|
 UNROBIN
CASTLE occupies on the east coast a position similar to that of Culzean
Castle on the west. Each is built on the summit of a high sea cliff, the
broad Moray Firth stretches in front of one as the spacious Firth of
Clyde does before the other; and each has been in possession of the same
family from a time anterior to any written record. We find, at least, no
documentary evidence of the ownership of Dunrobin previous to 1197, when
the territory of Sutherland was forfeited by Harold Maddadson, Norse
Earl of Caithness, for rebellion, and.. bestowed by William the Lion
upon Hugh, son of Freskin the Fleming. From this Hugh the present Duke
of Sutherland traces direct descent through his great-grandmother,
Elizabeth, daughter and sole heir of the nineteenth Earl of Sutherland.
In yet another respect
these two houses enjoy a common characteristic, inasmuch as the climate
of Dunrobin is almost, if not quite, as favourable to the growth of
choice and delicate vegetation as that of Culzean, although Dunrobin is
280 miles further north than Culzean, and the winter of inland
Sutherland is far more severe than that of Ayrshire. It is difficult to
account for the peculiar clemency which distinguishes the shores of the
Moray Firth, for that great inlet lies far out of the direct course of
the gulf stream; but certain it is that, wherever shelter can be
provided from the furious winds which rage in this region during the
winter months, all forms of vegetation display vigour and luxuriance in
a remarkable degree. Robert Gordon of Straloch, geographer and
cartographer to Charles I., took note of this.
"Dunrobin, the Erie of
Sutherland his speciall residence, a house well seated upon a mote hard
by the sea, with fair orchards, when ther be pleasant gardens planted
with all kinds of froots, hearbs and floors [flowers] used in this
kingdom, and abundance of good saphorn [saffron], tobacco and rosemarie,
the froot being excellent, and cheeflie the pears and cherries."
One is disposed to murmur
at the taste of an age which swept away this old garden and its
contents, to make way for terraces and parterres on a grand scale in the
Italian manner, when the second Duke of Sutherland enlarged the castle
in 1845-51; nevertheless, the ground lies so beautifully, the views from
the terrace stairs are so commanding, and the trees crowd down so close
to the tide, that the whole effect is very fine. At all events, we have
here an example, scarcely to be surpassed elsewhere, of the art of
horticulture as it prevailed in the early Victorian era. Should the
passion for cultivating rare plants ever
overtake a lord of this
stately demesne, soil, aspect and climate combine to assure him of an
ample reward.
In the garden of Dunrobin
one cannot but be impressed, as in other historic Scottish houses, with
a sense of contrast between past and present. Where everything seems so
orderly and secure, it is good to remember the system of anarchy and
violence which once over-rode all law. No part of Scotland was more
fiercely riven with blood-feuds than the counties of Sutherland and
Caithness. Administration of justice was, of necessity, committed to the
barons, and, like all hereditary functions, was liable to gross abuse
when it passed into unworthy hands.
The chronicle of crime
and terrorism in these counties is so confused, the actors in deeds of
violence changed sides so often, that it is difficult to follow the
intricate narrative. But in the sixteenth century two implacable rivals
stand out among the ruck of minor marauders in the persons of the Earl
of Sutherland and the Earl of Caithness. In 1514 the Earldom of
Sutherland devolved upon Elizabeth, sister of John, eleventh earl. She
married Adam Gordon, second son of the Earl of Huntly, and her husband
became titular Earl of Sutherland. Adam, being a man of common sense,
determined to put an end to the wasteful rivalry between the house of
Dunrobin and the Earl of Caithness. Each had a common enemy in the clan
Mackay, inveterate brigands, who raided the lands of both earls with
fine impartiality. Adam made over certain lands in Strathullie, now
known as Helmsdale, to the Earl of Caithness, in consideration for
assistance to be given against the Mackays. Caithness took possession of
the lands, and straightway joined forces with the Mackays, who, during
Sutherland's absence in Edinburgh, made a destructive raid upon the
lands of Dunrobin. The countess was at home, however, and sent out her
natural brother, Alexander Sutherland, who overtook the Mackays at
Torran-dubh, near Rogart, and inflicted upon them a bloody defeat.
"This," wrote Gordon of Straloch, "was the greatest conflict that
hitherto hes been foughtin between the inhabitants of these countreyes,
or within the diocy of Catteynes, to our knowledge."
Alexander might have
lived prosperous and popular after this, but his victory over the
Mackays turned his bead. He made alliance with the hereditary enemies of
his house, marrying the sister of the very chieftain whom he had
overthrown at Torrandubh, and laid claim to the earldom of Sutherland,
alleging that he was no bastard, but had been born in wedlock. He had a
considerable following in the Sutherland clan, and, assisted by the
Mackays, seized Dunrobin Castle when the Earl was again absent. The earl
returned, however, raised his clan, recaptured the castle in which
Alexander had left a garrison, and, in a subsequent raid by Alexander,
took that gentleman, struck off his head and stuck it on a pole on the
top of Dunrobin Castle, "which chews us," says Gordon of Straloch, "that
whatsoever by fate is allotted, though sometimes foreshewed, can never
be avoyded. For the witches had told Alexander the bastard that his head
should be the highest that ever wes of the Sutherlands ; which he did
foolishlye interpret that some day he would be earl of Sutherland, and
in honour above all his predecessors."
For more than fifty years
after this the two earls and their successors waged almost incessant
guerrilla upon each other's lands and people, a condition of affairs far
from unusual between country neighbours in Scotland during that troubled
century, but accompanied in this instance by deeds of more than common
brutality. When Queen Mary came to the throne, John Gordon, twelfth Earl
of Sutherland, known as "Good Earl John," held the upper hand; but he
was forfeited and banished in 1563 on a charge of complicity in the
rebellion of his kinsman, the Earl of Huntly. After Queen Mary's
abdication in 1567, he was restored by Act of Parliament, and returned
to Sutherland with his third wife, widow of the fourth Earl of Menteith.
During Sutherland's
exile, you may be sure that the Earl of Caithness had not been idle. He
had induced Sutherland's uncle, Gilbert Gordon of Gartay, to marry
Isobel Sinclair of Dunbeath. Gilbert died, leaving one son, John, who
lived with his mother at Helmsdale Castle, a lonely fortalice about
thirteen miles north eastward along the coast from Dunrobin. Sutherland,
also, had but one son, Alexander, who alone stood between Isobel's son
and succession to the earldom. Caithness persuaded his kinswoman Isobel
that Alexander must be put out of the way. What will not woman dare and
do for the sake of her son? But more was wanted. A single murder would
not suffice, for the Countess of Sutherland was known to be near her
confinement. Caithness insisted that a clean sweep must be made of the
whole brood.
This was planned in the
following way. In July, 1567, Isobel invited the Earl and Countess of
Sutherland, with their son, Lord Alexander, to spend a few days at
Helmsdale, that the young lord might enjoy some sport with the deer in
Strathullie. One evening she put poison in the ale prepared for supper.
Sutherland and his countess drank of it, and were taken ill; but Lord
Alexander remained late on the hill and supper was finished before he
and John Gordon, Isobel's son, returned. Sutherland, feeling the poison
at work and suspecting the truth, dragged off the tablecloth, forbade
his son to take bite or sup in that house of death, and sent him forward
fasting to Skibo. The Earl and Countess managed to get to Dunrobin,
where they both died within five days; but not before their death had
been avenged by a strange stroke of fate. Isobel, probably, had made
some pretext to keep her son out of the supper-room; but the lad, being
thirsty and tired with hunting, sent a servant for a horn of ale, which
he quaffed, fell ill, and died after two days of agony. The wretched
mother was taken by Sutherland's people, sent to Edinburgh for trial,
was condemned to death, and only escaped execution by taking her own
life in prison, after denouncing the Earl of Caithness as having
commanded her to commit the crime.
The said Earl was by no
means diverted from his purpose by the miscarriage of his plot. The new
Earl of Sutherland being under age, John Earl of Atholl was appointed
his guardian, who most nefariously sold the wardship to Caithness
himself, Sutherland's deadliest enemy, who carried the young earl off to
the grim fortress of Girnigo, scene of innumerable and unspeakable
cruelties. Even in that secret retreat, however, he did not dare
immediately to attempt the life of his ward. As a preliminary, perhaps,
he compelled him to marry his daughter, Lady Barbara Sinclair, a woman
of open profligacy, the paramour of Mackay of Far. The bride was
two-and-thirty; the bridegroom only fifteen. Caithness then took up his
abode at Dunrobin, where he destroyed all the Sutherland papers, and
proceeded to administer his son-in-law's estates, inaugurating a reign
of terror, the memory whereof still haunts the hills and shores of this
fair land. Many he drove from their homes by violence, slaying those who
resisted and forcing others by inhuman tortures to surrender their
property. He did not spare even his own son, the Master of Caithness,
who displeased him by showing too much mercy to the people of Dornoch,
whom he had been ordered to massacre. He kept him in a dungeon at
Girnigo for seven years, at the end of which the wretched man was put to
a horrible death. His gaolers were two cousins of his own, David and
Ingram Sinclair. Whether they wearied of their duty, or whether
Caithness instructed them now to bring it to an end, certain it is that
they left their prisoner without food for two or three days, then
supplied him liberally with salt beef, gave him nothing to drink and
left him to perish in an agony of thirst.
The monster who could
thus inhumanly treat his own son and heir was not likely to show much
tenderness to him whom he had forced to become his son-in-law. Nor did
he so. In 1569 Caithness left Dunrobin for Edinburgh, having given
minute instructions for the assassination of the young Earl of
Sutherland. The plot was betrayed to one of the Gordons, who collected a
party and concealed them in Dunrobin Glen, not far from the castle.
Alexander Gordon of Sidderay then went forward, disguised as a pedlar,
obtained speech with Sutherland, warned him of his danger, and bade him
come to the glen next morning. The servants of Caithness had
instructions never to let Sutherland out of their sight ; but the young
man managed to lead them to the appointed place, where they sprung the
ambush. The Gordons overpowered the keepers, cut their throats, and
carried off their chieftain to the strong castle of Strathbogie.
Thereafter Sutherland
managed to keep free from the clutches of his dangerous neighbour. Not
only so, but he had no difficulty in obtaining decree of divorce against
his wife, Barbara Sinclair, and in 1573 married Lady Jean Gordon,
daughter of the fourth Earl of Huntly, the beautiful woman whom Bothwell
had divorced in order to marry Mary Queen of Scots.
Standing on the terrace
above the garden at Dunrobin, one is on the very scene of these and many
similar deeds which seem well-nigh incredible in our humdrum age. The
keep still stands wherein the tyrant Earl of Caithness kept Sutherland a
prisoner doomed to death, for it is incorporated in the great pile
erected by the second Duke of Sutherland. From the same standpoint may
be seen a memorial of a later age—the age of Gargantuan conviviality—in
the shape of a large garden-house below the castle. This now is fitted
up as a museum, and contains a fine collection of local antiquities and
natural history; but it served a different purpose in the eighteenth
century. Hither the lord of the castle used to adjourn with his guests
after an early dinner, to spend the long evening plying them with strong
wine. Outside the servants assembled towards midnight on the broad
stairway leading to this temple of Bacchus, the duty of each being to
recover his master and lead (or carry) him to bed.
Thus "the old order
changeth, yielding place to new." Each generation of men lives in a
different fashion from the last; but the blackbird's note in Dunrobin
Glen—the plover's pipe on Dunrobin shore—the scream of the eagle on
Beinu Dobhrainthe yelp of the fox on Creag-a-ghlinne—have changed no
whit since the Norsemen first drew up their black kyuls on Golspie
strand.
Yet there is one sound
which the people of these glens once had good reason to recognise with
dread, that is no longer heard hereabouts—the howl of the grey wolf. It
was at the very close of the seventeenth century that some sheep were
destroyed in the Glen of Loth, about half way between Dunrobin and
Helmsdale. At first this was believed to be the work of dogs, for it was
supposed that the last of the wolves had been killed two or three years
before in Assynt and Halladale. But an old hunter named Poison, living
at Wester Helmsdale, recognising the real character of the culprits, set
out with his son and a herd laddie to explore the recesses of Glen Loth.
This is a place of many memories, for here, where the Sletdale burn
joins the Loth, are the standing stones of Carrickachlich, Cairnbran,
where Fingal's good dog Bran lies buried, and the holy well of
Tobermassan. In the ravine of Sletdale Poison found his quest in the
shape of a rift in the rocks, with the ground well trodden into a track
leading into it. The fissure widened inwards, but was too narrow to
admit a full-grown man; so, having first failed to rouse what inmates
there might be by throwing in stones, the two lads were sent in to
explore the cavern, while Polson kept watch outside. Sure enough, they
found a litter of fine whelps, and shouted news of their discovery to
Polson.
"Kill them quickly," he
cried, poking his head into the crevice, "and come away."
Just as he withdrew his
head, a great she wolf, which had come up unobserved, dashed past him
into the hole. Luckily, he managed to catch and keep hold of her bushy
tail, which he twisted round his left arm; but it required the force of
both arms to hold the maddened brute; Poison dared not loose his right
hand to draw his knife, and his gun was out of reach. His son, all
unaware of the mortal struggle outside, cried out from inside-
"It is dark here now,
father; what is stopping the light from us?"
"You'll soon know,"
answered Poison, "if the root of the tail was to break ' "
After this had gone on
for some time, the wolf lay still for a moment or two to gather
strength; Poison made a snatch for his knife, and stabbed the animal in
the hind-quarters, which made her turn and attempt to come out of the
hole. But the hunter had the powerful beast at a disadvantage; keeping
her jammed between the rocks, he managed to plant his blade in a vital
part, and the last wolf in Sutherland shed its lifeblood on the rocks
and heather. |
