It has often been jocularly said that no family can have any right to
call itself 'old' unless it has its 'family ghost.' As regards the
Highlands of Scotland, we may substitute for the ghost the inevitable
'doom,' or prediction foretelling future weal or woe to the family.
Almost every old Highland house has its 'prophecy' of this kind, such
as the Argyll and Breadalbane predictions, the 'Fate of Seaforth,' the
'Fall and Rise of Macleod,' and many others well known in the north.
The great majority of the families so gifted have had of course no
events in their history that even the credulity of their retainers in
the past could twist into a fulfilment of the predictions; but in a
few cases there have been some curious coincidences between the old
traditions and the facts of a later time.
We propose to select one or two well authenticated instances of such
coincidences from among a mass of Highland superstition in a little
book that has recently been published at Inverness entitled _The
Prophecies of the Brahan Seer_, by Alexander Mackenzie (Inverness:
A. and W. Mackenzie). This pamphlet is a collection of most of the
traditionary 'prophecies' attributed to an apocryphal Ross-shire seer
of the seventeenth century, and which have been handed down by oral
tradition from generation to generation in the Highlands since that
time. In the north, the popular faith in this prophet _Coinneach Odhar_
or 'Dun Kenneth' and his predictions has been and is both strong and
wide, says Mr Mackenzie, who thinks the legends worthy of preservation,
as an additional chapter 'both remarkable and curious, to the already
extensive history of the marvellous.' At anyrate, these legends are of
some interest as illustrations of the superstition and credulity of
the Highlanders of the last century, and perhaps even of this; but our
purpose leaves untouched the wilder traditions in this collection, and
deals only with two episodes in the histories of two great families of
the north.
Sir Edmund Burke in his _Vicissitudes of Families_ has a weird chapter
on 'the Fate of Seaforth,' in which he gives at full length the doom of
this family, as pronounced by the 'Warlock of the Glen' (as Sir Edmund
calls Dun Kenneth), and its fulfilment a century and a half after it
was spoken. Burke seemingly accepts as fact (as does Mr Mackenzie)
the purely mythical story of the seer and his cruel fate--how, being
a clansman of Seaforth, and famed for his prophetic skill, he was
called on by his chief's wife to explain why her husband staid so long
in Paris, whither he had gone on business soon after the Restoration;
how the Warlock, unwilling at first to tell what his uncanny gift
shewed him, at last was forced to say that the Lord of Kintail was
forgetting home and Lady Isabel in the smiles of a French lady; how
the angry countess, furious that he should have so slandered his chief
before his clansmen, ordered the seer to be burned to death--another
instance of the proverbial 'honour' in which prophets are held in their
own country. As he was dying at the stake, Kenneth uttered a weird
prediction foretelling the downfall of the Seaforths for Lady Isabel's
crime. So runs the legend. It is quite certain that a prediction
regarding the Seaforth family was well known in the Highlands long
before the days of the last chief of Kintail. We have Lockhart's
authority for the fact that both Sir Humphry Davy and Sir Walter Scott
knew and believed it. 'I do fear the accomplishment of the prophecy,'
writes Scott in another place to his friend Morritt of Rokeby, who
himself testifies that he heard it quoted in the Highlands at a time
when Lord Seaforth had two sons both alive and in good health. This
prediction ran, that the house of Seaforth would fall when there should
be a deaf and dumb earl who should sell Kintail (the 'gift-land' of his
house); that this earl would have three sons, all of whom he should
survive; that four great Highland lairds, his contemporaries, should
each have certain physical defects, which were named; that the Seaforth
estates should go to 'a white-hooded lassie from the East,' who should
be the cause of her sister's death.
With all these particulars the facts coincided exactly. Francis
Humberstone Mackenzie, the last Seaforth, became deaf from an attack of
fever while at school, and latterly also became dumb. His remarkable
life is well known: he raised from his clan the 78th Highlanders, and
subsequently rose to be a lieutenant-general in the army and governor
of various colonies. Scott, whose great friend he was, says he was a
man 'of extraordinary talents, who must have made for himself a lasting
reputation, had not his political exertions been checked by painful
natural infirmity.' He was the happy father of three sons and six
daughters, all of high promise; but the end of his life was darkened
by misfortunes. Two of his sons died suddenly; and in 1814, William,
his last hope--M. P. for his native county, and a young man of great
abilities--sickened of a lingering disease, and died about the time
that losses in the West Indies necessitated the sale of Kintail. In
January following, the old man, broken-hearted at the loss of his three
sons, died; and then, as Scott says:
Of the line of Mackenneth remained not a male
To bear the proud name of the chiefs of Kintail.
The estates went to his eldest daughter, the widow of Admiral Sir
Samuel Hood, who was on her way home from India when her father
died. The four Highland lairds, friends of Earl Francis, were all
distinguished by the peculiar personal marks which were mentioned in
the prediction; and to make the coincidence complete, Lady Hood--then
Mrs Stewart Mackenzie--many years afterwards may be said to have been
the innocent cause of her sister's death, for when she was driving Miss
Caroline Mackenzie in a pony-carriage, the ponies ran away, the ladies
were thrown out, and Miss Mackenzie killed!
So much for this strange chapter in family history. Let us now
glance at the records of another family--equally famous in the
Highlands--where the prediction, as a whole, has not been fulfilled,
though enough has happened here also to make the coincidence very
striking. Our authority in this case is the Rev. Norman Macleod, father
of the late Dr Norman Macleod. In the appendix to Dr Norman's _Life_
by his brother are given a series of reminiscences dictated in his old
age by their father. He says that in the summer of 1799 he visited
Dunvegan Castle in Skye, the old stronghold of the Macleods. 'One
circumstance took place at the castle on this occasion which I think
worth recording, especially as I am the only person now living who
can attest the truth of it. There had been a traditionary prophecy,
couched in Gaelic verse, regarding the family of Macleod, which on this
occasion received a most extraordinary fulfilment. This prophecy I
have heard repeated by several persons.... It was prophesied at least
a hundred years prior to the circumstance I am about to relate.' This
prediction shortly was, that when 'Norman, the third Norman,' should
meet an accidental death; when the rocks on the coast of Macleod's
country called the 'Maidens' became the property of a Campbell; when a
fox had young ones in the castle; and when the 'Fairy Banner' should be
for the last time shewn--the glory of Macleod should depart for a time;
the estates be sold to others. But that again in the far future another
Macleod should redeem the property and raise the family higher than
ever. Now comes the curious coincidence told by Mr Macleod.
An English smith at Dunvegan told him one day that next morning he was
going to the castle to force open the iron chest in which the 'fairy
flag' of the Macleods had lain for ages undisturbed. Mr Macleod was
very anxious to be present, and at last he got permission from 'the
factor,' upon condition that he told no one of the name of Macleod--the
chief included--what was to be done. The smith tore off the lid of the
box, and the famous old flag was exposed--'a square piece of very rich
silk, with crosses wrought with gold-thread, and several elf-spots
stitched with great care on different parts of it.' Very soon after
this, Mr Macleod goes on to say, 'the melancholy news of the death of
the young and promising heir of Macleod reached the castle. "Norman,
the third Norman," was a lieutenant of H.M.S. the _Queen Charlotte_,
which was blown up at sea, and he and the rest perished. At the same
time, the rocks called "Macleod's Maidens" were sold in the course
of that very week to Angus Campbell of Ensay; and they are still in
possession of his grandson. A fox in possession of a Lieutenant Maclean
residing in the west turret of the castle, had young ones, which I
handled. And thus all that was said in the prophecy alluded to was
so far fulfilled; although I am glad the family of my chief still
enjoy their ancestral possessions, and the worst part of the prophecy
accordingly remains unverified. I merely state the facts of the case as
they occurred, without expressing any opinion whatever as to the nature
of these traditionary legends with which they were connected.'
A coincidence as remarkable as any of these is the one Mr Wilkie
Collins notices in connection with his novel _Armadale_. Readers of
that powerful story will recollect what an important part the fatal
effects of sleeping in poisoned and foul air play in it. They, writes
Mr Wilkie Collins, 'may be interested in hearing of a coincidence
relating to the present story which actually happened, and which in the
matter of "extravagant improbability" sets anything of the same kind
that a novelist could imagine at flat defiance. In November 1865--that
is to say, when thirteen monthly parts of _Armadale_ had been
published, and I may add, when more than a year and a half had elapsed
since the end of the story, as it now appears, was first sketched in
my note-book--a vessel lay in the Huskisson Dock at Liverpool, which
was looked after by one man, who slept on board, in the capacity of
ship-keeper. On a certain day in the week this man was found dead in
the deck-house. On the next day a second man, who had taken his place,
was carried dying to the Northern Hospital. On the third day a third
ship-keeper was appointed, and was found dead in the deck-house, which
had already proved fatal to the other two. _The name of that ship was
the Armadale._ And the proceedings at the inquest proved that the three
men had all been suffocated by _sleeping in poisoned air_.' The case,
Mr Collins goes on to say, 'was noticed--to give two instances in which
I can cite the dates--in the _Times_ of November 30, 1865, and was more
fully described in the _Daily News_ of November 28, in the same year.'