Fògradh, Fàisneachd, Filidheachd Page 12

  (11 February 1893)

  Sutherland 10

  The land was now a large desert in which nobody eligible to become soldiers lived. When Russia and Britain were at war nearly forty years ago the gentry called a meeting and gathered the people together. When the men understood they had been assembled to recruit soldiers who would go to the Crimea they began to imitate the bleating of sheep and the roaring of stags, shouting “Maa! maa! bu-o! bu-o!”

  Then they shouted at the officers who were conscripting the soldiers: “Send the deer, the roe-bucks, the dogs, the shepherds and the deer-foresters to fight the Russians, for they never did us any harm.” Mr. Loch the factor, along with an army officer, had been travelling around for six weeks to get soldiers, but they didn’t find a single person who would agree to become associated with the military. When the Duke of Sutherland heard this disappointing report he left London and came to Dunrobin Castle in Sutherland. After appearing on the streets of Golspie and Brora he called a meeting of all the men in the three districts of Clyne, Rogart and Golspie.

  At the Duke’s call about four hundred men gathered at the time specified. The Duke arrived in his coach and soon afterward the army officers and factors arrived. The crowd gave shouts of mirth when they came, and the Duke sat on his chair. Three or four clerks sat round the table, writing, opening bulky bundles of Bank of England paper money and spreading out plates containing glistening yellow gold. The Duke arose and addressed the crowd: “It is necessary to go to war with Russia; the Emperor is a despot and must be stopped. The Queen is seeking soldiers to go to war against him and to keep him out of Turkey. I myself will give five English pounds to any young man who joins the Sutherland Regiment; if he joins another regiment I will give him three pounds, in addition to the Queen’s money.”

  Then he sat down, but no one responded. They were as silent as the grave. He then said that he was surprised that no one was replying. Eventually an old man stood up, with the aid of a stick, and said: “I am sorry, Duke, that no one is speaking, but since you want to know the reason, I must tell you why no one wishes to say anything. When your grandmother first established the Sutherland Regiment, 1,500 men assembled in forty-eight hours and she selected the 900 that she wanted. But your own mother, and her factors, banished the people from the glens and straths in which hundreds of heroes were living, and they filled the land with dumb animals. Although the Russian Empire were to come and capture Dunrobin Castle, and the magnificent house of Stafford, we would not expect that he would treat us as ruthlessly as was already done by the family of the Duke of Sutherland. The Russians never did us any harm. How can one get soldiers where there are no men? But there is one good thing. If you cannot get people to go to the army you can get plenty of mutton, beef and venison to feed those who go to war.”

  When the Duke heard this he stood up, donned his hat, gathered up his money and gold, and went on his way.

  Sutherland, like the rest of the Highlands, was once full of people. It had strong and heroic men who were brave soldiers, fighting for the kingdom’s cause against Britain’s enemies, especially against the French when strife and turmoil occurred there a hundred years ago, and when Napoleon Bonaparte nearly took control of the world. But woe is me! The land is now a wilderness where you can scarcely find men who are fit to be soldiers.

  One can only see pitiful, poor, pathetic wretches, quivering with fear of the faces of those who are oppressing them and who have ruined them. These pitiful creatures can be found in crowded clusters close to the sea, here and there. Each family has an acre or two of moorland which they prepare in order to make it suitable for growing potatoes. In the Spring they plant a few potatoes which they will have in the autumn to feed the family, along with the herring which they catch in the sea with their nets. In the summer the young and strong people go to Caithness and the Lowlands of southern Scotland, and some to England, to get work. They carefully save the wages that they earn from their toil so that they can send it home as relief for their relatives in Sutherland. This is spent, however, at the time of paying the rent to the landlord, in order to get permission to stay on the moorland acreage. If the rent is not paid they will be removed from their houses and the country.

  Now that things are like this, thousands and hundreds of acres of land are derelict, and occupied by sheep and deer. This land is good fertile territory that was once worked by attentive farmers who had cattle and sheep, along with an abundance of the good things of this life and everything that was useful in supporting their families.

  Folk tradition has it that Sallow Kenneth, the Brahan Seer, or some other soothsayer, said “that the jaw-bone of the sheep will put the plough on the hen-roost.” It appears that this was done without clemency or concern in every part of the Highlands. Another seer said that “the time would come when the land would have rent, double rent, treble rent, and ultimately no rent at all.” The first part of the prophecy happened but the rest is still to be accomplished. The poor Highlanders need that the land be rent-free, and that the thieves and robbers who grabbed their land by force be made accountable for their stewardship. It is not right that they should still be stewards, for they criminally squandered wealth that was entrusted to them. They abused land that was not exclusively theirs but belonged to the people who had lived on it in ages past. The sooner this happens, the better for the Gaels. The Highlands belong to the Gaels, for God gave it to them in the beginning in the course of Providence.

  (11 Gearran 1893)

  Cataibh 10

  Tha an dùthaich a nise ’na fàsaich cho mòr as nach ’eil daoine ri fhaotainn innte a nì saighdearan. Nuair a bha cogadh eadar Ruisia agus Breatann, bho chionn faisg air dà fhichead bliadhna, ghairm na h-uaislean coinneamh, agus chruinnich iad an sluagh; ach nuair a thuig na daoine gur ann air son saighdearan fhaotainn a rachadh do’n Chrimea chun a’ chogaidh a thionaileadh iad, ’s ann a thòisich iad ri atharrais air mèilich nan caorach agus air geumraich nan damh, ag èigheach a mach “Maa! maa! bu-o! bu- o!”

  A-rithist ghlaodh iad ris na h-oifigich a bha a’ gabhail nan saighdearan: “Cuiribh na fèidh agus na buic-earba, na reitheachan, na coin ’s na cìobairean agus forsairean nam fiadh a chogadh ris na Ruiseinich, oir cha d’rinn iad cron riamh oirnne.” Bha Mr. Loch am factor, agus oifigeach airm, a’ siubhal fad shia seachdainean, air son saighdearan fhaotainn, ach cha d’ fhuair iad aon duine a ghabhadh os laimh e fèin a cheangal ri dhol da ’n t-saighdearachd. Nuair a chual’ an Diùc Catach an sgiala muladach so, dh’fhàg e Lunnainn agus thàinig e gu Cataibh, gu caisteal Dhun-robainn. An dèidh dha e fèin a nochdadh air sràidibh Ghoillspidh agus Bhrùra, ghairm e coinneamh de na bha de dhaoinibh anns na trì sgìreachdan, Cline, Roghairt, agus Goillspidh.

  Air gairm an Diùc chruinnich mu thimchioll ceithir chiad fear, aig an uair a shònraicheadh. Thàinig an Diùc ’na charbad, agus an ceann beagan ùine thàinig na h-oifigich-airm agus na factoran. Rinn an sluagh iolach aighir nuair a thàinig iad, agus shuidh an Diùc air a chathair. Bha trì no ceithir de chlèirich sgrìobhaidh timchioll a’ bhùird ’nan suidhe, a’ fuasgladh phasganan tomadach de dh’airgead pàipeir Banc Shasainn, agus a’ sgaoileadh a mach thruinnsearan làn de dh’òr buidhe, dealrach. Dh’èirich an Diùc agus labhair e ris an t-sluagh mar so: “Is èiginn dol a chogadh ri Ruisia: tha an t-Impire ’na aintighearna, agus feumar casg a chur air. Tha a’ Bhanrighinn ag iarraidh shaighdearan gu cogadh ris, gus a chumail às anTuirc. Gille òg sam bith a ghabhas anns an Rèiseamaid Chataich, bheir mi fèin dha sia puinnd Shasannach; no ma ghabhas e ann an rèiseamaid eile, bheir mi dha trì puinnd, air chùl airgead na Ban-righinn.”

  Shuidh e an sin, ach cha do fhreagair duine. Bha iad tosdach mar an uaigh. Thuirt e an sin gun robh iongantas air nach robh neach a’ freagairt. Mu dheireadh dh’ èirich seann duine air a’ bhata, agus thubhairt e: “Tha mi duilich, a Dhiùc, nach ’eil duine air bith a’ labhairt, ach bhon a tha sibh ag iarraidh fios an aobhair nach ’eil, is èiginn domh
innseadh a chionn nach àill le fear eile sin a dhèanamh. Nuair a chuir bhur sean-mhathair an Rèiseamaid Chatach air a bonn an toiseach, chruinnich còig ciad deug sluaigh ann an dà fhichead uair ’s a h-ochd, às an do thagh i na naoidh ciad fear a bha i ag iarraidh. Ach rinn bhur màthair fèin, agus a cuid factoran, an sluagh fhògradh às na glinn, agus na srathaibh anns an robh na ciadan gaisgeach a’ còmhnaidh, agus lìon iad an dùthaich le brùidibh balbh. Ged a thigeadh Impire Ruisia agus a ghlacadh e Caisteal Dhun-robainn, agus tigh greadhnach Stafford, cha bhiodh dùil sam bith againn gum buineadh e ruinne air dòigh na b’ain-iochdmhoire, na rinneadh mar thà, le teaghlach Diùc Chataibh. Cha d’rinn na Ruiseinich riamh cron sam bith oirnne. Ciamar a gheibhear saighdearan far nach eil daoine? Ach tha aon mhathas ann, mar faighear daoine gu cogadh, gheibh sibh gu leòr de mhuilt-fheòil, de mhairt-fheoil, agus de shithinn fhiadh a bheathaicheas an dream a thèid a chogadh.”

  Nuair a chual’ an Diùc so dh’èirich e ’na sheasamh, chuir e an ad air a cheann, thrus e leis a chuid airgid us òir, agus dh’ imich e roimhe.

  Bha Cataibh, mar a’ chuid eile de ’n Ghàidhealtachd, aon uair làn sluaigh; daoine foghainteach treun, a bha ’nan saighdearaibh gaisgeil, a’ cogadh ann an aobhar na rìoghachd ri naimhdibh Bhreatainn, agus gu h-àraid an aghaidh nam Frangach, nuair a dh’èirich aimhreit agus troimhe chèile an sin, bho chionnn chiad bliadhna roimhe so, agus a theab Napoleon Bonapart an saoghal a chur fodha fhèin. Ach mo thruaighe! Tha an tìr an diugh ’na fàsaich; is gann a gheibhear daoine innte freagarrach, no iomchaidh, air son shaighdearan.

  Cha’n fhaicear ach deòiridhean truagh, bochd, dìblidh, a’ crith leis an eagal roimh ghnùis nan deamhan a tha ri fòirneart orra, agus a rinn an creach. Gheibhear na creutairean dìblidh so ’nan grunnaibh air muin a chèile, aig taic na mara, an sud agus an so, agus acair no dhà de dh’fhearann mòintich aig gach teaghlach, a tha iad a’ rèiteachadh air son talamh buntàta a dhèanamh dheth, far am bheil iad a’ cur beagan buntàta san Earrach a bhios aca nuair a thig am fogharradh air son beathachaidh an teaghlaich, maille ris an sgadan a ghlacas iad anns a’ mhuir le ’n lìontaibh. Anns an t-samhradh tha a’ mhuinntir òg agus làidir a’ triall gu Gallaibh, agus Galldachd an taobh deas de dh’Albainn, agus cuid gu Sasann, air son cosnaidh fhaotainn; agus an tuarasdal a tha iad a’ faotainn air son an saoithreach, ghlèidh iad gu cùramach gus a chur dhachaidh gu furtachd air an càirdibh aig an taigh an Cataibh. Ach tha so air a chosg an àm pàigheadh a’ mhàil do’n uachdaran, air son cead faighinn gu fuireach air na h-acairibh mòintich, oir mur pàighear am màl, thèid am fogradh às na taighean agus às an tìr.

  A nise nuair a tha na nithean so mar so tha na mìltean agus na ciadan mìle acaire fearainn ’nam fàsaich, fo chaoirich agus fo fhèidh; tha am fearann so ’na fhearann math tarbhach, a bha aon uair air a threabhadh agus air oibreachadh le tuathanaich ghoireasach, aig an robh crodh agus caoirich, maille ri pailteas de nithibh maithe na beatha so, agus gach nì a ta feumail air son cumail suas an teaghlaichean.

  Tha e ’na bheulradh am measg an t-sluaigh gun robh Coinneach Odhar am fiosaiche, no fiosaiche air chor-eigin eile, ag ràdh, “gun cuireadh peirceall na caorach an crann air an fharadh.” Tha e coltach gun d’rinneadh so gun mheachannas, gun fhathamas anns gach ceàrna de’n Ghàidhealtachd. Bha fiosaiche eile ag innseadh “gun tigeadh an t-àm anns am biodh am fearann air màl, air dà mhàl, air trì màil, agus ma dheireadh gun mhàl idir.” Thachair a’ cheud chuid de ’n fhiosachd, ach tha chuid eile fhathast gun choilionadh. Tha feum aig na Gàidheil bhochda gum faigheadh iad am fearann gun mhàl idir, agus gum biodh na meàirlich agus na robairean a ghlac am fearann aca leis an làimh làidir air an gairm gu cunntas a thabhairt às an stiùbhartachd, oir chan ’eil e iomchaidh iad a bhi nas fhaide nan stiùbhardaibh, a chionn gun d’rinn iad ana-caitheamh eucorach air a’ mhaoin a dh’earbadh riutha, agus mì-bhuil de’n fhearann nach buineadh dhaibh-san a mhàin, ach mar an ciadna do’n t-sluagh gu h-iomlan a bha còmhnaidh air anns na linnibh bho chian. Mar is luaithe thachras so is ann as feàrr a’ chùis do na Gàidheil. Buinidh a’ Ghàidhealtachd do na Gàidheil, oir thug Dia dhaibh i air tùs ann an cùrsa Fhreasdail.

  PROPHECY

  (25 February to 8 April 1893)

  The Brahan Seer

  In times past the Gaels and other people used to believe in clairvoyance or “second sight,” as they called it. Seventy years ago, when this writer was a little boy in Glenaladale in Moidart, living in the house in which Prince Charlie had slept when he was on his way to Glenfinnan where he raised his banner in 1745, he heard many stories about second sight for there were many visionaries with that faculty in Moidart at that time.

  In Lochaber, after leaving Moidart, he often heard about Sallow Kenneth the Seer, a famous prophet who lived long ago in the north of Scotland. It is likely that many of the Gaels raised in Cape Breton did not hear about this, and for their information we can give an account in this paper based on what Alexander MacKenzie told in the book that he wrote about him.

  Kenneth son of Kenneth, or Sallow Kenneth, was born in Baile na Cille in the district of Uig in the Isle of Lewis at the beginning of the 17th century, when James the Sixth of Scotland, or James the First of England, was king of Britain, Ireland and the Isle of Man. Little is remembered about his youth, except for his teenage years before the age of twenty, before he found the Sorcery Stone with which he could foretell what would happen in the future.

  Some say that this is how he found the stone. One evening, according to oral tradition, his mother was herding the cattle at a sheiling on the side of a hill called Cnoc-Eothail, above the Baile na Cille cemetery in Uig. At the dead of midnight she saw every grave in the cemetery opening and a large crowd of people rising from them, small and big, old and young, from baby to grey-haired grandfather, and leaving the cemetery in different directions. After an hour they returned and went into the graves again. Each grave closed as it was before. Kenneth’s mother went near the cemetery and noticed one grave that was still open. Since she was an audacious and courageous woman she decided to find out why this grave was open when the others had closed. She ran and put the distaff across the open grave (for she had heard that the spirit could not re-enter the grave as long as the distaff was across it).

  After a while a beautiful maiden came swimming through the sky from the north towards the cemetery. When she arrived she said to the woman: “Lift your distaff from my grave and let me return to my abode.” “I will do that,” said the other one, “if you tell me what kept you behind the rest. The wraith replied: “I will do that without hesitation. My journey was longer than that of the others, for I had to go to Norway. I am the daughter of the King of Norway. I was drowned while bathing in that country. My body came ashore on the beach down below us and I was buried in this grave. In memory of me and as a reward for your bold courage I will give you a special and precious hidden treasure. Go to the loch over there and you will find a small, round, blue stone. Give it to your son Kenneth and with it he will predict things that will happen in the future.”

  She did as she was told, found the stone, and gave it to Kenneth. As soon as he got it he had the power of prophecy and his reputation as a seer spread throughout the country. The nobility and the common people would come to him for predictions.

  There are many folktales about how Kenneth got the stone. One says that he was a farmer’s servant and that the farmer’s wife resented him for his derisive and sarcastic language. One day he was cutting peat with the peat-iron far from home and they had to send him his dinner. The farmer’s wife put poison in the dinner to get rid of him. Before the dinner arrived he sat down for a rest and fell asleep. He was awakened suddenly and felt something cold on his chest. He put his hand on it and found a little white stone with a hole in the centre. He looked through the hole and saw a vision of the wicked plot of his master’s wife. He gave the dinner to the dog and the dog died in agony.

  Another tale says that he was cutting peat
and that he sat down for a rest while he waited for his wife to come with his dinner. He fell asleep and when he awoke he felt something hard under his head. He found a small round stone with a hole in the middle and he looked through the hole. He saw his wife approaching with a dinner of flummery and milk which, unknown to her, was poisoned by the master’s wife. Although Kenneth got the power of prophecy from the stone, he lost the sight of the eye with which he had looked through the hole and was one-eyed thereafter.

  In his book Scenes and Legends Hugh Miller says that his master’s wife came to him with a poisoned dinner. She found him asleep on top of a fairy knoll and, instead of wakening him, she lost her nerve, left the pail or basin beside him, and returned home. He awoke, but before taking his dinner he felt something hard on his chest. He put his hand on it and pulled out a beautiful round stone from which he learned about the woman’s evil intent for him.

  According to every tale it appears that there was a stone, and that Kenneth used it to make people believe that he had the gift of prophecy. We do not believe that the stone had any power of prediction, though it might have been a smooth, beautiful, blue-white stone with a hole in the middle, like pretty stones that we saw on the shores of Iona and Mull.

  When Kenneth got the stone of prophecy his reputation as a seer spread across the land and people came to him from far and wide to get information on the future. About 150 years before the Caledonian Canal was built between Inverness and Inverlochy Kenneth said: “Though you find it strange now, the day will come, and it’s not far off, when English ships will be seen being pulled by ropes of hemp past Tomnahurich.” He also said: “The day will come when there will be a big road through the hills of Ross, from sea to sea, with a bridge on every stream,” or “a ribbon on every knoll and a bridge on every brook.” Also: “The day will come when the big sheep will fill the land, until they reach the sea in the north.” “There will be a mill on every river and a white house on every hillock.” “There will be a shoulder-belt across every hill.” “A hornless dun cow will enter the big place and let out a bellow that will blow the six corners of the dyke-house.” It is thought that he meant a steam-ship.