Each month we will be featuring a guest writer and this month is Christine Beveridge. She grew up in the Town of Thurso Caithness leaving in 1955 when I married a young doctor from Aberdeen. For most of her married life she lived on small Islands surrounded by turbulent seas, starting over the Minch with Stornaway in Lewis in the Outer Hebrides and ending on the beautiful Island of Tasmania in Australia's notorious Bass Strait.
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"In Meditation" Give me a countryside, a zephyr breeze, A seat below a bower of leafy trees, A pipe, a book, and silence deep and still And eyes to see a mountain or a hill. Give me an ear to hear the linnet's song, Give me a heart to know the right from wrong Lift me above the sins I fain would do, And give me strength at all times to be true. If I must live, then let my life be free; If I will err, the fault is all with me; If I must laugh when tears should dim my eyes One lives but once, and then, alas! One dies. Man's soul can rise to heights unseen, unknown; It resteth not beneath a marble stone, The glory of the future, who can see, Or pierce the veil beyond eternity? Give me the countryside, a zephyr breeze, A seat below a bower of leafy trees, A pipe, a book, and silence deep and still And eyes to see a mountain or a hill. Robert Mackay was born and raised in Caithness, his birth place a small whitewashed crofter's cottage in Stemster. He was the sixth child in a family of eight children (two of whom died in childhood) born to crofter Donald Mackay and his wife Christina. The records show how Robert's grandparents, Donald and Isabella Mackay (nee Paul) were the first family members to settle in Stemster. They had, in fact, been evicted from their land at Melness in Sutherland at the time of the 19th century Clearances. The District of Strathnaver (Mackay Country) had covered the whole of the northwestern comer of the mainland of Scotland. Until, in the 1800s, all the Mackay lands had to be sold to pay the debts of the then Clan Chief who did not have the mental requisite for managing the Clan estates. This single event, in no small measure, was to lead latterly to the Sutherland Clearances of the 1900's. The Clan Mackay and the Sutherland Earls had, for generations, been engaged in bitter conflict, causing great hardship on the inhabitants. It was not unusual for defeated kinsmen of Mackay or Sutherland clans to be driven from their homes. The Countess of Sutherland, who gained control of Mackay country, would not have batted a pretty eyelid when she ordered the eviction of the crofter tenants from the glens, to make room for more sheep. An estimated 15,000 crofter tenants were driven from their land. This was ethnic cleansing on a grand scale. Adversity enslaves some minds and lights the flame of genius in others, and history tells us that out of the ashes of the enslavement of those unfortunate people there emerged a spirit of determination, courage and fortitude. Their suffering had produced a Highland character with a passionate anger towards injustice, a thirst for knowledge, a love of beauty, and a strong sense of duty, devotion and allegiance to their Church, Clan and Country. This was the background to my father' s life. A family's struggle to survive in troubled times, their small advancement against the odds, and a good-humoured capacity to laugh at adversity. But I know full well that it helped to form his character and cradle his talent. It is not easy to grasp, in today's more enlightened times, how those crofters of the 1800's suffered a long history of struggle and hardship. Living at subsistence level, they were too often exploited and driven from their homes by their landlord owners. In 1883, because of Highland unrest, the British government set up a Royal Commission that led to the introduction of the Crofter's Holdings (Scotland) Act. The Act gave the people security and a land Court to adjudicate in the fixing of rents. Indeed, it helped to change the fortunes of the Caithness crofters for the better, and it was into this improved atmosphere that my father was born in 1894. In a closely-knit community, hardships had bonded the Highland society together, creating a feeling of real kinship. The Protestant Church, the Kirk, played a big part in the everyday life of the crofters. Religious instruction was one of the first things learnt at the Stemster school and no family on "the hill" missed out Sunday worship. My father told of how he visited a neighbour's house early one morning. He had been sent to collect a pail of milk, because the family cow was "eild" at the time. He remembered hearing, for the first time in his life, the 23rd Psalm, sung with fervour by this family in the old style - the lines were read first, then they were sung. Although he was a very young boy at the time, the mere act of joining in this family' s morning worship made a tremendous impression on him. Then there was my grandmother Christina, ambitious for her children. She put great effort into ensuring they were well educated, encouraging their interests in music and literature. Robert, the apple of his mother' s eye, showed musical talent and was given every opportunity to advance that talent. He was taught music for the violin by Mr. Macgregor Roy of Thurso, and, once a week, walked the many miles from home to Thurso, sometimes trudging through severe winter blizzards, to attend his lessons. His enthusiasm never waned and he became an accomplished violinist at an early age. Sadly, Robert's family fortunes did not prosper enough to enable him to continue his education, and at 16 years of age he left school to seek work on neighbouring farms. He was a high-spirited teenager who fully enjoyed the foolish merriment of youth and was in no hurry to contemplate his future path. But fate made the decision for him in the shape of the First World War. He was 20 years of age, full of youthful exuberance and yearning for adventure. He volunteered to join the "Gallant Seaforth Highlanders". As he wrote afterwards, in verse:
"From Caithness hills and dales they went, The war years passed in happy camaraderie for Robert, and he returned home in good spirits. He loved the wild beauty of Caithness, the majestic cathedral-like craggy cliffs of its ancient coastline, the great Atlantic Ocean crashing onto its shores, the deserted moors and meandering rivers. This proud land, country of the Clan Mackay, delighted Robert's romantic nature. He was immensely proud of his Clan heritage, and a patriotic Scot. During and after the First World War, Robert and his friend William (The Real) Mackay formed "The Thurso Concert Party". Their shows, in aid of local charities, took place in village halls, hotels and humble bothies in and around Caithness and Sutherland. This little band of Thespians nearly always played to a full house in remote and isolated communities. Remember it was a time before television. Radio, or "The Wireless (as it was called) was in its infancy; there was no hi-fi, and the humble gramophone was a wind-up contraption. Even the telephone was a new luxury that only the wealthy could afford. It was a time when most homes were lit by the old Cruisue lamp, later to be followed by paraffin lamps and gaslight. Even in the early 1940s some Thurso streets were still being lit by gas, the lamplighter doing his nightly rounds followed by a gaggle of children. Winters in the north meant short days with darkness falling in mid afternoon. Add to that the wartime blackouts, and you have a "captive audience" to practise your talents on, and talents there were in abundance - pipers, fiddlers, accordionists, poets, writers, eloquent readers of the great poetic works of Burns, Sir Walter Scott and Byron. Choirs sang everything from Gaelic mouth-music to Mendelssohn. My father's writings were first published in the early 1930's when he showed himself as a keen observer of his own Caithness people and the little humours and tragedies of their lives. He liked to gently satirise many of the local characters, pinpointing humorous hidden meanings that would have been, at the time, fully understood by all. "Ah, the ladies, bless them" he was known to remark, tongue in cheek. How well he understood the battle of the sexes long before it was called "'Women's Lib" and he thought the male of the species was no match for the determined she!! His humorous poem "I Never Thocht," about the resourceful Jessag, taps into the "fears of being caught" of many a young Caithness chiel.
"Ma mither aye telt me a wife I should get, Robert was an avid promoter of the Caithness vernacular, and an admirer of the Caithness poet Pastor John Horne for his work in preserving the Doric. He liked, especially, Horne's poems "County of Caithness", "Canny Countryside", " Summer Days in Cattiland" and the much loved and recited "Div ye mind?". My father often shared the concert platform with another of Caithness's gifted sons, the poet, writer and historian of Reay, Mr.Donald Mackay of Shebster, who was also known as "Jenny Horne". His recitals in Gaelic, as well as in English, of "The pig in the bed" and "Rangag" would bring the house down. Another of his compatriots and a close friend was the violinist and composer of pastoral airs, Dugald Mackay of Bettyhill, sometimes called the "Scott Skinner of the North." This splendid fiddler left a fine legacy for lovers of good Scottish music. The "Bard of Reay", Henry Henderson, was another of my father's cronies. In appearance Henry was the epitome of a Celtic poet, with strong features, long hair, deep, thoughtful, penetrating eyes, a powerful personality who wrote powerful verse. Reading his poem "Caithness, My Fatherland" still quickens the pulses of this expatriate. Then there was "Jinad" Maclean, well known for her poetry and verse written in the Caithness vernacular. She and my father often collaborated in what they described as getting their "Bitties in 'e paper." When it is remembered that Scots like these lived through two world wars and the Great Depression of the 30's, you can appreciate how indomitable the human spirit is. The talents of these northern Highlanders did not just centre on the muse. There was, I remember, the humble, penniless Thurso baker, Robert Dick, an amateur botanist, who classified and named a grand collection of previously unknown flowers and plants. He discovered the little yellow-scented flower commonly known as "Holy Grass," a plant that blooms for only two weeks in July and is unique to Caithness. He also won renown as an accomplished geologist. My father was the chief instigator in insuring that the Thurso Memorial Committee gave this gifted naturalist the acclaim that he deserved by the dedication of a memorial seat. To Be Continued |
With the help of the Internet Kristy now communicate with expatriate Scots worldwide and has retraced much of her father's family history. She is keen to make contact with any Caithnessians of my generation or older who may have personally known my father and have memories to impart. She can be reached at here or by snail mail at: Post Office Box 492, Kings Meadows, Launceston 7249, Tasmania, Australia.
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