the same old gentleman, who earnestly urged him not to delay another
day in repairing to London, assuring him that he would be handsomely
rewarded for his trouble; but to this Sir George paid no particular
attention. The third day he was again met by the same hoary-headed
sire, who energetically pleaded with him not to lose a day in setting
out, otherwise the case would be lost. His singular deportment, and his
anxiety that Sir George should be present at the discussion of the
case, in which he seemed so deeply interested, induced Sir George to
give in to his earnest importunities, and accordingly he started next
morning on horseback, arriving in London on the day preceding that on
which the case was to come on. In a few hours he was pacing in front of
the mansion-house described by the old man at Leith Walk, where he met
two gentlemen engaged in earnest conversation—one of the claimants to
the property, and a celebrated London barrister—to whom he immediately
introduced himself as the principal law-officer of the crown for
Scotland. The barrister, no doubt supposing that Sir George was coming
to take the bread out of his mouth, addressed him in a surly manner,
and spoke disrespectfully of his country; to which the latter replied,
“that, lame and ignorant as his learned friend took the Scotch to be,
yet in law, as well as in other respects, they would effect what would
defy him and all his London clique”. This disagreeable dialogue was put
an end to by the other gentleman—the claimant to the property—taking Sir
George into the house. After sitting and conversing for some minutes,
Sir George expressed a wish to be shown over the house. The drawing-room
was hung all round with magnificent pictures and drawings, which Sir
George greatly admired; but there was one which particularly attracted
his attention; and after examining it very minutely, he, with a surprised
expression, inquired of his conductor whose picture it was? and received
answer—“It is my great-great-grandfather’s”. “My goodness!” exclaimed Sir
George, “the very man who spoke to me three times on three successive
days in Leith Walk, and at whose urgent request I came here!” Sir George,
at his own request, was then conducted to the attics, in one of which
there was a large mass of old papers, which was turned up and examined
without discovering anything to assist them in prosecuting the claim
to the heirship of the property. However, as they were about giving up
the search, Sir George noticed an old trunk lying in a corner, which,
his companion told him, had lain there for many a year as lumber, and
contained nothing. The Leith Walk gentleman’s information recurring to
Sir George, he gave the old moth-eaten chest a good hearty kick, such
as he could wish to have been received by his “learned friend” the
barrister, who spoke so disrespectfully of his country. The bottom flew
out of the trunk, with a quantity of chaff, among which the original
titles to the property were discovered. Next morning, Sir George entered
the court just as the case was about to be called and addressed the
pretended claimant’s counsel—“Well, sir, what shall I offer you to
abandon this action?” “No sum, or any consideration whatever, would
induce me to give it up,” answered his learned opponent. “Well, sir,”
said Sir George, at the same time pulling out his snuff-horn and taking
a pinch, “I will not even hazard a pinch on it.” The case was called.
Sir George, in reply to the claimant’s counsel, in an eloquent speech,
addressed the bench; exposed most effectually the means which had been
adopted to deprive his client of his birthright; concluded by producing
the titles found in the old chest; and the case was at once decided in
favour of his client. The decision being announced, Sir George took
the young heir’s arm, and, bowing to his learned friend the barrister,
remarked, “You see now what a Scotsman has done, and let me tell you
that I wish a countryman of mine anything but a London barrister”. Sir
George immediately returned to Edinburgh, well paid for his trouble; but
he never again, in his favourite walk, encountered the old grey-headed
gentleman.
The following two stanzas refer to the Mackenzies of Kilcoy and their
property:—
Nuair a ghlaodhas paisdean tigh Chulchallaidh,
‘Tha slige ar mortairean dol thairis!’
Thig bho Chròidh madadh ruadh
Bhi’s ’measg an t-sluaigh mar mhadadh-alluidh,
Rè da-fhichead bliadhna a’s corr,
’S gum bi na chòta iomadh mallachd;
’N sin tilgear e gu falamh brònach
Mar shean sguab air cùl an doruis;
A’s bithidh an tuath mhor mar eunlaith sporsail,
’S an tighearnan cho bochd ris na sporais—
Tha beannachd ’san onair bhoidhich,
A’s mallachd an dortadh na fola.
Nuair bhitheas caisteal ciar Chulchallaidh
Na sheasaidh fuar, agus falamh,
’S na cathagan ’s na rocuis
Gu seolta sgiathail thairis,
Gabhaidh duine graineal comhnuidh,
Ri thaobh, mi-bheusal a’s salach,
Nach gleidh guidhe stal-phosaidh,
’S nach eisd ri cleireach no caraid,
Ach bho Chreag-a-chodh gu Sgire na Toiseachd
Gum bi muisean air toir gach caileag—
A’s ochan! ochan! s’ ma leon,
Sluigidh am balgaire suas moran talamh!
Literally translated:—
When the girls of Kilcoy house cry out,
‘The shell (cup) of our murderers is flowing over.’
A fox from Croy will come
Who shall be like a wolf among the people
During forty years and more,
And in his coat shall be many curses;
He shall then be thrown empty and sorrowful,
Like an old besom behind the door;
The large farmers will be like sportful birds,
And the lairds as poor as the sparrows—
There’s a blessing in handsome honesty
And curses in the shedding of blood.
When the stern Castle of Kilcoy
Shall stand cold and empty,
And the jackdaws and the rooks
Are artfully flying past it,
A loathsome man shall then dwell
Beside it, indecent and filthy,
Who will not keep the vow of the marriage coif,
Listen neither to cleric nor friend;
But from Creag-a-Chow to Ferrintosh
The dirty fellow will be after every girl—
Ochan! Ochan!! woe’s me,
The cunning dog will swallow up much land.
The history of the Kilcoy family has been an unfortunate one in late
years, and the second and last lines of the first stanza clearly refer
to a well-known tragic incident in the recent history of this once
highly-favoured and popular Highland family.
Mr. Maclennan applies them to an earlier event, and says:—“The second
and last line of the first stanza refer to the following story—Towards
the latter end of the seventeenth century a large number of cattle, in
the Black Isle, were attacked with a strange malady, which invariably
ended in madness and in death. The disease was particularly destructive
on the Kilcoy and Redcastle estates, and the proprietors offered a
large sum of money as a reward to any who should find a remedy. An old
warlock belonging to the parish agreed to protect the cattle from the
ravages of this unknown disease, for the sum offered, if they provided
him with a human sacrifice. To this ghastly proposal the lairds agreed.
A large barn at Parkton was, from its secluded position, selected as
a suitable place for the horrid crime, where a poor friendless man,
who lived at Linwood, close to the site of the present Free Church
manse, was requested, under some pretence, to appear on a certain day.
The unsuspecting creature obeyed the summons of his superiors; he was
instantly bound and disembowelled alive by the horrid wizard, who dried
the heart, liver, kidneys, pancreas, and reduced them to powder, of
which he ordered a little to be given to the diseased animals in water.
Before the unfortunate victim breathed his last, he ejaculated the
following imprecation:—‘Gum b’ ann nach tig an latha ’bhitheas teaghlach
a Chaisteil Ruaidh gun oinseach, na teaghlach Chulchallaidh gun amadan’.
(Let the day never come when the family of Redcastle shall be without a
female idiot, or the family of Kilcoy without a fool.) It appears, not
only that this wild imprecation was to some extent realised, but also
that the Brahan Seer, years before, knew and predicted that it would be
made, and that its prayer would be ultimately granted.”
Who the “fox from Croy” is, we are at present unable to suggest; but
taking the two stanzas as they stand, it would be difficult to describe
the position of the family and the state of the castle, with our
present knowledge of their history, and in their present position, more
faithfully than Coinneach Odhar has done more than two centuries ago.
What a faithful picture of the respective positions of the great farmers
and the lairds of the present day! And what a contrast between their
relative positions now and at the time when the Seer predicted the change!
In the appendix to the Life of the late Dr. Norman Macleod, by his
brother, the Rev. Donald Macleod, D.D., a series of autobiographical
reminiscences are given, which the famous Rev. Norman, the Doctor’s
father, dictated in his old age to one of his daughters. In the summer
of 1799 he visited Dunvegan Castle, the stronghold of the Macleods, in
the Isle of Skye. Those of the prophecies already given in verse are,
undoubtedly, fragments of the long rhythmical productions of Coinneach
Odhar Fiosaiche’s prophecies regarding most of our Highland families,
to which the Rev. Norman refers, and of which the prophecy given in his
reminiscences is as follows:—
“One circumstance took place at the Castle (Dunvegan) 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, and most deeply do I regret
that I did not take a copy of it when I could have got it. The worthy Mr.
Campbell of Knock, in Mull, had a very beautiful version of it, as also
had my father, and so, I think, had likewise Dr. Campbell of Killinver.
Such prophecies were current regarding almost all old families in the
Highlands; the Argyll family were of the number; and there is a prophecy
regarding the Breadalbane family as yet unfulfilled which I hope may
remain so. The present Marquis of Breadalbane is fully aware of it, as
are many of the connections of the family. Of the Macleod family, it was
prophesied at least a hundred years prior to the circumstance which I am
about to relate.
“In the prophecy to which I am about to allude, it was foretold that when
Norman, the Third Norman (‘Tormad nan ’tri Tormaid’), the son of the
hard-boned English lady (‘Mac na mnatha caoile cruaidhe Shassunaich’)
would perish by an accidental death; that when the ‘Maidens of Macleod’
(certain well-known rocks on the coast of Macleod’s country) became the
property of a Campbell; when a fox had young ones in one of the turrets
of the Castle, and particularly when the Fairy enchanted banner should be
for the last time exhibited, then the glory of the Macleod family should
depart; a great part of the estate should be sold to others; so that a
small ‘curragh,’ a boat, would carry all gentlemen of the name of Macleod
across Loch Dunvegan; but that in times far distant another John Breac
should arise, who should redeem those estates, and raise the power and
honours of the house to a higher pitch than ever. Such in general terms
was the prophecy. And now as to the curious coincidence of its fulfilment.
“There was, at that time, at Dunvegan, an English smith, with whom I
became a favourite, and who told me, in solemn secrecy, that the iron
chest which contained the ‘fairy flag’ was to be forced open next
morning; that he had arranged with Mr. Hector Macdonald Buchanan to be
there with his tools for that purpose.
“I was most anxious to be present, and I asked permission to that effect
of Mr. Buchanan (Macleod’s man of business), who granted me leave on
condition that I should not inform anyone of the name of Macleod that
such was intended, and should keep it a profound secret from the chief.
This I promised and most faithfully acted on. Next morning we proceeded
to the chamber in the East Turret, where was the iron chest that
contained the famous flag, about which there is an interesting tradition.
“With great violence the smith tore open the lid of this iron chest; but,
in doing so, a key was found under part of the covering, which would have
opened the chest, had it been found in time. There was an inner case, in
which was found the flag, enclosed in a wooden box of strongly-scented
wood. The flag consisted of a square piece of very rich silk, with
crosses wrought with gold thread, and several elf-pots stitched with
great care on different parts of it.
“On this occasion, 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.”
The estates are still, we are glad to say, in possession of the ancient
family of Macleod, and the present chief is rapidly improving the
prospects of his house. The probabilities are therefore at present
against our prophet. The hold of the Macleods on their estates is getting
stronger instead of weaker, and the John Breac who is to be the future
deliverer has not only not yet appeared, but the undesirable position of
affairs requiring his services is yet, we hope, in the distant future.
The Seer predicted that “when the big-thumbed Sheriff-Officer and the
blind [man] of the twenty-four fingers shall be together in Barra,
Macneil of Barra may be making ready for the flitting” (Nuair a bhitheas
maor nan ordagan mora agus dall nan ceithir-meoraibh-fichead comhla
ann am Barraidh, faodaidh MacNeill Bharraidh ’bhi deanamh deiseil na
h-imirich.) This prediction, which was known in Barra for generations,
has been most literally fulfilled. On a certain occasion, “the blind of
the twenty-four fingers,” so called from having six fingers on each hand,
and six toes on each foot, left Benbecula on a tour, to collect alms
in South Uist. Being successful there, he decided upon visiting Barra
before returning home. Arriving at the Ferry—the isthmus which separates
South Uist from Barra,—he met “Maor nan Ordagan mora,” and they crossed
the kyle in the same boat. It was afterwards found that the officer was
actually on his way to serve a summons of ejectment on the laird of
Barra; and poor Macneil not only had to make ready for, but had indeed
to make the flitting. The man who had acted as guide to the blind on
the occasion is, we are informed, still living and in excellent health,
though considerably over eighty years of age.
The following is said to have been fulfilled by the conduct of the Duke
of Cumberland at and after the battle of Culloden. The Seer was, on one
occasion, passing Millburn, on his way from Inverness to Petty, and
noticing the old mill, which was a very primitive building, thatched with
divots, he said:—“The day will come when thy wheel shall be turned for
three successive days by water red with human blood; for on the banks
of thy lade a fierce battle shall be fought, at which much blood shall
be spilt”. Some say that this is as yet unfulfilled; and it has been
suggested that the battle may yet be fought in connection with the new
Barracks now building at the Hut of Health.
Coinneach also prophesied remarkable things regarding the Mackenzies of
Fairburn and Fairburn Tower. “The day will come when the Mackenzies of
Fairburn shall lose their entire possessions, and that branch of the clan
shall disappear almost to a man from the face of the earth. Their Castle
shall become uninhabited, desolate, and forsaken, and a cow shall give
birth to a calf in the uppermost chamber in Fairburn Tower.” The first
part of this prophecy has only too literally come to pass; and within
the memory of hundreds now living, and who knew Coinneach’s prophecy
years before it was fulfilled, the latter part—that referring to the cow
calving in the uppermost chamber—has also been undoubtedly realised. We
are personally acquainted with people whose veracity is beyond question,
who knew the prophecy, and who actually took the trouble at the time to
go all the way from Inverness to see the cow-mother and her offspring
in the Tower, before they were taken down. Mr. Maclennan supplies the
following version:—Coinneach said, addressing a large concourse of
people—“Strange as it may appear to all those who may hear me this day,
yet what I am about to tell you is true and will come to pass at the
appointed time. The day will come when a cow shall give birth to a calf
in the uppermost chamber (seomar uachdarach) of Fairburn Castle. The
child now unborn will see it.”
When the Seer uttered this prediction, the Castle of Fairburn was in the
possession of, and occupied by, a very rich and powerful chieftain, to
whom homage was paid by many of the neighbouring lairds. Its halls rang
loud with sounds of music and of mirth, and happiness reigned within
its portals. On its winding stone stairs trod and passed carelessly to
and fro pages and liveried servants in their wigs and golden trimmings.
Nothing in the world was more unlikely to happen, to all appearance, than
what the Seer predicted, and Coinneach was universally ridiculed for
having given utterance to what was apparently so nonsensical; but this
abuse and ridicule the Seer bore with the patient self-satisfied air
of one who was fully convinced of the truth of what he uttered. Years
passed by, but no sign of the fulfilment of the prophecy. The Seer,
the Laird of Fairburn, and the whole of that generation were gathered
to their fathers, and still no signs of the curious prediction being
realised. The Laird of Fairburn’s immediate successors also followed
their predecessors, and the Seer, to all appearance, was fast losing his
reputation as a prophet. The tower was latterly left uninhabited, and it
soon fell into a dilapidated state of repair—its doors decayed and fell
away from their hinges, one by one, until at last there was no door on
the main stair from the floor to the roof. Some years after, and not long
ago, the Fairburn tenant-farmer stored away some straw in the uppermost
chamber of the tower; in the process, some of the straw dropped, and was
left strewn on the staircase. One of his cows on a certain day chanced to
find her way to the main door of the tower, and finding it open, began to
pick up the straw scattered along the stair. The animal proceeded thus,
till she had actually arrived at the uppermost chamber, whence, being
heavy in calf, she was unable to descend. She was consequently left in
the tower until she gave birth to a fine healthy calf. They were allowed
to remain there for several days, where many went to see them, after
which the cow and her progeny were brought down; and Coinneach Odhar’s
prophecy was thus fulfilled to the letter.
“The day will come when the Lewsmen shall go forth with their hosts
to battle, but they will be turned back by the jaw-bone of an animal
smaller than an ass,” was a prediction accounted ridiculous and quite
incomprehensible until it was fulfilled in a remarkable but very simple
manner. Seaforth and the leading men of the Clan, as is well known,
were “out in the ’15 and ’19,” and had their estates forfeited; and
it was only a few years before the ’45 that their lands were again
restored to Seaforth, and to Mackenzie, 11th Baron of Hilton. The Rev.
Colin Mackenzie, a brother of Hilton, minister of Fodderty and Laird of
Glack, in Aberdeenshire, was the first in the neighborhood of Brahan
who received information of Prince Charlie’s landing in 1745. Seaforth
had still a warm feeling for the Prince. His reverend friend, though
a thorough Jacobite himself, was an intimate friend of Lord President
Forbes, with whom he kept up a regular correspondence. He decided, no
doubt mainly through his influence, to remain neutral himself; and
fearing that his friend of Brahan might be led to join the Prince, he
instantly, on receipt of the news, started for Brahan Castle. Although
it was very late at night when he received the information, he crossed
Knockfarrel, entered Seaforth’s bedroom by the window—for he had already
gone to rest for the night—and without awakening his lady, informed him
of the landing of Charles. They decided upon getting out of the way,
and both immediately disappeared. Seaforth was well known to have had
previous correspondence with the Prince, and to have sent private orders
to the Lews to have his men there in readiness; and Fodderty impressed
upon him the prudence of getting out of sight altogether in the meantime.
They started through the mountains in the direction of Poolewe, and some
time afterwards, when there together in concealment near the shore, they
saw two ships entering the bay, having on board a large number of armed
men, whom they at once recognised as Seaforth’s followers from the Lews,
raised and commanded by Captain Colin Mackenzie, the great-grandfather of
Major Thomas Mackenzie of the 78th Highlanders. Lord Seaforth had just
been making a repast of a sheep’s head, when he espied his retainers,
and approaching the ships with the sheep’s jaw-bone in his hand, he
waved it towards them, and ordered them to return to their homes at once,
which command they obeyed by making at once for Stornoway; and thus was
fulfilled Coinneach Odhar’s apparently ludicrous prediction, that the
brave Lewsmen would be turned back from battle with the jaw-bone of an
animal smaller than an ass.
Mr. Maclennan supplies us also with the following:—“In the parish of
Avoch is a well of beautiful clear water, out of which the Brahan Seer,
upon one occasion, took a refreshing draught. So pleased was he with the
water, that he looked at his Blue Stone, and said—‘Whoever he be that
drinketh of thy water henceforth, if suffering from any disease, shall,
by placing two pieces of straw or wood on thy surface, ascertain whether
he will recover or not. If he is to recover, the straws will whirl
round in opposite directions; if he is to die soon, they will remain
stationary.’ The writer (continues Mr. Maclennan) knew people who went
to the well and made the experiment. He was himself once unwell, and
supposed to be at the point of death; he got of the water of the well,
and he still lives. Whether it did him good or not, it is impossible to
say, but this he does know, that the water pleased him uncommonly well.”
With reference to Lady Hill, in the same parish, the Seer said—“Thy name
has gone far and wide; but though thy owners were brave on the field of
battle, they never decked thy brow. The day will come, however, when a
white collar shall be put upon thee. The child that is unborn shall see
it, but I shall not.” This prediction has been fulfilled a few years ago,
by the construction of a fine drive right round the hill.
The Seer said, speaking of Beauly—“The day will come, however distant,
when ‘Cnoc na Rath’ will be in the centre of the village”. It certainly
would appear incredible, and even absurd, to suggest such a thing in
Coinneach’s day, for the “village” then stood at a place south of the
present railway station, called, in Gaelic, “Bealaidh-Achadh,” or the
Broom field, quite a mile from Cnoc na Rath. The prophecy has to some
extent been fulfilled, for the last erection at Beauly—the new public
school—is within a few yards of the Cnoc; and the increasing enterprise
of the inhabitants is rapidly aiding, and, indeed, will soon secure, the
absolute realisation of the Seer’s prediction. In connection with this
prophecy we think that we have discovered a Celtic origin for the term
Beauly. It is generally supposed to have been derived from the French
word “Beaulieu”. The village being originally at “Bealaidh-Achadh,” and
so called when the present Beauly was nowhere, what can be more natural
than the supposition that the inhabitants carried the original name of
their original village along with them, and now present us with the
Gaelic “Bealaidh,” anglified into Beauly. This is not such a fine theory
as the French one, but it is more likely to be the true one, and is more
satisfactory to the student of Gaelic topography.
We have several versions of the prophecy regarding the carrying away
of the Stone Bridge across the River Ness, which stood near the place
where the present Suspension Bridge stands. Mr. Macintyre supplies
the following, and Mr. Maclennan’s version is very much the same:—“He
foretold that the Ness bridge would be swept away by a great flood, while
crowded with people, and while a man riding a white horse and a woman
‘enciente’ were crossing it. Either the prophet’s second-sight failed him
on the occasion, or tradition has not preserved the correct version of
the prediction, for it is well known that no human being was carried away
by the bridge when it was swept by the extraordinary flood of 1849.”
As a matter of fact, there was no man riding a white horse on the bridge
at the time, but a man—Matthew Campbell—and a woman were crossing it,
the arches tumbling one by one at their heels as they flew across; but
managed to reach the western shore in safety, just as the last arch was
crumbling under their feet. Campbell, who was behind, coming up to the
woman, caught her in his arms, and with a desperate bound cleared the
crumbling structure.