Patron Saint of Glenmoriston: Some Traditions of St Merchard

During a fieldwork trip to the central Highlands in the autumn of 1952, specifically in and around Glenmoriston and Invergarry, Calum Maclean managed to garner in a few traditions of St Merchard from various reciters. Religious anecdotes and legends represent some of the oldest strata of Gaelic oral traditions, some of which go as far back as the time of St Columba (Colmcille) as well as to other more obscure saints or holy men.

According to legend, the saint found three bells in Strathglass and took his to Glenmoriston (the other two bells went with his two fellow missionaries to Glenconvinth and Broadford): “His bell rang for the first time at Suidh Mhercheird (Merchard’s Seat) a hill above Balintombuie. The bell rang a second time at Fuaran Mhercheird (Merchard’s Well) beside the burn at Balintombuie; and a third time at a spot beside the River Moriston where he built his church.”

No traces now remain of either the church or cemetery, nor of the famous bell or font stone, which, it is claimed, always retained water, irrespective of weather conditions. Further, it is claimed by tradition, “that the bell was wont to ring of its own accord when a funeral came in sight, and that whenever it was removed from its usual position it was invariably found restored miraculously to its place. Many persons still living in the glen have seen the bell, and the grandparents of some of them used to relate that they heard it ring in their youth. Devotion to this saint was very strong in that neighbourhood in Catholic times, and he is still regarded by Catholics as the local patron.”

Such are a few of the traditions represent in print concerning St Merchard which chime well with those recorded and later transcribed by Calum Maclean. The following anecdote relates the story of how famous bell went missing and was recited by James Warren, around the 30th of September 1952, who belonged to Glenmoriston:

THE BELL OF MERCHARD

Well you see, it was never discovered. There were two men working in the hill in that dell, you know, and they were supposed to have taken the bell. And they left the district, and it was never found. Well strange to say, there was a smith and he was putting in his apprenticeship down at Forres. And he met this man, Garrow, at the railway station. And he says: “You belong to Glenmoriston.” He looked at his face. He says: “You belong,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Oh!” he says. “I knew your father very well he says. “I was working a long time up in Glenmoriston,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“Garrow.” he says.

Now the train was coming in and he couldn’t wait:

“I’ll see you,” he says, “when I come back.” he says.

And by the time he came back, the man was dead. Now he would probably have got a lot of information out of that man about the bell. Wasn’t it strange he had no time to speak to him at the time.

“Oh!” said he, “I knew Glenmoriston well. I was working in the mill.”

Well, these two men were supposed to have taken the bell away. Well, the old lady, old Mrs Grant of Glenmoriston, she dredged the river for miles trying to get the bell. But there was nothing left of the bell, but the shell at last. It was a thousand of years old. There was the three bells. I forget the other place. You’ll find it in “Urquhart and Glenmoriston” – where he left the other two bells.

According to William Mackay the place at which the bells were found was then still called Craobh nan Clag (Crinaglack)―The Tree of the Bells.

The following short anecdote confirms that St Merchard found the bells in Strathglass, also recited by James Warren:

“MISE MEIRICHEARD MÒR NAM FEART”

[“I AM ST MERCHARD OF THE MARVELS”]

Merichead followed the cow. And the cow was always licking at the foot of this tree and working at this tree. And then they dug at the foot of this tree and they found the three bells. So Meiricheard, St. Merchard came on the scene. And he was supposed to take the bells and leave them at these – I suppose they would be churches at that time – and consecrated the churchyards there. Well, the bell rang at the top of Suidhe Meiricheard. It is called Suidhe Meiricheard until this day. He came in sight of the churchyard there. The bell rang. He came away down, took the water from this spring, which is St Merchard’s Well – it is just coming out of the rock – and went down and consecrated the churchyard. Well, there’s a stone in that churchyard that they call the baptismal stone. There is a little hole in it well in the driest of weather it’s wet. That stone is wet. The stone is there and the water is always in it. On the driest day in summer, it is never dry. The water is still there. A lot of people goes to have a look at that stone. It is wonderful.

The cemetery and its apparent nearby church also attracted traditions which was again recited by James Warren in his native Gaelic:

CLACHAN MEIRICHEARD

Bha craobh thall an Srath Ghlais agus bha a’ bhò a bha seo ag ilimeach bun a’ chraobh a bha seo a h-uile latha is a h-uile latha is, mu dheireag, thòisich iad agus thug iad an àird an talamh aig bun a’ chraobh agus fhuair iad trì cluig ann an clag. Well, ’s e Crò nan Clag a their iad ris an àite fhathast à Srath Ghlais. Well, Meiricheard – chuala tu Meiricheard, St Merchard, Meirichead Mòr nam Feart. Well, fhuair e fios gun robh aig airson clag fhàgail aig trì cladhan no trì clachan. Well, thàinig e gu mullach uiread an seo agus shuidh e an sin agus ghoir an clag. Thàinig e a-bhàn tao’ an uillt agus bha fearann beag aig tao’ an uillt an sin agus thug e an t-uisge an sin agus choisrig e – chan eil fhios a’m an robh eaglais ann aig an àm. Well, choisrig e e. Well, am fuaran gus an latha an-diugh Tobar Meiricheard a their iad ris agus an cladh Clachan Meiricheard. Chan eil teagamh nach robh eaglais ann uaireigin.

The above may be rendered in translation as follows:

There was a tree over in Strathglass and this cow was licking the base of the tree every single day until, at last, they began to dig up the base of the tree and found three bells in a hollow. Well, the folk of Strathglass call this place the Cattle-stance of the Bells to this day. Well, Merchard, you’ve heard about St Merchard, Great Merchard of the Wonders. Well, they got word that he had left a bell at three cemeteries or boulders. Well, he came up to a height at this place and he sat down and called for the bell. It duly appeared from beside a burn and there’s a piece of land beside the burn and he took some water and blessed it – I don’t know if there was a church there at that time. Well, he blessed it. Well, there’s a spring there to this very day and they call it Tobar Meirichead [St Merchard’s Well] and the cemetery is called Clachan Meiricheard [St Merchard’s Church]. There’s no doubt that a church was there at some point.

Let us now come full circle and return to the bell with this final following anecdote as recited by Glenmoriston native Peter ‘Struy’ MacDonald, which was transcribed by Calum Maclean on the 13th of September 1952:

CLAG MEIRCHEARD

A-nise, an cuala sibh iomradh riamh air a’ chlag a bha an Clachan Meircheard? A-nise, chan eil fhios ’m ciamar a bha tòiseach an eachraidh aig a’ chlag, ach bha Suidhe Meiricheard ann anns a’ mhunadh eadar Baile an Tom Buidhe agus Giuthsachan, mullach a’ mhunaidh agus bha Fuaran Meiricheard glè fhaisg air an rathad an ceum a tha a’ dol a dh’ionnsaigh a’ chladh a’ tionndann dhen rathad mhòr aig Baile ’n Tom Buidhe agus bha Clachan Meiricheard far a bheil e gun teagamh. A-nise, tha clach – bha e air a ràdha an còmhnaidh – agus ’s tric a chuala mi sin aig Griogar, gum biodh an clag a’ bualadh nuair a bhiodh tìodhlaiceadh a’ dol a thighinn. Agus cho fad ’s a bheireadh iad brìgh as an fhuaim a bha an clag a’ dèanamh, “Falbh dhachaigh, falbh dhachaigh gu do dhachaigh bhuam,” a bheil sìbh a’ tuigsinn. Agus nuair a chluinneadh iad sin an ceann latha na dhà bhiodh tìodhlaiceadh bàs air choreigin glè fhaisg orra a’ tighinn a thìodhlaiceadh na chladh. A-nise, tha clach anns a’ chladh làmh ris an àite sa bheil Tobar a’ Bhàistidh mar a their iad – bheil sìbh a’ tuigsinn. A-nise, tha clach ann an sin, far am biodh an clag na shuidhe air. Agus tha cumadh a’ chlag ann agus gum biodh e ann an sin. A-nise, cha robh duine sam bith ann an Gleanna Mhoireasdainn aig an robh cuimhne, nuair a bha mise òg, air teangaidh a bhith sa chlag – a bheil sìbh a’ tuigsinn – ach bha cuimhne aca air a’ chlag fhèin. Agus an fheadhainn air an d’rinn sinn iomradh mar-tha, coigrich a bha ag obair mun a’ mhuileann a bha sin, chuala mise m’ athair ag ràdha tric gur h-e feadhainn dhiubh-san, nach robh a’ creidsinn anns an naidheachdan seo, a dh’fhalbh leis a’ chlag agus a thilg san abhainn e. Agus an ath-latha thuit air gun robh an abhainn ann an tuil uamhasach, agus gheàrr i pìos dhen a’ bhruaich mun cuairt is thuit e air a’ chlag is tha àit’ tollta ann fo Dhal Chreichard – nach robh sgeul riamh air a’ chlag an sin. A-nise, fear dhen fheadhainn a thug air falbh an clag b’ aithne dhomh-sa mi fhìn e. Tha cuimhne agam air na sheann-duine is mise nam bhrocach òg. Ach is suarach cho math is a dh’èrich dha aonan dhiubh. Ach tha feadhainn eile a bhuineas dha Gleanna Mhoireasdainn agus tha fhios aca air seo glè mhath. The fear Raghnall Dean ann. Tha e a’ fuireach sa Mhanachainn, agus tha fhios aige-s’ air an fhìrinn a tha seo gun deach falbh leis a’ chlag is a thilgeil san abhainn. B’ e sin deireadh a’ chlag. Chan fhacas bhuaith’ sin e.

Tha e coltach rium-sa gun robh eaglais far a bheil an cladh.

And the above may be rendered in translation as follows:

ST MERCHARD’S BELL

Now have you ever heard mention of the bell in St Merchard’s Cemetery? Now, I don’t recall the story about how the bell begins but Suidhe Meiricheard [St Merchard’s Seat] is on the hill between Balintombuie and Giuthsachan, on top of the hill and Fuaran Meiricheard [St Merchard’s Spring] is near the road on the way towards the cemetery when leaving the highway from Balintombuie and St Merchard’s Cemetery is where it is without a doubt. Now the stone – they always said it – and often I heard Gregor say it, that the bell would ring when a funeral was coming. And as far as they could make sense of the noise that the bell made, “Go home, go home, to your own home,” you understand. And when they’d hear that in a day or two they’d bury some who died quite near them and they were going to be buried in the cemetery. Now there’s a stone near to the place where Tobar a’ Bhàistidh [The Well of Baptism] as they call it, you see. Now there’s a stone there where the bell would sit on. And the indentation of the bell is there as if it should be there. Now not anyone in Glenmoriston who remembers, when I was young, the bell had a tongue – you see – but they remembered the bell itself. And those whom we’ve mentioned already, a stranger was working over in that mill, I heard my father saying often that it was a few of them, if you believe in such tales, that removed the bell and threw into the river. And the next day it so fell out that the river was in a terrible spate, and a piece of the surrounding bank was swept away and it fell onto the bell and there is a holed place below Dalreicart – there was never any sing of that bell. Now one of those who had removed the bell I knew him myself. I remember him as an old man when I was but a young lad. But it’s just as well as what happened to one of them. But a few others who belong to Glenmoriston and they know fine well about this. There’s a man Ronald Dean and he stays in Beauly, and he knows the truth about how the bell was removed and thrown into the river. That was the end of the bell. From then on it was never seen again.

It appears to me that there was a church where the cemetery now is.

Of biographical information about St Merchard the information is rather scanty but a sketch was provided by Fr Michael Barrett in The Calendar of Scottish Saints:

5th or 6th century. This saint was born of pagan parents in the district of Kincardine-O’Neil, Aberdeenshire.

In his early youth he embraced the Christian Faith, and was ordained priest by Saint Ternan, who associated the young man with himself in his missionary labours. In later life he journeyed to Rome, and was there consecrated bishop. Returning to Scotland he ended his days in Aberdeenshire. At Kincardine-O’Neil a church was erected over the spot where the chariot which was conveying his remains to burial was miraculously stopped. A fair was formerly held there annually on Saint Merchard’s feast and during the octave.

One of the saint’s churches was in Glenmoriston. The ancient burial ground which adjoins it is still in use, and some few stones of the old building are yet to be seen there. The local tradition tells that the saint when labouring as a missionary in Strathglass with two companions, discovered, by previous revelation, three bright new bells buried in the earth Taking one for himself, he gave the others to his fellow-missionaries, bidding each to erect a church on the spot where his bell should ring for the third time of its own accord; undertaking to do the same with regard to his own. One of these companions founded a church at Glenconvinth, in Strathglass, the other at Broadford, Isle of Skye.

Saint Merchard travelled towards Glenmoriston. His bell rang first at Suidh Mhercheird (Merchard’s Seat), again at Fuaran Mhercheird (Merchard’s Well), near Ballintombuie, where a spring of excellent water treasured by both Catholics and Protestants still bears his name, and a third time at the spot where the old churchyard, called Clachan Mhercheird, close by the river Moriston, recalls his memory.

The bell of the saint was preserved there for centuries. After the church fell into decay early in the seventeenth century, the bell remained in the churchyard. The narrow-pointed spar of granite on which it rested still stands there. The bell, unfortunately, was wantonly removed, by Protestant strangers about thirty years ago, to the great indignation of the inhabitants of the glen, Protestant as well as Catholic; it has never since been discovered.

Tradition has it that the bell was wont to ring of its own accord when a funeral came in sight, and that whenever it was removed from its usual position it was invariably found restored miraculously to its place, Many persons still living in the glen have seen the bell, and the grandparents of some of them used to relate that they heard it ring in their youth. Devotion to this saint was very strong in that neighbourhood in Catholic times, and he is still regarded by Catholics as the local patron.

An additional source for traditions about St Merchard stems from William Mackay, a local historian and authority who compiled Urquhart and Glenmoriston: Olden Times in a Highland Parish:

A tradition which has probably come down from his own time tells that he was the first who preached the gospel in Glenmoriston, and to him the ancient church of that Glen—Clachan Mhercheird was dedicated.

Erchard, or Merchard, as he latterly came to be called, was a native of the district of Kincardine O’Neil, on the southern slopes of the Grampians. He became a zealous Christian in his early youth, and Ternan not only ordained him priest, but also appointed him his own coadjutor. It was perhaps while he laboured with Ternan that he visited our Parish. In after life he went to Rome, and was consecrated bishop by Pope Gregory. On his return journey he visited the Picts of Pictavia, now Poitou, in France, and brought back to the truth such of them as had lapsed into paganism. Falling sick, he prayed God that he might not see death till he arrived in his own country, and hastened northward through France and England. He reached Kincardin O’Neil to be honourably received by his people, and then died. According to his own instructions, his body was placed on a cart drawn by two horses, which were allowed to go forth where they listed. He was buried where they first stopped, and a church was built over his grave.

Such, briefly, are the circumstances of his life and death, as given in the Breviary of Aberdeen and other ancient writings. Much more is told of him in the traditions of Glenmoriston. While labouring in Strathglass with two missionary companions, his attention was drawn to a white cow which day after day stood gazing at a certain tree, without bending its neck to eat, and yet went home each evening as well filled as the other cattle. Curiosity, or a higher influence, led him to dig up the earth at the foot of the tree, and there he found three bells, new and burnished as if fresh from the maker’s hands. Taking one himself, and giving the others to his companions, he bade each go his own way and erect a church where his bell should ring the

third time of its own accord. One went eastward, and founded the church of Glenconvinth; another westward, and erected his church at Broadford in Skye; while Merchard himself travelled southward in the direction of Glenmoriston. When he reached the hill now called Suidh Mhercheird, or Merchard’s Seat, his bell rang for the first time; it again rang at Fuaran Mhercheird (Merchard’s Well) at Ballintombuie; and it rang the third time at that spot by the side of the Eiver Moriston which is now the old burying-ground of Glenmoriston. There he built his church—Clachan Mhercheird; and there and in the surrounding districts he for a time taught and preached. He became the patron saint of Glenmoriston; and his solicitude for the Glenmoriston people has not yet ceased. His acts of mercy and love have been without number. One example may be given. In former times, when a tenant died, his best horse went to the proprietor as each-ursainn—herezeld, or heriot. If the deceased left no horse, a horse's value was taken in cattle or sheep. On one occasion—twelve hundred years after Merchard’s death—it came to pass that a poor Glenmoriston tenant died, leaving a widow to succeed him. He had left no horse, and the ground-officer took the heriot in sheep. That same night, as the officer lay in bed, an unearthly voice spake to him:—

“’S mise Merchard mor nam feart,

’S mi dol dachaidh chum an anmoich;

Is innis thusa do Mhac-Phadruig

Nach fheaird e gu brath a’ mheanbh-chrodh!

(“I am great Merchard of the miracles, passing homeward in the night. Declare thou unto Mac Phatrick [the laird] that the widow’s sheep will never bring him good.”)

With the morning’s sun the terror-stricken man appeared before his master and delivered the ghostly message. The sheep were instantly returned to the widow, and from that day until now no heriot has been exacted in Glenmoriston.

Merchard’s bell was preserved at his clachan until about the year 1870, when it went amissing—removed, it is supposed, by strangers employed in the district. Its powers and attributes were of a wonderful order. It indicated, as we have seen, where Merchard’s church was to be built. Until the very last the sick and infirm who touched it in faith were strengthened and cured. After the church became ruinous, in the seventeenth century, the bell was kept on an ancient tombstone, specially set apart

for it. If removed to any other place it mysteriously found its way back. When a funeral approached, it rang of its own accord, saying, “Dhachaidh! dhachaidh! gu do leabaidh bhuan!”—“Home! home! to thy lasting place of rest!” If thrown into water it floated on the surface, but this the people were slow to put to the test, in deference to Merchard’s warning:—

“’S mise Merchard thar an fhonn:

Cuimhnichibh trom trom mo shàr’adh;

’S fiach’ nach cuir sibh air-son geall

An clag so air a’ pholl a shnamhadh.”

(“I am Merchard from across the land: keep ye my sufferings deep in your remembrance ; and see that ye do not for a wager [or trial] place this bell in the pool to swim.”)

All of the above traditions were summarised rather neatly by Calum Maclean in his only published book The Highlands (1959):

Glenmoriston is a glen of wonders and most of the wonders were associated with its patron saint, Merchard. Merchard was a disciple of Saint Ternan, a follower of Saint Ninian. The story goes that at one time Merchard and two missionary companions were in Strathglass, and while they were there their attention was drawn to a white cow that stood daily and gazed at a certain tree and, though it did not appear to graze at all, returned home each evening quite as satiated as the other cows. Merchard dug at the foot of the tree and there found three new and shining bells. He took one bell himself and gave one each to his companions and told them to go forth and build a church on the spot where the bells rang of their own accord for the third time. His two companions went on their way and Merchard came southwards to Glenmoriston. When he reached the top of a hill now called Merchard’s Seat the bell rang for the first time. He went on and the bell rang for a second time at Merchard’s Spring at Balintombuie. The bell rang for the third time at a spot beside the River Moriston where the old burial-ground of the glen now is, and there Merchard decided to build his church. The bell continued to be miraculous long, long after the saint’s death and, if it was taken from the ruined church buildings, it always found its way back in a mysterious manner. The sick and aged were cured if they touched it with full faith in its powers, and it used to ring on the approach of a burial. It was preserved among the ruins of Merchard’s church until almost the end of last century, when some sacrilegious person removed it and cast it into the river. In the ruins of the old church there is also a baptismal font that never dries up even during the most prolonged drought. The font is still there and bears witness to the powers of Merchard.

References:

NB SSS 18, pp. 1558–59; 1581–83

NB SSS 19, pp. 1608–10

Fr Michael Barrett, “Saint Yrchard or Merchard, Bishop”, The Calendar of Scottish Saints (Fort Augutus: The Abbey Press, 2nd ed., 1919)

Frederick Odo Blundell, The Catholic Highlands of Scotland, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: Sands & Co., 1909–17)

William Mackay, Urquhart and Glenmoriston: Olden Times in a Highland Parish (Inverness: Northern Counties Publishing Co., 1893), pp. 322–26

Calum I. Maclean, The Highlands (Inbhirnis: Club Leabhar, 1975)

William Owen, Glenmoriston: Places of Interest (Glenmoriston: printed for the author, 1973)

Image:

Dalreichart cemetery, Glenmoriston.

The Miraculous Footprints of Finlay Munro

At Torgyle, Glenmoriston, is a set of footprints on which no grass grows. The story behind them was told to Calum Maclean from James ‘Jimmy’ Warren, a farmer then aged around sixty, which he later transcribed on the 8th of September 1952:

Well, my grandmother, she was a little girl. She wasn’t there at this service, but she remembered him. It is not so very long ago, you know. He was the Rev. Mr. Finlay Munro. Well, of course, at that time there was no churches, nothing, not Bibles or anything else. Well, it was outside. Well, there was a tree growing there, a birch tree.
There was three branches out of this tree. And he took that as his text, the Trinity, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost in one. That was his text. So he preached. And there were scoffs there. And he turned round and told them that none of them would die a natural death. And none of them did die a natural death. They all died a violent death. And he finished off his sermon by saying:

“To show,” he says, “a testimony,” he says, “that I am speaking the truth, these footprints will remain forever. And there’s never been a blade of grass there. Now in 1907. I think we had an awful storm of wind, a terrible storm it was. And the top was blown o! this tree. The top was just blown right off. Now, strange to say that one of the roots was going through the instep of the step, one of the steps. Well, if the tree was uprooted, it would have uprooted the footprints. It was just the point that broke off. So it shows you there must have been something in it. Of course, I heard ministers saying they were sceptical of it, but you can’t get away. There’s not a blade of grass. And they are there since. I remember them. And my grandmother remembered him. She was a little girl at the time, Rev. Finlay Munro. I have heard stories about graves on which grass would not grow. It is something like that factor in Sutherlandshire. I think it was at that great clearances. Well, they buried him and he wouldn’t stay down. And at last they put a stake through him to keep him down. That was at that great Sutherland Clearances, you know. The keeper that was here not long ago, he was telling me it was quite true. They put a stake through his body. That was the only thing that would keep him down. The earth wouldn’t take him. He was that wicked, I suppose. They weren’t very good, some of the factors. It wasn’t bad here at all. The Grants weren’t bad at all. Glenmoriston wasn’t a glen for clearances at all. In Invergarry it was bad, yes, very bad. Well, there was a lot of the Glenmoriston people went over to Invergarry. And  every one of them they used to send them back to be buried up here. They all sent them back.
They called that “tìodhlacadh a-measg nan cairdean, còmhla ris na caìrdean.”

There was one not so many years ago from Glengarry. And she was as poor she hadn’t what would take her across, you see, And she was forever praying to get back, that she would be buried at.Clachan Mairicheard with her own people. Well, she got her wish. A few friends collected together and they collected the money and brought her here.

Unsurprisingly, perhaps, Calum Maclean mentions the very same tradition in The Highlands (1959):

No less mysterious but of a later date are the ‘Miraculous Footprints’ of Glenmoriston. It was towards the end of last century that a noted lay-preacher of the Free Church was conducting an open-air service one Sunday at Torgyle. His name, I am told, was Finlay Munro. He was a huge and powerful man. In the course of his preaching he noticed that a couple of his listeners appeared to scoff at his teaching. He turned angrily to them and predicted that they would come to a violent and untimely end, an end such as all scoffers merited. As a testimony to the truth of his prediction he said that the print of his two feet would remain for ever in the ground on which he stood. The footprints are still there, deeply imprinted in the black soil. They are to be seen about fifty yards north of the roadway as it turns to the west nearing Torgyle. I went to see them one morning in early September. They are huge footprints, three or four inches into the dark soil, and all around there was lush, green grass. The footprints are miraculous without the slightest doubt.

Finlay Munro was, by all accounts, a strange yet charismatic figure. A native of Tain, he became famous for tramping the byways of the Highlands and Islands preaching an evangelical gospel to anyone who would listen. After a productive ministry on the Isle of Lewis, he made a tour of the mainland Highlands during which he preached in Glenmoriston in 1827. His sermon, on the text ‘Prepare to meet thy God, O Israel’ (Amos 4:12), was generally well received but some Catholics from Glengarry heckled him, calling him ‘a cheat and a liar.’ Munro is supposed to have closed his Bible and retorted that the ground on which he stood would bear witness to the truth of what he said until the Day of Judgement comes. Thus the marks on the ground are said to be his footprints, where nothing will grow.

A report published in The Telegraph on the 22nd of September 1976 carried the story that the footprints had been stolen:

A resident of Glen Moriston in Scotland, Hugh Gordon, said, “It must have been tourists who did this terrible thing. We pity them.”

The Sunday People newspaper said, “It is an eerie story,” and offered a case of whisky as a reward for information leading to the return of the cursed footprints.

The story concerns Finlay Munro, a fiery evangelist who preached outdoor sermons some 150 years ago.

At one service, because he was heckled, he put a curse on the spot where he stood. He promised the wrath of heaven would descend upon anyone who desecrated the spot and no grass would ever grow on his footprints.

For those 150 odd years nothing did grow on the spot and people in Glen Moriston, awed by the story, put a fence around the footprints.

But last week the fence was found broken down and the earth dug up. Somebody had stolen the footprints!

The reward offered by the newspaper was accompanied by a statement that, “the winner must not be afraid to face the Curse of Preacher Finlay.”

They seemingly reappeared at some point as Finlay Munro’s footprints can still be seen at Torgyle, Glenmoriston. A protective cairn surrounds them and marks the place where they have been imprinted in the clay since 1827 as ‘a muddy testament to the religious truths proclaimed by an itinerant evangelical preacher.’

Illustrations:
The Footprints from ‘A Highland Evangelist’, 1940s

Jimmy Warren Snr and Jimmy Warren Jnr, 1950s, Dulchreichart, Glenmoriston

Protective cairn surrounding the footprints

Close-up of the footprints

References:

Anon., ‘Scottish Legend’, The Telegraph (22 Sep., 1976), 24

Rev. Murdo Macaulay. Aspects of the Religious History of Lewis: Up to the Disruption of 1843 (S.l.: s.n., 1986)

Fraser MacDonald, ‘A Muddy Testimony: Finlay Munro’s Footprints and other Calvinist Landscapes’, [http://www.frasermacdonald.com/a-muddy-testament-finlay-munros-footprints-and-other-calvinist-landscapes] <posted: 03 Dec 2012>

Calum Maclean, The Highlands (London: B. T. Batsford, 1959)

John Macleod, ‘A Highland Evangelist’ in Rev. G.N. M. Collins (ed.), Principal John Macleod D.D. (Edinburgh: Free Church Publications Committee, 1951)

SSS CIM NB 18, ‘Glenmoriston Footprints’, 1584–86. Transcribed by Calum Maclean on the 8th of September 1952 from James ‘Jimmy’ Warren (Dulchreichart, Glenmoriston)

Bonnie Prince Charlie – A Case of Mistaken Identity

Many if not the vast majority of Jacobites were fiercely loyal to Bonnie Prince Charlie even when a reward of £30,000 – an astronomical sum in those days – was set upon his head by the Hanoverian Government. The following is a short historical anecdote recorded by Calum Maclean on the 8th of September 1952 from the recitation of James Warren, then aged sixty who was a farmer from Dalcreichart, Glenmoriston, about a merchant named MacKenzie who was mistaken for the Prince.

 

Bha e ’na oidhichear ann an arm a’ Phrionns’ agus bha e a’ dul mu’n cuair^st ’na cheanniche mus faigheadh iad greim air. Ach co dhiubh fhuair iad greim air faisg air Ceanna Chroc(hc). Agus bha e uamhasach colta’ ris a’ Phrionns’, dìreach anabharrach colt’ ris a’ Phrionns’. Agus chuir iad as dà, ach dìreach dar a bha e a’ dul as an t-saoghal thuirt e, “A shlaoightearan,” ors’ eis’, “mhara si’ am Prionns’. Mhara si’ am Prionns’.”

 

Well, an t-am sin cha robh tréinichean, cha robh nicheann eile ann. Mus d’ ràinig e, chaidh an ceann a chur a Dhùn Èideann. Bha iad an dùil gun robh am Prionns’ ac(hc)a agus thug sin cothrom dha’n a’ Phrionns’ teicheadh(g). Bha am Prionns’, bha iad ann an uamhaidh shuas an seo ann an Ceanna Chroc(hc). Bha e a’ fuireach ann an sin is bha seachd dhaoine o Gleanna Moireasdainn còmhla ris. Agus thog iad taigh air agus bha iad ’ga bhiadhadh is a chuile nì eile fad na h-ùine an sin. Is dar a ghabh iad beannachd leis bha fear dhiubh nach tug e a làimh sin dha duine tuillidh an deaghaidh sin. Cha tug e dha duine tuillidh an deaghaidh sin an deaghaidh a toir dha’n a’ Phrionns’. Well, bha poit aige ann an sin. A’ phoit a bh’ aca bha i ann an Achadh na Conbhairean – seo àit’ beag am bràigh Inbhir Mhoireasdainn beagan bhliadhnaichean air ais chaidh i dha’na’ Mhuseum a dh’Inbhir Nis agus am a’ chogaidh chaidh a tilⁱgeil a-mach airson scrap. Cha deach i ach a lendadh, cha deach i ach a toir’ dhai’ airson uìne, dìreach air son uìne. Chaill iad a’ phoit mar sin. Well, thug sin cothrom dha teicheadh(g) as an àit. Tha cuimhneachan ann am sin, monument aig tao’ urad an rathaid ag innse airson a’ Phrionns’ agus tha an uaigh aige a-rithist fo’n rathad. Agus a chionn gràinne bhliadhnaichean air ais fhuair iad gunna an sin, seann-mhusgaid. C’iu ’s e a’ mhusguid aige-se a bh’ ann as nach robh. Bidh e colt’ nach robh musguid aige dar a bha e ’na cheannaiche. Ach fhuair iad a’ mhusgaid anns an allt dìreach, alltan beag a’ dul seachad far a bheil e air a thìodhlacadh.

 

And the translation goes something like this:

 

He was an officer in the Prince’s army and he was wandering around as a merchant before they arrested him. But, at any rate, the arrested him near Ceannacnoc. He had a close resemblance to the Prince, he was very like the Prince in appearance. And the executed him and just as he was dying he exclaimed, “You scoundrels,” he said, “you’ve killed the Prince. You’ve killed the Prince.”

 

Well, at that time there were no trains or anything like that. Before it came, his head was taken to Edinburgh. They thought that they had the Prince and this gave the [real] Prince an opportunity to escape. The Prince along with others stayed up in a cave at Ceannacroc. He stayed there along with seven men from Glenmoriston. They build a shelter there and they fed him along with everything else for a while there. And when they bade farewell to him there was one of them who never offered a handshake to anyone else after that. He never gave his hand to anyone else after offering it to the Prince. Well, he had a pot there; they had a pot in Achadh na Conbhairean – that is a wee place in the Braes of Invermoriston and a few years ago it was taken to the Museum in Inverness and during the war it was thrown out for scrap. It was only lent out and it was only given to them for a short spell. That’s the way they lost the pot. Well, that gave him an opportunity to escape from the place. There is a monument by the roadside saying that he was [in support] of the Prince and his grave is below the road. And a few years ago, they found a gun there, an old musket; whether it belonged to him or not. It appears that he did not own a musket when he was a merchant. But they found the musket just in a wee burn that goes by the place in which he is buried.

 

Roderick MacKenzie was the son of an Edinburgh goldsmith who fought as an officer in Bonnie Prince Charlie’s army. It was often commented that MacKenzie bore an uncanny likeness to the Prince. In the summer of 1746, after the defeat at Culloden, government soldiers cornered a group of Jacobites, including the Prince and MacKenzie, in Glenmoriston. A local historian and author, William Mackay, continues the story:

 

But the most tragic event that happened in Glenmoriston was the death of Roderick Mackenzie. This young man was a native of Edinburgh, and probably a son of Colin Mackenzie, jeweller in that city, who interested himself in the cause of the Stewarts in The Fifteen. Roderick, who followed Colin’s politics as well as his trade, joined Prince Charles, to whom he bore some personal resemblance, and became one of his body-guard. After Culloden, he wandered through the Highlands, and happened to be in our Parish when it became known that Charles had escaped from the Western Isles, and was lurking among the mountains of the mainland of Inverness-shire. Unfortunately, a party of the King’s soldiers, who were eager to win the £30,000 placed on the Prince's head, came upon him in Glenmoriston, and, taking him for the royal fugitive, endeavoured to seize him. He made no attempt to undeceive them, but, drawing his sword, refused to be taken alive. They thereupon riddled him with bullets, and he expired with the words on his lips—“You have murdered your Prince."

 

The head of the hero was carried in triumph to Fort- Augustus, where Macdonald of Kingsburgh was questioned as to its identity. His evidence was unsatisfactory, and when Cumberland left for England, he took the head with him to be submitted to other witnesses. Richard Morison, who had been the Prince’s valet, and now lay under sentence of death at Carlisle, was summoned to London to identify the head; but he was delayed through illness, and before he arrived it was beyond recognition. The Government were, however, soon satisfied that Charles was still alive; but Mackenzie's self-sacrifice slackened for a time the exertions of the troops, and probably saved the Prince. It certainly saved his valet, who was granted a pardon and allowed to cross to France.

 

In a footnote, Mackay also subjoins a piece of poetry composed by Dugald Graham, the rhyming historian of The Forty-Five:

 

Rod’rick Mackenzie, a merchant-man.

At Ed’nburgh town had join’d the Clan,

Had in the expedition been.

And at this time durst not be seen.

Being skulking in Glen-Morriston,

Him the soldiers lighted on.

Near about the Prince’s age and size,

Genteely drest, in no disguise.

In ev’ry feature, for’s very face

Might well be taken in any case.

And lest he’d like a dog be hang’d.

He chose to die with sword in hand.

And round him like a madman struck.

Vowing alive he’d ne’er be took.

Deep wounds he got, and wounds he gave;

At last a shot he did receive.

And as he fell, them to convince,

Cry’d, Ah! Alas! You’ve killed your Prince;

Ye murderers and bloody crew,

You had no orders thus to do.

 

Writing in The Highlands (1959), Calum Maclean himself gives his own rendition of the story:

 

The saddest and noblest figure in the history of Glenmoriston during the ‘Forty-five was the travelling merchant Roderick MacKenzie. He had been out and wandered over the Highlands after Culloden. He was a very handsome man and bore a very close resemblance to Prince Charles. According to the tradition of Glenmoriston and Lochaber, the merchant’s resemblance to the Prince was used to set the Hanoverians on the wrong trail and while they pursued MacKenzie in one direction the Prince went off in the other. Roderick MacKenzie was in Glenmoriston when it was heard that Prince Charles had made his escape from Benbecula and was among the mountains of the western mainland. A party of Hanoverian soldiers came upon MacKenzie on the highway at Ceannacroc in the glen, and, thinking he was the Prince, they tried to capture him. MacKenzie drew his sword and defended himself. The soldiers then riddled his body with bullets. MacKenzie fell and in his dying breath exclaimed:

 

“You have killed your Prince at last!”

 

The head was severed from the dead body and brought to Cumberland at Fort Augustus. The Duke brought the head to London but it was beyond recognition before reliable witnesses arrived on the spot to identify it. In the meantime the Prince was safe and sound, but the self-sacrifice of Roderick MacKenzie had saved his life quite as truly as the efforts of Flora MacDonald and others. MacKenzie’s headless body was buried near the roadway beside a little stream that to this day bears the name of Caochan a’ Cheannaich—the Merchant’s Stream. A cairn marked the spot where he fell.

 

The memorial cairn to Roderick MacKenzie can be found by the side of the A887 that goes through Glenmoriston. His grave, on the other side of the road, on the banks of the Moriston, has been made accessible by the work of local historic societies and the Clan MacKenzie. The inscription on the plaque reads as follows:

 

At this spot in 1746 died Roderick Mackenzie an Officer in the Army of Prince Charles Edward Stuart of the same size and similar resemblance to his Royal Prince when surrounded and overpowered by the troops of the Duke of Cumberland gallantly died in attempting to save his fugitive leader from further pursuit.

 

References:

SSS NB 18, pp. 1555–57

William MacKay, Urquhart and Glenmoriston: Olden Times in a Highland Parish (Inverness: Northern Counties Publishing Co., 1893)

Calum Maclean, The Highlands (London: Batsford, 1959)

 

Image:

Memorial Cairn to Roderick MacKenzie, Glenmoriston