the warning.

“Oh, give us a tune to remember me by,

for tomorrow I’ll not be returning.”

Chorus

When the gunpowder flashed, the Highlanders died,

never again to sit by the Clyde.

In the wilderness green, in the sun and the rain,

it’s here they’re forever remaining.

And I’ve told it to you as they told it to me,

of one Duncan Campbell and the Highland Brigade.

When the campfires crackle in the summertime’s wane,

through the mist on the water comes the piper’s refrain.

Chorus

The Legend of Duncan Campbell

©1989 Margaret MacArthur.

In Duncan Campbell, the first of three songs dealing with war [on this recording], we are told of a legend closely tied to the James Abercrombie (British Army officer, born 1706) defeat at Ticonderoga in 1758, during the French and Indian War. Duncan Campbell was one of the 1,100 soldiers in the Black Watch Regiment, part of an army of 15,000 commanded by the inept Abercromby. Following his orders, his troops again and again attacked the fort, which was held by 3,600 French under Montcalm. The British lost 1,600 men, including more than half the Black Watch Regiment. Among the dead was Campbell, to whom the strange name “Ticonderoga” had been spoken 18 years before by the ghost of his cousin.

When my husband and I visited the House of Inverawe in Argyll, Scotland, in 1984, the present Mrs. Campbell showed us the room in which Duncan was sleeping when he saw the ghost. And in nearby Inverary, we walked in Inveraray Castle from which observers had seen the terrible battle reflected in the clouds.

Katie Brown of Winooski sent me a Scottish version of this legend. It is also discussed in the book Lake Champlain: Key to Liberty by Ralph Nading Hill.

—Margaret MacArthur

He was a lord of high degree,

was Duncan Campbell of Inverawe.

There came a knock one stormy night,

as he sat alone in his Great Hall.

There came a stranger to the door,

all covered with blood was he.

“I’ve killed a man all on this night,

avengers now do follow me.”

“Shield me, shield me from all harm,

oh give me hospitality.

Swear, oh swear it on your dirk.”

With him the laird did then agree.

He scarcely had him hid away,

two men came ringing at the bell.

“We seek the murderer

of your cousin Donald Campbell.”

“He is not here,” he lied to them,

thinking upon his bitter oath.

That night to his bedside there came

his cousin Donald’s bleeding ghost.

Cried, “Do not shield the murderer”,

ere he vanished from sight.

Duncan bade the unwelcome guest

to be gone at the first light.

“Shield me, shield me from all harm,

oh give me hospitality.

You swore, you swore all on your dirk,”

With him the laird did then agree.

His heart was sore, but an oath he’d sworn.

That night his cousin in all his gore,

said, “Farewell, Inverawe, farewell,

till we meet again at Ticonderoga.”

He wrote it down, this Ticonderoga,

a strange name unknown to all.

The Black Watch regiment it called to him,

he left his home, he left Argyll.

The years did come, the years did go,

his son joined the company.

In seventeen hundred and fifty-eight,

oh they sailed for Amerikee.

The Black Watch marched to fight the French,

from Lake George toward the border,

to the fort the French called Carillon,

but the Indian guide called Ticonderoga.

Though Duncan Campbell did not hear,

his friends kept the dread name from him.

His bloody cousin did appear,

“We meet again at Ticonderoga.”

They reached the fort, the lines were drawn,

French gained o’er British and American.

And then they charged, the Black Watch charged,

with all the wildness of the Highlands.

Retreat was sounded once, twice, thrice,

ere they harkened to the call.

Duncan and his son lay dead,

“Farewell House of Inverawe.”

“Farewell, Inverawe, farewell.

Farwell many a Highland soldier.”

His friends remembered the oft told tale,

“Till we meet again at Ticonderoga.”

“Farewell, Inverawe, farewell.

Farewell a thousand Highlanders slain.”

In the clouds above far off Argyll,

they saw that battle on Lake Champlain.

Duncan Campbell

Other than eponymous title, the following ballad has no relation to the story and songs above.

(Public domain, ∼ 1830–1899)

Ballad from a street literature with no publication details. A woodcut of a man, of Victorian appearance, adorns the top of the sheet. The mention of “Peelers” (police) puts it after 1829, when they were established.

For a long time in Scotland there was strong prejudice against Highlanders and Irishmen. Duncan Campbell is a Highland Scot from Argyllshire, who, in Edinburgh, is mistaken for an Irishman. On account of the shared persecution, Campbell identifies with the Irish, and goes by the name “Erin-go-bragh” (a battlecry meaning “Ireland Forever”). He ends up striking an indolent policeman and leaving the central belt and its prejudice.

My name is Duncan Campbell, from the shire of Argyle;

I have travelled this country for many a long mile;

I have travelled through England and Ireland and a’,

And the name I go under is bold Erin-go-Bragh.

One night in Edinburgh, as I walked down the street,

A saucy policeman I chanced to meet;

He glowered in my face and gave me some jaw,

Saying, “When came you over from Erin-go-Bragh?”

I am not a Paddy, though Ireland I’ve seen

Nor am I a Paddy, though in Ireland I’ve been,

But though I were a Paddy, that’s naething ava,

There’s many a bold hero from Erin-go-Bragh.

I know you are a Pat by the cut of your hair,

But you all turn Scotchmen as soon as you come here.

You have left your own country for breaking the law,

We are seizing all strangers from Erin-go-Bragh.

Well though I were a Paddy, and I knew it to be true,

Or were I the devil, pray what’s that to you?

If it was not for that baton you hold in your paw,

I would show you a game played in Erin-go-Bragh.

Then a switch of black thorn I held in my fist,

Across his big body I made it to twist;

And the blood from his napper I quickly did draw,

I paid stock and interest for Erin-go-Bragh.

The people came round me like a flock of wild geese,

Saying, stop that d——d rascal, he has killed our police,

And for one friend I had, I am sure he had twa,

It was very tight times with Erin-go-Bragh.

But I came to a wee boatie that sails on the Forth,

I packed up my all and steered for the north;

Farewell to Auld Reekie, the police and a’,

May the Devil be with you, said Erin-go-Bragh.

Come all ye brave fellows that hear of this song,

I don’t care a farthing to where you belong,

For I’m from my shore in the Highlands so braw,

But I ne’er took ill when called Erin-go-Bragh.

References

• Hill, Ralph Nading (1977) Lake Champlain: Key to Liberty. Countryman Press. ISBN 0-914378-19-8.
• Hill, Ralph Nading (1995) Lake Champlain: Key to Liberty. Countryman Press. ISBN 0-88150-354-1.