The Greyfriars Poltergeist

It's a regrettable fact of life that the soft faces and tender hearts of youth are doomed to bloat and harden. Few lives illustrate this process of decline as aptly as that of Sir George Mackenzie. A thoughtful prose stylist, MacKenzie's early works Aretina, A Moral Paradox and The Religious Stoic, all written when he was in his mid-twenties, indicate a sensitivity belied by the reputation to which he has been condemned by posterity. He is now, sadly, better remembered as 'Bluidy George', the Lord Advocate whose prosecution of Covenanters seems, even by the standards of the age, brutal and vindictive.

It's fitting, perhaps, that the MacKenzie mausoleum, in Edinburgh's Greyfriars Kirkyard, is surrounded by Covenanters' graves. This might explain the evident bad-temper which, according to some accounts, has persisted more than three centuries after Sir George's death. Poltergeist activity in the churchyard, most virulent in the area around MacKenzie's tomb, has accounted for over 350 reported incidents since 1990. These psychic attacks are largely restricted to unexplained abrasions, though responsibility for the death of Edinburgh spiritualist Colin Grant, who suffered a heart attack weeks after attempting to perform an exorcism at the Mackenzie mausoleum, has also been attributed to Sir George.

It might be argued that MacKenzie's apparent irritation is justified: in 2004, teenagers were charged with the desecration of a grave after simulating sex acts with a skull found within his mausoleum. Organised ghost tours, meanwhile, cause a constant stream of visitors to trample over graves, video-cameras primed for the appearance of Sir George, for whom eternity must seem like a bedroom in the vicinity of a bothersome party. The scratches, bruises and hostile attention of unseen hands routinely reported by tourists seem a reasonable defence against this morbid and constant intrusion.

*Sir George's cruel streak might be explained by his descendency from the Seaforths, cursed to extinction by another MacKenzie - Kenneth, the Brahan Seer.


Sir George MacKenzie

The Brahan Seer

Born at Baile-na-cille on Lewis early in the seventeenth century, Coinneach Odhar (or Kenneth MacKenzie) was renowned from adolescence for prophecies gleaned from the contemplation of a small white stone. Various contradictory accounts survive of how Kenneth acquired this talisman. Most, however, involve him stumbling over it while working as a farm labourer in the vicinity of Loch Ussie. A story then recurs, with slight variations, that Kenneth, peering into the stone, was forewarned against a plot to murder him. Most accounts identify the wife of his employer as the thwarted malefactor, but the reader is left to ponder why she'd want to murder a menial employee in the first place. The matter of fact rendition of the affair by authors, writing for an audience better acquainted with Kenneth's reputation, seems to accept her antipathy toward him him as a matter of course.

While a tradition of crystal-gazing exists in many other cultures, Highland visionaries tended to be gifted (or afflicted) by the phenomena known as 'second sight'*. It's unclear if Kenneth possessed resources of his own, channeled through the stone, or was entirely dependent on its mysterious properties. He was undeniably prolific, though it's impossible to pass objective comment on the accuracy of his predictions. Some are startlingly specific, but most are so vague or couched in metaphor as to be meaningless. Sceptics would undoubtably attribute his apparent successes to luck, co-incidence or calculated anticipation. Within a century of Kenneth's death, a version of apocalypse was to be visited on the Highlands to which many of his gloomier references can be applied. The dire circumstances he foretold for several prominent local families were also vindicated: the downfall of MacKenzies, MacRaes and Ranalds was predicted with the barely subdued relish that eventually contributed to Kenneth's own doom.

According to one version of events, the seer was consulted by Lady Seaforth about the whereabouts of her missing husband and infuriated her by a gleeful allusion to his infidelity; another insists that he was overheard indulging in mere gossip. All accounts, however, concur that Lady Seaforth, not the first woman, it should be remembered, to consider him obnoxious, ordered his execution. The modern reader will doubtless remark that the stone, so eager to reveal the fate of Kenneth's neighbours, might have been more diligent in alerting him to the possible consequences of his insolence. He had little time to enjoy this inescapable irony. Peering balefully into the stone for a final time, he pronounced a curse against the Seaforths before being taken to Fortrose where he was confined within a tar-barrel and incinerated.**

* In the latter part of the nineteenth century, the Society for Psychical Research conducted an investigation in the phenomena of second sight. In our more prosaic age, its symptoms would more likely attract the attention of psychiatric nurses.

**According to Kenneth's prophecy, when the neighbouring Lairds of Gairloch, Chisholm, Grant and Raasay were, respectively, buck-toothed, hare-lipped, half-witted and a stammerer the extinction of the Seaforth line would be imminent. This valedictory prediction was vindicated on the 11th of January, 1815 when the final Lord Seaforth died having, tragically, survived four sons.