There
can be little doubt that one of the most famous seers from Highland tradition
is the Brahan Seer or Coinneach Odhar Fiosaiche (‘Sallow Kenneth, the one who
knows’). Alexander Mackenzie, editor of The
Celtic Magazine, began to serialise an account of the Brahan Seer and, such
was its success, decided to then publish a slim volume entitled The Prophecies of the Brahan Seer in
1877. A second edition appeared in the following year, and it was later revised
for an 1899 edition; subsequent editions appeared in 1903, 1907, 1912 and 1925.
A second impression appeared in 1972 to be followed by a centenary edition
supplemented by a commentary by Elizabeth Sutherland, which has been reprinted
nearly every year since. Such a publishing success can only be accounted by the
reading public’s sheer interest engendered by the prophecies of the Brahan
Seer.
Before
Mackenzie (as well as others) gathered in the Brahan Seer’s prophecies and concomitant
traditions about him, they had been floating in the flotsam and jetsam of oral
tradition. On occasion items were printed in the local press especially when
an inquiry was sent to the letter’s page or when an article was written about
the Brahan Seer. Despite or perhaps because of such traditions there is no
general consensus with regard to the Brahan Seer, at
least in Gaelic tradition. There is still some uncertainty concerning his
career and at which time he actually lived. This is due to the fact what is
known of Coinneach Odhar is based upon oral accounts recorded in the main during
the nineteenth century so that in consequence there is very little by the way of historical
records to substantiate traditional claims.
For instance, both the Isle
of Lewis and Ross-shire claim him as one of their sons. There is a strong belief
that he was born sometime in the seventeenth century, perhaps even earlier, in
Baile na Cille, in the Parish of Uig on the Isle of Lewis. Others suggest that
he was born and raised in Easter Ross. Regardless of his birthplace, or when he
actually lived, what is certain about him is that he had a close connection
with Clan Mackenzie. So much so, that some firmly believe he was a Mackenzie.
Surnames, however, were hardly the vogue at this time in the Highlands but it
may well be likely that the Brahan Seer adopted such a surname. And it is
more or less true that Coinneach Odhar’s attributed prophesies are conterminous
with Clan Mackenzie’s influence when they were at the peak of their power which
took in the Isle of Lewis and most of mainland Ross-shire. So why then is such
a historically shadowy character so famous? The answer lies in his ability to
tell future events long before they actually happened, or, in other words, he
possessed the ‘gift’ of second-sight. Although this phenomenon has been
recorded worldwide, it seems that it has been given (perhaps unnecessarily) a
Celtic dimension. The phrase comes from Gaelic an dà shealladh which is usually translated “second-sight”, but a more
literal translation gives “two visions” which perhaps explains the phrase
better, in that there is a first vision, i.e. the ability to see normally,
whereas the seer has the capacity to visualise, as a second (paranormal)
vision, future events. In other words, his second vision is not determined by
the normal constraints of either time or distance. Coinneach Odhar had this ability to
a marked degree and soon stories of his talent spread throughout the Highlands
and Islands and entered the lore of every district. According to tradition,
Coinneach Odhar received this gift at a young age. And, again, there are
different stories, depending on the source, of how he gained this extraordinary
ability. The Lewis version states that his mother was told where to find a
stone, the possessor of which would receive the gift of second-sight, from a
Princess of Norway’s ghost who admired her bravery so much while Coinneach’s
mother had been interrogating her. A Ross-shire tradition suggests that he
found the stone while asleep and used it to find out whether a woman was trying
to poison him. What most of the accounts agree upon is that he possessed a
small stone which some described as being round with a hole in it, small, either
blue or pearly white and perhaps polished. Whether the stone gave him the
actually ability to foresee events, or, merely aided him in the endeavour is
open to debate.
What is beyond question are
the many prophecies attributed to Coinneach Odhar. Alexander Mackenzie in his
book The Brahan Seer divided his
prophecies into four rough categories: prophecies which might be attributed to
natural shrewdness; prophecies unfulfilled; prophecies as to the fulfillment of
which there is doubt and prophecies wholly or partly fulfilled. An example of
each will suffice in order to give a flavour of the range of Coinneach Odhar’s
prophecies. Firstly, Strange as it may
seem to this day, the time will come, and it is not far off, when full-rigged
ships will be seen sailing eastward and west by the back of Tomhahurich Hill.
This predicted the Caledonian Canal engineered by Thomas Telford and completed
in 1822. Secondly, When there are seven
bridges over the Ness, Inverness will be consumed with fire from the black rain
and tumble into the sea. Obviously (and thankfully) this remains
unfulfilled. Thirdly, The day will come
when the Chanonry of Ross, when full of dead Mackenzies, will fall with a
fearful crash. Although many Mackenzies are buried here, including the last
Seaforth, more of whom anon, some believe that this prophecy has not yet been
fulfilled. And finally, Coinneach Odhar’s talent was also his undoing which led
to one of his most famous prophecies. Tradition relates that Isabella
Mackenzie, the wife of Seaforth, kept on pestering Coinneach for information
about her husband who had been in Paris on some business for much longer than
expected. Coinneach replied that he was safe and well but in such a way as to
rouse the suspicion of the Countess. She
demanded the truth and Coinneach reluctantly obliged by telling her that her
husband was having an affair. Rather than gratitude, as Coinneach expected, he
felt the full measure of her anger and was put under the penalty of death. This
was when Coinneach allegedly uttered one of his last prophecies which sealed
his fate: I see into the far future. I
read the doom of my oppressor. The long descended line of Seaforth will, ere
many generations have passed, end in extinction and sorrow. I see a chief, the
last of his house, both deaf and dumb. He will be father to four fair sons, all
of whom will go before him to the tomb. He will live careworn and die mourning,
knowing that the honours of his line are to be extinguished and that no future
chief of Mackenzies will rule at Brahan or Kintail. And so what Coinneach
predicted came to pass.
Many of the traditional
prophecies attributed to Coinneach Odhar have been travelling in oral
transmission and thus were only written down after many were actually (or were
allegedly) fulfilled. This is not to demean the oral record but merely to point
out that so many prophecies have been attributed to him that it can never know
with certainty if he actually predicted any of them. Whoever Coinneach Odhar
was and whenever he is said to have lived, his legacy still remains, reflected
in the interest shown by many in his prophetic visions of the Highlands.
The following traditional
legend was recorded on the 11th of January and transcribed shortly thereafter
by Calum Maclean from the recitation of John
MacDonald of Highbridge, Brae Lochaber:
Coinneach Odhar
’S e Leòdhasach a bh’ ann an Coinneach Odhar. Agus nuair a
bha e na bhalach òg agus mun d’fhuair e idir a’ follaiseachadh agus am
fiosrachadh a bh’ aige mu dheireadh, bha taidhbhseilearachd aige bho thùs. Bha
an t-ath-shealladh aige. Air oidhche dhà a’ dol seachad air cladh, chunnaic e
na mairibh a’ tighinn a-staigh. Agus dh’fhuirich e na sheasamh a’ gabhail
beachd orra. Agus bha aon tè ann a bha air deireadh air càch. Agus chaidh e a-nunn
chun na h-uaigh. Agus chuir e cruaidh, chuir e a’ bhiodag an oiseann na
h-uaigh. Agus cha tèid aon nìtheann neo-ghlan seachad air a’ chruaidh gun cead
an neach a chuir ann e. Bha fhios aig Coinneach air seo. Cha robh e fada an
siud nuair a thàinig maighdeann cho tlachdmhor is a chunnaic a riamh le
cuailean bòidheach òr-bhuidhe ma guaillean.
“Seadh," thuirt e, “dè chum thusa cho fada air deireadh
air càch?”
“Leig a-staigh gu mo leabaidh mi,” thuirt i.
“Cha leig gus an innis thu dhomh-sa t’ uireas.”
“’S e Nighean Rìgh Lochlainn a th' annam-sa agus bha sinn a’
tighinn mun cuairt le bàta agus chaidh nar call air a’ chladach a bha seo, agus
thàinig mo chorp air tìr teann air a’ chladh. Agus chaidh mo chur ann an seo.
Agus ’s ann mar sin a bha mise air deireadh. Chaidh mi cho fada ri Lochlainn a
choimhead air mo chàirdean agus chum sin air deireadh mi agus leig a-staigh
mi.”
“A bheil an còrr agad a dh’innseas tu dhomh-sa?” thuirt
Coinneach.
“Bheir mi dhut buaidh,” thuirt i, “agus leig a-staigh mi.
Agus ’s e sin: bidh thu a’ leanachd treud de chrodh agus lean a mhart odhar gu
math dlùth. Agus togaidh an ladhar aice clach bhàn. Agus toga’ tusa a chlach. Agus
coimheada’ tu air a’ chlach. Agus rud sam bith a chì thu ron chlach sin thig e
teachd. Chì thu na dh’fhalbh agus chì thu na tha ri tighinn.”
’S ann mar seo a bha.
Bha e a’ cur an treud air adhart agus fhuair e a’ chlach.
Agus choimhead e ron chlach agus nuair a choimhead, an neart a bha sa chlach,
chuir i an t-sùil às. Agus chaidh neart na sùla sin ’un an t-sùil eile. Agus ’s
ann mar sin a bha e comasach air coimhead ron a’ chlach. Agus bha e a’ leughadh
a h-uile nìtheann is ga innseadh. Ach, co-dhiù, bha bean Iarla Chatach, NicCoinnich,
bha i a’ gabhail cèill nach robh an duine aice a’ tighinn às an Fhraing. Is
chuir i fios air Coinneach bhon a dh’innseadh e gach nì.
“O,” thuirt e, “nam biodh curam sam bith ort,” ars’ an
duine, thuirt e. “Tha an duine na shuidhe san an Fhraing agus an nighean is
breàgha san Fhraing aige air a’ ghlùin agus ’s beag smaoineachdainn a tha e a’
dèanadh ort-sa.”
“O, ’s e buidseachd a th’ aige,” thuirt i, “agus thèid a mharbhadh.”
Agus chuir i mu dheidhinn gun rachadh a losgadh ann am
bairille teàrr. Mun d’fhuair iad seo a dhèanadh, ghabh e beagan de dh’ùine, bha
an duine aice a’ tighinn dachaigh. Is chuala e gun robh Coinneach Odhar a’ dol a
bhith air an losgadh le òrdugh na baintighearna. Agus fhuair e each agus chuir
e an t-each sin cho fad is a ghabhadh e cur. Agus dar a bha an t-each sin
sgìth, fhuair e each eile. Is bha e a’ dlùthadh leis an treas each air an àite
san deach Coinneach a losgadh. Agus chunnaic e iad a’ dèanamh iollachd agus an
smùid ga chur ris an teine. Agus chuir e an t-each cho luath agus gun do thuit
an t-each marbh. Agus bha aige ri dhol ceathramh a mhile a dh’astar mun do
ràinig e. An uair sin bha Coinneach Odhar air a thilgeil anns a’ bhairille teàrra
agus e marbh. Agus dh’aidich e a h-uile nìthean agus a chiont don
bhaintighearna. Agus ’s ann a bha mulad an uair sin ann gun deach a chur gu bàs
agus e neo-chiontach. Is thuirt e riutha gun robh e neo-chiontach, gun tigeadh calman
às an àird an ear agus fitheach às an àird an iar. Agus nan laigheadh am fitheach
air an smàl aige air an talamh, bha e caìllte. Agus nan laigheadh an calman ’s
e bh’ ann duine sàbhailte.
’S ann mar seo a thachair.
Thàinig an t-eun às an àird an ear agus an t-eun eile às an
àird an iar. Agus laigh an calman air an duslach aige. Agus mar sin thuirt iad:
“Tha Coinneach Odhar sàbhailte.”
And the translation goes something
like the following:
Sallow Kenneth
Sallow Kenneth was a Lewisman. When he was a young lad and even
before he got the power to reveil unknown things and knowledge, he had second-sight
from the very beginning. He possessed second-sight. One night as he went by a
cemetery, he saw the dead returning to their graves. He stayed there standing
and observed them. There was one woman who was behind the rest. He went over to
where her grave was. He placed a steel dagger in a corner of her grave. Nothing
that is unclean can go by steel without the permission of the persion who
placed it there. Kenneth knew this. He did not have to wait long when the most
beautiful maiden he had ever seen arrived with her beautiful yellow-golden
tresses falling to her shoulders.
“Aye,” he exclaimed, “what kept you back so long behind the
rest?”
“Let me go to my bed,” she replied.
“I will not until you tell me your want.”
“I am the daughter of the King of Lochlann and we were
travelling by boat when we were lost on this very shore, and my corpse landed
here near to the cemetery. And I was interred here. That is the reason why I
was late for I had to go as far as Lochlann to visit my friends and that is why
I was behind so now let me in.”
“Do you have anything else you can tell me?” asked Kenneth.
“I will give you a gift,” she said, “if you only let me [go
to my bed]. And that is: if you follow that herd of cattle and if you keep
close to the dun-coloured cow when it lifts up its hoof there will be a white
stone. And you’ll take the stone and look through it. And anything you see
through the stone will come to pass. You will see that which has gone and that
will is yet to pass.
That is how things turned out.
He moved on the herd of cattle and he found the stone. He
looked through the stone and when he did the stone had such power that it took
out his eye. And the power of that eye was placed in his other one. And that is
the way in which he was able to look through the stone. He read everything that
was going on and told what he saw. But, in any case, the wife of the Earl of
Sutherland, a MacKenzie, was worried that her husband had not arrived back from
France. She sent for Kenneth as he knew about about everything.
“Oh,” he said, “don’t let anything worry you,” said the man,
he said, “The man is sitting overby in France and te most beautiful lassie in
the whole of France is sitting on his knee and he has hardly got you on his
mind.”
“Oh, he is possessed by witchcraft,” she exclaimed, “and he
will be executed.”
And she decided that he would be burnt in a barrel of tar.
Before they carried this out as it took some time to prepare, her husband was
arriving home. He heard that Sallow Kenneth was going to be burnt by his lady’s
order. He got a horse and he took the horse as far as it could go. When the
horse became tired, he got another mount. He was getting nearer to the place
where Kenneth was going to be burnt on his third mount. He saw that they were stoking
the fire and smoke was pouring from it. He made his mount go so quickly that
the horse fell dead. He had to go another quarter of a mile before he reached
the place. By then Sallow Kenneth had been thrown into the barrel of tar and
had died. He admitted everything about his guilt to his lady. And he was deeply
sad that he had been executed even though he was innocent. He said that if he
had been innocent that a dove would come from the west and a crow from the
west. If the crow lay down on his ashes on the ground, then he would be lost.
But if the dove lay down then he was saved.
This is how things turned out.
A bird came from the east and and a bird from the west. And
the dove lay down on his dust. And they said: “Sallow Kenneth is saved.”
Another
anecdote was recorded by Calum Maclean from the recitation of John
MacDonald on the 18th of January 1951, where he recites a verse composed by
the Skye pastoral bard, Neil MacLeod:
Am Bàs a Fhuair Coinneach Odhar
’S e Niall MacLeòid às an Eilean Sgitheanach, am Bàrd, tha
iad ag ràdha rium a rinn an rann. Agus chuir Coinneach Dubh fios gu chairdean
feadh a h-uile h-àite dè thachair do Choinneach Odhar na dè am bàs a thàinig
air. Agus tha an rann a’ dol mar seo:
Chuir Coinneach Dubh fios gu ’chàirdean
Eadar gleann is bràigh is bogha,
An toireadh a h-aon duibh fios gun dàil dhà,
Cùine a bhàsaich Coinneach Odhar;
An deach a chrochadh na a cheasadh,
Na an dh’eug e ag éigheach cobhair,
An deach a losgadh na a bhàthadh,
Na fhàgail a mach air todhar.
B’ aithne dhomh-sa bodach ròmach
A bha eòlach air seann ghobhainn.
Chunnaic e e feasgar man d’fhalbh e,
Gun e balbh, dall na bodhar:
Greim aige air clach ghlas na fàsaich,
Is e ’ga fàsgadh cho teann ri lomar.
’N uair a thug e aiste na bh’ innte,
Thilg e i thar tuinn Loch Lobhar.
Bhòidich e a sin ’na éisdeachd,
Air na speuran is air an domhain,
Nach fhaicte sealladh gu bràth dhith
Gus an tràighte Loch Lobhar.
’S ann feasgar anmoch Dia Ceadaoin
’N uair a bha a’ ghrian a’ dol fodha,
’S a’ bhliadhna seachd ceud deug
A rug an t-aog air Coinneach Odhar.
Tha e ’na laighe ’na chadal fo’n tràigh sin,
Faisg air bràigh Allt an t-Sabhail.
Ann an clachan bearnach frògach,
Nach mutha na crò nan gobhar.
Ma théid Coinneach Dubh gu bràth
A dh’ ionnsaigh àirdeannan Strath Feothair,
Seallaidh iad gu saor dha an t-àite.
Far an do smàl iad Coinneach Odhar.
And the translation goes something
like the following:
The Death Suffered by the Brahan Seer
Neil MacLeod, the bard, from the Isle of Skye, they told me
composed a verse. And word was sent to Sallow Kenneth’s friend in every nook
and cranny about what happened to him or about the death suffered by him. And
the verse goes like this:
Black Kenneth sent word to his friends
Between glen and brae and reef,
Would anyone of them give word without delay
When did Sallow Kenneth die;
Was he hanged or was he crucified
Did he die shouting for clemency,
Was he burnt or was he drowned
Or was he left out in the manure.
I knew a bearded old man
Who knew the old smith.
He saw one evening before he set off,
He was not dumb, blind or deaf:
Grasped in his hand the grey stone of plunder
Holding it as tightly as a fleece.
After he had taken that which was given
He threw it over the wave of Loch Lobhar.
He vowed then in his hearing
On the skies and on the world,
That he’d never see it again
Until Loch Lobhar was drained.
In late Wednesday evening,
As the sun sent down,
And the year being 1700
When Sallow Kenneth suffered death.
He lies asleep underneath that strand,
Near the brae of Allt an t-Sabhail
In a cemetery notched and marked,
No bigger than a pen for goats.
If Black Kenneth ever goes
Towards the heights of Strathpeffer
They will show him freely the place
Where they burnt Sallow Kenneth.
For
the sake of comparison, this is how the first editor of the Brahan Seer’s
prophecies put the following traditions:
Kenneth Mackenzie, better known as Coinneach Odhar, the
Brahan Seer…was born at Baile-na-Cille, in the Parish of Uig and Island of
Lews, about the beginning of the seventeenth century. Nothing particular is
recorded of his early life, but when he had just entered his teens, he received
a stone in the following manner, by which he could reveal the future destiny of
man:―While his mother was tending her cattle in a summer shealing on the side
of a ridge called Cnocethail, which overlooks the burying-ground of
Baile-na-Cille, in Uig, she saw, about the still hour of midnight, the whole of
the graves in the churchyard opening, and a vast multitude of people of every
age, from the newly-born babe to the grey-haired sage, rising from their
graves, and going away in every conceivable direction. In about an hour they
began to return, and were all soon after back in their graves, which closed
upon them as before. But, on scanning the burying-place more closely, Kenneth’s
mother observed one grave, near the side, still open. Being a courageous woman,
she determined to ascertain the cause of this singular circumstance, so, hastening
to the grave, and placing her cuigeal
(distaff) athwart its mouth (for she had heard it said that the spirit could
not enter the grave again while that instrument was upon it), she watched the
result. She had not to wait long, for in a minute or two she noticed a fair
lady coming in the direction of the churchyard, rushing through the air, from
the north. On hear arrival, the fair one addressed her thus
‘Lift thy distaff from off my graver, and let
me enter my dwelling of the dead.’ ‘I shall do so,’ answered the other, ‘when
you explain to me what detained you so long after your neighbours.’ ‘That you
shall soon hear,’ the ghost replied; ‘My journey was much longer than theirs ―
I had to go all the way to Norway.’ She then addressed her: ― ‘I am a daughter
of the King of Norway; I was drowned while bathing in that country; my body was
found on the beach close to where you now stand, and I was interred in this
grave. In remembrance of me, and as a small reward for your intrepidity and
courage, I shall possess you of a valuable secret ― go and find in yonder take
a small round blue stone, which give to your son, Kenneth, who by it shall
reveal future events. ‘She did as requested, found the stone, and gave it to
her son, Kenneth.
And
concerning the death of the Brahan Seer, Alexander Mackenzie gave the following
account:
Lady Seaforth had become very uneasy concerning his
prolonged absence, more especially as she received no letters from him for
several months. Her anxiety became too strong for her power of endurance, and
led her to have recourse to the services of the local prophet. She accordingly
sent messages to Strathpeffer, summoning Coinneach to her presence, to obtain
from him, if possible, some tidings of her absent lord. Coinneach, as we have
seen, was already celebrated, far and wide, throughout the whole Highlands, for
his great powers of divination, and his relations with the invisible world.
Obeying the orders of Lady Seaforth, Kenneth arrived at the
Castle, and presented himself to the Countess, who required him to give her
information concerning her absent lord. Coinneach asked where Seaforth was
supposed to be, and said that he thought he would be able to find him if he was
still alive. He applied the divination stone to his eyes, and laughed loudly,
saying to the Countess, ‘Fear not for your lord, he is safe and sound, well and
hearty, merry and happy.’ Being now satisfied that her husband’s life was safe,
she wished Kenneth to describe his appearance; to tell where he was no engaged,
and all his surroundings. ‘Be satisfied,’ he said, ‘ask no questions, let it
suffice you to know that your lord is well and merry.’ ‘But,’ demanded the
lady,’ ‘where is he? and is he making any preparations for coming home?’ ‘Your
lord,’ replied the Seer, ‘is in a magnificent room, in very fine company, and
far too agreeably employed at present to think of leaving Paris.’ The Countess,
finding that her lord was well and happy, began to fret that she had no share
in his happiness and amusements, and to feel even the pangs of jealousy and
wounded pride. She thought there was something in the Seer’s looks and expression
which seemed to justify such feelings. He spoke sneeringly and maliciously of
her husband’s occupations, as much as to say, that he could tell a disagreeable
tale if he would. The lady tried entreaties, bribes and threat to induce
Coinneach to give a true account of her husband, as he had seen him, to tell
who was with him, and all about him. Kenneth pulled himself together, and
proceeded to say ― ‘As you will know that which will make you unhappy, I must
tell you the truth. My lord seems to have little thought for you, or of his
children, or of his Highland home. I saw him in a gay-gilded room, grandly
decked out in velvets, with silks and cloth of gold, and on his knees before a
fair lady, his arm round her waist, and her hand pressed to his lips.’ At this
unexpected and painful disclosure, the rage of the lady knew no bounds. It was
natural and well merited, but its object was a mistake. All the anger which
ought to have been directed against her husband, and which should have been concentrated
in her breast, to be poured out upon him after his return, was spent upon poor
Coinneach Odhar. She felt the more keenly, that the disclosures of her
husband’s infidelity had not been made to herself in private, but in the
presence of the principal retainers of her house, so that the Earl’s moral
character was blasted, and her own charms slighted, before the whole clan; and
her husband’s desertion of her for a French lady was certain to become the
public scandal of all the North of Scotland. She formed a sudden resolution
with equal presence of mind and cruelty. She determined to discredit the
revelations of the Seer, and to denounce him as a vile slanderer of her
husband’s character. She trusted that the signal vengeance she was about to
inflict upon him as a liar and defamer would impress the minds, not only of her
own clan, but of all the inhabitants of the counties of Ross and Inverness,
with a scene of her thorough disbelief in the scandalous story, to which she
nevertheless secretly attached full credit. Turning to the Seer, she said, ‘You
have spoken evil of dignities, you have defamed a mighty chief in the midst of
his vassals, you have abused my hospitality and outraged my feelings, you have
sullied the good name of my lord in the halls of his ancestors, and you shall
suffer the most signal vengeance I can inflict ― you shall suffer the death.’
Coinneach was filled with astonishment and dismay at this
fatal result of his art. He had expected far other rewards from his art of
divination. However, he could not at first believe the rage of the Countess to
be serious; at all events, he expected that it would soon evaporate, and that, in the course of a
few hours, he would be allowed to depart in peace. He even so far understood
her feelings that he thought she was making a parade of anger in order to
discredit the report of her lord’s name before the clan; and he expected that
when this object was served, he might at length be dismissed without personal
injury. But the decision of the Countess was no less violently conceived than
it was promptly executed. The doom of Coinneach was sealed. No time was to be
allowed for remorseful compunction. No preparation was permitted to the
wretched man. No opportunity was given for intercession in his favour. The
miserable Seer was led out for immediate execution.
With
regard to the signal of whether Coinneach Odhar was saved or not, the following
tradition (also attributed to the thirteenth-century philosopher Michael Scot)
is given:
When Coinneach Odhar was being led to the stake, fast bound
with cords, Lady Seaforth exultingly declared that, having had so much
unhallowed intercourse with the unseen world, he would never go to Heaven. But
the Seer, looking round upon her with an eye form which his impending fate had
not banished the ray of joyful hope of rest in a future state, gravely answered
― ‘I will go to Heaven, but you never shall; and this will a sign
whereby you can determine whether my condition after death is one of
everlasting happiness or of eternal misery; a raven and a dove, swiftly flying
in opposite directions will meet, and for a second hover over my ashes, on
which they will instantly alight. If the raven if foremost, you have spoken
truly; but if the dove, then my hope if well-founded.’
A Commemorative cairn,
cast by the boys of Fortrose Academy, was unveiled in 1969 at Chanonry Point,
Fortrose, Black Isle, where the inscription reads as follows:
THE STONE COMMEMORATES
THE LEGEND OF COINNEACH ODHAR
BETTER KNOWN AS THE
BRAHAN SEER
MANY OF HIS PROPHECIES
WERE FULFILLED AND TRADITION HOLDS
THAT HIS UNTIMELY DEATH BY
BURNING IN TAR FOLLOWED
HIS FINAL PROPHECY OF THE DOOM
OF THE HOUSE OF SEAFORTH.
References:
Dòmhnall
Iain MacÌomhair, Coinneach Odhar (Glaschu:
Gairm, 1990)
Alexander
Mackenzie, The Prophecies of the Brahan
Seer, Coinneach Odhar Fiosaiche (London: Constable, 1977)
William
Matheson, ‘The Historical Coinneach Odhar and Some Prophecies Attributed to
Him,’ Transactions of the Gaelic Society
of Inverness, vol. XXXXVI (1969–70), pp. 68–88
Alex
Sutherland, The Brahan Seer: The Making
of a Legend (Bern: Peter Lang, 2009)
SSS
NB 4, pp. 353–54
SSS NB 5, pp. 415–18
Images:
Chanonry
Point, Black Isle
Commemorative cairn cast by the boys of Fortrose Academy, in 1969, at Chanonry Point, Fortrose, Black Isle, allegedly the site of the Brahan Seer’s execution
During
a fieldwork trip to the Isle of Skye during the summer of 1948 Calum Maclean
accompanied his Swedish colleague Åke
Campbell
as they explored the material culture and old buildings in the northern part of
the isle. Maclean later recollected their meeting with Seton Gordon who had
taken up resident in Kilmuir and was by then one of the leading Scottish
naturalists:
