Once there lived a humble Highland crofter named Loftus McLeod, who led a quiet
life far from the madding crowd. With a stock of thirty cows, a babbling brook to
bathe in, and a trusty terrier by his side, his life felt complete.
Chapter One
But one fateful day in 1779, his life
was upended by a cruel eviction
notice from a feudal overlord - one
of countless issued during the
infamous ‘Highland Clearances’ to
make way for sheep farming on an
industrial scale.
Driven into wretched huts on bad
plots of land by the sea, many a
Highlander had no choice but to
‘take the King’s shilling' and fight
in far-flung wars of Empire.
Loftus McLeod
Loftus McLeod
Catches Forty Winks in the
Catches Forty Winks in the
Glorious Scottish Sunshine
Glorious Scottish Sunshine
A ragtag band of men led by McLeod arrived in the port town of Leith to enlist
in the 71st Fraser Highland Regiment, only to discover they’d been drafted into a
Lowland regiment instead!
Chapter Two
The prospect was unthinkable —it
would mean marching to strange
music, speaking English instead of
Gaelic, and, worst of all, giving up
the kilt — an ancient symbol of
freedom. And so they refused to
embark.
Soldiers were sent down from
Edinburgh Castle to persuade them
otherwise, and in the skirmish
that followed, nine men were
killed and many more wounded.
Cast into a dungeon deep within the castle, McLeod abandoned himself to despair.
All that he had done, all that he had hoped for — all seemed lost. Days passed in
stillness until the smallest of sounds — the grating of a bolt, the clanging of
fetters — brought him fleetingly to his senses. He would have surely perished if
not for the granary above, from which oats fell through cracks in the floorboards.
Chapter Three
But one stormy night, McLeod had an
epiphany. Inspired by the Smithian idea
of sympathy, of fellow feeling, he
envisioned a people’s own movement —
the antithesis of the so-called
‘independent’ Highland companies that
had ravaged the land for decades.
It would be called the “Liberation Kilt
Company.” Its mission? Fight injustice,
wherever it reared its ugly head!
Chapter Four
So inspired, McLeod made a bold bid for freedom. Retiieving his sgian-dubh from
within the pleats of his kilt, he set to work on a rusty window bar, labouring
night and day until the stone in which it sat finally yielded. Escaping down
the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle on knotted sheets, he vanished into the night.
Incensed at McLeod’s escape,
mad King George dispatched
his twelve fastest horsemen in
fast pursuit, but to no avail.
McLeod fled to the Isle of
Skye, his ancestral home,
where he found refuge among
freebooters in a cave and
hatched a cunning plan...
Chapter Five
Rumours of the newly raised Liberation Kilt Company spread like wildfire,
inspiring even émigrés from a Haitian slave revolt to join its ranks. Taking
possession of an abandoned castle near Tarskavaig, home of the ancient warrior
maiden Scáthach, they penned a visionary Bill of Rights.
Article I: All persons shall be free from
the tyranny of trousered bifurcation.
Chapter Six
One summer’s day, McLeod and his company set out with swags on their backs in
search of a legendary mountain spring, whose waters were said to possess magical
powers. Trekking over heath and moor, across swollen rivers and through dense
forests, they arrived at a snow-capped summit, shrouded in mist. Down the other
side it rolled, whirling and eddying, as if beckoning them into the valley below.
In the fading light, they came upon a mossy meadow flanked by vast granite
cliffs, where they pitched their tents, gathered kindling, and merrily tuned their
instruments. Filling their mugs from a whisky keg, they gathered around a blazing
fire and sang songs lampooning the powers that be.
Chapter Seven
In the heat of battle, the shrill cry of the bagpipes unfailingly lifted troop
morale. But McLeod’s stirring rendition of “Killiecrankie” over the dying embers of
the fire that night merely alerted the King’s spies, who happened to be passing
through the valley below under cover of darkness.
The following night, one hundred redcoats assembled downwind of the
encampment. Creeping through the woods undetected, they launched a devastating
dawn assault, and as a final insult, burned all vestiges of Highland dress.
A writ passed under the King’s Great Seal, decreeing that McLeod be delivered to
London for punishment, but his stoic indifference was hailed as the heroism of a
true martyr. Fearing his death would spark rebellion, the King retracted the writ
and exiled McLeod to the wilds of northern Canada, where he seemingly
vanished without a trace.
Chapter Eight
The Liberation Kilt Company passed out of all knowledge, until centuries later, a
chance encounter set the stage for its comeback. And as often happens when
serendipity strikes, a kilt was to blame.
Riled by inaction on climate change, at the dawn of the 21st century, McLeod
finally came out of hiding.
Hitchhiking to Washington D.C. to join a climate protest, he encountered a kilted
professor, invited him for a pint and shared his remarkable story.
Chapter Nine
“The climate movement is hopelessly fractured,” mused McLeod between sips of
Hellbender IPA. “Its factions must somehow be united. That’s the power of tartan!”
He spoke of how, first woven by nomadic Celts 3,000 years ago, tartan had served as
an enduring badge of identity for tribes of all kinds.
Together, they re-founded the Liberation Kilt Company and set about designing a
collection of tartans symbolizing the hopes and fears of social movements fighting
the injustices of our time.
People could wear these tartans to show solidarity with the causes they care about,
connect with like-minded others, and push back the illiberal tide.
Chapter Ten