Part 5

Here is a literal translation:—

When there shall be two churches in the Parish of Ferrintosh, And a hand with two thumbs in ‘I-Stiana,’ Two bridges at “Sguideal” (Conon) of the gormandizers, And a man with two navels at Dunean, Soldiers will come from “Carn a Chlarsair” (Tarradale) On a chariot without horse or bridle, Which will leave the “Blar-dubh” (Muir of Ord) a wilderness, Spilling blood with many knives; And the raven shall drink his three fulls Of the blood of the Gael from the Stone of Fionn.

We already have two churches in the Parish of Ferrintosh, two bridges at Conon, and we are told by an eye-witness, that there is actually at this very time a man with two thumbs on each hand in “I-Stiana,” in the Black Isle, and a man in the neighbourhood of Dunean who has two navels. The “chariot without horse or bridle” is undoubtedly the “iron horse”. What particular event the latter part of the prediction refers to, it is impossible to say; but if we are to have any faith in the Seer, something serious is looming not very remotely in the future.

Mr. Macintyre supplies the following, which is clearly a fragment of the one above given:—Coinneach Odhar foresaw the formation of a railway through the Muir of Ord which he said “would be a sign of calamitous times”. The prophecy regarding this is handed down to us in the following form:—“I would not like to live when a black bridleless horse shall pass through the Muir of Ord.” “Fearchair a Ghunna” (Farquhar of the Gun, an idiotic simpleton who lived during the latter part of his extraordinary life on the Muir of Tarradale) seems, in his own quaint way, to have entered into the spirit of this prophecy, when he compared the train, as it first passed through the district, to the funeral of “Old Nick”. Tradition gives another version, viz.:—“that after four successive dry summers, a fiery chariot shall pass through the ‘Blar Dubh,’” which has been very literally fulfilled. Coinneach Odhar was not the only person that had a view beforehand of this railway line, for it is commonly reported that a man residing in the neighbourhood of Beauly, gifted with second-sight, had a vision of the train, moving along in all its headlong speed, when he was on his way home one dark autumn night, several years before the question of forming a railway in those parts was mooted.

Here are two other Gaelic stanzas having undoubted reference to the Mackenzies of Rosehaugh:—

Bheir Tanaistear Chlann Choinnich Rocus bàn ás a choille; ’S bheir e ceile bho tigh-ciuil Le a mhuinntir ’na aghaidh; ’S gum bi’ n Tanaistear mor Ann an gniomh ’s an ceann-labhairt, ’Nuair bhios am Pap’ anns an Roimh Air a thilgeadh dheth chathair,

Thall fa chomhar Creag-a-Chodh Comhnuichidh taillear caol odhar; ’S Seumas gorach mar thighearn, ’S Seumas glic mar fhear tomhais— A mharcaicheas gun srian Air loth fhiadhaich a roghainn; Ach cuiridh mor-chuis gun chiall ’N aite siol nam fiadh siol nan gobhar; ’S tuitidh an t-Eilean-dubh briagha Fuidh riaghladh iasgairean Aŭch.

Literal translation:—

The heir (or chief) of the Mackenzies will take A white rook out of the wood, And will take a wife from a music house (dancing saloon), With his people against him: And the heir will be great In deeds and as an orator, When the Pope in Rome Will be thrown off his throne.

Over opposite Creag-a-Chow Will dwell a diminutive lean tailor, Also Foolish James as the laird, And Wise James as a measurer. Who will ride without a bridle The wild colt of his choice; But foolish pride without sense Will put in the place of the seed of the deer the seed of the goat; And the beautiful Black Isle will fall Under the management of the fishermen of Avoch.

We have not learnt that any of the Rosehaugh Mackenzies has yet taken a white rook from the woods; nor have we heard anything suggested as to what this part of the prophecy may refer to. We are, however, credibly informed that one of the late Mackenzies of Rosehaugh had taken his wife from a music saloon in one of our southern cities, and that his people were very much against him for so doing. One of them, Sir George, no doubt was “great in deeds and as an orator,” but we fail to discover any connection between the time in which he lived and the time “when the Pope in Rome will be thrown off his throne”. We were unable in the first edition to suggest the meaning of the first six lines of the last stanza, but Mr. Maclennan supplies us with the following explanation:—“I have been hearing these lines discussed since I was a boy, and being a native of Rosehaugh, I took a special interest in everything concerning it. The first two lines I was repeatedly informed, referred to a pious man who lived on the estate of Bennetsfield, opposite Craigiehow, when ‘Seumas Gorach’ (Foolish James referred to in the third line), was proprietor of Rosehaugh. This godly man, who was contemporary with Foolish James, often warned him of his end, and predicted his fate if he did not mend his ways; and as he thus cut his bounds for him, he is supposed to be the ‘diminutive lean tailor’. He is still in life. We all knew ‘Foolish James’. The fourth line refers to James Maclaren, who lived at Rosehaugh most of the time during which the last two Mackenzies ruled over it, and only died two years ago. He was an odd character, but a very straightforward man; often rebuked ‘Foolish James’ for the reckless and fearless manner in which he rode about, and set bounds before the ‘foolish laird,’ which he was not allowed to pass. Maclaren was, on that account, believed to be the ‘measurer’ referred to by the Seer. The fifth and sixth lines are supposed to apply to the wife fancied by Mackenzie in a ‘dancing saloon,’ who was always considered the ‘wild colt,’ at whose instigation he rode so recklessly and foolishly.” We wish the realizations of our prophet’s predictions in this case were a little less fanciful.

Those in the seventh and eighth lines have been most literally fulfilled, for there can be no doubt that “foolish pride without sense” has brought about what the Seer predicted, and secured, for the present at least, the seed of the goat where the seed of the deer used to rule. The deer, and the deer’s horns, as is well known, are the armorial bearings of the Mackenzies, while the goat is that of the Fletchers, who now rule in Rosehaugh, on the ruins of its once great and famous “Cabair-feidh”.

Part of the beautiful Black Isle has already fallen under the management of the son of a fisherman of Avoch; and who knows but other fishermen from that humble village may yet amass sufficient wealth to buy the whole. The old proprietors, we regret, are rapidly making way with their “foolish pride without sense,” for some one to purchase it.

We are informed that the present proprietor of Rosehaugh is the son of an Avoch fisherman—the son of a Mr. Jack, who followed that honourable avocation in this humble village for many years; afterwards left the place and went to reside in Elgin, where he commenced business as a small general dealer, or “huckster”; that some of the boys—his sons—exhibited a peculiar smartness while in school; that this was noticed by a lady relative of their mother, an aunt, of the name of Fletcher, who encouraged and helped on the education of the boys, and who took one or more of them to her own home, and brought them up; afterwards they found their way south, and ultimately became successful merchants and landed proprietors. These are facts of which we were entirely ignorant when first writing down the stanzas already given. The verses were sent to us from various quarters, and they have undoubtedly been floating about the country for generations. So much for the Seer’s prophetic power in this instance. Were we better acquainted with the history of the other families referred to in the stanzas, it is probable that more light could be thrown upon what they refer to than we are at present able to do.

While we are dealing with the “wonderful” in connection with the House of Rosehaugh, it may not be out of place to give a few instances of the somewhat extraordinary experiences of the famous Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh already referred to. He was one of the most distinguished members of the Scottish Bar, was Lord-Advocate for Scotland in the reign of Charles the Second, and was, indeed, a contemporary of the Brahan Seer. His “Institutes” are still considered a standing authority by the legal profession:—On one occasion, while at Rosehaugh, a poor widow from a neighbouring estate called to consult him regarding her being repeatedly warned to remove from a small croft which she held under a lease of several years; but as some time had yet to run before its expiry, and being threatened with summary ejection from the croft, she went to solicit his advice. Having examined the tenor of the lease, Sir George informed her that it contained a flaw, which, in case of opposition, would render her success exceedingly doubtful; and although it was certainly an oppressive act to deprive her of her croft, he thought her best plan was to submit. However, seeing the distressed state of mind in which the poor woman was on hearing his opinion, he desired her to call upon him the following day, when he would consider her case more carefully. His clerk, who always slept in the same room as his lordship, was not a little surprised, about midnight, to discover him rising from his bed fast asleep, lighting a candle which stood on his table, drawing in his chair, and commencing to write very busily, as if he had been all the time wide awake. The clerk saw how he was employed, but he never spoke a word, and, when he had finished, he saw him place what he had written in his private desk, locking it, extinguishing the candle, and then retiring to bed as if nothing had happened. Next morning at breakfast, Sir George remarked that he had had a very strange dream about the poor widow’s threatened ejectment, which, he could now remember, and he had now no doubt of making out a clear case in her favour. His clerk rose from the table, asked for the key of his desk, and brought therefrom several pages of manuscript; and, as he handed them to Sir George, enquired—“Is that like your dream?” On looking over it for a few seconds, Sir George said, “Dear me, this is singular; this is my very dream!” He was no less surprised when his clerk informed him of the manner in which he had acted; and, sending for the widow, he told her what steps to adopt to frustrate the efforts of her oppressors. Acting on the counsel thus given, the poor widow was ultimately successful, and, with her young family, was allowed to remain in possession of her “wee bit croftie” without molestation.

Sir George principally resided at this time in Edinburgh, and, before dinner, invariably walked for half-an-hour. The place he selected for this was Leith Walk, then almost a solitary place. One day, while taking his accustomed exercise, he was met by a venerable-looking, grey-headed old gentleman, who accosted him and, without introduction or apology, said—“There is a very important case to come off in London fourteen days hence, at which your presence will be required. It is a case of heirship to a very extensive estate in the neighbourhood of London, and a pretended claimant is doing his utmost to disinherit the real heir, on the ground of his inability to produce proper titles thereto. It is necessary that you be there on the day mentioned; and in one of the attics of the mansion-house on the estate there is an old oak chest with two bottoms; between these you will find the necessary titles, written on parchment.” Having given this information, the old man disappeared, leaving Sir George quite bewildered; but the latter, resuming his walk, soon recovered his previous equanimity, and thought nothing further of the matter.

Next day, while taking his walk in the same place, he was again met by 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.