It is happy for the present age that the ancient manners and customs,
which were practised in the Highlands and Islands under the Feudal
system, have long since fallen into oblivion. It would fill volumes to
relate the numerous practices which were then resorted to by the feudal
lords, many of which were cruel in themselves, and entailed great
hardships on their submissive vassals who were bound to obey. As the
chiefs had full power over the life and death of their retainers, such
of them as betrayed any disobedience or opposition to the stern demands
of their superiors, rendered themselves liable to the severest
punishment, and frequently to nothing less than the penalty of death.
The national laws of Kings and Queens had then but little influence in
checking or counteracting the peremptory enactments of Feudalism.
The following striking instance of the remarkable practices alluded to
will furnish a specimen to the readers of the _Celtic Magazine_, of what
took place in Skye, not much more than a century and a half ago.
No sooner did the death of a tenant take place than the event was
announced to the laird of the soil. The Land-Stewart, or ground-officer,
incurred the displeasure of his master unless that announcement were
made no later than three days after it had occurred. Immediately after
the deceased farmer had been consigned to the grave, the disconsolate
widow, if he had left one, was waited upon by a messenger from the
landlord, to deliver up to him the best horse on the farm, such being
reckoned then the legal property of the owner of the soil. This rule was
as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. On large and
extensive farms the demand was submitted to without much complaint, by
the widow, children, or heirs of the deceased, but it pressed hard upon
the occupiers of small tenements of land, and particularly so on
helpless widows. But whoever refused, or attempted to evade this
heartless enactment, forfeited every right to their farms in future, and
became liable to have all their goods and chattels confiscated to the
laird. It frequently happened that a poor farmer had but one horse, yet
even this circumstance did not mitigate the cruelty of the practice; for
the solitary animal was taken away, and frequently so to the great
distress of the younger branches of the orphan family, who mourned
bitterly, and often shed tears for the loss of their favourite animal.
A circumstance took place in the parish of Strath, which was, it is
said, the means of abolishing this abominable rule. About the beginning
of the seventeenth century a farmer, of the name of Mackinnon, was
gathered to his fathers in the parish, and after his interment the
laird's messenger visited the afflicted widow, and, as usual, demanded
the best horse on her little farm. Her husband having been a kinsman of
the laird, and expecting, in her distress, to receive some sympathy from
her chief, and at all events, some relaxation of that rule which had
been all along so resistlessly put in force, she showed much reluctance
to part with the animal. Seeing this, the officer became more and more
determined to have it. The widow, in the same manner, became more and
more determined in her refusal, and appealed to him in vain to submit
the case to the decision of her chief. The officer was inexorable, and
becoming incensed at the woman's pertinacity he turned from words to
blows, and inflicted some severe wounds on the helpless female to the
effusion of blood. She, however, retaliated, and through desperation,
assuming more courage, addressed her little son, a boy of four, that
stood weeping by her side, and said to him in her own emphatic
vernacular:--
"Cha mhac mar an t-athair thu, a' Lachlainn Oig,
Mar diol thu le fuil droch caithreamh do mhàthar;
'S mar smàil thu gu bàs, le diòghaltas air chòir,
Am borb-fhear fiadhaich so, am mòrtair gu'n nàr!"
_Literally translated:--_
"Thou art not a son like the father, my young Lachlan,
Unless thou requite with blood the ill-treatment of thy mother;
And unless thou dash to death, with due revenge,
This fierce and savage fellow--this bare-faced murderer!"
The mother's charge to her boy cannot be said to be tempered with much
Christian feeling or principle, yet it was according to the generally
cherished practices of the system under which she lived. Then it was
that might was right, and revenge bravery. But to return to the
subject--the widow's cries and tears, excitement and eloquence, were all
in vain. The officer made off with the horse and delivered it to his
chief.
Matters went on in this way, in various quarters, for a considerable
time, until at length, and about twenty years thereafter, the same
officer appeared on the same errand at a neighbouring widow's door, and
deprived her as usual of her best horse. The circumstance was brought
under the notice of Lachlan Og, and having been, no doubt, frequently
reminded of the cruelty inflicted by that official on his mother, was
determined to embrace the present befitting occasion for displaying his
dire revenge. It may be stated that young Lachlan was noted in the
district for his great agility and muscular strength. He made no delay
in pursuing the officer, and having come up to him at the distance of
some miles, he seized him by the neck and sternly demanded the widow's
horse, reminding him, at the same time, of the treatment inflicted by
him on his mother twenty years before. The officer stood petrified with
fear, seeing fierceness and revenge depicted so very unmistakably in
young Mackinnon's face. Yet still he grasped the animal by the halter,
and would not permit his youthful assailant to intermeddle with it. The
strife commenced, and that in right earnest, but in a few moments the
officer fell lifeless on the ground. Mackinnon, seizing his dirk,
dissevered the head from the body, and washed it in a fountain by the
wayside, which is still pointed out to the traveller as "_Tobar a'
chinn_," or "The Well of the Head." He then, at once, mounted the horse,
and galloped off to the residence of his chief, carrying the bloody head
in his left hand on the point of his dirk. His appearance at the main
entrance, with the ghastly trophy still bleeding in his hand, greatly
alarmed the menials of the mansion. Without dismounting he inquired if
Mackinnon was at home, and being told that he was, he said, "Go and tell
my Chief that I have arrived to present him with the head of his officer
'Donnuchadh Mor,' in case that he might wish to embalm it and hang it up
in his baronial hall as a trophy of heartlessness and cruelty." The
message was instantly delivered to the laird, who could not believe that
such a diabolical deed could be perpetrated by any of his clan, but
still he came out to see. On his appearance in the court, Lachlan Og
dismounted, did obeisance to his chief, and prominently exhibited the
dripping head, by lifting it up on his dirk. "What is this, Lachlan,
what murder is this?" asked the excited chief. Lachlan explained the
whole in full detail, and related the circumstances of the present
transaction, as well as of the inhuman treatment which his mother had
received when he was a child. The chieftain pondered, paused, and
declared that these cruelties had been practised unknown to him. He
granted a free pardon to Lachlan Og, appointed him his officer in room
of Donnuchadh Mor, and issued an edict over all his estate that
thereafter neither widow nor orphan, heir, nor kindred, would ever be
deprived by him of their horse, or of any other part of their property.