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1801-1803.
MY brother impresses
himself strongly on my reminiscences of this particular period of my
life. I was warmly attached to him. Our fishing expeditions together
on "the burn" to its very source, and along the bank of the river,
and on one occasion to Loch Ascaig; our excursions also to
Coille-an-Loist, Coill'-Chil-Mer, Cnoc-an-Eireannaich,
Suidh-an-fhir-bhig, Cnoe-an-t'sholuis-leathad, and Allochdarry for
blae-berries and cloud-berries, all now recall to my remembrance my
brother's intercourse and affection. It was about the beginning of
November, 1801, I think, that we went together to the school at
Dornoch. In the previous October some riot on the heights of
Kildonan demanded the presence of the under-Sheriff of the county,
to inquire into the particulars. The gentleman who then held office
as under-Sheriff was Mr. Hugh MacCulloch of Dornoch, better known as
an eminent Christian than as a magistrate or lawyer. His father, a
respectable burgess of Dornoch, was one of the bailies of that
burgh. His son Hugh, after receiving the rudiments of his education
at his native town, studied law in Edinburgh. When a boy at school a
remarkable event in his life took place. He had gone with one or two
other youths of his own age to bathe. It was at that part of the
Dornoch firth to the south of the town, called "the cockle ebb."
Having gone into the water he attempted to swim, and, getting beyond
his depth, sank to the bottom. His companions immediately gave the
alarm, when two or three men engaged in work hard by plunged into
the sea for his recovery. But he had been so long in the water that,
when taken out, he was to all appearance lifeless. By judicious
treatment, however, suspended animation was restored. This narrative
I received from his own lips, and he further added that, if God were
to give him his choice of deaths, he would choose drowning, for, he
said, he felt as he was in the act of sinking, and when the waters
were rushing in at his mouth and nostrils, as if he were falling
into a gentle sleep. That choice, in the inscrutable providence of
God, was given him, for about four miles above that spot, on that
identical firth, he was, with many others, drowned at the Meikle-ferry,
an occurrence hereafter to be noticed. The year of his appointment
as Sheriff-Substitute of Sutherland I do not know. His character as
a judge was ordinary. His administration of justice was free indeed
from all sorts of corruption, but it was defective in regard to
clear views of civil and criminal law. Sheriff MacCulloch, however,
shone as a man of ardent and enlightened piety. Saving impressions
by divine truth and divine agency had been made upon his mind at an
early age, and he advanced in the Christian life under the training,
and in the fellowship, of the most eminent Christians and
evangelical ministers in the four northern counties. On the evening
of his arrival at Kildonan from the heights of the parish, on the
occasion alluded to, he was drenched almost to the skin, as it had
rained heavily through the day; he especially required dry
stockings, and he preferred putting them on at the kitchen fireside.
I was directed to attend him thither; bringing with me everything
that was necessary to make him comfortable. Whilst thus engaged he
took particular notice of me, and asked me many questions about my
progress in learning, particularly in Latin. He was much pleased
with my answers, and said that, if my father would send my brother
and me to school at Dornoch, he would keep us for three months in
his own house. He repeated the same thing to my father next day at
parting, assuring him that the parochial teacher at Dornoch was
resorted to as a teacher of ability and success. The proposal was
entertained, and preparations were made for us to go thither in the
beginning of November.
The morning of the day of our departure
from under the paternal roof, to attend a public school, at last
dawned upon us. My brother and I had slept but little that night.
After breakfasting by candlelight, we found our modes of conveyance
ready for us at the entry-door. My father mounted his good black
horse Toby, a purchase he had lately made from Captain Sackville
Sutherland of Uppat, while my brother and I were lifted to the backs
of two garrons employed as work-horses on the farm. We set forward,
and both my sisters accompanied us to the ford on the burn, close by
the churchyard, whence, after a few tears shed at the prospect of
our first separation, we proceeded on our journey accompanied by a
man on foot. We crossed the Crask, and stopped for refreshment at an
inn below Kintradwell, in the parish of Loth, called Wilk-house,
which stood close by the shore. This Highland hostelry, with its
host Robert Gordon and his bustling, talkative wife, were closely
associated with my early years, comprehending those of my attendance
at school and college. The parlour, the general rendezvous for all
comers of every sort and size, had two windows, one in front and
another in the gable, and the floor of the room had, according to
the prevailing code of cleanliness, about half an inch of sand upon
it in lieu of carpeting. As we alighted before the door we were
received by Robert `'Wilk-house," or "Rob tighe na faochaig," as he
was usually called, with many bows indicative of welcome, whilst his
bustling helpmeet repeated the same protestations of welcome on our
crossing the threshold. We dined heartily on cold meat, eggs, new
cheese, and milk. "Tam," our attendant, was not forgotten; his
pedestrian exercise had given him a keen appetite, and it was
abundantly satisfied. In the evening we came to the manse of Clyne.
Mr. Walter Ross and his kind wife received us with great cordiality.
Mrs. Ross was a very genteel, lady-like person, breathing good-will
and kindness. To her friends by the ties of affection, amity, or
blood, her love and kindness gushed to overflowing. Her father was a
Captain John Sutherland, who, at the time of his daughter's
marriage, was tacksman of Clynelisb, within a quarter of a mile due
south of the manse of Clyne. After the expiry of his lease he went
to reside at Dornoch, and the farm was at the time I speak of in the
possession of Mr. Hugh Houston, sometime merchant at Brora, and the
brother of Mr. Lewis Houston of Easter-Helmisdale, whom I have
named. Mr. Ross had by his wife a son and a daughter; the daughter
died in infancy; the son, William Baillie, was of the same age with
myself, and is, at the time I write (August 1842) a physician of
repute in Tain.
After breakfast next morning we
proceeded on our journey. After having passed the Bridge of Brora
there soon burst upon our sight Dunrobin Castle, the seat of the
ancient Earls of Sutherland, the view of which from the east is
specially imposing; and here 1 may remark in passing, that the
present excellent public road which runs through the county of
Sutherland was, at the time I speak of, not in existence. In lieu
thereof was a broken, rugged pathway, running by the sea-shore from
the Ord Head to the Meikle Ferry, and at Dunrobin, instead of going
to the north of the castle as the present line does, it descended to
the sea-side, passing about two miles to the east of the castle
right below it, and so round by the south. The building filled me
with astonishment. The tower to the east, surmounted by its cupola,
the arched entrance into the court, and then the simply elegant
front looking out on the expanse of the Moray Firth, which rolls its
waves almost to the very base, were to me an ocular feast. The
garden too, on the north side of the road, over the walls of which
towered the castle in ancient and Gothic magnificence, was another
wonder. I was perfectly astonished at its extent. It stretched its
south walls at least 300 yards along the road, and at each of its
angles were rounded turrets, which gave it quite an antique
appearance, in strict keeping with the magnificent edifice with
which it was connected. The village of Golspie lies about a quarter
of a mile to the west of the castle, close by the shore, and, as we
advanced, the first object we saw was the manse, near which, on
approaching it, we noticed walking towards us a low-statured,
middle-aged man, dressed in a coarse, black suit, and with a huge
flax wig of ample form. My father and he cordially recognised one
another, and I at once discovered this venerable personage to be Mr.
William Keith, minister of Golspie. We did not stop, but proceeded
on our way to Embo, and reached the north side of the Little Ferry
house at about two o'clock. As we dismounted, and every necessary
preparation was made by the boatman to get us over, I felt a good
deal alarmed. Except when crossing the Helmisdale river in a cobble
some years before, I had never been in a boat or at sea; and I was
particularly frightened at the idea of being a fellow-passenger with
my fathers large horse and our own lesser quadrupeds, lest they,
participating in my own fears, might become unruly and swamp the
boat. Matters went on, however, better than I anticipated; the
horses, after remonstrating a little, were made to leap into the
boat, and, with my heart in my throat, I followed my father and
brother, and took my place beside them in the bow of the wherry. As
we moved off I was horror-struck, on looking over the edge of the
boat, to see the immense depth of the Perry. It was a still, clear
winter's day, and I could distinctly perceive the gravelly bottom
far below. I could see, passing rapidly in the flood, between me and
the bottom, sea-ware of every size and colour. The star-fish
intermingled with the long tails of the tangle which by the
under-swell of the sea heaved up and down, and presented the
appearance of a sub-marine grove, retaining its fresh look by the
greenish colour of the sea-water. It forcibly recalled to me Ovid's
deluge; and as we mounted our horses after crossing and rode on, I
repeated to my father these lines:-
My father reminded me that it was
getting late, and that we must make the best use of our time, as
Embo was still at a considerable distance. We arrived there,
however, before it got dark, so that I had an opportunity of seeing
in fair daylight the most elegant mansion I ever witnessed, with the
exception of 1unrobin Castle. Embo House stood nearly half-way
between Dornoch and the Little-Ferry, on the old line of road. It
was the manor-house of a family of Cordons, scions of the Gordons,
Earls of Sutherland; and they had held it since the days of Adam,
Lord of Ahoye, the husband of the Countess Elizabeth. The estate was
then in the possession of a collateral branch of the family of Embo.
Robert Hume Gordon, having some years before canvassed the county,
with the view of being its representative, in opposition to the
influence of the Duchess of Sutherland, built this splendid mansion
for the purpose of entertaining the electors. Mr. Gordon lost his
election, yet by a narrow majority. He was supported by the most
respectable barons of the county, Dempster of Skibo, Gordon of
Carrol, Gordon of Navidale, Captain Clunes of Cracaig, and Captain
Baigrie of Midgarty; and most of those gentlemen, being tacksmen and
wadsetters on the Sutherland estate, gave by their opposition to the
candidate of the Sutherland family, almost unpardonable offence.
Although Mr. Hume Gordon built the house at great expense, he never
intended to reside permanently either in the mansion or in the
county; and Embo House and property were now rented by Capt. Kenneth
Mackay, who also farmed the place of Torboll from the Sutherland
family. Embo House was constructed very much after the fashion of
the houses of the new town of Edinburgh, begun on the north side of
the Nor' Loch on 26th Oct., 1767; the front was of hewn ashlar, and
consisted of three distinct houses, the largest and loftiest in the
centre, joined to the other two by small narrow passages, each
lighted by a window, and forming altogether a very imposing front.
The centre house was four storeys high—first, a ground or rather a
sunk floor, then a first, second, and, lastly, an attic storey. The
ground or sunken floor contained the kitchen and cellars, and in
front of it was a wall surmounted by an iron railing, resembling
exactly the fronts in Princes Street, Edinburgh. Outer stairs
ascended to the principal entry door, and along the whole front of
the building extended a pavement. The lesser houses, or wings, were
each of them a storey less in height than the central building; and
the attic storeys were lighted from the front wall, instead of from
the roof, by windows about precisely half the size of the rest,
which greatly added to the effect and beauty of the whole. Behind
were other two wings of the same height with those in front,
extending at right angles from the principal buildings. The interior
of the mansion corresponded with its external appearance. The
principal rooms were lofty and elegant, ornamented with rich
cornices, and each having two large windows. Captain and Mrs. Mackay
welcomed us, but not with that cordiality with which we were
received by Captain Baigrie and Mr. Joseph Gordon. Mrs. Mackay, my
step-mother's half-sister, was a neat little woman, with a pleasing
expression of countenance. She was very lady-like, but she received
us with that politeness which might be reckoned the precise boundary
between kindness and indifference. Capt. Kenneth Mackay was in the
prime of life. He was the lineal descendant of Col. Eneas Mackay,
second son of Donald, first Lord Reay, and grandson of the redoubted
William of idelness. He was therefore—failing the present family of
Reay, descendants of the laird of Skibo, and after the Holland
Mackays, descendants of General Mackay, second son of John, second
Lord Reay —the next heir to the titles and estate of Reay. His
father, John Mackay of Melness, married Esther, daughter and heiress
of Kenneth Sutherland of Meikle-Torboll, in Strathfleet, parish of
Dornoch, a small property which for generations was possessed by a
family of the name of Sutherland, cadets of the noble family of
Duffus, whose ruined castle of Skelbo we had passed on our way from
the Little Ferry to Embo. Capt. Mackay's father, I believe, sold the
property, and the family was, at his death, reduced to the greatest
extremities. His eldest son, Kenneth, born in 1756, entered the
army, where he never rose higher than the rank of lieutenant, and
was under the necessity of retiring on half-pay, at his father's
death, in order to take charge of his affairs. And never, indeed, it
is probable, were affairs so involved more judiciously managed, or
more successfully retrieved: With only his lieutenant's half-pay,
the landless heir of Meikle-Torboll took his quondam property as a
farm at a moderate rent, and at a time when agriculture was but
little understood, and its produce turned to small account, he so
successfully laboured that, in a very few years, he snatched his
father's family from starvation, and for himself acquired a
comfortable independence. At the time I first saw him he had the
farms of Torboll, Embo, and Pronsy, in the parish of Dornoch, was
factor for the estates of Reav and Skibo, and collector of the
county revenue. His children at that time amounted to six—Harriet,
Esther, Jean, Lexy, George, and John; they were (afterwards
increased to fourteen. We were both sent to sleep upstairs in one of
the attics, but I scarcely shut an eye, being so mach stunned with
the noise of the sea, which, when excited by the east wind, is at
Embo perfectly deafening. Next morning we rode into Dornoch. The
road to the town lay on its south-east side, and, as we approached
it, I was almost breathless with wonder at the height of the
steeple, and at the huge antique construction of the church. My
father brought us at once to the school. It was then taught by Mr.
John MacDonald, A.M. (King's Coll.), who, in 1806, was ordained
minister of Alvie, in Badenoch. The school was laid out in its whole
length with wide pews, or desks, running across, while the master's
desk stood nearly in the centre, so as to command a view of the
whole. There were three windows in front, and at each of them a
bench fitted up for reading and writing. The school was crowded, Mr.
MacDonald being a very popular teacher. To my father's salutation he
replied gruffly, and after being informed of the progress we had
already made, he prescribed some books; then, according to his usual
custom, on any important accession to the number of his scholars, he
gave holiday till next morning to the entire school. We then went to
the Sheriff's house. ]le was engaged in court, but we were very
kindly received by Mrs MacCulloch and her daughter, Miss Christy.
Mrs. MacCulloch showed us to our bedroom. It was at the top of the
house, an attic above an attic--a dreary, cold place, having all the
rude finishings of a coarse loft. When the Sheriff returned in the
evening he received us with the most fatherly kindness; and before
supper the family were summoned to worship, which the Sheriff
conducted with an unction and fervour which left a corresponding
impression. The
next day my brother and I attended school; and, as we continued at
Dornoch for about a year and a half—the first quarter at the
Sheriffs, and the rest of the time boarded with a man named Dempster—I
shall arrange my recollections with reference to the principal
object for which we were sent there, namely—our education. Our
teacher, Mr. MacDonald, was an excellent classical scholar, and
highly qualified to teach all the ordinary branches. But his method
was defective. He was a merciless disciplinarian, inflicting
punishment for the slightest offences, not as part of a system, but
in the gratification of temper. About a year before we came to his
school he had been tried before the Sheriff for maltreating one of
his scholars. The boy, Bethune Gray, son of Hugh Gray, a townsman,
had committed some blunder in his lesson. MacDonald harshly
corrected it, and the teacher's violence so stunned the poor fellow
that, instead of getting out of his difficulty, he became wedged
more deeply in his error. This rendered MacDonald more violent than
before, and, coming out of his desk, he seized the boy by the neck,
threw him on his face on a form, and with the knotted end of a rope
so beat him that the boy fainted, and in that state was carried home
to his father's house, where, for many weeks, he lay in bed
dangerously ill. The father petitioned the Sheriff, and a Court was
held to try the case, to which MacDonald was cited. During his
examination he behaved most rudely to the judge. The matter would
have gone hard with him, but for the interposition in his behalf of
the leading persons in the town. MacDonald threatened to resign, and
to prevent this the matter was compromised. Acknowledging that his
discipline in the particular case had been much too severe,
Macdonald came under the obligation that for the future he would
inflict chastisement, not personally, but by substitute. To this
resolution, except in one instance, of which I was myself an
eye-witness, he strictly adhered. In all cases of delinquency, when
matters between him and the delinquent came to a flogging, he acted
by deputy, and the pauper, or janitor of the school, was appointed
to inflict it. I was reading Casar and Ovid, with .fair's
Introduction, when I first entered the school, but Watt's Grammar I
had long before committed to memory. I was, however, sent back to
Cornelius Nepos and the Latin Grammar. We were also set upon a
course of English reading, but without parsing, or any knowledge of
English Grammar. A grammatical study of the English language was at
that time utterly unknown in the schools of the north, the rudiments
of Latin being substituted in its place. To the school-hours of
attendance we were summoned by the blowing of a post-horn, which the
pauper, or janitor, standing at the outer porch, blew lustily. It
was also the duty of the pauper, early in the morning, and
especially in winter while it was yet dark, to perambulate the town,
and, born in hand, to proceed to the doors or windows of every house
in which scholars resided, and blow up the sleepers. After this he
proceeded to the schoolhouse to arrange it for our reception, by
sweeping the floor and lighting the fire. For all this drudgery the
only remuneration he received was a gratis education—whence his
designation of the pauper or "poor scholar." MacDonald had
instituted a system of disgrace, for the better regulation of the
idle or disorderly among his scholars, which was, however, not
judicious. The method was this ; the first who blundered in his
lesson was ordered out of his class and "sent to Coventry," which
was the back seat, and there ordered to clap on his head an old
ragged hat, the sight and smell of which were alone no little
punishment. Under the hat, he was ordered to sit at the upper end of
the seat, and, as the leader of "the Dunciad," styled General
Morgan, If a succession of fellows, equaIIy bright, were sent to
keep him company, they held the next rank, were accommodated with
head-pieces equally ornamental, and were named in order, Capt.
Rattler, then Sergeant More, and the next was a fiddler, who,
besides his headgear, was furnished with a broken wool-card and a
stick, wherewith to exercise his gifts in the line of his vocation.
When lessons were done these unfortunate fellows were ordered out to
go through their exercise. This consisted in a dance of the
dignitaries of the squad, to the melody of him of the wool-card. On
boys of keen sensibility, and on others, the first sight of this
awkward exhibition, accompanied by shouts of laughter from their
companions, produced some salutary effect; but custom soon made it
lose its edge. The only premiums which he gave were confined to
beginners, for good writing They consisted of three quills, given
publicly on Saturday to the boy who, during the week, had kept ahead
of his class, by writing the best and most accurate copies. Such was
the system of teaching pursued at the school of Dornoch. For me it
was decidedly defective, as I only travelled over the same ground,
and that far more superficially, sin which I had advanced under my
father's tuition. For any real progress I made, in any branch of
literature, I was indebted directly to my father.
My recollections next hear upon the
Sheriff's family, with whom my brother and I lived for three months.
His house was situated to the south of the town, and at the foot of
what was called the "Fennel," a small pathway leading from the
churchyard. The house was of an antique cast. The parlour or
dining-room had three windows, and on its wall hung several prints.
In the north-west corner of the room and near the door, stood a
handsome eight-day clock—a present which the Sheriff had received
from the Sutherland Volunteers, of which he was Major. A large sofa
stood on the opposite side, near the fire-place. The study was a
small room upstairs, which was crammed with books and papers. The
Sheriff's wife was a daughter of Mr. John Sutherland, minister of
Dornoch, the immediate predecessor of Dr. Bethune. They had a
considerable family. The surviving branches of them, when we were
there, were three daughters and a son. One daughter was married to a
Mr. Cant, a flour miller of Bishop Mills, near Elgin; another
married George Munro, who first kept a shop at Wester-Helmisdale,
and afterwards leased the farm of Whitehill in the parish of Loth.
The Sheriff's son, William, was in the army, and had risen to the
rank of captain. During our residence at the Sheriff's, his son was
with his regiment in Ireland, and married; and before we left
Dornoch he and his wife came to visit his father. Captain MacCulloch
was as handsome a man as one could see; he much resembled his
father, who was also a very genteel-looking man, and must have been
very handsome in his youth. He so closely resembled Mr. Pitt, then
Prime Minister, that once, when in London, Sheriff MacCulloch was
mistaken for him on the streets, and addressed accordingly by
several persons of distinction. His other daughter, Chirsty, was
unmarried, and always resided with him. Family worship was regularly
observed morning and evening in the Sheriff's house. On Sabbath
evenings he examined all the inmates of his household on their
scriptural knowledge, concluding with an exposition of the chapter
which he had read. The people in the immediate neighbourhood usually
attended; and as some of them had no Gaelic, particularly John Hay,
a mason who lived close by the house, the concluding prayer was
given partly in one language and partly in the other, which the
Sheriff called "a speckled prayer." Every Saturday he went to
Pronsay, where he presided at a fellowship meeting; and it was these
occasions of Christian intercourse with his fellow-citizens, which
they found peculiarly edifying, that embalmed his memory in the
hearts of the survivors. He was a regular attendant at church; as,
though Dr. Bethune's doctrine seemed to him to be dry enough, he,
unlike others equally eminent for piety with himself, would not on
that account become an absentee, all the more that he held a public
office. He did not fail, however, by his restlessness of manner, to
indicate when he was not being edified.
I shall here mention a few of my
schoolfellows at Dornoch. My first acquaintances were Dr. Bethune's
sons, Matthew, Walter, and Robert. The last mentioned was not indeed
a schoolfellow, being much younger that we. Matthew was in my class,
and a most amiable fellow; he was naturally clever, but sickly from
his early youth. I only saw him once after leaving school. At
college he studied medicine, in the science of which he was not only
a profound adept, but a perfect enthusiast. After finishing his
medical course, and attending the Inverness Infirmary for a year or
two, he set up in practice there for himself. He married Miss Jean
Forbes of Ribigill, a celebrated beauty, the reigning belle of the
four northern counties. She survived him, and is married again. He
had several of a family, and one of his daughters, at least, was
married. He died in 1820, in the prime of life. His brother Walter
was not a class-fellow; he was dull and careless. I was not intimate
with him; his disposition being just as cold and repulsive as his
brother's was affectionate and winning. He did not go to college,
but at a rather early age went to Australia, where, during the rise
of the colony, he made an ample fortune, first, as a merchant, and
then as a landholder. He afterwards came to England, where he
married, and lived in receipt of an income of 91,500 per annum.
Robert, the youngest of Dr. Bethune's sons, was spoilt by his
mother. He, too, went abroad, and, marrying an American lady,
returned to a farm in the Black Isle. Soon after, he, with his wife
and family, emigrated to British America.
About the time I came to Dornoch, Hugh
Bethune came to reside at the manse, to attend MacDonald's school.
This young man was the second son of Mr. Angus Bethune, minister of
Alness in Ross-shire, elder brother of the minister at Dornoch.
Hugh's mental abilities were not of the highest order, but he had a
good, working mind, suited not so much for the higher walks of
literature, as for the business of the world. He was a forward,
smart boy, and showed a precocity for bustling his way to the
attainment of independence. Although he and I were intimate, yet my
brother and he could not agree, nor in any way pull together. Hugh
Bethune's disposition being such as I have described, it, naturally
enough, was not very agreeable to boys of his own age, who
considered themselves on a level with him. Smartness in a boy, when
among his superiors, is often little else than arrogance when in the
society of his contemporaries. Such precisely was Hugh's hearing
toward his schoolfellows. He stepped at once, and without being
asked, into the place of leader and principal adviser in all the
amusements of our play hours. He considered such a place to be his
due, and I and others were of his opinion. Not so my brother; to
arrogance and undue pretension his natural disposition was decidedly
opposed, and those bickerings at last ended in an open rupture. Now
the ordinary way of deciding such differences between schoolboys is
a boxing match ; and in just this manner did the rupture come to be
determined between Hugh Bethune and my brother. The challenge was
given and received, the place appointed, and, in the presence of
those only who had espoused Bethune's side of the quarrel, the
combatants engaged. Hugh could count as many years as my brother,
but he was far from being on an equality with him in muscular
strength, and therefore, after exchanging. a few blows, Bethune gave
in, and his friends interfered to save him from more punishment.
Notwithstanding my intimacy with Hugh Bethune, I did not exactly
relish his conduct towards my brother; and I must confess that I
indulged this feeling, and deliberately laid down a plan whereby I
thought I could avenge my brother's quarrel. Hugh, Matthew, and I
were at the time reading Caesar together; having gone over it before
with my father, I understood it better than they did, and acted
usually, when we were preparing our lessons, as their usher. Yet
such was Hugh Bethune's influence over me that, although I could
easily enough have kept the head of the class, I preferred that he
should have it, and kept him and Matthew Bethune above myself, by
prompting them when they were examined by the master. On the
occasion alluded to, I changed my plan, and when Hugh faltered in
his lesson, notwithstanding all his significant nods, I remained
silent. His cousin, as next in place in the class, was appealed to
by the master; but poor Matthew could not help him out. When it came
to my turn, I answered correctly, and then, as a glorious revenge, I
stepped above them both and took the head of the class! Hugh Bethune
afterwards went to the West Indies, in the commercial line, where he
set up as a merchant in Kingston, Jamaica. He married and had a
family, but was early cut off by fever.
Another of my school-fellows was a ragged boy, who was an excellent
arithmetician and a good reader—indeed, upon the whole, one of the
cleverest boys at school. He was very quiet, distant, and rather
unsociable. His name was George Cameron, and he is now Sheriff.
Substitute at Tain. He studied law and practised as a solicitor at
Inverness for many years; was a keen Whig in politics, and a very
clear-headed public speaker. He was twice married, first, to a
daughter of Gilbert Mackenzie of Invershin, and next to a daughter
of William Taylor.
Angus Leslie and I once, most unjustly,
got thirty lashes from the master. Beyond this fact, he made no
impression on me as a schoolfellow. Some years ago he was employed
by the late Duke of Sutherland as one of his under-factors on the
Strathnaver district of his large estate. While acting in that
capacity, he behaved with great cruelty to a mason of the name of
MacLeod, who was also a small crofter in Strathy, parish of Farr.
Leslie turned him and his family out of his house and croft in the
middle of winter, during a heavy snowstorm, and, at the same time,
forbade any of his neighbours, for miles around, to give them
shelter. This conduct led to a series of letters in the "Edinburgh
Courant," and afterwards to a controversial pamphlet, which
reflected very severely, not only on Leslie's action, but upon the
measures taken by the late Duchess of Sutherland against her
Highland tenantry in 1818. Leslie soon after resigned the
bailiffship of Strathnever, and took the farm of Torboll. He had a
brother Robert, who was a good scholar, and very amiable and
kind-hearted. He became a medical man, and went abroad.
George Taylor was only remarkable at
school for his powers of endurance under discipline. He studied law,
and for a time held the situation of county clerk. He married a
beautiful woman, Christina, daughter of Captain John Munro of
Kirkton, parish of Golspie. He is the author of two very able
articles in the "New Statistical Account of Scotland"—those on the
parishes of Loth and Kildonan.
Another of my schoolmates was Sandy
MacLean. This youth was, through his father, respectably, and
through his mother, nobly descended. His father, a lineal descendant
of MacLean of Dowart, the gallant and the brave, rose to the rank of
Captain in the British army, and fell fighting the battles of his
country. He married Miss Sutherland of Forse, a lineal descendant of
William, fifth Earl of Sutherland, and, after the Kilphedder branch,
the next in succession to the titles and estate of that earldom.
Previous to his death Captain MacLean had taken the farm of
Craigtown, in the parish of Golspie, where his widow and her
numerous family now reside. Sandy, their second son, was my
contemporary. He had a fair face and a handsome figure. Although
generous and warm-hearted, he was a wild and dissipated youth. His
passion was the army, and he left school on receiving his ensign's
commission in a Scottish regiment of the line. He was killed in the
prime of life in a duel. The occasion of it was his warm espousal of
the cause of a countryman and brother officer, who had received
gross insult from a professed duelist, and, after a challenge, had
fallen by his hand. Burning to avenge the death of his friend, poor
Sandy challenged the murderer, and was himself mortally wounded.
Some of my schoolfellows, with whom I
was most intimate when at Dornoch, were three young men of the name
of Hay. They were natives of the West Indies; the offspring of a
negro woman, as their hair, and the tawny colour of their skin, very
plainly intimated. Their father was a Scotsman, but I never learned
particularly anything more of him. Fergus, the eldest, was about
twenty years of age when I was at school, and attended merely to
learn the higher branches of mathematics, in order to fit him for
commercial duties. Notwithstanding the disadvantages of his negro
parentage, Fergus was very handsome. He had all the manners of a
gentleman, and had first-rate abilities; but he had the indomitable
pride of an Indian potentate, and over his younger brothers, John
and Alexander, he exercised an absolute sway. Even MacDonald himself
quailed before the lordly bearing of Fergus Hay. I was a great
favourite of his, but our friendship had rather a hostile beginning.
For the thirty lashes which I so unjustly received, I was indebted
chiefly to Fergus. He it was whom the master in his absence had
appointed censor; and—merely to save the skins of Walter Bethune,
Bob Barclay, and others, who made the noise, but for whom both he
and the master had at the time a favour—who caused Angus Leslie and
me to be made the victims. Fergus Hay was conscious of the
impropriety of his conduct towards me, although his pride would not
allow him to say so; for, from that day till he left school, which
he did about half a year after, be behaved to inc with very great
kindness. His brother John and my brother were sworn friends; John
Hay was considerably older than he, and of more than ordinary
strength. Alexander, the youngest, was a peaceable lad. Whilst at
Dornoch we often made excursions, on Saturdays and other holidays,
to many places in the neighbourhood together; particularly to the
Ciderhall wood, and to the elegant place of Skibo, where we used to
roam through the woods and not return till late. At the harvest
vacation my brother and I usually went home, and on one of these
occasions John and Sandy accompanied us, and remained a week at
Kildonan. When
at school at Dornoch we had our holiday games. Of these, the first
was "club and shinty" (cluich' air phloc). The method we observed
was this—two points were marked out, the one the starting-point, and
the other the goal, or "haile." Then two leaders were chosen by a
sort of ballot, which consisted in casting a club up into the air,
between the two ranks into which the players were divided. The
leaders thus chosen stood out from the rest, and, from the number
present, alternately called a boy to his standard. The shinty or
shinny, a ball of wood, was then inserted into the ground, and the
leaders with their clubs struck at it till they got it out again.
The heat of the game, or battle as I might call it, then began. The
one party laboured hard, and most keenly, to drive the ball to the
opposite point or "haile" the other to drive it across the boundary
to the starting-point; and which party soever did either, carried
the day. In my younger years the game was universal in the north.
Men of all ages among the working classes joined in it, especially
on old New Year's day. I distinctly recollect of seeing, on such
joyous occasions at Dornoch, the whole male population, from the
grey-headed grandfather to the lightest-heeled stripling, turn out
to the links, each with his club; and, from 11 o'clock in the
forenoon till it became dark, they would keep at it, with all the
keenness, accompanied by shouts, with which ttieir forefathers had
wielded the claymore. It was withal a most dangerous game, both to
young and old. When the two parties met midway between the two
points, with their blood up, their tempers heated, and clubs in
their hands, the game then assumed all the features of a personal
quarrel; and wounds were inflicted, either with the club or the
ball, which, in not a few instances, actually proved fatal. The
grave of a man, Andrew Colin, father of one of my school-mates, was
pointed out to me, as that of one who was mortally wounded at a club
and shinty game. The ball struck him on the head, causing concussion
of the brain, of which he died.
Among our amusements was our
pancake-cooking on Pasch Sunday (or Di-domhnaich chaisg), and in
February, the "cock-fight." This last took precedence over all our
other amusements. About the beginning of this century there was
perhaps not a single parochial school in Scotland in which at its
season the "cock-fight" was not strictly observed. Our teacher
entered, with all the keenness of a Highlander and with all the
method of a pedagogue, into this barbarous pastime. The method
observed at Dornoch was as follows:—The set time being well known
(am cluiche can coileach), there was a universal scrambling for
cocks all over the parish; and we applied at every door, and pleaded
hard for them. In those primitive times, people never thought of
demanding any pecuniary recompense for the birds for which we dunned
them. When the important day arrived, the court-room itself, in
which was administered municipal rule, and where good Sheriff
MacCulloch ordinarily held his legal tribunal, was surrendered to
the occasion. With universal approval, the chamber of justice was
converted into a battle-field, where the feathered brood might, by
their bills and claws, decide who among the juvenile throng should
be king and queen. The council-board was made a stage, and the
Sheriff's bench was occupied by the schoolmaster and a select party
of his friends, who sat there to give judgment. Highest honours were
awarded to the youth whose bird had gained the greatest victories;
he was declared king, while he who came next to him, by the prowess
of his feathered representative, was associated in the dignity under
the title of queen. Any bird that would not fight when placed on the
stage was called a "fugie," and became the property of the master. A
day was appointed for the coronation, and the ladies in the town
applied their elegant imaginations to devise, and their fair fingers
to construct, crowns for the royal pair. When the coronation day
arrived, its ceremonies commenced by our assembling in the
schoolhouse. The master sat at his desk, with the two crowns placed
before him; the seats beside him being occupied by the "beauty and
fashion 'S of the town. The king and queen of cocks were then called
out of their seats, along with those whom their majesties had
nominated as their life-guards. Mr. MacDonald now rose, took a crown
in his right hand, and after addressing the king in a short Latin
speech, placed it upon his head. Turning to the queen, and
addressing her in the same learned language, he crowned her
likewise. Then the life-guards received suitable exhortations in
Latin, in regard to the onerous duties that devolved upon them in
the high place which they occupied, the address concluding with the
words, "itaque diligentissime attendite." A procession then began at
the door of the schoolhouse, where we were all ranged by the master
in our several ranks, their majesties first, their life-guards next,
and then the "Trojan throng," two and two, and arm in arm. The town
drummer and fifer marched before us and gave note of our advance, in
strains which were intended to be both military and melodious. After
the procession was ended, the proceedings were closed by a ball and
supper in the evening. This was duly attended by the master and all
the "Montagues and Capulets" of Dornoch. [During the eighteenth
century, cock-fighting was practised as an ordinary-pastime in the
parish schools of Scotland. It was observed on Shrove Tuesday, or
s'astern's E'en, as it was called. The custom was condemned in 1748
by John Grub, schoolmaster of Weymss, in Fife, in a Disputation
composed by him to be read by his pupils to their parents, but was
continued in practice for eighty years later. The celebration which
followed on the above occasion was usually observed on Candlemas,
old style, or the 13th of February. (See Dr. Rogers' "Social Life in
Scotland.") —ED.]
The inhabitants of Dornoch next claim my
recollection. Dornoch is the only burgh in the county, and although
it is not less important than Tain as a seaport town, its trade has,
for nearly half a century, been considerably on the decrease. My
personal acquaintances among the inhabitants were to be found in all
ranks and grades. I have described the Sheriff and his household.
Mr. MacCulloch's eminent piety and Christian fellowship have
enshrined his memory in the hearts of all who knew him. It was
during our stay in his house that my uncle, Dr. Alex. Fraser of
Kirkhill, died. I had just come in from school, and found the
excellent Sheriff in tears. I did not presume to ask him the reason,
but he understood my enquiring look. " Ah," said he, "I mourn your
loss as well as my own and that of the Church; a prince has fallen
in Israel—your uncle, Dr. Fraser, is no more." My most distinct
recollection of the Sheriff afterwards is when I saw him in the
Major's uniform of the Sutherland Volunteers; he made a speech in
Gaelic to the men, who were drawn up before him.
My next acquaintance of importance was
with the family at the manse. Dr. Bethune's manners were most
attractive to all classes, particularly to the young. His personal
appearance and expression of countenance warmly seconded the
amiability of his manner. Ile had piercing black eyes, and his nose,
being what is usually called "cocked," gave a strong expression of
good humour to his face. His hair was dark, and, although he was
past fifty at the time, it was but slightly touched with grey. Ibis
conversation was humorous, interspersed with shrewd remarks, or
lively anecdotes, at which he himself laughed with so much glee that
others felt compelled to join him. Mrs. Bethune was a lively,
pleasant woman. Quite the lady in her manners, her character was
formed after the fashion of the world. To her husband she was an
helpmeet in everything but in that which belonged to the sacredness
of his office. From her father, Joseph Munro, minister of Edderton,
she had imbibed such a measure of the chilling influence of
Moderatism, as to repress any kindly ministerial intercourse between
her husband and the pious and lower classes of his parishioners. Dr.
Bethune would have been far more intimate with his people, and more
useful among them, if this sort of home influence had not been
brought to hear upon him. Their eldest son, John, died young; their
second son, Joseph, was in the army. Their eldest daughter, Christy,
married Capt. Robert Sutherland, H.E.I.C.S. His other daughters were
Barbara and Janet; the former married Col. Ross, once of Gladfield,
afterwards of Strathgarvie; Janet remained unmarried, and latterly
resided at Inverness.
Among my other acquaintances were Mr.
Taylor, sheriff-clerk; Mr. Leslie, procurator-fiscal; Hugh Ross, or
"Hugh the laird;" and James Hoag, the architect. Of Mr. William
Taylor I had many pleasant recollections. He was a native of Tain,
and the eldest of four brothers, all of whom I subsequently knew. He
married a daughter of Captain John Sutherland, who by her mother
was, through the Kirtomy family, a cousin of my father. Mrs. Taylor
was a warm-hearted, motherly person, and lived to an advanced age.
They had a numerous family. George, the eldest, was my contemporary
at school. Robert, the second son, succeeded his father in all the
public offices which he held in the county, acted as procurator
before the Sheriff Courts, married Mary, youngest daughter of the
late Colonel Munro of Poyntzfield, and was appointed
Sheriff-Substitute, first, in the Island of Laws, and afterwards at
Tain. Hugh Leslie, the fiscal, was both an innkeeper and the
procurator in the Sheriff Court. All sorts of people frequented his
inn; and often during the markets periodically held at Dornoch,
fierce, disorderly fellows quarrelled and fought with each other
there, like so many mastiffs. On such occasions Mrs. Leslie, who was
an amazon in size and strength, came in as "third's man," followed
by her ostler, "Ton'l," as we usually called him, a strong fellow
from Lochbroom. When her guests were fixed in each other's throats,
Mrs. Leslie made short work with them, by planting a grip with each
hand on the back of their necks, tearing them apart, and finally by
holding them until her ostler, by repeated and strong applications
of his fists, had sufficiently impressed them with a sense of their
conduct. Although Mrs. Leslie, however, thus so much excelled all
males and females of her day in strength and resolution, and did not
hesitate to exert both on pressing occasions, yet she possessed an
amiable temper. Her expansive countenance had a mild expression; her
height was at least six feet, and her person extremely robust. In
her latter days she became a true Christian, and her death-bed was
triumphant. Hugh Leslie's bodily presence was always made known by
his cough. His legal attainments and appearance as procurator I
still remember. During play-time I would frequently spend half an
hour in the court-house, and I have often come upon Hugh Leslie in
the midst of one of his forensic orations. He made use of no
ingenuity of argument, or of special pleading; but he took up all
the strong points of the case, and battered away at them, until, in
ten cases for one, he was ultimately successful. His second son,
Angus, was my fellow-scholar. "Hugh the laird" was another of the
Dornoch lawyers. He was a highly-talented and accomplished, but most
eccentric man. He had studied law with Sheriff MacCulloch at
Edinburgh, and had evidently seen better days. In court, he was
usually Leslie's opponent; and no two men could possibly present,
even to those least capable of observation, a more complete
contrast. " The laird " was cool, clear and eloquent. Abstract views
of the common law, brought to hear upon the case of his client with
far more ingenuity than solidity of reasoning, where the forensic
weapons which he brandished in Leslie's face, much to his annoyance,
and, not unfrequently, to his discomfiture. Poor Leslie's arguments,
which he delivered with such heat and rapidity, that he could
neither illustrate them with sufficient clearness of expression, nor
very distinctly remember them when he had finished, his cool and
more able opponent took up one by one, and demolished, with pointed
wit and sarcasm. Ross held up all his words and arguments, from
first to last, in a light so distorted and so perfectly ludicrous,
that his fiery little antagonist could not recognise there again,
but, starting to his feet, while " Hugh the laird " was going on, he
would hold up both his hands, and, trembling with rage, cry out, "O,
such lies! such lies! did ever you hear the like?" 'These explosions
of temper Ross met by a graceful bow to the bench, and a request to
the Sheriff to maintain the decency of the court. James Boag, the
architect, a very old and a very odd man, then lived at Dornoch. He
was a carpenter by trade, and was by extraction from the south
country. In his younger years he had lived at a place called Golspie
Tower, rented as a farm from the Sutherland family, where he got
into an extensive business, having become contractor, almost on his
own terms, for most of the public buildings, as well as for many
gentlemen's houses, in the counties of Ross and Sutherland. All the
churches and manses in Sutherland and Easter-Ross built between 1760
and 1804, were according to the plans, and were the workmanship of
James Boag. These plans were in almost all cases identical; that is,
for churches, long, narrow buildings, much resembling granaries, in
which convenience and acoustics were equally ignored. His manses we
have already described in that of Kildonan. lie built the church of
Resolis, in Mr. MacPhail's time, in 1767; and the church of Kildonan,
during my father's incumbency, in 1788. When a school-boy at Dornoch
I never could meet Boag, or even see him at a distance, without a
feeling of terror. He lived mostly at Dornoch, but spent a
considerable part of the year at Skelbo, which he held in lease. He
terrified all the school-boys, as well as every inmate of his own
house, by the violence of his temper and his readiness to take
offence. His son-in-law, Mr. William Rose, was decidedly pious, as
was also firs. Rose. After Dr. Bethune's death, she was one of
several eminent Christians who petitioned the Marchioness of
Stafford, as patron, in my favour. They were not successful, and I
was utterly unworthy of such an honour; but it is a consolation to
think that, although I did not thereby become minister of Dornoch, I
was, notwithstanding, the choice of those who were owned and
honoured of God. Mr. Rose died at an advanced age. He was one of the
elders of the parish, and his Christian character may be summed in
this, that he was distinguished for simplicity and fervour, "a good
man, full of faith and of the Holy Ghost."
Two antiquated ladies lived in the town,
Miss Betty Gordon and her elder sister Miss Anne. I mention the
younger first, because the elder sister was always ailing, and
seldom visible to the outdoor public. Miss Betty herself was too
feeble to walk out, but she usually sat in the window in the
afternoon, dressed after the fashion of 1699, in an ancient gown,
with a shawl pinned over her shoulders, and a high cap as head gear.
Like all females, perhaps, in the single state and of very advanced
age, she was very fond of society, and of that light and easy
conversation otherwise termed gossip. When therefore she took her
station at her upper window, a female audience usually congregated
below it. These attendants gave her the news of the day; and she
made her remarks upon it, as full of charity and goodwill towards
all as such remarks usually are. These two old ladies were as
ancient in their descent as they were aged in years. Daughters of
the laird of Embo, they could trace direct descent from the noble
family of Huntly, through Adam, Lord of Aboyne. Their brother was
the last laird in the direct line, and was the immediate predecessor
of Robert Hume Gordon of Embo.
The public fairs of this little county
town made a considerable stir. From the Ord Bead to the Meikle
Ferry, almost every man, woman, and child attended the Dornoch
market. The market stance was the churchyard. Dornoch was what might
strictly be called an Episcopalian town; and the consecrated
environs of the Cathedral was just the place which the men of those
days would choose, either for burying their dead or holding their
markets. The churchyard therefore became the only public square
within the town. The evening previous to the market was a busy one.
A long train of heavily-loaded carts might be seen wending their
weary way into the town, more particularly from Tain, by the Meikle
Ferry. The merchants' booths or tents were then set up, made of
canvas stretched upon poles inserted several feet into the ground,
even into graves and deep enough to reach the coffins. The fair
commenced about twelve o'clock noon next day, and lasted for two
days and a half. During its continuance, every sort of saleable
article was bought and sold, whether of home or foreign manufacture.
The first market at Dornoch that we attended took place six weeks
after our arrival at the town. The bustle and variety of the scene
very much impressed me. The master gave us holiday; and as my
brother and I traversed the market-place, pence in hand, to make our
purchases, all sorts of persons, articles, amusements, employments,
sights and sounds, smote at once upon our eyes, our ears and our
attention. Here we were pulled by the coat, and on turning round
recognised, to our great joy, the cordial face of a Kildonaner;
there we noticed a bevy of young lasses, in best bib and tucker,
accompanied by their bachelors, who treated them with ginger-bread,
ribbons, and whisky. Next came a recruiting party, marching, with
"gallant step and slow," through the crowd, headed by the sergeant,
sword in hand, and followed by tue corporal and two or three
privates, each with his weapon glancing in the sunlight. From one
part of the crowd might be hoard the loud laugh that bespoke the gay
and jovial meeting of former acquaintanceship, now again revived;
from another the incessant shrill of little toy trumpets, which fond
mothers had furnished to their younger children, and with which the
little urchins kept up an unceasing clangour. At the fair of that
day I, first of all, noticed the master perambulating the crowd, and
looking at the merchants' booths with a countenance scarcely less
rigid and commanding than that with which he was wont invariably to
produce silence in the school.
Another incident of my school-boy days
at Dornoch was a bloody fray which took place immediately after the
burial of Miss Gray from Croich. The deceased was of the Sutherland
Grays, who about the beginning of the last century, possessed
property in the parishes of Creich, Lairg, Rogart, and Dornoch. She
came down from London to the north of Scotland for change of air,
being in a rapid decline, but did not survive her arrival at Creich
longer than a month. Her remains were buried beside those of her
ancestors in the Cathedral of Dornoch. The body was accompanied by
an immense crowd, both of the gentry and peasantry. In the evening,
after the burial, there was a dreadful . fight. The parishioners of
Dornoch and those of Creich quarrelled with each other, and fists,
cudgels, stones, and other missiles were put in requisition. The
leader of the Creich combatants was William Munro of Achany. I sat
on a gravestone, at the gable of the ruined aisle of the cathedral,
looking at the conflict. Broken heads, blood trickling over enraged
faces, yells of rage, oaths and curses, are my reminiscences of the
event. Dr. Bethune narrowly escaped broken bones. As he was walking
up to obtain ocular demonstration of the encounter, he was rudely
attacked by two outrageous men from Creich. They threatened to knock
him down; but some of his parishioners, coming just in time, readily
interfered, and his assailants measured their length on the highway.
Our visits to the manse of Creich were
not to be forgotten. Worthy Mr. Rainy's face and figure, his grey
coat, his fatherly reception of us, his motherly and amiable
wife--over "on hospitable thoughts intent " —his daughter Miss Bell,
afterwards Mrs. Angus Kennedy of Dornoch, and his sons George and
Harry, rise up and pass distinctly before inc. Mr. Rainy made a most
favourable impression upon me when I first saw him. He was a short,
stout man, with full eyes and a most intelligent, expressive face,
of which every feature was good, and every one of them said
something peculiar to itself. His little parlour, for which he had a
special predilection, had a small window in front, an old-fashioned
iron grate in the chimney, and a whole tier of presses and beds,
with wooden shutters painted blue, running along the whole extent of
the north wall. This was his constant resting-place. Here he slept,
breakfasted, dined and supped. The parlour was so much to his mind
that it was with difficulty he could be got out of it. He lived in
rather a genteel neighbourhood, and when, in the exercise of
hospitality, and of a kindly interchange of civilities between
himself and his people, he made provision for their entertainment, a
well-furnished drawing-room came into requisition. But this room
was, during his stay in it, little better than a prison. He sat by
the fire, but there was no rest for him, not for a moment. He never
ceased to paw the carpet with his right foot during the whole time
he remained there; and nothing but a retreat to the parlour, and the
settling of himself in his arm-chair, could put an end to his
impatience. Mrs. Rainy was a very pleasant-looking woman, somewhat
taller than her husband. The great attraction of her countenance was
its unequivocal expression of kindness. If any child had missed its
mother, and had met Mrs. Rainy, the conclusion in the child's mind
most have been irresistible—that Mrs. Rainy could be none else than
the "mother" so long sought for. She was never weary in well-doing,
and had an ear to listen to, and a heart to feel for, every
individual case, whether of joy or sorrow. It was during my visits
whilst at Dornoch school to the manse of Creich that I first saw and
became acquainted with James Campbell, a native of that parish. He
afterwards was my class-fellow during my four years' attendance at
college, my fellow-student at the hall, my fellow-probationer before
the Presbytery of Dornoch, and ultimately, in 1824, my father's
successor at Kildonan. James attended duly at the manse of Creich to
be instructed by Harry Rainy in the Latin Tongue. He was, at the
time, a full-grown man, afflicted with a more than ordinary measure
of poverty. To teach him anything was no easy matter, the
difficulty, on the part of the teacher, consisting entirely in his
being utterly puzzled what method to fall upon so as to convey any
kind of knowledge through the "seven-fold plies" of his pupil's
natural stupidity. George and Harry Rainy, until they both went to
college were their father's pupils. He was an accomplished classical
scholar and, bating a little heat of temper, a first-rate teacher.
Respecting the antiquities of Dornoch, I content myself with a very
few remarks. The etymology of the name is Celtic, and means "the
horse's hoof, or fist." The name was derived from the prowess of one
of the family of Sutherland, at a battle fought between the Danes
and the men of Sutherland, close by the shore, about a quarter of a
mile to the east of the town. In the action the Danes were defeated,
owing chiefly to the dreadful carnage of their men by this gigantic
chief, who, Samson-like, had no other weapon than the leg of a
horse, with the hoof of which he slew "heaps upon heaps." The hero
of the day was himself unfortunately killed towards the close of the
action. In memory of his heroism, an obelisk was erected on the
spot, of open work, which still remains. When I was at Dornoch it
lay on the ground in fragments; but it has been re-erected by the
late Duchess of SutherIand, to perpetuate the memory of her
ancestor. Dornoch, in point of extent, commerce and population, is
the "Old Sarum" of Scotland. In ancient times, however, it was a
place of considerable importance. It was the seat of a bishopric, in
which stood the church of St. Barr, and the cathedral built by
Gilbert Murray in 1222. [Gilbert Murray, bishop of Sutherland and
Caithness, was commonly called by the natives, "Gilbard Naomb," or
Saint Gilbert, because he had been canonised by the Roman Catholic
Church. He was bishop for 20 years, during which period he laboured
with much energy and zeal to instruct and civilize the people of his
rude diocese. The 1st of April, 1240, is given as the date of his
death. The fragment of an ancient stone effigy, within the Cathedral
of Dornoch, is believed to mark his grave.—Ed.] This cathedral,
except the steeple, was burnt, in 1570, by the Master of Caithness
and Mackay of Strathnaver, after a contest with the Murrays, vassals
of the Earl of Sutherland; but it was reconstructed by Sir Robert
Gordon, tutor of Sutherland, when it received its present form. It
was originally built in the shape of a cross; the nave extended to
the west, the transepts from north to South, and the choir to the
east; and each of these four aisles met together under a huge square
tower, surmounted by a wooden steeple. The last of its bishops was
Andrew Wood, translated from the Isles in 1680, and ousted by the
Revolution in 1688. After it became a Presbyterian place of worship,
the west aisle was allowed to fall into decay, and was converted
into a burial. ground, the other three being sufficient for a large
congregation. In 1816 the roof was ceiled, and a gallery erected.
But the last and most splendid renovation of this ancient fabric was
that undertaken by the Duchess of Sutherland in 1835-7, by which it
has become one of the most elegant structures, but one of the most
unsuitable places of worship, in the Empire. The ruins of the west
aisle were cleared away, and the nave re-erected, in chaste,
modern-Gothic style, on the site, with a beautiful window and
doorway in the gable; the other aisles were also renewed to
correspond with it. Many additional windows were pierced, and filled
with frosted glass; the bartizan of the tower was coped with•stone;
the steeple was built anew; and, instead of the old, crazy,
one-faced, single-handed clock, a new one, of the best workmanship,
was erected in the steeple, with four dial plates, each furnished
with an lour-and-minute-hand. As to the interior, the four aisles
present one unbroken space within. The extreme height of the ceiling
from the floor is upwards of 50 feet, and the distance from the
pulpit, which rests against the north-east pillar of the tower, to
the western door, is more than 70 feet. On the ceiling, at the
spring of the roof, is a profusion of ornaments, interspersed with
images both of men and animals; amongst the latter the cat of the
Sutherland crest is conspicuous. The object of the Duchess, in this
restoration, was to provide a mausoleum for the remains of her late
husband, and for herself; and for this purpose she spared neither
her own purse, nor the feelings of her people; for, in the course of
the operations, she caused the very dead to be removed from their
resting-place. More than fifty bodies were dug out of their graves
in order to clear out a site for her own burial-vault, under the
west aisle; the remains of the Duke having been deposited in a vault
under the east aisle. The melancholy remains of mortality,
consisting of half-putrefied bodies, bones, skulls, hair, broken
coffins, and dingy, tattered winding-sheets, were flung into carts,
without ceremony, and carried to a new burying-ground, where,
without any mark of respect, they were thrown into large trenches
opened up for their reception. The scene was revolting to humanity;
but it was a fitting sequel to her treatment of her attached
tenantry, whom, by hundreds, she had removed from their homes and
their country.
The other remarkable relic of antiquity in Dornoch is the Castle, or
Bishop's Palace. When I was at school these Castle ruins were the
favourite resort of the more venturous among us, who went there in
order to harry the nests of the jackdaws that built among the
crumbling walls. The space which it enclosed still goes by the name
of the Castle Close. The original structure seems to have consisted
of two towers connected by a screen. Only one of these towers, with
a fragment of the intermediate building, survives the ravages of
time: the only part of the screen remaining being a huge
chimney-stalk, containing the vent of the bishop's kitchen, which
was below in one of the sunk floors. In the tower, access is gained
to all its apartments by a spiral stone staircase, contained in a
small rounded tower, projecting laterally from the side of the large
tower, and running up its whole height. Below are subterraneous
vaults, about ten feet high and arched at the top. A tradition among
the people about the castle, for its site is now covered with hovels
of the poorest of the inhabitants, was that it stood upon a "brander
of oak." This meant, I suppose, that, as the soil was light and
sandy, the castle was founded upon oaken piles driven deep into the
ground. This castle was the bishop's town residence, or manor-house.
He had besides two country residences, each of which were castles:
Skibo, a few miles to the west of Dornoch, and Scrabster, in the
immediate vicinity of Thurso, in Caithness. The Castle of Skibo was
demolished in the last century, and that of Dornoch was, along with
the Cathedral, burnt in 1567 by the Master of Caithness, in his
conflict with the Murrays. It has since been partly rebuilt and
fitted up as a court-house and prison. There were also two other
ecclesiastical buildings, over the ruins of which I loved to
clamber, and whose form and structure pointed to a remote origin.
One stood at the cast and the other at the west end of the town.
That at the east had small vaulted apartments and a stone
winding-stair. The people called it the "Chanter's house," and the
farm in the immediate neighbourhood was called "Ach-a-chantoir." The
ruin to the west was called " the Dean's house," and was a plain
building with a jamb, or back wing, attached to it. It was tenanted
for long after the Revolution, and, about twenty years before I was
born, was occupied as an inn by a man named Morrison. The site has
since been feued and built over, though when we were at school it
was a ruin. For Mr. Angus Fraser, merchant, some years afterwards
took it as a feu, pulled down the ruins, and erected his house on
the site. But
the trade of Dornoch is at present a nonentity. Its markets, so
flourishing in forjner times, have almost ceased to exist. Its
population has decreased to about one-half the number it used to be.
Its merchants, or shopkeepers, are not more than two or three; if a
retailer sets up in any part of the parish or county he succeeds,
but if he removes to Dornoch he almost immediately becomes a
bankrupt. There seems, in short, to hang over the place a sort of
fatality, a blighting influence which, like the Pontine marshes at
Rome to cattle, is fatal to trade, house-building, mercantile
enterprise, or even to the increase of the genus home in this
ill-starred and expiring Highland burgh. From the first it had to
contend against its surroundings. The town is situated on a neck of
land running out into the Moray firth at its junction with the firth
of Tain. Around the town the soil is arid, sandy and unproductive,
and so notorious for sterility was its location of old that,
according to my earliest recollections, it went under the
descriptive appellative of "Dornoch na gortai," or Dornoch of the
famine. Its immediate locality, too, is bleak and bare as a Siberian
desert. Though close by the sea, it has not only no harbour, but no
natural capabilities for any possibility of having one. An almost
stagnant burn flows slowly through it, but it vanishes in mounds of
sand before reaching the sea. The estuary, which stretches to the
west, is crossed at its embouchure into the Moray firth by a bar,
formed by the lodgment of many centuries of all the sediment washed
into it by the rivers Shin, Oykcll, Carron, and Evelix. This bar,
well known to mariners by the name of "The Gizzen Briggs" (called in
Gaelic, "Drochaid an Aoig," or the Kelpie's bridge), is an
insuperable bar to the development of Dornoch as a seaport town. But
it might still have retained some of its former prosperity had it
been held in kindlier hands. The greater part of it is the property
of the family of Sutherland. They have purchased, of late, all the
houses for sale, only to level them with the ground, and, by setting
up villages and markets in other places, have destroyed its trade
and reduced its population. |
